Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ What Words Can't Say ❯ Footprints ( Chapter 1 )

What Words Can't Say

By WolfGirl22

 

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Boys, nor do I claim to.

Warnings: This is a post-cannon fic. There will be shonen-ai and/or yaoi.

Pairings: Currently, 1+2, 3+4

Author notes: My first try at a post-cannon fic, so please be forgiving.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

When Duo told me that you could tell a lot about a person by what shoes he wore, I didn't think he was talking to me. When he asked if I had heard him five seconds later, I knew I was wrong. I don't know whom else he would have been talking to anyway. The rest of the crew was working the inside of the house

 

“This person obviously doesn't appear to care about his footwear from the way the tread is worn down so much. There are even parts broken off. Possibly a poor person, or just likes his shoes.” Duo peered closer, and then snapped a few pictures from different angles. “The tread,” he said, “is worn down unevenly, showing that the person had a posture problem.

 

He pointed at the imprint of someone's right shoe left deep in the mud. I thought of my own ratty yellow sneakers and dismissed what that said about me according to Duo's theory. I checked my cell phone for any missed calls.

 

“Size eight, Nike cross-trainers, men's. Someone's got small feet for a guy.” He looked sideways at me mischievously. “Heero, you know what they say about small feet, right?”

 

I snapped my flip-phone shut. “No, Duo, I don't know.”

 

When the war ended, they made us all go to school. It was the only place that we could have filled in the gaps in our knowledge. It was also the only place Duo could have possibly learned more vulgar expressions, and but somehow Duo managed to play it off as more than just child-like humor. Sometimes.

 

One of the crewmembers came out to check up with me. Harry, I believe. He held up a swab to show me, but Duo motioned him to wait a second. Harry pushed at his hair with his free hand and stayed silent.

 

“Small socks.” I stared blankly at him. He winked at me. “People with small feet wear small socks.”

 

I looked at him again. “And how'd you know the shoe brand?”

 

“Photographic memory,” he supplied, looking at the prints with his head twisted slightly to one side. “I read the index of all the shoe treads.” Duo smiled.

 

I nodded absently, mentally replaying moments where he read something. It was the only time he was quiet, concentrating solely on the material. Duo even talked in his sleep, disturbing the rare silence that filled our two-bedroom apartment solely at night.

 

“And there's a Nike symbol right in the middle.” Duo stood up and brushed himself off. “Ah, well, let's get a cast on this so we can look at it in the lab.”

 

I groaned and turned back to Harry the assistant, who was struggling not to laugh. “What did you find?”

 

“There are traces of blood, but not much. Someone cleaned it I'd say. We can see it with the light, but we won't be able to get more than this off it for a sample.” The assistant waved the swab.

 

“Bag it before you drop it in the mud, and send it back to the lab.” Duo told the man. Duo frowned and relived him of it, bagging it and stowing it in his pack.

 

“You got fingerprints first, I assume?” I asked, concerned. The man was new, but hopefully not stupid.

 

“There weren't even any partials.” The man stood staring at me waiting for orders. I frowned. With an object of that size and shape there should have been something.

 

Duo lifted the plaster cast off the mud and held it up. “I'm done. We can go back to the lab now.”

 

 

That evening, when we got home, it was unusually quiet. Duo stayed in his room the whole time. I got ready for bed as usual, but curiosity--something I had allowed to grow in me since we finished college--stopped me at the open door of his room.

 

Duo sat on his bed polishing his beloved black boots. The leather was getting more worn and less stiff but he put so much care into it you could hardly tell when he was wearing them. He ran the rag over the boots again and then stopped. “My boots are old, but they look polished. Does that mean I care for my appearance or my shoes?”

 

I didn't know, so I said nothing. He looked at our feet again, contemplating, a silly smile on his face. “My boots are like an attachment of myself. I've had them so long they are like a part of me. I feel like I couldn't make any footprints without them. Unfortunately they're getting worn out. I'm getting worn out. We need more vacations.” Duo groaned, flopping backwards.

 

I leaned on the doorjamb. “We haven't been doing this for long. We don't get any leave time for another six months. It was your idea not to go into the Preventors, and since we are very suited for this line of work we compromised. It's not my fault they made us team up for support after the war. You could have gone to live with Quatre and Trowa.”

 

“Three's company, and you were the reason they made us team up-- Your shoes are worn out too. They're the same ones you wore in the war for Christ's sake. They still have stealth written all over them too, bright yellow. Why don't you get new ones? Shoes that aren't that colour.”

 

“They still fit, and they don't let water in. And I like the print they make on dirt,” I added quietly as I scuffed one of the aforementioned shoes on the carpet.

 

“Unpractical as always.” Duo grinned broadly and sat up. A clock ticked too loudly somewhere in the house. “Heero? Are we living `normal' lives?” Duo asked, his voice small and childlike.

 

“As normal as I know how. You? I don't know. Are you?” I scratched my head.

 

“Are most twenty-two year olds still living with their war buddy? I mean, you don't date, I don't date,” Duo stopped. “Of course this isn't normal. But I don't think I could ever live alone.” He stroked his braid gently.

 

I shifted my bodyweight from one foot to another. “We have each other at least. It's better than being alone. Night, Duo.”

 

“Night Heero. Sweet dreams.” He laid back and pulled the deep blue quilt on his bed up over himself.

 

I started to walk away but only got so far as the first picture frame in the hallway, the one of all five of us pilots. I thought of it as I stuck my head back into the room.

 

“Heero? You're very loyal and loving to—your shoes.”

 

I smiled, an expression giving more than anything I could express verbally. “You as well. Now go to sleep.” Sometimes there are things words can't say

 

 

End notes: I hope this was a good beginning. Please read and review!