Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Taking Flight ❯ Duo's Terrible Injury ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 01 - Duo's Terrible Injury

"…Was that out of character or what?"

***

"Are we there yet?" a certain braided wonder boy asked for the umpteenth time in five minutes.

"Maxwell, if I have to hear you ask that question one more time-…" the arrogant Chinese man sitting across from him in the van threatened before being interrupted by a cold glare from the owner of a mop of dark brown, unruly hair and a pair of deep blue eyes.

"Would you keep it down back there?" he requested sternly from the passenger seat up front.

Another teen-with bright emerald eyes and a large amount of hair brushed over one eye-silently drove the vehicle.

The owner of brilliant sea foam eyes and golden hair sighed from his seat next to the tempered Asian and across from the jovial American. The braided American's name was Duo, and the others in respect to their appearance were named Wufei, Heero, Trowa, and Quatre.

Duo sighed and leaned back as best he could on the uncomfortable, hard bench that he sat on. "Alright, whatever. Just trying to have a little fun." Wufei was on the verge of firing a seething remark in Duo's direction, but decided wisely against it after catching Heero Yuy's death glare in the rear view mirror.

Quatre looked away from the scene, however entertaining it was on their excruciatingly long drive. He could understand why Duo Maxwell would be so antsy after so many uneventful hours on the road, even to the point of his shifting constantly in the seat. Squirming into a new position, Duo finally drew another remark from Wufei. "Just pick one spot, Maxwell, and sit in it. It's not that difficult."

"I can't help it, Wu-man! This is really uncomfortable." Duo whined.

Wufei scoffed at the prospect while the ever-sympathetic Quatre sighed again. "Please, let's just put up with this until our rendezvous with Howard at the place he found for our Gundams. It's a miracle we're all still here in one piece after our last mission, so can we focus on that instead of these minor annoyances?" He begged the others.

"Speaking of our last mission, what is wrong with you lately, Maxwell? Even with the obvious repairs your Gundam needs, your fights have been inexcusably weak. They're sloppy; we've had to save you from more near disasters than you've caused in the kitchen since I've met you!" Wufei yelled angrily.

For once, no witty comeback was flung at the irate China man. Instead Duo replied quietly, "Don't bring it up. I don't know what the problem is, and these seats are really uncomfortable."

To three of the Gundam pilots, that series of statements was an unrelated, typical, confusing wandering of their humorous comrade's mind, but the perceptive Quatre seemed to be the only one to catch a relation. He looked toward his friend questioningly, but found Duo's gaze unfocused and directed elsewhere.

The van slowed to a stop and Trowa shut off the engine of the old van, the smell of fuel and exhaust wafting up from it. "We're here." The quiet man told the others. Doors were opened and the boys were free to crawl out. Quick looks around plainly told them that Howard and crew were absent from the enclosure.

"It looks like we'll be doing our own Gundam repairs." Trowa concluded, checking the boarded up warehouse and finding their machines present as promised.

Duo was the only one to groan at this prospect. With his profession in both salvage and mechanics, nothing but laziness could explain his reaction for his comrades. He caught a disapproving look from all four, then lowered his head and dejectedly entered the building.

***

Later that night, Duo had been left to his Gundam's repairs in the dust-perfumed warehouse while the others went to work gathering and packing their few possessions for transport during tomorrow's mission. He sat on the cold concrete floor, tightening a bolt low on Deathscythe's outstretched leg. His repairs had taken far longer than those of the other Gundams had, but all that remained for him were some minor electrical adjustments.

Duo paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, then returned to tightening Deathscythe's bolts. His teeth were clenched in something curiously other than the concentration on his work and his face was vacant of his trademarked impish grin. The back of Duo's tee shirt was stained with reddish brown blotches of some glimmering liquid, probably one of his trade's. Several slow, soft taps on the stone floor announced Wufei's long stride approaching from one end of the huge room. Of course, the warehouse wasn't exactly spacious anymore with all five newly repaired Gundams sitting upright. In fact, the only bits of walking space left were the three-foot spaces between each wall and the legs of the Gundams. With his work, Duo blocked the way that Wufei was now walking down.

On any other day, what followed wouldn't have provoked much of a negative reaction from the lively youth. As Wufei walked past he bumped into Duo's back unintentionally, causing Duo to cringe and drop his wrench, the wrench hitting the ground with a metallic clang. He shot a scorching glare at Wufei, thinking that his Chinese comrade inflicted the spike of pain he had experienced. Wufei, who had turned to look at the sound of the falling tool, caught sight of the entire scene as it unfolded. At a loss for words for the apparent outrageousness of Duo's reaction to the brief and gentle physical contact, Wufei chose instead a common response of his own,. "Weakness, Maxwell. How did you ever become a pilot?" He turned and continued walking.

Duo clenched his teeth, angry that Wufei seemed to have done that on purpose, then without thinking he hurled his wrench though the air, aiming for the back of Wufei's head. He missed badly in the haze of his anger, the cause of which remained unexplained. The wrench skittered to a stop at the end of the makeshift hallway, drawing an additional smirk from Wufei.

As the irate Chinese teen disappeared around the corner, Duo was left alone to nurse his thinning patience. Any number of small, stacking details could be used to explain his positively un-Duo-ish mood of late, but perhaps the majority of the blame could be placed on upon the grievous amount of pain any sort of pressure inflicted on his back recently. Sure, he should see a doctor about it or at least let his teammates know (and Duo was in the habit of complaining about the most trivial things just to fill the silence), but the salvage specialist felt absolutely embarrassed over the whole ordeal. Besides, he had come to convince himself that in order for the five Gundams to triumph, there needed to be five; meaning that being out of commission with anything less than life threatening was out of the question. Duo wasn't exactly sure when this notion came to him, but when he thought about it, both Heero and Wufei had to have provoked it with their constant insistence upon living out such suicidal mantras.

Finding difficulty concentrating due to the irritation both his shirt and braid were causing, Duo removed the former and repositioned the latter, placing his wet shirt near his toolbox and his braid down his bare, war-scarred chest. He had received many of those scars while living on the streets and could identify any one of them to the day, place, time, and event. However, the majority came to him during the war, and it seemed to him that every day he discovered a new one. Searching his toolbox for the wrench he needed amongst positively 20th century tools, he suddenly remembered that he had been using the desired tool only moments before, and had thrown it across the room.

Duo groaned in frustration then massaged a temple with one hand, bracing his kneeling form with the other. He sighed, mumbling, "This really isn't turning out to be my day…"

A softer, quicker stride than Wufei's approached Duo from the direction of the hallway. As the steps passed behind him, they suddenly came to a halt and Quatre's high tones called out in surprise, "By Allah, Duo! Your back!"

Duo sighed, "I never went anywhere."

"No," Quatre clarified, "your back! Duo, come with me; that needs medical attention!"

"Leave me alone, Quatre. I'm not in the mood." Duo snapped.

Quatre blinked in surprise. "Duo… Duo, that really needs looking after. Please, come with me." He pleaded.

Duo stood, grasping the side of his Gundam to ease the difficulty and turned to face the cherubic youth. "Look, the only thing I'm getting up for is to go get my wrench so I can finish Deathscythe's repairs in time for tomorrow's mission. Go work on strategy or whatever it is you do when you're not bugging me." He began to walk away, drawing Quatre's startled eyes after him, and then suddenly stopped and sighed. "…Sorry, Quat. I haven't been in the best of moods lately and…. hey, was that out of character or what? …Still, I really need to get these repairs done. Can you give me some peace?" Duo resumed his slow gait toward the discarded wrench.

Quatre toddled along behind him, trying to convince him. "Honestly now, Duo, this sort of injury could impede the mission. It's already done several times, right? You've been in pain for some time now-this wound looks pretty old-and an escort mission would be manageable without you, or even with you if you would just listen to me and get it bandaged."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Really, Quatre? I've got a stupid bruise and you're acting like it's life-threatening."

"Duo, how did you get this injury? It's covering your entire back. This will get infected if you let it go much longer. Please, Duo, just listen to me."

Stooping down to lift the wrench, Duo winced at the pressure building in his back, then sighed as he stood back up. Turning around, he found Quatre adamantly blocking his path. Duo tried to step around him, but Quatre moved into his way again, his eyebrows slanted downward. Baffled, Duo half laughed. "Hey, can I get back to work or what? Wufei just spent a fun-filled hour trying to yell over my music to get me to do it. Are you going to waste all that effort?"

Quatre exhaled lowly. "Duo, I didn't want to have to do this, but as a concerned and active member of this team, I must insist that your general health is important-despite Wufei's threats-and that you must come with me for first aide. We'll visit a hospital as soon as this mission is over."

On any other day, young Duo Maxwell would not only have agreed outright, but insisted that he be given ample medication to numb anything to do with the irksome area. Come mission's end, he'd have raced to the nearest hospital sporting young nurses and have milked the affliction for all it was worth. Young Duo Maxwell, however, had been suffering the injury long enough to be truly embarrassed about the prospect of anyone knowing, much less worrying about it. Besides, last time he checked it was just a bruise, probably from being knocked around in Deathscythe a few too many times; it was no big deal.

Duo brushed past Quatre, intent on finishing his work before midnight so he could actually get some sleep. "Quatre, don't worry. I'll be fine."

Without looking back, Duo didn't notice the pained expression on his comrade's face. He also failed to see the red stain he left on Quatre's sleeve as their shoulders brushed together. The cherubic boy opened his mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words and turned to leave.

Duo knelt back at Deathscythe's feet. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, he put his shirt back on.

***

The moon was half a week past full and high in the night sky as Wufei and Heero sat silently in their kitchen. The steady click clack of Wufei eating a bowl of rice accompanied the similar familiar percussion of Heero's trademark laptop. A half-full pot of coffee sitting on the counter was the only clue to Trowa's former presence in the room; he had long since retired to bed, yet the soothing aroma of the lukewarm liquid still floated about the area. Sitting against opposite walls of the room, the two remaining pilots seemed not to mind the late hour of night.

Yawning and dirty, Duo walked through the eastern door, immediately breaking the rhythmic near-silence. Provoking a barely controlled expression of irritation from Wufei, Duo began to search the various cupboards for anything sweet, greasy, or salty. He discovered a lone bag of stale potato chips in a high cupboard, and with a simple, "Thank you, Howard," tore into the nearly flavorless wafers, then sat on top of the counter.

Being so intent on consuming the unhealthy contents of the bag, Duo didn't notice Quatre enter the kitchen until the slightly smaller boy dropped a large box of medical items next to him on the counter. Duo choked on a chip, recovered rather ungracefully, looked at the box, and finally looked at Quatre's uncharacteristically stern face. Trying to hold on to at least a scrap of dignity, Duo grinned and asked, "What's up, Quat?"

"If you won't listen to me, perhaps you should inspect it for yourself. Maybe then you'll do something about it." Into Duo's unwilling arms were placed a mirror, a small scissors, several rolls of gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a large tube of antibacterial pain reliever cream. Quatre crossed his arms, trying to mock the pose used by his sterner comrades when they tried to get Duo to do something. Defeated, the darker youth sighed and awkwardly climbed down off the counter, chips forgotten, and shuffled out of the kitchen through the western doorway, heading toward his small, makeshift sleeping quarters.

Wufei raised an eyebrow as he exited, but gave no more thought to "Maxwell's antics." If Heero paid any attention to Duo's much stiffer than normal pace he hid it well behind the screen of his laptop and its uninterrupted clacking keys.

***

Outside the dirty, rust stained door to Duo's room, furious shuffling, thuds, and groans of frustration could be heard coming from within. Duo stood shirtless inside in an awkward position, finally aligning the small mirror in a way that he could see the injury that had worried Quatre so much. Both of Duo's eyebrows were raised in surprise. "Holy shit… No wonder Quatre was worried. Wow… Since when did it get this bad?"

The sight reflected into Duo's eyes was a gruesome one. Apparently, his skin had split in a random pattern some time recently. The entire area was inflamed, slightly swollen, and bleeding slowly. It was surprising to Duo that he hadn't noticed, but he merely attributed that fact to intermittent numbness of the area. Looking closer due to sheer awe, he noticed that the abrasion in fact consisted of two mirrored wounds on either side of his spine.

The severity of the graphic image before him finally caught up with Duo and he gagged, then shuddered, putting the mirror down. "…Better take care of that, then…" He picked up the gauze, looked back and forth between it and the other tools, and began his struggle with them.

It happened at this time that Quatre was passing by on his way to bed. Concerned about the loud bangs and shuffles inside, he knocked tentatively on the door. "Duo? Are you alright in there?"

Muffled from inside came Duo's sneering, sarcastic reply, "Just fine, as if having scrapes the size of snow shoes running down my back counts as being fi-…." He yelped suddenly and a thud of some small tool hitting the floor was heard followed by Duo's rapid cursing.

"Duo, I'm coming in." Quatre told the irritated boy.

"You're not." Duo quickly responded. "I don't need any he-…" There was another yelp, thud, and more cursing.

"Duo…" Quatre pleaded.

"I said I don't need help!" He dropped something else and cursed again. "It's not your problem."

Quatre took a deep breath and insisted, "You're a member of the team, Duo, and if you're not at your best, then it is my problem. …You are decent, aren't you?"

Duo grumbled a "yes". "But I still don't need your-…" Slice, thud. "Arg!"

The door swung open, granting Quatre a line of sight to Duo's predicament. He stood in the middle of the broom closet-sized room, gauze draped all over his body, tape tangled in his hair, holding a bleeding finger, and the pair of scissors responsible resting on the dingy floor where he had dropped them. Duo grinned sheepishly and laughed weakly, embarrassed.

Quatre just smiled a knowing smile before crossing the short expanse between them and helped the ailing boy untangle himself. "First things first, Duo. After the ointment, the gauze is wrapped around the wound, not draped over the entire body…"

[End Chapter 01]