Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The One-Eared Neko ❯ LETHE ( Chapter 13 )

Part 13 LETHE

Duo didn't wake in what seemed like forever. He didn't lie. When he was truly exhausted, Heero was afraid he might sleep himself to death. But whenever he'd glance over his shoulder, there he would be, as fully unconscious as he had been the moment, the minute, the hour before. He obviously needed the sleep and was more than welcome to get it. Heero still half-feared that precise, merciless look that had been pinned on him the night before, with no apology in the bohemian's cold face, and could use the time to get over it. It was such strong bitterness, so much that he'd never seen before. And worst of all, he knew he could do nothing about it because the eyes had looked straight through him as if they were as hollow as carved bones. And as much as he hated to admit, he was unsure of what to do. Sleep wickedly eluded him and thoughts gnawed at him while he did idled and did nothing, so like a boozehound hiding in the smear of his weekly alcohol binge, his fingers turned the ignition.

So he simply drove. The crumpled roadmap lay on the seat as his solitary companion, crisscrossed with various ink lines and foreign scribbles scratched randomly across the paper.

Heero knew it definitely wasn't any form of English, but his memory of various high school classes dictated that it wasn't Spanish, German, French, Latin, Italian, and definitely not Japanese. These guttural-sounding syllables spilled out without seeming any pattern as to what they were marking on the road map, but they were interesting. Written in Romanized letters, the words of this foreign language could seemingly sometimes go on for three or four syllables without sight of a vowel. Whatever it was, he wasn't familiar with it at all. However, it didn't interfere with any of the navigation directions, so it was simply noted with mild interest and then was overlooked. He was too busy thinking of other things to notice.

He tried burying thoughts about the bohemian in concentrating on driving, but it bubbled consistently back to the surface. Something had really dug its claws into him. The lethal poison of Duo's tone, the lack of life in his eyes, the dodgy answers that strayed far from the truth... something wasn't quite right. A part of him was lying, lying flat-out with no alternative, and he wanted to know what Duo was hiding from him. And he wanted him to look happy again; the dead-eyed Duo Maxwell had unknowingly taken away a part of himself.

Eventually, he became so engrossed in thinking that it was interfering with his driving and the white Isuzu soon rested in an old parking lot an exit and side road from their course. The tar had faded to a waxy grey covering lined with grass growing from the fissures and thriving. Crushed Coca-Cola cans scattered in the wind and a stray black cat stalked casually through the tall prairie grasses lining the unattended lot.

Heero didn't even notice that he had turned on the radio until he killed the ignition and it was no longer there. Dutifully, he took a brief inventory (Notebook, check; Sleeping Duo, check) before he decided to find some water to drink then lay down and rest for a few hours. As he rummaged on the empty passenger seat for his jacket, sniffing disdainfully at the smell of blood that remained embedded in the fabric, his eyes caught sight of the shipment dossier, which had been tossed haphazardly on the floor after Duo had bored of re-reading it one day, and he had a sudden curious urge.

The formal text seemed somehow lifeless in all its technical jabber, more than usual, and he skimmed through it. Duo was supposedly hauling assorted company orders to stock a newly established outlet in Cinq, rather uninteresting stuff. Especially unexciting for a notorious criminal. That was all well and good, but his suspicions raised as he read a certain line of the imbedded contract agreements. All funds would be paid upon delivering the entire shipment, unharmed. The clipboard it was attached to settled against his leg as the traveler glanced over his shoulder and then back out the windshield at the scrawny green ash trees lining the parking lot. Something didn't seem right.

Logically, Duo was a con man, and logically, it was clear that a reasonable con man would have found a poor slob gullible enough to be duped into giving payment first on account of 'a sick grandmother' or 'a wife and three kids to feed.' It didn't seem smart to risk being recognized again and caught when he could possibly just motor away into obscurity with another scheme tucked beneath his belt. It seemed amateurish, almost, and Heero knew that Duo was not one of those.

It was that undefined suspicion and curiosity that drove him to get out of the cabin and stroll around back. There was a muted whim in his head to open the cargo and peer inside for seemingly no reason. He had never heard Duo discuss it, and had never really wondered about it until now, and now he couldn't stop mulling over it, like a detective who had unknowingly wandered onto a crime scene and was drawn back to that spot for reasons he couldn't conceive of.

The dossier tossed and left behind on the seat, Heero went to the back of the white Isuzu and unhooked the latch that kept the back secured firmly. And as he threw it open, he thought of the grinning bohemian and felt that it all had been a lie somehow, in that friendly display of teeth, in those strange words.

Even before the back sliding door hit the ceiling, he could tell that it was completely empty. He didn't need to look for anymore than a second before the questioning again set in, in full form, eating away at him even when he stood there, completely alone.

Why con if you weren't going to get any money out of it? And the more Heero thought about it, he really couldn't think of any good reason.

---

Some time later, the bohemian stirred and inhaled the smell of meat hovering somewhere nearby. A hand was extended out to him, a voice calling his name gently, but he was too drowsy to notice that someone was telling him that it was about time he ate something; he already knew that. His stomach was tossing and turning along with him on the cot, but it only thought of hunger. He lifted his head groggily, eyes closed, and simply craned his neck toward the smell. Dreams clouded his coherent brain and in its loss instincts arose instead and Duo licked his lips once before he bit down at the source of the smell, peering through a tiny opening between his eyelids. Teeth met cold bread along with warm flesh and a male voice exclaimed in surprise and possibly pain.

The warmth in his mouth disappeared very quickly and sleepily, he recognized the traveler hissing under his breath and shaking his hand. In his fingers he held a cold cut sandwich. Duo realized that he had just bitten Heero and sat bolt up as if he'd been jolted with electricity. His face was almost strangled, passing between emotions before settling on apology, shame. "I'm so sorry-" he started earnestly.

"It's alright," the Japanese man interrupted, rubbing his reddened knuckles. Half-uncertain blue eyes met his face as if it was the first time they'd spoken in centuries of tense straits. "I should have been prepared. I knew you have sharp teeth, anyway. But apology accepted."

The bohemian looked blankly at him for a moment.

Slightly nervous, his fingers twitched around the sandwich he'd managed to hang onto.

"I was trying to wake you up, but you were out. I thought you'd be hungry, so I stopped and bought you something. Then we'll be even on the dinner thing."

The bohemian horribly faked a friendly chuckle. "Thanks."

Heero nervously licked his dry lips and once again found himself going into dangerous territory, treading near the bounty hunter incident. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied, hanging his head ever so slightly and dodging eye contact.

"What about your wounds?"

"You don't need to worry about them. I'm just fine, now." Duo frowned. He kicked off the bloodstained blanket and hurriedly crawled up to the seat to see the travelers inflamed bite marks of his own canine teeth. "Oh, man, I'm sorry, about what I did. Is your hand okay?-Jesus, I didn't hurt'cha, did I?"

"It'll sting for a while, but I think I can manage. You didn't break the skin or anything."

"Sorry," Duo mumbled nervously, letting his smile slip for a second to let his eyebrows hitch together as if he were wrestling back some old demon who had slipped back into his mind through an unlocked back door. "Sometimes… I don't wake up completely and if something startles me, then I-I don't act like myself… You know what I mean, traveler?" The bohemian asked with definite lines of uncertainty marring a confident face.

"I already said that it's all right. And yeah, I know what you mean. I'm by no means a morning person, either, so don't worry about it," Heero sympathized. His strained tone of humor was flat and, but that was wholly comforting for the both of them because neither felt light-hearted enough to laugh at anything.

Respective black clouds swirled around both their brains, though neither could see the other's. The comfortless silence remained in their minds as Duo accepted the meal gratefully, with a vulnerability that seemingly leaked from all the wounds he suffered. A shyness that was unheard of creeping into his voice. After confirming that he hadn't harmed Heero and thanked him for the considerate breakfast, the bohemian lowered his eyes and crept into the front seat and exchanged a bloody blanket for a steering wheel and glowing dashboard instruments, a bologna on rye sandwich flopping out his mouth. He surprisingly seemed more than well enough to drive again with only roughly twenty-four hours of rest.

Bruises around his collarbone, which had been visible over the collar of his shirt, were completely gone and only smooth bohemian skin showed. The jerky movements his bruised ribs now were fluid, liquid, as they had been beforehand. Like someone had simply taken their hand to the canvas of Duo Maxwell and wiped the slate clean of all blood.

The engine turned and purred steadily. Duo directed the Isuzu back out onto the freeway and drove lifelessly, looking blankly into the dashed white lines; a sandwich flopped out of his mouth, half-eaten.

Heero retired to the cot with his notebook with the ruse that he needed to be isolated to write and get his thoughts clear. The fact was nothing would get his head completely sorted out. As he had picked the red notebook up, Duo had looked at him and looked fearful for a second, guessing at what would be immortalized in ink after the bounty hunter incident. Neither wanted to talk about it and said nothing, allowing Heero to crawl back into the sleeping cabin safely for the time being.

He knew he'd have to confront Duo about it sometime.

But could he? Could he look into those bewitching violet eyes, fight off the charms of the feline grins, honest or otherwise, and still find the courage to confront him? And what would he really confront him about? But most of all, why was it so hard to talk to him anymore without fear of being caught or doing irreparable damage to an already fragile alliance?

The traveler gave up on writing (it was impossible when his brain was bickering with itself) and laid the red notebook against his chest, lying on his back, and contemplated the lives of bohemians until the steady jolting lulled him to sleep a restless sleep.

Author's Note: Short, I know. I'm addressing that, so don't get upset. Just a little interlude of calm before we start up with the intrigue and action and all that good homegrown stuff. I'm telling you now, we're halfway through. Thanks for all the uber-supportive reviews from everyone-This is going to be cliché, but they're just too good to be true. Honestly, I'm overwhelmed with all much I've heard, so don't worry if you're fretting over it ending too soon. There's still a way to go. Thank you, and ciao.