Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wherever You Will Go ❯ Talk and Dawn ( Chapter 7 )

He sat seething quietly in the fading shadows of WingZERO, emotionally cold as he severed the attempted connection with Duo's gundam. He needed to talk to him. It was important, and Duo would have known it too if he had of answered; even sure as he was that the braided pilot had ignored him deliberately. Angered, Heero cringed as thoughts came unbidden to his head though he wanted them to abate. Stop…stop thinking! A rough laugh cut itself from the Japanese boy's throat, and he mused; maybe Duo's rubbing off on me? No, that could not be right. He was not like Duo. He did not need feelings. A soldier, he thought. He was the perfect soldier.

A com-link blared at him over the screen, startling him out of his thoughts. Quatre. He had traced the American's vid-lines a few hours before out of mere instinct, and discovered non other than the tense conversation between the pilots of Sandrock and Deathscythe. He knew what this call was all about, and he was in no mood to initiate it.

He ignored it, deliberately. This was no time for idle chat - there never was for Heero. He had been trained to assume 'anything other than informative conversation in the quest to gain knowledge' was to be deemed unnecessary. Therefore? He did not need to, or more, he did not want to talk; to Quatre least of all. The Arabian pilot was much too inquisitive and too insightful now that his empathic abilities were getting stronger. And it was true that things such and ice and warmth do not mix; in this case especially. Quatre always hit a little too close to the mark, and being known and predictable was something Heero did not like at the best of times.

Quatre always told him to feel, to talk, claiming he'd be there when he needed him, and that he would need him. Would need them. Heero snorted. He had never taken him up on that offer, but now he was uncertain of just what he wanted to happen. He wasn't sure he wanted his heart to thaw; though certain it was already happening, he was.

Yes, so it had seemed, the braided pilot had rubbed off on him more than he would care to admit, but now he wasn't so sure he didn't like it.

Resolved, but with his feelings in turmoil, the Japanese pilot peered through the visor on his Gundam. The beauty of the dawn scenery made his narrowed eyes widen. He had always loved this time of day; though he'd never dared to share that fact with anyone but Duo. The peace that was held in the rising of the sun had always moved him - if only slightly. As much as I can be moved. The thought brought a derisive snort from his grim lips, and he smirked.

He remembered when he'd told Duo this. They had just come back from a tough mission. And assigned together, as usual, they'd both leaned on each other, exhausted and on their way home. Heero in particular, had been so unusually drained that he hadn't even protested when Duo had slung his arm over his shoulder and offered his assistance as they basically crawled the last stretch to the safe house.

They hadn't been badly injured - mostly only superficial bruises and cuts, but Heero had suffered a rough blow to the head; a nasty knot with a seeping gash that wouldn't stop bleeding. He remembered the effort it had cost him to stay awake; and granted, the braided pilot had gone to great measures to stick with him. The most vivid memory of that time…he remembered the constant chatter Duo had employed to keep him awake; the most absurd mix of insults and phrases known to man compiled all into the one discussion. If anyone other than the three dissimilar gundam pilots had looked upon that conversation, they would think them simply a normal pair of teenage boys incapacitated by alcohol, or maybe something else - definitely not gundam pilots.

But whatever the situation, the conversation had worked, and Heero didn't know whether it was due to the concussion he had sustained or his attempted ignorance of Duo's prattle and curses, but he recalled that the time had gone by rather quickly, and in no time at all they were ready for their much needed rest.

After the door to their safe house had been busted open care of the master lockpicking, Duo had let Heero have the only small bed, as well as all of the blankets. It surely cost him a nights sleep, and the chill and the draft of the patchy wooden floor; but Heero had seemed grateful, and Duo satisfied.

Unlike his partner, Heero had slept almost non-stop from the moment they arrived, and the recollection of being woken hourly to stop him from slipping into a more permanent form of rest was vivid, much to his annoyance.

In recollection the Japanese pilot closed his cobalt depths - which seemed a little too moist for his liking - and as his raging thoughts moved on, he once again witnessed that morning with the braided pilot; wincing at the sudden changes that plagued what he had overhead Duo tell Wufei what was a 'love-hate relationship'.

~~Flashback~~

He awoke to a throbbing pain in his head and the deep, dim orange light of the sun filtering through a faded and tatty curtain. Wincing, the groggy pilot reached a hand up, only to have any sensation dulled by the texture of a smooth…bandage? No.

Sitting up, Heero brushed his tousled hair back from his forehead and inspected the makeshift dressing, riding out a wave of vertigo as he leant against the cold wall. Locating the knot on the material, Heero frowned. They hadn't had any first aid packages with them, and he was sure they were still in the same place. There was nowhere Duo could have gone to get any until they were picked up, which, Heero estimated looking at his watch, wasn't for nearly another day. Curious, he pulled a strip of the fabric to his eye, cringing at the pull of what could only be dried blood crusting his gash. Confusion struck as the colour of the strands greeted him.

Black…? …Duo!

Heero dropped the strip as he proceeded to hastily look about the room. There was no one there. Where…? The almost unspoken thought confused him. Regarding his condition stable; satisfactory, the Japanese pilot stood, reaching out a shaky arm to the wall as he swayed somewhat unsteadily on unused legs.

Heero looked out the large front window of the old and obviously very unused hunting cabin, and his breath caught in his throat. The sun was just beginning to peek above the crest of the icy mountains in the distance, and its effect on the horizon was casting a tranquil glow on the snow-covered treetops. Glancing down at his attire, Heero considered his options. His usual singlet top and spandex shorts wouldn't hold in any warmth, but he needed to find Duo. Casting another observing look around the room, he spotted a large and patchy green jacket, lying discarded in a dank corner, and obviously a long time unused.

"Just like everything else around here," Heero muttered. He moved to inspect the item, eliminating the space between the jacket and himself in no time.

A large hole plagued one arm; ripped beyond repair, and another slice lay tattered and frayed near the tail end. Hn…serviceable, he thought, before shaking off clusters of dust and accumulated mess. The rough flannel jacket was on and zipped before he was out the door, as were his customary sneakers he discovered, neatly placed just by the door.

- - - - -

He found Duo on a small hill not far away, watching the colours and beauty of the sunrise. The American looked so peaceful, part of the scene, like an elegant and expensive photograph. The orange and rose rays of the rising sunny orb glistened and shimmered off everything, including the chestnut strands of his hair; held in a loose braid that highlighted the luminously golden colours. Heero's icy heart ached at the thought of disturbing such a scene before him, but if he was there too long and Duo discovered him, the braided pilot would be angered. Besides, a quiet Duo was probably not a happy Duo.

"Duo," he breathed. Only his low utterance and fog of his breath disturbed the setting. But despite this, and the lack of din, the boy jumped from his perch on the fresh, dewy ground and drew his gun from reflex; surprised at such a shock, when he himself was usually the one to issue the stupefaction's.

"Oh, its you Heero." Duo's face visibly relaxed, and he holstered his gun again. He smiled, and his mask went up, though he looked relieved. "You're finally awake! How are you feeling?"

Heero noticed his words were not as relaxed as usual. Strange, he thought. What is he hiding? Whatever it was, he obviously didn't want to be disturbed, though Heero was glad he'd found him; heard his voice. He clipped his reply to a simple: "Hn. Fine. Better." At this Duo smiled, though this time the masquerade was sincere, and the smile genuine.

"Good."

For awhile, so it seemed, the two stood in a somewhat uneasy silence. Duo diverting Heero's piercing gaze, until the Japanese pilot finally spoke again. He found it strange that Duo hadn't started chattering with his usual enigma, but didn't question this. This was Duo's time.

"I'm going inside. I didn't know where you were. Gomen nasai." Turning, he moved to leave, noticing the dual pair of footprints that stood out easily against the damp, glistening ground. He had disturbed Duo in his rare moments of peace and reflection; maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to seek him out. The braided pilot had looked uncomfortable to say the least, though Heero found himself struggling to discover what was wrong.

As he was walking, a hand rested itself on his shoulder, and it was his turn to be shocked. Confused, he turned, and met Duo's violet eyes by narrowing his own at the contact. The braided boy's amethyst depths were wider than usual; sparkling in the glowing light and it looked for all the world that he hadn't slept. It was now obvious Maxwell had been facing his own demons.

"Nani?" Heero questioned.

"Sit with me?" The answering question held a pausing reluctance, and at that Heero didn't answer. Seeing this, Duo tried again, and smiled faintly. This time Heero noticed the defensive mask was put back in place. "As you can see, there's actually a sun to rise this morning," Duo lifted his arm and turned again, pointing. Strangely, Heero found himself transferring his gaze from the squinting stare, to the brilliant cascading colours across the stretches of visible sky. "Plus," Duo added cockily, "I've had no one to talk to for the past day and a half, and anyone'll do. All I need you to do is nod or something. You know, like a wall?" He grinned again, and with a wink he sat down again on the long, wild grass.

Heero considered turning and going back inside - not at all fazed by the sarcastic insult - but instead, he wordlessly sat alongside the American. Too entranced with the slow movements and hues that were playing in a silent and timeless dance, he missed the other pilot's sidelong glance and the small quirk of his mouth. Briefly, he considered Duo's shock at his accepted company, but it was not as if he had never watched a dawn before. In fact, he'd caught himself awake this early many times before, watching in dazed silence as the light played its games with the sun.

Somehow, it soothed him. Whether it suggested the world without war, or with hope. Whatever the way, he didn't know how or why, but it helped with things; helped cope with what they did every day. This was something he'd never admit - who'd believe that Heero could think such, after all? To this, Heero supposed he could hazard

A movement out of the corner of his eye broke his concentration on his past, and he turned his head slightly to watch the pilot of Deathscythe in silence. The other boy was shifting slightly; placing his arms around his knees before sighing lightly. Heero noticed he was shivering slightly, and thoughtfully he fingered the bandage on his head, noticing at once the missing priest's shirt.

Without saying a word, Heero poised to a crouch and withdrew the jacket from around him; he wasn't really cold anyway; he was used to temperatures such as this. Duo was not. Silent still, he leaned forward and placed the jacket over the other boy's shoulders, feeling his muscles tense and jump slightly as he laid the thick flannel over the bare arms.

"Thank you." It was an uncertain whisper, and Heero met the braided pilot's eyes with his own; and without the usual death-glare. He moved back to his seat with a rude snort.

"Hn, baka," Heero pointed stiffly at the black bandage. "You shouldn't have used your shirt for this." Duo only smiled in reply before relaxing again, free from the cold. Heero broke the eye contact first, and looked back to the sunset, hearing Duo shifting and resettling the jacket before doing the same. Some demons, Heero thought with an inner sigh. Things were silent for a long time after that.

- - - - -

"It's beautiful."

"Huh?"

He didn't realise he'd actually said it until he felt a gaze upon him, and a shocked tone. He cast his gaze downwards before meeting the eyes of Deathscythe's pilot. Without answering he glared, and when the self-proclaimed 'God of Death' realised this he enquired again.

"Heero?"

"…Nothing."

"What did you say?" Uncertain at his friend's possible reaction, Heero again averted his eyes to the sunset yet again, and gestured with his chin toward that which he was admiring.

"I - I said it's beautiful, baka. The sunrise."

"Yes," Duo answered. And this time, Heero could hear the warmth in his voice, but the trace and sense of another emotion in his expression eluded him. "Yes it is." He looked from the scenery of the mountains to face the braided boy once again, who smiled warmly and brushed an array of loose bangs from his eyes. The confusion in Duo's tone was gone, and without another word he turned back to the peaceful view again, hugging his knees, all the while retaining the same smile on his face.

~~End Flashback~~

Heero came back to himself in the brightening cockpit of his Gundam, and he blinked his eyes in adjusting to the light. Heero remembered the two pilots had sat there for a long time. Neither had said a word, as the beauty of just some of what they were fighting for presented itself to them.

He hadn't surprised Duo as much as he though he would - the braided boy had said not a word as they'd sat on that hilltop; which was where Heero caught himself thinking, reflecting on past events with the other pilots. Duo's attitude there and then had reminded the Japanese pilot more of Shenlong's pilot, Wufei; modestly content in his own stoic company. That morning, Duo had revelled and been dispelled by his very own silence, and it had been so unlike the American pilot's usual persona, that at first, Heero remembered, he'd even been mildly worried; had Duo sustained some injury unbeknownst to him? …No. And this was what stopped Heero in his tracks. All walls had been down that day, and perhaps, just maybe, he'd been lucky and close enough to be allowed a glimpse at the other boy's real self; behind his cheery mask.

Heero narrowed his eyes against the growing sunlight, though not all for that reason. Duo had been unusually quiet then, true, but was it not it also true that Heero had been uncharacteristically talkative? After all, he had been the one to start the conversation; for to some things Duo hadn't even answered. His original thought came back to him. Perhaps the two pilots were more alike that he first thought. Heero quickly discarded that. The thought frightened him, and in truth, for something that the perfect soldier could be afraid of, must be something worthy of his angst indeed. Duo's usual act was a mere mask, which covered up most of his feelings. If he lost it; if they lost it, he was not sure they'd ever get it back.

Duo was not the braided baka they all made him out to be; not idiotic, but reflective and maybe even deeper than they all thought…more caring than they all thought. He had only seen the darker side of Duo once out of battle, and that had been last night. Duo had never acted like he so much as cared when Heero yelled at him; when he told him to shut up, to be quiet…had he? Though, it was not like Heero stuck around afterwards. He usually went back to his laptop, and Duo to the other pilots. The American tended to steer away from him after these encounters. Kept away from him until necessary; except for the brief encounters where conversation was needed. But this time he'd just snapped. It proved, that like Heero or even Wufei, that even the braided boy could be pushed too far.

"Baka," Heero muttered, though whether to himself or Duo he wasn't sure. The Japanese pilot shook his head, and lowered his eyes to his hands, which were shaking either from rage or fear of loss, or both.

Shaking? I'm…I'm losing it! Upset? Bewildered and angered at his emotions and fragmented thoughts, Heero clasped his hands to the sides of his pilot's seat in order to display a satisfactory level of control; an act. He smirked.

"Baka," this time he knew who his words were to, and in self-defiance he shook his head vigorously. "No…you may have lost him! Baka no-," however the boy was cut off as quickly as he started, however, as a persistent beep sounded, shocking him enough to make him jump. What's wrong with me?! Unsure whether to select accept or not, Heero considered his options.

His hand hovered indecisively over the com-link.

- - - - -

"Come on Heero," Quatre shook his head. "This is no time to play perfect soldier. Just accept!"

A boy stood behind the seated Arabian, a hand resting on the boy's left shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Nor is it any time to get upset, little one. Heero deals with things in his own way. Whatever way that is." Trowa Barton's visible emerald eye narrowed at his last words, but his voice softened at the next. "Be nice. I'm sure he's hurting as much as Duo is."

"I'm not so sure, Trowa. I could feel Duo's confusion, and his pain. I didn't know someone could hurt so much emotionally. What did Yuy do?"

Trowa winced at the reference to the Japanese pilot. The anguish in the caring Arabian's tone was evident, and last name basis with Quatre usually meant he was seething; and personally, he knew what Heero was in for if he didn't comply to this connection.

"Heero," Trowa growled in consternation and warning. "Connect you idiot."

- - - - -

Heero's poised hand quivered uncertainly over the decisive button, and for a moment he took his hand away to run it shakily over his face. This is no time to be so unsure!

"I…hn," before he could change his mind, his left arm shot out with blurring agility and hit the 'connect' button on the keypad. As Quatre's face appeared on the screen with Trowa behind him, his stomach fluttered and performed somersaults worthy of Trowa's circus.

"Yuy," Quatre growled, and from the other end of the line, Heero saw the Heavyarms pilot wince; he also knew what this meant, obviously. Quatre was usually polite, calm. Yet the tone of his voice and the glare he directed at the Japanese pilot definitely meant business. Surname mixed with greetings meant trouble from the blonde boy.

Heero had seen Quatre like this before, due to a misunderstanding at the hospital after a mission, and he recalled thinking how much he'd have loathed to be that person on the receiving end; perfect soldier or no. Heero inwardly flinched, he seemed to be having a reverse effect on people at the moment, and his thoughts from before flew back into his mind. Ice and warmth, warmth and ice…

Heero had only one last thought before he opened his mouth to speak to Quatre; the sarcasm worthy of Shinigami himself.

Things are definitely getting colder in here…

~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHORS NOTES: Okay you guys…what do you think? Good?, Bad?, Dump it now while you still can?, hehe. Ah well. Sorry I've been so slack, but a lot of things have come up and I've got to keep my grades up. Please Review and tell me what you think…and be honest! Thanks a lot! ^v^