Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Knowing ❯ Chapter 2
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Calic0cat 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Romance / Police / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 01.19.2004 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 492 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Romance / Police / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 01.19.2004 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 492 | Status: Completed
***
I slammed the apartment door shut so hard that the latch didn't catch and it bounced back open again. "I do *not* fucking *believe* this shit!!"
Heero stopped me from slamming the door again, pushing it shut himself and making sure that it latched and locked.
"I *know* I placed the damn call and that Dispatch confirmed backup was on the way, dammit!" I continued furiously, "Where the *fuck* does IA get off claiming that *I'm* the one who's lying! Shit, Heero, *you* heard the confirmation too!" I yanked off my uniform jacket, wadded it up and threw it across the room angrily. It knocked over a tall torchiere and *that* nearly hit Heero in the head. He managed to dodge it and the lamp crashed to the floor, bulb exploding in a shower of glass and shade denting under the impact.
"Duo, settle down!" Heero ordered sharply. He grabbed me in a tight bearhug, pinning my arms between us. "*I* know you made the call. I *know* you didn't lie. I *know*."
I struggled against him for a few moments, still needing to *move*. Still wanting to throw things and break things. But I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting out of Heero's hold and I finally gave in and slumped against him. "I *hate* this, Heero," I mumbled against his shoulder. "I fucking *hate* this."
"I know," he repeated, his arms loosening a bit. "I know."
Internal Affairs, in their *infinite* wisdom, had decided that since Dispatch's story and ours didn't match up, they were going to believe *Dispatch*. Just because the first call for backup that I'd made didn't show up on the call recording for the night. As if it would have been *so* incredibly impossible for the recording to have been tampered with. But no, it made *so* much more sense to decide that the former Gundam pilots were glory-hounding, bit off a little more than they could chew, then lied to cover up for it.
Have I mentioned how much I hate IA?
I'm not sure how long Heero and I stood there like that. Long enough for my temper to cool off. Long enough that my own arms had shifted to circle Heero.
Long enough for me to suddenly realize that Heero was rubbing my back soothingly and I had my face buried in the crook of his neck and that the whole comforting hug had somehow become something just a little too intimate, a little too much like an *embrace*, for friends and partners.
Reluctantly pushing away from Heero, I apologized, "Sorry, buddy. Not your fault and I know you're in just as much trouble as me. We both got an official reprimand on our record and a week's suspension. It's just..."
"They hit one of your hot buttons when they said you lied." The corner of Heero's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I know."
"Yeah." I offered him an apologetic half-grin of my own.
"Need to spar?"
I opened my mouth to agree and realized much to my surprise that - I didn't. That somehow the - hug? embrace? - well, whatever the hell it was - that had just taken place between Heero and I had taken the edge off my anger and frustration. "Uh - actually - no," I admitted. "You?"
Heero shook his head in silent response.
"Huh." I really wasn't sure what to make of this turn of events. I wasn't too sure that I wanted to think too closely about it either. "Uh, I guess I'd better change and clean up this mess..." I grimaced and gestured towards the broken torchiere.
"That would be a good idea," Heero said drily. "My turn to cook - stirfry sound good?"
"Yeah, sure." As I headed off to change out of the uniform I was beginning to develop a real dislike for, I wondered whether maybe that - whatever-it-was - hadn't gone on quite long *enough*. Whether if it had gone on a little bit longer, I would have known exactly what to call it.
Whether maybe I wouldn't be left wondering whether Heero had been as reluctant to let go as I had been.
***
That week of suspension passed almost *too* quickly, much to my surprise. Heero and I didn't go out much; we were both hypersensitive to being recognized right now. A little - paranoid. A little raw. A single sidelong glance, a whispered conversation, all of those things left us on edge, wondering if we were about to encounter another bout of anti-Gundam sentiment.
So we stayed home. Read a lot. Watched movies. Worked out.
And partway through the week, I came to another one of those startling realizations. No matter what we were doing, we somehow ended up in the same room. Frequently, in very close proximity to each other. We weren't doing it *consciously* - or at least, I wasn't - but it still kept happening.
Sure, the apartment wasn't all that big; it was inevitable that we'd be in the same room at least *some* of the time. But that didn't explain why I'd curl up on the couch to watch a movie while Heero was using his laptop at his desk down the hall and a little bit later, he'd be on the other end of the couch, my feet pressing against his thigh, still using his laptop and paying absolutely no attention to the movie.
Nor did it explain why I'd be engrossed in a book one minute and find myself drifting into the workout room the next, only to discover Heero exercising. And I'd end up joining him, despite the fact that I'd *already* exercised - and showered - earlier on.
The next time that I found myself wandering into the kitchen, book in hand, and discovered Heero getting ready to start supper, I forced myself to go back into the livingroom. After ten minutes of trying - and failing - to concentrate on my book, I gave up. I was too restless to read. I kept wanting to get up and move around. And I knew damn well exactly where I'd end up if I gave in to that urge. Back in the kitchen. With Heero. And the restless feeling would be gone.
And when I thought about it a little more, I realized that this wasn't something new. That we'd been unconsciously gravitating to each other's presence for quite a while now. Being home together this week had just provided more opportunities for it to happen and thus brought it to my attention.
Maybe my restlessness at the scrapyard had had more to do with Heero's absence than job dissatisfaction.
And maybe I'd better not think about this too closely. Especially not right now. We had enough problems at work; we didn't need to add breaking the fraternization policy (which, simply put, translated to "don't") to the list. Particularly since there was absolutely no way either of us wanted to change partners. This was definitely *not* the time to discover that being partners wasn't quite enough anymore.
Absolutely, positively, *not* the time.
***
For the first couple of weeks after our suspension, things were pretty quiet. Not case-wise - in *that* respect, everyone at Preventers was absolutely swamped; double shifts were the norm. But harassment was virtually non-existent. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; I couldn't believe that last incident had been enough to satisfy our detractors permanently. Sooner or later, something else would have to happen.
And eventually, it did.
Heero and I had just closed a big fraud case. Unfortunately, we'd drawn a *lot* of media attention in the process; one of the victims was the elderly father of the editor of the city newspaper. The publicity all took a pretty positive slant for a change; not a single bit of anti-Gundam pilot sentiment and lots of praise for how quickly the Preventers - specifically the ex-Gundam pilots in their employ - had caught the guy behind it all.
But all of those nice comments triggered an ugly backlash from our coworkers. The missing paperwork and whispered nasty remarks picked up all over again. Tires mysteriously went flat. Water turned up in my gas tank; sugar in Heero's. And of course, we couldn't prove a damn thing. Our own fingerprints were the only ones Forensics could turn up. IA started making none-too-subtle remarks about attention-seeking behaviour, paranoia, and psych exams. Heero just kept getting colder at work; my temper had a progressively shorter fuse. And at home...
At home, we found ourselves substituting those comforting embraces for the heavy-duty sparring sessions more and more. We didn't discuss it; neither of us was quite ready for that yet. It just became a part of our routine. The apartment door would be closed and locked, we'd shed our jackets and shoes, then one of us would take a step towards the other and we'd spend the next god-only-knows-how-long just holding one another. Sometimes clutching painfully tight, sometimes cradling gently, but always drawing comfort and reassurance from each other. Temporarily forgetting the hostile world in the security of that embrace.
I knew that sooner or later, we'd have to actually acknowledge the change that was taking place in our relationship. Eventually, we'd have to admit that we weren't just friends and partners anymore. Just - not yet.
Not. Quite. Yet.
***
"*What?*" I demanded incredulously.
The woman from IA cleared her throat and repeated primly, "Allegations have been made that you and your - partner - are in violation of the Preventers' fraternization policy. Until such time as these allegations have been fully investigated..."
I seethed silently as she went through her explanation of the procedure. Heero and I were both being assigned temporary partners. All based on the fact that we shared an apartment and "someone" claimed to have seen us "embracing".
"Someone" was either lying or spying on us because the *only* "embracing" that Heero and I had done to date had taken place in the privacy of our apartment. We swept the place for bugs regularly - old habits die hard - but I intended to do an extra-thorough job the minute I walked through the door tonight.
***
Heero emerged from the hallway and shook his head, shrugging. I answered his enquiring look, "Clean out here too. But..." I pointed to the livingroom window - or rather, to the building on the other side of it. "I think we'd better shut the blinds from now on." The windows were supposed to have a reflective coating and we *were* on the thirtieth floor but - well, sometimes paranoia pays.
Especially when you're not really being paranoid. After all, it isn't paranoia if someone really *is* out to get you.
I crossed the room to suit actions to words. When I turned away from the blinds, Heero was standing very close to me. I don't know which of us closed that final distance - maybe we met in the middle - but an instant later, there wouldn't have been room for a sheet of paper between us. Tonight was one of the "painfully tight" nights, which really didn't surprise me after the god-awful day we'd had.
"God, Heero, what are we going to do?" I fisted my hands tightly in his shirt, holding on for dear life. "We're *partners*, for god's sake. I..." I faltered for a moment, knowing that I was about to take an irrevocable step over that invisible line that marked off the "things we don't talk about" from the "things we do". "I... I don't know if I want to be a Preventer if we aren't. Don't know if I *can* be... But... but I don't want to give *this*," I tightened my arms around him, "up either..." The last words were whispered against his throat.
Impossibly, Heero managed to pull me even more snugly against him. "I know. Me too," he breathed against my temple. I barely had time to register his words before his mouth closed over mine, hot and urgent. And then we were both trying to climb down each other's throats and our bodies were moving against each other and there were no more words until we were lying tangled on the floor, still fully clothed, sticky, temporarily sated, temporarily content and secure, and *knowing* that everything had just changed but not having a damn clue what we were going to do about it.
***
"I said, I'm *fine*, dammit!" I impatiently knocked my so-called partner's hand away as she tried to help me to my feet. My breath hissed between my teeth as I tried to rise. Okay, maybe I wasn't "fine" after all.
"Captain Maxwell?" she quavered.
I sighed and corrected her for what felt like the hundredth time, "Shade. I'm Preventer Shade in the field. Just like you're Preventer Rain." Personally, I thought Cloud would have been a better choice; that's where the girl's head was most of the time. Not that it was really her *fault* - she was just really young (okay, chronologically she was the same age as me...) and inexperienced (straight out of the academy, for god's sake) and had a really, really bad case of hero-worship (sometimes I thought that was harder to deal with than resentment) and a god-awful wish to prove herself to me. I suspected the poor kid had the ridiculous notion that I might actually choose to keep her as a partner if she could manage to impress me. Unfortunately, she was probably going to get me killed in the attempt.
I gritted my teeth and probed gingerly at my thigh. Damn, no exit wound. And a hell of a lot of blood. I slid my hand further down my leg to the knee and nearly passed out. Evidently that tire iron had hit a little harder than I'd realized. "Shit."
"S... sir?"
"Rain, what part of 'do not approach the suspect' did you not understand?" I asked irritably.
"But sir - Preventer Shade - it was the perfect opportunity! He was alone and..."
"Alone? Ah, well that would explain how you ended up on the wrong end of your *own* goddamn gun and *I* ended up getting the hell beaten out of me by the suspect's tire iron-wielding buddy then getting shot by the suspect - with *your* gun, of course - all in order to save *your* ass."
"But... we did... we did get the suspect," Rain offered meekly.
"Just - go call for backup," I told her wearily. "Not *that* way!" I yelped as she started to move between my gun and our prisoners. "Walk *behind* me..." I knew damn well just how little hindrance a pair of handcuffs could be; I did *not* want her getting too close to those two, regardless of the fact that they both still appeared to be unconscious.
"Yes sir..." she answered in a subdued tone as she obeyed.
Damn, I missed partnering Heero.
IA was still "investigating". Heero and I were now violating the fraternization policy on a daily basis at home but we were careful to keep things professional at all other times. We wanted our working partnership back and we were both perfectly prepared to lie to IA in order to get it. The single beds in the bedroom were pretty good evidence that we were just roommates. No one needed to know that we spent most nights on the folded-out couch - it made into a double bed. As long as we conducted ourselves professionally at work, we didn't think that what went on in the privacy of our home was any of their damn business.
Right now, we were both pretty thoroughly miserable at work, though for very different reasons. My temporary partner was inexperienced, flighty, and reckless. Heero's was bitter, resentful, and downright nasty. We were counting the days till IA let us resume our partnership. Or at least we *had* been. Regardless of IA's decision, I was going to be out of the field for weeks now; my knee and thigh were both a mess.
***
"I don't like this," I repeated. "Undercover with a partner that hates your guts?"
Heero leaned over and kissed me, hard. "I'll be careful," he promised. "I don't like leaving you on your own right now either. You're barely mobile, even *with* the crutches. But refusing the assignment because my roommate is injured would be too suspicious. IA would be all over us again. And claiming that my assigned partner hates me would be almost as bad; it would be just like the whole no-backup investigation. My word against his and IA insinuating that I'm making things up."
"I know," I sighed. We couldn't risk setting Internal Affairs off; they'd just finally given up on the "fraternization" investigation. As soon as I healed up, Heero and I would be back together again at work. We just had to make it through the next month or so. Half of which, he'd be undercover investigating a narcotics operation.
Half-rising from my chair, I grabbed Heero and dragged him down to me again, kissing him fiercely. "Watch your damn back," I ordered, tangling my fingers through his hair and tugging gently. "I don't trust Sorenson."
"I know."
"You'd damn well better come back in one piece or I'll kick your ass," I threatened.
"I know..."
I kissed him again, long and tender and loving. "I love you..."
Softly, lips brushing mine, he murmured again, "I know." He kissed me back, then tore away reluctantly. "Love you..."
I swallowed hard and managed to smile for him as he backed towards the apartment door. "I know."
And then he was gone.
***
A week passed, painfully slowly. I graduated from "barely mobile" to "mostly mobile", still using crutches most of the time but managing with a cane around the apartment. I did a little reading, watched a little television. Worried - a lot. Thought about the future and worried some more. Was lonely as hell. Went from half-time to full-time at work, though I was obviously still on desk duty only.
And then, towards the end of the second week, I spotted Sorenson on his way to Une's office. Alone. My stomach knotted and my heart pounded. He and Heero weren't due back for another two days. And they should have been reporting in *together*.
I waited through his meeting with Une, ever-wilder scenarios running through my mind. Waited while he walked away from Une's office. Tried to convince myself to wait for her to summon me and failed.
The elevator doors had barely closed behind Sorenson before I was opening Une's door, ignoring her secretary's attempt to stop me. "I saw Sorenson. Where's Heero?" I demanded.
"Maxwell."
Une gave her secretary a dismissive wave. "Close the door on your way out, Rose."
She waited for the door to latch before motioning me towards a chair. I shook my head stubbornly and remained on my feet. Being on crutches left me at enough of a disadvantage, I wasn't about to sit down. Une's lips thinned. "I was just about to call you in."
Yeah, right. Nice try, Commander, but somehow I don't quite believe you.
"There was an... incident..."
Oh god. I changed my mind about the chair. I sank into its welcome support as Une explained. Heero's cover was blown. He'd been shot. Captured. Was presumed dead. Rescue mission...
"What do you mean, 'no rescue mission'?!" I hissed furiously.
"Sorenson reported that Yuy's injuries had to be severe, quite likely fatal. And these suspects do not make a habit of holding prisoners, let alone critically wounded ones. Sorenson feels that they believe Heero was working solo. In less than a week, we'll have a new team ready to infiltrate and finish the investigation. We don't want to tip them off that someone got away or that won't work. If, by some small chance, Yuy survived, he'll have to take his chances till then. He knew the risks when he signed on."
I flung myself to my feet, ignoring the crutches, and leaned over Une's desk. "When he signed on, he had a partner who wouldn't have damn well left him behind in the first place! One who *will not allow* him to be left behind *now*! Commander, you're talking about a fucking *narcotics* sting here, not a goddamn rebel *army*! Black Ops rules *don't* fucking *apply*! Order the damn rescue mission!"
"Maxwell! There will be no rescue mission and that's final!" Une snapped. "You're out of line, Captain! I'll have your badge if you keep this up! I will *not* tolerate insubordination."
I opened my mouth, ready to tell her exactly what she could do with her fucking badge. Then closed it with a snap. I couldn't do that yet. I needed access to files. Supplies. Transportation.
I snapped off a sarcastic salute and spat out, "Yes, ma'am!" before grabbing my crutches and leaving. Hopefully, I'd been *just* insubordinate enough to keep her from being too suspicious of my capitulation. But in case I hadn't, I'd have to work fast.
***
The day lasted for-fucking-ever and yet passed in the blink of an eye.
I sent Rain digging through paper file archives that Preventers had inherited from half a dozen other government agencies, looking for connections that probably didn't exist between decades-old cases and our current official assignment. That kept her the hell out of my way while I hacked my way into Sorenson's mission report and all of the other files pertaining to Heero's undercover operation. By midafternoon, I knew everything that the official records could tell me.
I'd also filed a formal protest of Une's handling of the situation. It wouldn't do any real good - I knew that - but she'd be expecting that much from me, though probably not a hell of a lot more. The fact that Heero and I had been such obedient agents, following every fucking regulation, not rocking the boat and busting chops when things got a little ugly around the office meant that - like everyone *else* around here - she'd gotten a bit complacent. Forgotten that I made my own damn decisions. Forgotten that Heero was the half of our partnership who tended to actually follow orders.
I seriously wanted a little time alone in a dark alley with that asshole Sorenson but I didn't think I could afford the luxury right now. My leg wasn't in the best of shape for pulling off a rescue mission in the first place; I couldn't risk causing it further injury by a pointless confrontation with Sorenson. And it would be pointless, I seriously doubted that he had anything worthwhile to add to his official report.
Although I'd been distinctly suspicious initially, I didn't really think the man had deliberately blown the mission. He was actually a damn good agent with a solid solve record and I couldn't find any evidence of suspicious income. I was pretty sure he was clean. Hell, he wasn't even on our shortlist of those we suspected were behind the vandalism of our vehicles. Sorenson was just an ex-Romefeller asshole with no inclination whatsoever to go out of his way to save the life of the former Gundam pilot he'd been partnered with. Beating the shit out of him would do nothing but get me hauled in on charges of assaulting a fellow agent.
Well, okay, so it might make me feel ever so slightly better about the whole mess, but not nearly as much as getting Heero back would.
And I *would* get him back. I refused to believe that he was dead; Sorenson had watched as Heero was gunned down but he hadn't hung around to see what happened next. He'd been too damn busy saving his own worthless ass to bother trying to save his partner. Simpler to just assume he was dead or dying and get the hell out of there before anyone noticed him.
Sorenson would be on slightly shaky ground once my formal protest went through and a review board took a good hard look at his report; he should have made *some* attempt to find out Heero's condition. But although standard procedure - assuming a safe place to wait - would be to monitor the situation and put out a call for extraction and/or backup, it was up to Sorenson to determine whether it was indeed safe for him to do that. He'd decided it wasn't. I disagreed. IA - well, it was a tough call. They were getting pretty damn sick of dealing with problems stirred up by Heero and I and there were a couple of officers in that department who *really* didn't like us, so they might just let Sorenson off the hook without more than a warning. I hoped not. But right now I had more important things to worry about; I'd worry about making life miserable for Sorenson once Heero was back safe and sound.
Somehow, I managed to wait out the interminably long afternoon. Much as I would have liked to take off after Heero immediately, I knew that the odds of managing to - appropriate - the necessary equipment would be far better after regular office hours when there were far fewer people around. Even with the extra delay required in order to discreetly "requisition" a shuttle from the Preventers' fleet, doing so would get me onsite faster than driving, taking a commercial flight, or chartering a private craft could.
I needed other supplies too; I had no intention of running a rescue mission with nothing more than the Preventer-issue gun that I carried. A full field first aid kit, smoke and gas grenades, bulletproof vest... Briefly, I debated whether to opt for the actual body armour but decided that its bulk would be more hindrance than the protection was worth, especially with my bad leg. I couldn't really afford either to carry the extra weight or to cripple my already-limited agility even further. Even the vest would be awkward and uncomfortable.
Running down my mental checklist yet again, I wished for the hundredth time that there was a way to get at least *some* sort of backup on this. But there weren't any other Preventers that I trusted to that extent. They were either of Sorenson's ilk or else like my own temporary partner. I didn't doubt that my all-too-enthusiastic "partner" would help if I asked - she was a good kid at heart - but she was just too damn inexperienced to be of any use to me. Hell, the average beat cop who'd been on the job for a few years would be a better choice.
I paused in the midst of closing down the files I'd hacked into. Of course... The local cops.
Sorenson had been lead on the case, not Heero, and he'd done a damn good job of alienating the local law enforcement. *They* had been investigating the drug operation long before Preventers ever got called in. Heero had been kind of pissed over that; he'd said that they'd been running a solid investigation and deserved their share of the credit but Sorenson had totally shut them out once Preventers stepped in. A lot of Preventers agents had that attitude; they just took over cases completely once they got involved. I'd always been inclined to work *with* local law enforcement in those circumstances; they almost *always* had valuable insight. It was no different than during the war; better to work *with* rebel cells in a particular area than end up at cross-purposes with them. At first, Heero had just humoured me but he'd discovered the benefits of cooperating with the locals fairly quickly and was now just as eager to have their involvement.
If I called Detective - shit, what the hell was his name... I hastily pulled the file back up again, glad that I hadn't completely shut down yet. It only took a moment to locate the information I needed.
Jackson. Detective Jackson. If I called him, told him Sorenson - Preventer Stone to him - had blown the case and I'd been assigned to clean up the mess...
A fierce grin spread across my face. Maybe I *could* find some reliable backup after all. There was nothing local cops loved more than showing up the hotshots from out of town.
Time for a change of plan. And a whole truckload of bullshit.
Maybe even two.
***
I slipped silently - despite the damn cane that I didn't dare discard quite yet - through the darkened halls of Preventers HQ. Dispatch and Holding were the only departments open at this time of night. Getting into the building without being spotted had been easy. Breaking into the Armoury and Medical had been even easier. The pack on my back now contained all the supplies that I needed except the bulletproof vest. I was wearing that because it was too bulky to squeeze in the backpack. Now the only thing I still needed was transportation. And for that, I was heading out to the Service Hangar.
I knew damn well that I'd be through at Preventers when this was done; hell, I'd count myself lucky if all Une did was yank my badge. But the longer I could delay them finding out what I was up to, the better. I didn't want to take the chance that they would somehow manage to stop me. So I was taking every possible precaution to hide my actions as long as possible.
I'd managed to "trip" over Rain's purse before the afternoon was over and had spent what little remained of the workday complaining about how much my leg hurt. No one would be the least bit suspicious to discover that I'd called Human Resources late in the evening and left a message that I wouldn't be in because I had to go get my knee checked. If I was lucky, no one would even realize that I was missing, let alone that I'd "requisitioned" a whole shitload of supplies without going through proper channels. I'd been careful not to leave visible gaps when I'd grabbed those supplies; with any kind of semi-decent luck their absence wouldn't be noted until the next inventory.
The tricky part of keeping things quiet till it was too late for anyone to stop me, however, was the transportation. If I took a shuttle from the fleet, the lack of proper authorization would turn up right away in the morning. A missing shuttle was a little hard to overlook.
Unless, that is, the shuttle was one that they *expected* to be missing. Such as one that had been sent over to the Service Hangar.
I'd searched the Service database for shuttles that needed really minor repairs. Things that I could repair myself, quickly. There weren't any. But there *was* one that only had a dead radio. Since I had no intention of *using* the radio even if it had worked, that wasn't a problem for me. That repair hadn't been assigned to a mechanic yet, so I simply deleted it from the repair queue. Now the shuttle was essentially non-existent. Service had no electronic record of it but the fleet scheduling database had it logged out to Service. It could be days before anyone realized it was gone. I only needed *one* day.
Picking the lock to the Service office took seconds. Grabbing the shuttle's passcard and paperwork took a few more. I was out of the office and had the door relocked in under a minute. Now there was no physical record of the shuttle being in Service either. Another few minutes had me onboard and running systems checks. Other than the radio, everything passed.
I smiled grimly and prepared to take off. No need to worry about air traffic control; with no flights scheduled, the Preventers airfield was shut down for the night. Airstrip lights remained on in case of emergencies but the control tower was unmanned. One more reason that I'd waited till after midnight to get the hell out of here. With the flick of a few switches and a pull on the control yoke, I was in the air.
Hang on Heero, I'm on my way...
***
I slammed the apartment door shut so hard that the latch didn't catch and it bounced back open again. "I do *not* fucking *believe* this shit!!"
Heero stopped me from slamming the door again, pushing it shut himself and making sure that it latched and locked.
"I *know* I placed the damn call and that Dispatch confirmed backup was on the way, dammit!" I continued furiously, "Where the *fuck* does IA get off claiming that *I'm* the one who's lying! Shit, Heero, *you* heard the confirmation too!" I yanked off my uniform jacket, wadded it up and threw it across the room angrily. It knocked over a tall torchiere and *that* nearly hit Heero in the head. He managed to dodge it and the lamp crashed to the floor, bulb exploding in a shower of glass and shade denting under the impact.
"Duo, settle down!" Heero ordered sharply. He grabbed me in a tight bearhug, pinning my arms between us. "*I* know you made the call. I *know* you didn't lie. I *know*."
I struggled against him for a few moments, still needing to *move*. Still wanting to throw things and break things. But I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting out of Heero's hold and I finally gave in and slumped against him. "I *hate* this, Heero," I mumbled against his shoulder. "I fucking *hate* this."
"I know," he repeated, his arms loosening a bit. "I know."
Internal Affairs, in their *infinite* wisdom, had decided that since Dispatch's story and ours didn't match up, they were going to believe *Dispatch*. Just because the first call for backup that I'd made didn't show up on the call recording for the night. As if it would have been *so* incredibly impossible for the recording to have been tampered with. But no, it made *so* much more sense to decide that the former Gundam pilots were glory-hounding, bit off a little more than they could chew, then lied to cover up for it.
Have I mentioned how much I hate IA?
I'm not sure how long Heero and I stood there like that. Long enough for my temper to cool off. Long enough that my own arms had shifted to circle Heero.
Long enough for me to suddenly realize that Heero was rubbing my back soothingly and I had my face buried in the crook of his neck and that the whole comforting hug had somehow become something just a little too intimate, a little too much like an *embrace*, for friends and partners.
Reluctantly pushing away from Heero, I apologized, "Sorry, buddy. Not your fault and I know you're in just as much trouble as me. We both got an official reprimand on our record and a week's suspension. It's just..."
"They hit one of your hot buttons when they said you lied." The corner of Heero's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I know."
"Yeah." I offered him an apologetic half-grin of my own.
"Need to spar?"
I opened my mouth to agree and realized much to my surprise that - I didn't. That somehow the - hug? embrace? - well, whatever the hell it was - that had just taken place between Heero and I had taken the edge off my anger and frustration. "Uh - actually - no," I admitted. "You?"
Heero shook his head in silent response.
"Huh." I really wasn't sure what to make of this turn of events. I wasn't too sure that I wanted to think too closely about it either. "Uh, I guess I'd better change and clean up this mess..." I grimaced and gestured towards the broken torchiere.
"That would be a good idea," Heero said drily. "My turn to cook - stirfry sound good?"
"Yeah, sure." As I headed off to change out of the uniform I was beginning to develop a real dislike for, I wondered whether maybe that - whatever-it-was - hadn't gone on quite long *enough*. Whether if it had gone on a little bit longer, I would have known exactly what to call it.
Whether maybe I wouldn't be left wondering whether Heero had been as reluctant to let go as I had been.
***
That week of suspension passed almost *too* quickly, much to my surprise. Heero and I didn't go out much; we were both hypersensitive to being recognized right now. A little - paranoid. A little raw. A single sidelong glance, a whispered conversation, all of those things left us on edge, wondering if we were about to encounter another bout of anti-Gundam sentiment.
So we stayed home. Read a lot. Watched movies. Worked out.
And partway through the week, I came to another one of those startling realizations. No matter what we were doing, we somehow ended up in the same room. Frequently, in very close proximity to each other. We weren't doing it *consciously* - or at least, I wasn't - but it still kept happening.
Sure, the apartment wasn't all that big; it was inevitable that we'd be in the same room at least *some* of the time. But that didn't explain why I'd curl up on the couch to watch a movie while Heero was using his laptop at his desk down the hall and a little bit later, he'd be on the other end of the couch, my feet pressing against his thigh, still using his laptop and paying absolutely no attention to the movie.
Nor did it explain why I'd be engrossed in a book one minute and find myself drifting into the workout room the next, only to discover Heero exercising. And I'd end up joining him, despite the fact that I'd *already* exercised - and showered - earlier on.
The next time that I found myself wandering into the kitchen, book in hand, and discovered Heero getting ready to start supper, I forced myself to go back into the livingroom. After ten minutes of trying - and failing - to concentrate on my book, I gave up. I was too restless to read. I kept wanting to get up and move around. And I knew damn well exactly where I'd end up if I gave in to that urge. Back in the kitchen. With Heero. And the restless feeling would be gone.
And when I thought about it a little more, I realized that this wasn't something new. That we'd been unconsciously gravitating to each other's presence for quite a while now. Being home together this week had just provided more opportunities for it to happen and thus brought it to my attention.
Maybe my restlessness at the scrapyard had had more to do with Heero's absence than job dissatisfaction.
And maybe I'd better not think about this too closely. Especially not right now. We had enough problems at work; we didn't need to add breaking the fraternization policy (which, simply put, translated to "don't") to the list. Particularly since there was absolutely no way either of us wanted to change partners. This was definitely *not* the time to discover that being partners wasn't quite enough anymore.
Absolutely, positively, *not* the time.
***
For the first couple of weeks after our suspension, things were pretty quiet. Not case-wise - in *that* respect, everyone at Preventers was absolutely swamped; double shifts were the norm. But harassment was virtually non-existent. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; I couldn't believe that last incident had been enough to satisfy our detractors permanently. Sooner or later, something else would have to happen.
And eventually, it did.
Heero and I had just closed a big fraud case. Unfortunately, we'd drawn a *lot* of media attention in the process; one of the victims was the elderly father of the editor of the city newspaper. The publicity all took a pretty positive slant for a change; not a single bit of anti-Gundam pilot sentiment and lots of praise for how quickly the Preventers - specifically the ex-Gundam pilots in their employ - had caught the guy behind it all.
But all of those nice comments triggered an ugly backlash from our coworkers. The missing paperwork and whispered nasty remarks picked up all over again. Tires mysteriously went flat. Water turned up in my gas tank; sugar in Heero's. And of course, we couldn't prove a damn thing. Our own fingerprints were the only ones Forensics could turn up. IA started making none-too-subtle remarks about attention-seeking behaviour, paranoia, and psych exams. Heero just kept getting colder at work; my temper had a progressively shorter fuse. And at home...
At home, we found ourselves substituting those comforting embraces for the heavy-duty sparring sessions more and more. We didn't discuss it; neither of us was quite ready for that yet. It just became a part of our routine. The apartment door would be closed and locked, we'd shed our jackets and shoes, then one of us would take a step towards the other and we'd spend the next god-only-knows-how-long just holding one another. Sometimes clutching painfully tight, sometimes cradling gently, but always drawing comfort and reassurance from each other. Temporarily forgetting the hostile world in the security of that embrace.
I knew that sooner or later, we'd have to actually acknowledge the change that was taking place in our relationship. Eventually, we'd have to admit that we weren't just friends and partners anymore. Just - not yet.
Not. Quite. Yet.
***
"*What?*" I demanded incredulously.
The woman from IA cleared her throat and repeated primly, "Allegations have been made that you and your - partner - are in violation of the Preventers' fraternization policy. Until such time as these allegations have been fully investigated..."
I seethed silently as she went through her explanation of the procedure. Heero and I were both being assigned temporary partners. All based on the fact that we shared an apartment and "someone" claimed to have seen us "embracing".
"Someone" was either lying or spying on us because the *only* "embracing" that Heero and I had done to date had taken place in the privacy of our apartment. We swept the place for bugs regularly - old habits die hard - but I intended to do an extra-thorough job the minute I walked through the door tonight.
***
Heero emerged from the hallway and shook his head, shrugging. I answered his enquiring look, "Clean out here too. But..." I pointed to the livingroom window - or rather, to the building on the other side of it. "I think we'd better shut the blinds from now on." The windows were supposed to have a reflective coating and we *were* on the thirtieth floor but - well, sometimes paranoia pays.
Especially when you're not really being paranoid. After all, it isn't paranoia if someone really *is* out to get you.
I crossed the room to suit actions to words. When I turned away from the blinds, Heero was standing very close to me. I don't know which of us closed that final distance - maybe we met in the middle - but an instant later, there wouldn't have been room for a sheet of paper between us. Tonight was one of the "painfully tight" nights, which really didn't surprise me after the god-awful day we'd had.
"God, Heero, what are we going to do?" I fisted my hands tightly in his shirt, holding on for dear life. "We're *partners*, for god's sake. I..." I faltered for a moment, knowing that I was about to take an irrevocable step over that invisible line that marked off the "things we don't talk about" from the "things we do". "I... I don't know if I want to be a Preventer if we aren't. Don't know if I *can* be... But... but I don't want to give *this*," I tightened my arms around him, "up either..." The last words were whispered against his throat.
Impossibly, Heero managed to pull me even more snugly against him. "I know. Me too," he breathed against my temple. I barely had time to register his words before his mouth closed over mine, hot and urgent. And then we were both trying to climb down each other's throats and our bodies were moving against each other and there were no more words until we were lying tangled on the floor, still fully clothed, sticky, temporarily sated, temporarily content and secure, and *knowing* that everything had just changed but not having a damn clue what we were going to do about it.
***
"I said, I'm *fine*, dammit!" I impatiently knocked my so-called partner's hand away as she tried to help me to my feet. My breath hissed between my teeth as I tried to rise. Okay, maybe I wasn't "fine" after all.
"Captain Maxwell?" she quavered.
I sighed and corrected her for what felt like the hundredth time, "Shade. I'm Preventer Shade in the field. Just like you're Preventer Rain." Personally, I thought Cloud would have been a better choice; that's where the girl's head was most of the time. Not that it was really her *fault* - she was just really young (okay, chronologically she was the same age as me...) and inexperienced (straight out of the academy, for god's sake) and had a really, really bad case of hero-worship (sometimes I thought that was harder to deal with than resentment) and a god-awful wish to prove herself to me. I suspected the poor kid had the ridiculous notion that I might actually choose to keep her as a partner if she could manage to impress me. Unfortunately, she was probably going to get me killed in the attempt.
I gritted my teeth and probed gingerly at my thigh. Damn, no exit wound. And a hell of a lot of blood. I slid my hand further down my leg to the knee and nearly passed out. Evidently that tire iron had hit a little harder than I'd realized. "Shit."
"S... sir?"
"Rain, what part of 'do not approach the suspect' did you not understand?" I asked irritably.
"But sir - Preventer Shade - it was the perfect opportunity! He was alone and..."
"Alone? Ah, well that would explain how you ended up on the wrong end of your *own* goddamn gun and *I* ended up getting the hell beaten out of me by the suspect's tire iron-wielding buddy then getting shot by the suspect - with *your* gun, of course - all in order to save *your* ass."
"But... we did... we did get the suspect," Rain offered meekly.
"Just - go call for backup," I told her wearily. "Not *that* way!" I yelped as she started to move between my gun and our prisoners. "Walk *behind* me..." I knew damn well just how little hindrance a pair of handcuffs could be; I did *not* want her getting too close to those two, regardless of the fact that they both still appeared to be unconscious.
"Yes sir..." she answered in a subdued tone as she obeyed.
Damn, I missed partnering Heero.
IA was still "investigating". Heero and I were now violating the fraternization policy on a daily basis at home but we were careful to keep things professional at all other times. We wanted our working partnership back and we were both perfectly prepared to lie to IA in order to get it. The single beds in the bedroom were pretty good evidence that we were just roommates. No one needed to know that we spent most nights on the folded-out couch - it made into a double bed. As long as we conducted ourselves professionally at work, we didn't think that what went on in the privacy of our home was any of their damn business.
Right now, we were both pretty thoroughly miserable at work, though for very different reasons. My temporary partner was inexperienced, flighty, and reckless. Heero's was bitter, resentful, and downright nasty. We were counting the days till IA let us resume our partnership. Or at least we *had* been. Regardless of IA's decision, I was going to be out of the field for weeks now; my knee and thigh were both a mess.
***
"I don't like this," I repeated. "Undercover with a partner that hates your guts?"
Heero leaned over and kissed me, hard. "I'll be careful," he promised. "I don't like leaving you on your own right now either. You're barely mobile, even *with* the crutches. But refusing the assignment because my roommate is injured would be too suspicious. IA would be all over us again. And claiming that my assigned partner hates me would be almost as bad; it would be just like the whole no-backup investigation. My word against his and IA insinuating that I'm making things up."
"I know," I sighed. We couldn't risk setting Internal Affairs off; they'd just finally given up on the "fraternization" investigation. As soon as I healed up, Heero and I would be back together again at work. We just had to make it through the next month or so. Half of which, he'd be undercover investigating a narcotics operation.
Half-rising from my chair, I grabbed Heero and dragged him down to me again, kissing him fiercely. "Watch your damn back," I ordered, tangling my fingers through his hair and tugging gently. "I don't trust Sorenson."
"I know."
"You'd damn well better come back in one piece or I'll kick your ass," I threatened.
"I know..."
I kissed him again, long and tender and loving. "I love you..."
Softly, lips brushing mine, he murmured again, "I know." He kissed me back, then tore away reluctantly. "Love you..."
I swallowed hard and managed to smile for him as he backed towards the apartment door. "I know."
And then he was gone.
***
A week passed, painfully slowly. I graduated from "barely mobile" to "mostly mobile", still using crutches most of the time but managing with a cane around the apartment. I did a little reading, watched a little television. Worried - a lot. Thought about the future and worried some more. Was lonely as hell. Went from half-time to full-time at work, though I was obviously still on desk duty only.
And then, towards the end of the second week, I spotted Sorenson on his way to Une's office. Alone. My stomach knotted and my heart pounded. He and Heero weren't due back for another two days. And they should have been reporting in *together*.
I waited through his meeting with Une, ever-wilder scenarios running through my mind. Waited while he walked away from Une's office. Tried to convince myself to wait for her to summon me and failed.
The elevator doors had barely closed behind Sorenson before I was opening Une's door, ignoring her secretary's attempt to stop me. "I saw Sorenson. Where's Heero?" I demanded.
"Maxwell."
Une gave her secretary a dismissive wave. "Close the door on your way out, Rose."
She waited for the door to latch before motioning me towards a chair. I shook my head stubbornly and remained on my feet. Being on crutches left me at enough of a disadvantage, I wasn't about to sit down. Une's lips thinned. "I was just about to call you in."
Yeah, right. Nice try, Commander, but somehow I don't quite believe you.
"There was an... incident..."
Oh god. I changed my mind about the chair. I sank into its welcome support as Une explained. Heero's cover was blown. He'd been shot. Captured. Was presumed dead. Rescue mission...
"What do you mean, 'no rescue mission'?!" I hissed furiously.
"Sorenson reported that Yuy's injuries had to be severe, quite likely fatal. And these suspects do not make a habit of holding prisoners, let alone critically wounded ones. Sorenson feels that they believe Heero was working solo. In less than a week, we'll have a new team ready to infiltrate and finish the investigation. We don't want to tip them off that someone got away or that won't work. If, by some small chance, Yuy survived, he'll have to take his chances till then. He knew the risks when he signed on."
I flung myself to my feet, ignoring the crutches, and leaned over Une's desk. "When he signed on, he had a partner who wouldn't have damn well left him behind in the first place! One who *will not allow* him to be left behind *now*! Commander, you're talking about a fucking *narcotics* sting here, not a goddamn rebel *army*! Black Ops rules *don't* fucking *apply*! Order the damn rescue mission!"
"Maxwell! There will be no rescue mission and that's final!" Une snapped. "You're out of line, Captain! I'll have your badge if you keep this up! I will *not* tolerate insubordination."
I opened my mouth, ready to tell her exactly what she could do with her fucking badge. Then closed it with a snap. I couldn't do that yet. I needed access to files. Supplies. Transportation.
I snapped off a sarcastic salute and spat out, "Yes, ma'am!" before grabbing my crutches and leaving. Hopefully, I'd been *just* insubordinate enough to keep her from being too suspicious of my capitulation. But in case I hadn't, I'd have to work fast.
***
The day lasted for-fucking-ever and yet passed in the blink of an eye.
I sent Rain digging through paper file archives that Preventers had inherited from half a dozen other government agencies, looking for connections that probably didn't exist between decades-old cases and our current official assignment. That kept her the hell out of my way while I hacked my way into Sorenson's mission report and all of the other files pertaining to Heero's undercover operation. By midafternoon, I knew everything that the official records could tell me.
I'd also filed a formal protest of Une's handling of the situation. It wouldn't do any real good - I knew that - but she'd be expecting that much from me, though probably not a hell of a lot more. The fact that Heero and I had been such obedient agents, following every fucking regulation, not rocking the boat and busting chops when things got a little ugly around the office meant that - like everyone *else* around here - she'd gotten a bit complacent. Forgotten that I made my own damn decisions. Forgotten that Heero was the half of our partnership who tended to actually follow orders.
I seriously wanted a little time alone in a dark alley with that asshole Sorenson but I didn't think I could afford the luxury right now. My leg wasn't in the best of shape for pulling off a rescue mission in the first place; I couldn't risk causing it further injury by a pointless confrontation with Sorenson. And it would be pointless, I seriously doubted that he had anything worthwhile to add to his official report.
Although I'd been distinctly suspicious initially, I didn't really think the man had deliberately blown the mission. He was actually a damn good agent with a solid solve record and I couldn't find any evidence of suspicious income. I was pretty sure he was clean. Hell, he wasn't even on our shortlist of those we suspected were behind the vandalism of our vehicles. Sorenson was just an ex-Romefeller asshole with no inclination whatsoever to go out of his way to save the life of the former Gundam pilot he'd been partnered with. Beating the shit out of him would do nothing but get me hauled in on charges of assaulting a fellow agent.
Well, okay, so it might make me feel ever so slightly better about the whole mess, but not nearly as much as getting Heero back would.
And I *would* get him back. I refused to believe that he was dead; Sorenson had watched as Heero was gunned down but he hadn't hung around to see what happened next. He'd been too damn busy saving his own worthless ass to bother trying to save his partner. Simpler to just assume he was dead or dying and get the hell out of there before anyone noticed him.
Sorenson would be on slightly shaky ground once my formal protest went through and a review board took a good hard look at his report; he should have made *some* attempt to find out Heero's condition. But although standard procedure - assuming a safe place to wait - would be to monitor the situation and put out a call for extraction and/or backup, it was up to Sorenson to determine whether it was indeed safe for him to do that. He'd decided it wasn't. I disagreed. IA - well, it was a tough call. They were getting pretty damn sick of dealing with problems stirred up by Heero and I and there were a couple of officers in that department who *really* didn't like us, so they might just let Sorenson off the hook without more than a warning. I hoped not. But right now I had more important things to worry about; I'd worry about making life miserable for Sorenson once Heero was back safe and sound.
Somehow, I managed to wait out the interminably long afternoon. Much as I would have liked to take off after Heero immediately, I knew that the odds of managing to - appropriate - the necessary equipment would be far better after regular office hours when there were far fewer people around. Even with the extra delay required in order to discreetly "requisition" a shuttle from the Preventers' fleet, doing so would get me onsite faster than driving, taking a commercial flight, or chartering a private craft could.
I needed other supplies too; I had no intention of running a rescue mission with nothing more than the Preventer-issue gun that I carried. A full field first aid kit, smoke and gas grenades, bulletproof vest... Briefly, I debated whether to opt for the actual body armour but decided that its bulk would be more hindrance than the protection was worth, especially with my bad leg. I couldn't really afford either to carry the extra weight or to cripple my already-limited agility even further. Even the vest would be awkward and uncomfortable.
Running down my mental checklist yet again, I wished for the hundredth time that there was a way to get at least *some* sort of backup on this. But there weren't any other Preventers that I trusted to that extent. They were either of Sorenson's ilk or else like my own temporary partner. I didn't doubt that my all-too-enthusiastic "partner" would help if I asked - she was a good kid at heart - but she was just too damn inexperienced to be of any use to me. Hell, the average beat cop who'd been on the job for a few years would be a better choice.
I paused in the midst of closing down the files I'd hacked into. Of course... The local cops.
Sorenson had been lead on the case, not Heero, and he'd done a damn good job of alienating the local law enforcement. *They* had been investigating the drug operation long before Preventers ever got called in. Heero had been kind of pissed over that; he'd said that they'd been running a solid investigation and deserved their share of the credit but Sorenson had totally shut them out once Preventers stepped in. A lot of Preventers agents had that attitude; they just took over cases completely once they got involved. I'd always been inclined to work *with* local law enforcement in those circumstances; they almost *always* had valuable insight. It was no different than during the war; better to work *with* rebel cells in a particular area than end up at cross-purposes with them. At first, Heero had just humoured me but he'd discovered the benefits of cooperating with the locals fairly quickly and was now just as eager to have their involvement.
If I called Detective - shit, what the hell was his name... I hastily pulled the file back up again, glad that I hadn't completely shut down yet. It only took a moment to locate the information I needed.
Jackson. Detective Jackson. If I called him, told him Sorenson - Preventer Stone to him - had blown the case and I'd been assigned to clean up the mess...
A fierce grin spread across my face. Maybe I *could* find some reliable backup after all. There was nothing local cops loved more than showing up the hotshots from out of town.
Time for a change of plan. And a whole truckload of bullshit.
Maybe even two.
***
I slipped silently - despite the damn cane that I didn't dare discard quite yet - through the darkened halls of Preventers HQ. Dispatch and Holding were the only departments open at this time of night. Getting into the building without being spotted had been easy. Breaking into the Armoury and Medical had been even easier. The pack on my back now contained all the supplies that I needed except the bulletproof vest. I was wearing that because it was too bulky to squeeze in the backpack. Now the only thing I still needed was transportation. And for that, I was heading out to the Service Hangar.
I knew damn well that I'd be through at Preventers when this was done; hell, I'd count myself lucky if all Une did was yank my badge. But the longer I could delay them finding out what I was up to, the better. I didn't want to take the chance that they would somehow manage to stop me. So I was taking every possible precaution to hide my actions as long as possible.
I'd managed to "trip" over Rain's purse before the afternoon was over and had spent what little remained of the workday complaining about how much my leg hurt. No one would be the least bit suspicious to discover that I'd called Human Resources late in the evening and left a message that I wouldn't be in because I had to go get my knee checked. If I was lucky, no one would even realize that I was missing, let alone that I'd "requisitioned" a whole shitload of supplies without going through proper channels. I'd been careful not to leave visible gaps when I'd grabbed those supplies; with any kind of semi-decent luck their absence wouldn't be noted until the next inventory.
The tricky part of keeping things quiet till it was too late for anyone to stop me, however, was the transportation. If I took a shuttle from the fleet, the lack of proper authorization would turn up right away in the morning. A missing shuttle was a little hard to overlook.
Unless, that is, the shuttle was one that they *expected* to be missing. Such as one that had been sent over to the Service Hangar.
I'd searched the Service database for shuttles that needed really minor repairs. Things that I could repair myself, quickly. There weren't any. But there *was* one that only had a dead radio. Since I had no intention of *using* the radio even if it had worked, that wasn't a problem for me. That repair hadn't been assigned to a mechanic yet, so I simply deleted it from the repair queue. Now the shuttle was essentially non-existent. Service had no electronic record of it but the fleet scheduling database had it logged out to Service. It could be days before anyone realized it was gone. I only needed *one* day.
Picking the lock to the Service office took seconds. Grabbing the shuttle's passcard and paperwork took a few more. I was out of the office and had the door relocked in under a minute. Now there was no physical record of the shuttle being in Service either. Another few minutes had me onboard and running systems checks. Other than the radio, everything passed.
I smiled grimly and prepared to take off. No need to worry about air traffic control; with no flights scheduled, the Preventers airfield was shut down for the night. Airstrip lights remained on in case of emergencies but the control tower was unmanned. One more reason that I'd waited till after midnight to get the hell out of here. With the flick of a few switches and a pull on the control yoke, I was in the air.
Hang on Heero, I'm on my way...
***