Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Whenever You Call Series: -1- It Starts . . . ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own `em, so don't sue me!
Arc: Whenever You Call

Story Title: It Starts . . .
Author: La Loba de Mibu
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General, Shounen ai
Pairing: 1+2
Summary: Heero and Duo are assigned to infiltrate and destroy the same Oz base. But when things go wrong, it becomes a race against the clock to get out alive. And without fully understanding why, Heero disregards his training and saves his partner's life.
Word Count: +/- 2400
Author Notes: This takes place in the Whenever You Call universe. It was once part of a much longer chapter fic of that name, however, I became dissatisfied with the fic's structure and decided to break it down. This the first in the series, and depicts the moment that started it all, thus its rather lame title.

 

 

Whenever You Call ~ It Starts . . .

 

 

Pilots 01 and 02 had unknowingly been sent to the same base with separate, but similar missions. The base had two mainframes, each one assigned to a different pilot to be destroyed. In hindsight, it seemed like the Docs' subtle, and perhaps sadistic, way of arranging teamwork between the two most contrasting pilots in the Gundam quintet. They had each gone about planting explosives, with the belief that they were the sole operative on the mission. By some cruel twist of fate, the two pilots didn't crossed paths until after they each started detonating their respective bombs; which of course meant that the base was wired with twice as many explosives as needed to be utterly demolished.

 

“Shit! Shit, shitty, shit, shit!” Duo cursed loudly as he ran like his life depended on it; because it did.

 

“Save your breath for running, Maxwell!” Heero growled loudly right on the braided boy's heels.

 

“Fuck you, Yuy!! I'll damn well curse myself fuckin' blue, if I feel fuckin' like it!” Duo yelled over his shoulder.

 

Heero merely growled in response again, partly because he didn't want to waste any more breath on arguing with the braided pilot, and partly because the ground beneath them suddenly swelled and tilted with the force of an explosion from the level just below.

 

“Gaaadammit!” Duo exclaimed as the shifting ground lurched him forward forcing him to meet unceremoniously with the cold metal tiles of the floor underneath him.

 

He quickly picked himself up and continued running faster than before, ignoring his sore bruised knees, and the burning in his lungs. They were on a dangerous time table, escaping with their lives all depended on the accuracy of their timing, and their memorization skills. In order to exit the base, they had to climb up to the next level, before the explosives on level below detonated and blew the floor right up from under them. The question was: could they make it in time? Duo quickly calculated when the next bomb, one that he planted, would go off.

 

“Fuck!” he shouted just so he could expel some frustration, and more than a little fear, as he pushed himself to run even faster.

 

He didn't even bother to look back. He knew Heero was right behind him; the bastard probably hadn't even blinked when the last bomb, one of his own, went off nearly under their feet. Did anything faze this guy? If they survived this, he was going to spray paint Wing Gundam pinker than Relena's goddamned limousine; if that didn't faze him, nothing would! He wished he could cackle manically after devising such a brilliantly vile prank, but he was too busy trying to get enough oxygen into his starved lungs. They had to move faster!

 

Heero concentrated on keeping track of the numbers they passed every few meters of paneling. When they ascended to the next level, the sectors would be labeled opposite the ones on this floor. Each sector number they passed, indicated that they were traveling farther and farther from the exit, much to the Japanese pilot's ire and embarrassment. Although the numbers indicated they were traveling farther from the exit, they were actually running toward it. Despite the fact that he was an expert at stealth operations, they were not his specialty. But even some of the best stealth specialists in the world would not have picked up on the cleverly contrived defense mechanism this particular base had installed within the very fabric of its design.

 

It was a trap set into the blueprints that only the sharpest eagle's eye, and a good dose of unconventional thinking, would be able to pick up. Trained to trust only cold calculation and strict provable fact, Heero had fallen right into the enemy's trap. But not Duo; he had noticed the peculiar optical illusion in the blue prints; gut instinct, refined from years on the street, told him the rest once he arrived on site. If Heero had only listened to him two levels below, when he was leading the way, they would have been out of this death trap by now, and on their way to the safe house. Instead, Duo had to back-pedal them for miles through the maze of halls, while avoiding their own timed bombs, in order to get them back on track, and in the right direction. The Perfect Soldier had to admit, he was a little impressed at Duo's perceptiveness of even the finest, most minute details in everything he focused on.

 

The floor beneath them quaked once more and erupted upwards not two seconds after they passed over it. Even Heero couldn't help a curse after that close call and he moved faster, almost side by side with the long-haired pilot, a mere centimeter or two in ahead of him. He was just starting to feel the burn of a cramp in his side; and if he was getting tired, the braided idiot had to be exhausted. Yet, the Deathscythe pilot hadn't slowed down his pace one bit. Heero returned his attention back to the labeled panels, face grim and determined. His next bomb would be going off soon, and judging by their current position . . . Heero pushed himself harder.

 

“Hayaku! Hayaku!” Heero shouted as he sped up even more and moved ahead of Duo.

 

But every breath was pure agony, burning along the insides of his lungs so painfully, Duo felt as if he were running with two daggers stuck in each side. He had reached his speed limit, and couldn't move faster if his life depended on it; but didn't fate just love being the ironic little bitch? He was moving way too slow; he wasn't going to make it before the next detonation.

 

The floor before them suddenly bulged open, pieces of metal ripped and flew in all directions. The two pilots ducked and swerved to avoid the deadly shrapnel, but did not stop. As the floor ahead of their feet began to cave in, the two boys launched themselves over the growing crevice. Tucking into a little ball to ease his landing, Heero bounced and rolled painfully several times before sprawling to a stop. Groaning as he lifted onto his elbows, he shook his head and stared at the gapping whole he had just leaped over.

 

Flipping onto his back, he took several deep breathes to calm his racing heart, before grunting, “Status?”

 

Silence met his inquiry. He sat up quickly and looked around his side of the gap, but there was no one in sight. He turned promptly and scouted the hall on the other side of the hole; nothing.

 

“Kuso!” Heero cried as he scrambled to the edge of the opening in the floor.

 

Hanging from a gnarled steel beam that looked like it was once a rafter for the ceiling of the lower level, Duo desperately tried to maintain his grip on the hot, groaning piece of metal that kept him from falling into the blazing fury of the level below. A secondary explosion, farther down the hall from which they had just come, rocked the building around them, unfortunately loosening the precariously dangling beam from its place. Duo screamed as he suddenly plunged downwards, but cut off abruptly when something jerked the beam to a stop. Tightening his grip until the sharp metal dug in almost to the bone, Duo risked a glance upwards. Wide violet eyes met the narrowed cobalt blue eyes of Heero Yuy, who was preventing the braided boy from plummeting to his death, with a steely grip on the other end of the beam.

 

Duo stared stupefied for a few seconds before he tried to blurt out a coherent sentence, “Sweet - Holy - Yuy - How - Fuck - What - God - Why —”

 

“Are you . . .” Heero growled slowly, breathing hard, arms shaking slightly with the effort of holding onto to the beam, “done yet?”

 

Duo could only hang on with all his might, and silently watch with his eyes impossibly wide and mouth agape, as Heero groaned and began to pull the broken beam up. The explosions on their level drew closer and became more frequent by the minute. Duo thought his heart would stop every time another bomb jarred their surroundings violently, but Heero's hold never faltered. Finally, he firmly held the beam in place with one shaking arm as he stretched out his free hand to grab hold of Duo. Once he had a secure grip on the braided boy's forearm, he let the beam crash loudly into inferno below; realizing the mistake too late. Suddenly grunting a loud curse, Heero quickly pulled Duo the rest of the way up, forced the stunned boy to his feet, practically dragged him several meters down the hall, and shoved them both roughly into a stairwell, where they landed in an awkward heap, but successfully managed to avoid a huge back draft that would have seared the skin clear off their bones.

 

As they sat there gasping for a few moments in silence, Duo's mind whirled rapidly with confused thoughts. What just happened? Did he miss something? Since when did the Perfect Soldier — Mr. Heero “Omae o Korosu If You Jeopardize the Mission” Yuy — waste precious valuable time, to save a comrade's life?! He looked over at the Japanese boy panting beside him, trying to comprehend whatever the hell had just happened.

 

Heero plunked down beside the gasping American and tried to catch his own breath. What the hell was he thinking? He could have just as easily left the braided idiot behind to die and be at a safe house right now, typing up his mission report. Why had he just jeopardized the mission? He exhaled slowly, leaning his back on the wall behind him, running a shaky hand through his sweaty bangs. He suddenly felt eyes on him, and turned to face the long-haired boy whose life he had just saved for reasons beyond his comprehension.

 

He was trembling slightly, no doubt from shock, and the massive dose of adrenaline coursing through his body. His long braid lay over one shoulder, pooling in his lap where he cradled his bloody hands. Then he met those intensely violet eyes, boring into his own cobalt pair and asking a billion questions which he could not answer even if they had the time.

 

Heero broke eye contact first. They'd stalled long enough, they had to get out and back to their Gundams before the rest of this building came crashing down on their heads. He stood without another word, and started racing up the stairs; pleased to hear Duo's steps right behind him. They made it out of the base without further incident, boarded their respective Gundams, and traveled the five hours to their assigned safe house in silence.

 

As soon as they entered the rundown shack, they parted ways. Heero booted up his laptop and commenced his report, and Duo . . . Well, Heero didn't really care where Duo had disappeared to. After he finished typing his report, Heero began his customary proof-read, to get any last kinks out. He paused when he came to the part where he rescued Duo, instead of going on without him as he was trained to do, and glared hard at the screen. He had been engaged in his intimidation of the offending paragraph for a good fifteen minutes before the prickle of hairs on the back of his neck told him he was being watched.

 

Shifting the laptop's screen slightly, he saw the reflection of Duo leaning in the doorway, hands freshly bandaged, and a strange look on his face. Heero turned around to see the other pilot's expression more clearly. It was odd, because for once, the braided fool didn't have a goofy grin splitting his face, neither did he have that mad glint he got whenever he piloted Deathscythe, nor the annoyed scowl he eventually directed at the Perfect Soldier whenever he got fed up with one word answers, or with being ignored; it was not devoid of emotion either, it simply displayed one that Heero had never seen on Duo's face before. It suddenly struck Heero that he was witnessing Duo without any of his habitual masks; and it made him feel strangely honored. It seemed to Heero like they had been staring at each other for an eternity before Duo broke the silence.

 

“Thanks . . . for saving my life,” he said it very softly, almost shyly, yet clearly sincere. He never took his gaze off of Heero, whose eyes had widened slightly, and waited another small eternity for Heero to speak.

 

“Doitashimashite,” his reply was not quite as monotone as usual.

 

Duo's eyes widened, before an even stranger look crossed his face. Heero blinked, not because Duo was smiling at him, but because of the way Duo was smiling at him. For some reason, he suspected that very few people had ever received this particular smile from the braided boy. Heero suddenly felt something very unfamiliar rise up from deep inside him until his face warmed slightly; he immediately became defensive.

 

“Nani?” he said gruffly in an irritated tone. If possible Duo's smile became even stranger than before; and Heero really wished he could just shoot whatever that unfamiliar something inside him was because it made his face become even warmer.

 

“Nothing,” Duo answered simply, shaking his head, a glint of humor in his bright violet eyes, then he turned and left the doorway, whistling tunelessly as he walked down the hall.

 

Heero stared at the empty doorway for a moment, before swinging around promptly and deleting an entire paragraph from his mission report on impulse. What Dr. J didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. He hit the send button, then glowered at his laptop once again, hoping to threaten the poor machine into telling him how to get the infernal heat in his face to dissipate.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

~Owari