“Coming up,” I hear Duo, his voice almost singing.
“Excellent. Almost finished here.”
Benedetti’s computer isn’t half as exciting nor as incriminating as I thought it would be; to be frank, his data is pretty worthless compared to the figures and memos of his other departments. Apparently, he likes to visit porn sites and play Solitaire a lot... and write staccato short notes, for which I almost pity the secretary. I don’t know much Italian, but even if it was written in a language I did know, a four-words memo still remains a mystery to me. Hopefully his secretary knows how to handle them; I don’t think there’s any code worked into it; but to be certain, I copy every file on his hard disk. Wufei will have a field day with researching into this all, and the judges and lawyers can rub in their hands when we arrest Benedetti and charge him for everything we can find; for starters, endangering humanity with his fucking intended Mobile Suit manufacturing.
“Where are you?”
“Benedetti’s office,” I answer, “not much data here. Retreat. Meet you outside?”
“Outside,” Duo repeats. He won’t need to place detonations in the factory itself; the charges in the sublevel will take out the whole premises. I smirk, filled with pride. My Duo is the best in what he does, and his enthusiasm in placing explosions amuses… no, endears me. We’re soldiers, first and foremost, and sometimes we wonder if we’re still humans. I could say I’m pretty human considering I feel amusement and endearment when thinking of Duo placing detonations, but I also know what those detonations will entail. For the sake of keeping the peace, for the sake of keeping people from harming each other, we do everything it takes to do our jobs. With this mission, no people are involved but us; our media department will cover up the blow as an “accident”, using the presence of Mobile Suit oils and fuels to their advantage. Benedetti will get the full brunt of it, and no one will be doing business with him anymore; a nice setback in the weapon and suit department, and the world has lost one piece of scum it could do already without.
I close off the monitor and reach forward to unplug my laptop, finished with the data copying. The small desk light crackles and I barely register it, my eyes fixated on the plugs, when the light bulb suddenly pops. A small spark flitters from the plug and I almost drop it, simply out of reaction; the gloves I’m wearing protect me from shock, so I’m safe- nothing really is the matter. It only takes me a second to realize the consequences of the seemingly innocent spark… of the seemingly innocent popped light. Short-circuiting! But the power is off on the sublevel… why the fuck didn’t I question how the light in Benedetti’s office could be on while everything else was off? A second. That’s all that it takes. Really. Just a second. A second wherein you have time enough to contemplate how fucking stupid you’ve been in your overconfidence, how fucking stupid you’ve been, no matter how many missions you’ve executed, how fucking stupid you’ve been in assuming you knew what you’re doing. A second. That’s all that it takes. Just a second. A second wherein you’re short on time to tell your loved one that he has to get the fuck out of here or else he’ll die in the pandemonium he has created himself when the explosions go off. I don’t think the scream that tears itself from my throat is anything human-like. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s been drowned out by the incredible overwhelming noise of the explosion. A second. A second in which I realize that.. I’m just going to die, as I’m thrown through the office, smacking against the cupboard and I hear something close to my ear, but I can’t tell if it’s Wufei or Duo screaming at me.
----------------
Pain. Pain is good. I’m alive… if I can feel pain, I’m alive. For how long? Is the pain fatal? I’m calm. My mind is working at top speed, taking in my surroundings, analyzing and processing. Explosion. Short-circuit. Light on the desk. My laptop is on the floor, shoved off from the desk. I’m reaching for it before I even realize it; I’m busy with surviving, and still my mind will put mission parameters first. If I’m to die here in this office, they will find me with the laptop in my arms and they’ll have to pry it from my cold fingers. I have to destroy the hard drive, so the data can’t fall into the wrong hands. Everything should be in Wufei’s possession anyway. I suddenly wail. My arm reaches for it, but something is wrong. Blood is flowing, literally flowing over my arm. It’s on pure willpower alone that I’m able to move my arm, though my senses are screaming pain at me. Broken, probably exposed to the bone.
My breathing is labored, and I suppress a cough. Remain silent, at all costs… you never know who’s in the room with you. Nonsense! I’m alone, and I’m injured. I force myself to get up, to check myself for further injuries. I’m able to set my own bones, I did it once with my leg, but my arm can’t be set just like that. I need professional surgery, if I can make it out of here alive. The explosion… why didn’t I die in the explosion? Duo would’ve probably set it so that nothing would be left of the factory after the charges would go off… too many questions, and no answer.
“Wufei.” My voice croaks, hoarse and I can’t help it, I need to cough. I almost hack up a lung, dust crawling through every pore of my body. My left arm is fine, and I pick up the laptop, and only now I start looking around. Benedetti’s office seems pretty much unaffected by the explosion; the furniture is damaged and the computer monitor is obviously broken, but for the rest it looks pretty much the same.
“Wufei. Are you there?” My broken arm dangles next to my side, and I pointedly ignore it. I can’t wait that long, however; blood is pooling on the floor and I need something to tie off the open wound with. Wait... the Armani suits in the cupboard! I turn around, eyeing the large cupboard again. The door’s barely on its hinges, creaking as if it can -or will- crumble at any moment. I quickly sift through the suits, finding an expensive looking silk shirt, still in its original package. I rip the plastic package with my teeth, grabbing the shirt and shaking it until all the pins are gone, before I wrap it around my arm. It’s immediately soaked with blood, and I curse mentally. Awkwardly, I manage to tie it around my arm, not particularly caring when I cry out again as I tie the sleeves of the shirt together. Hopefully it’ll stop the bleeding; if I can make it out of here alive, it wouldn’t do me any good to bleed to death before I reach the doorstep.
“Wufei, Duo!” It’s of no use. The line is dead, and not because of the agreed ‘restricted communication’. The door to Benedetti’s office has been blown out of its hinges, and lies cracked in two on the floor. Strange that it didn’t hit me- and I was thrown face first into the cupboard. Strange that the door of the cupboard didn’t crack my skull. I can’t waste my time by asking myself all this now; I have to get out of here, I have to find Duo… oh God, Duo. Where is he? Where was he at the moment the explosion went off?
I force myself to think back to our last conversation, while I struggle to leave the office. I’ve lost my flashlight, and even if I could’ve found it, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. Police and firemen will arrive shortly, maybe a crisis team to see if they can help… and Wufei will leave the scene in silence, informing the ESUN of the mission gone wrong, and Une will only nod, Relena will cry, and the rest of the world won’t care. We don’t exist. We hardly exist. Quatre and Trowa would mourn, but if we’re supposedly killed by the explosions, where and to whom could they pay respect? We’d disappear out of everyone’s sight, to be forgotten, to be honored with a crappy plaque or a few small “In Memoriam” lines in the internal ESUN memos.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Walk. One foot. Other foot. The laptop weighs a whole fucking lot; I’m not going back for its special case and bag that allows me to carry it comfortably on my back, with every appliance and extra cables and wires fitting in the appropriate pockets. I don’t know how long it takes for me to reach the large stairs that lead to the ground floor. When I put my hand on the metal banister it creaks and protests, but it holds. I put my foot once again in front of the other. One step at the time, literally. Dust clouds and cement flakes fall from my hair, and I cough once again. Everything hurts; my ribs are more than probably cracked. It astounds me that I don’t have any head injury; it’s the first thing that comes to mind when you’re flung through a room. It’s silent, but not completely dark; it’s more dark-gray, and my eyes are perfectly adjusted to it. It’s not a faint light with a detectable source, it’s an all-surrounding, dark-gray hue... atmosphere. Maybe from all the dust, I don’t know. All I want to do is to find the exit and get some fresh air; my lungs are burning, my cracked ribs are protesting against every move, and my laptop seems to increase in weight with every step. I’m awfully tempted to leave the blasted thing just here, and to hell with the consequences if it ‘falls in the wrong hands’. Who or what is ESUN anyway to decide whose hands are ‘wrong’? They accuse their own employees of having another personality, and not just ‘a’ personality, no, the fucking God of Death himself. It would be really darn funny if the situation wasn’t like this and if I didn’t feel like I’m going to collapse on the spot.
I recognize this hall; it’s the entrance hall. The desk from the receptionist who welcomed us on the first afternoon we were here is cut in half; bombed by a large chunk out of the ceiling. Glass is strewn everywhere; the soles of my shoes are thick and equipped to absorb the crunching sound of the broken pieces and I slowly, oh so slowly, move towards the exit. The entrance doors are non-existent; they were glass panes and nothing is left of them. I start to laugh hysterically when it dawns on me that I’m moving my hand forward, carrying the laptop and all, to fumble around for the doorknob. Automatism, it’ll be my downfall one of these days. The air is thick, smoke clouds are visible in the moonlight and it smells, no, it reeks of kerosene. The kerosene that should’ve been fatal… I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. I don’t even hear sirens. It’s silent, and no sign of Duo.
“Duo...”
I stand still. What am I doing here, carrying my laptop, when the one I love has stayed behind, or has been killed in the explosion? I want to turn around and enter the building again, I want to look for Duo, but my feet pointedly move into the opposite direction; back to the gate. I moan. There’s no way I can climb that gate now, with only one arm. I can’t feel my right arm; I can’t feel the pain anymore. Not good. I need to get out of here… but what about Duo? We’re trained soldiers, and during missions we’re trained to save ourselves and everything pertaining to the mission. It’s Duo who never wants to leave anyone behind, it’s Duo who always swims against the current and I just can’t believe he died in the explosion. I cross the large terrain, body moving and moving solely because of my training. The umpteenth benefit? In this case, it is… I should really be thankful that I’m alert and adept enough to return on my own strength, that I saved the mission data, that I’m coherent enough to think and analyze about what happened. The other part of my mind is slowly starting to become clouded; fogged with dull pain, the gnawing thoughts of my Duo being dead, the appealing mentality of throwing everything down and collapsing to the ground to die as well.
“Duo...”
The gate is open. Not wide open, but open nonetheless- I can wriggle myself through. I bump the laptop against the lock. I hiss, mentally scolding myself as my first thought is about the dent it probably leaves in the casing. How can I care for that stupid electronic thing after everything that happens? It’s surviving, my mind tells me. Focus on the things that are at hand, don’t think yet of the consequences, the possibilities.. don’t stray away, stay on your path. Mission parameters. Priorities. I want to cry out loud, I want to scream to the dark sky, it’s dark outside, but I don’t have any voice left. I want to cough, I want to curl up and die… as if I haven’t died enough already.
I’m nothing without my Duo. Without him, I revert to that once “Perfect Soldier”, as people liked to refer to me. I’ve never been a perfect soldier, nor did I ever want to be; but without Duo, it’d be very tempting to become one. Why should I care anymore if the warmth and light in my life is gone? Find another? As if… as if anyone could even come close to him.
The hill. I remember jogging up the hill with Duo next to me, carrying the explosions on his back, jogging in that controlled pace of his, face set in determination, braid dancing behind him, black scarf fluttering with the lose ties in the wind. My mind’s playing tricks on me. There was no wind when we jogged up the hill. One foot after another, I’m going down. I know where the car is parked. Return back to base. That’s a good boy, Heero Yuy. People will be so proud of me. I’ve saved the world before, surviving an all-out explosion is just a piece of cake. The one I love died, but hey, that’s the risk we take with our jobs, you know?
I don’t know if I’m accepting Duo’s death already, or if I’m just in denial. It’s the shock, plain and simple. I need to lie down, I need to… I need to know if he’s alive.
“Heero!”
I don’t even respond. This isn’t my Duo’s voice. I stand still, unable to move another step. My fingers let go of the laptop, and I expect to hear a sound; the sound of it falling to the ground, maybe cracking open the case. I don’t expect silence, and I certainly don’t expect hands on my body.
Chinese words are spoken, and from their intonation they’re probably expletives; Wufei never talks this frantically, never talks this emotionally.
“I thought you were dead! The line... the explosion... how did you get out of there? How did you get here unnoticed?”
“Duo?”
He shakes his head. “I… I haven’t seen him, Heero. I’m sorry.”
He means it, and suddenly I feel rotten and guilty for ever doubting him as our friend. I can see the regret and remorse on his face; this isn’t acting. Yet, it irks me that he’s so quick to say Duo’s dead- it just can’t be possible. If I were able to survive, then he certainly has survived as well.
I notice Wufei has put my laptop on the ground, and is still pawing at my body, checking for more injuries. “I’m calling an ambulance. Your arm is broken. You’re bleeding here... are your ribs hurting?”
“Like a bitch,” I answer. “It’s okay. We wait here for Duo. We return as soon as he’s with us.”
Wufei moves his head to look me straight in my eyes. “Heero… have you seen the factory?”
“No.” A hitch in my voice. I haven’t looked around, not even for a moment. Wufei gazes at me as if I’ve grown a second head.
“Heero, turn around and look for yourself.”
I don’t want to turn around. Turning around will only confirm that… that Duo’s dead. The factory is in rubble, there’s nothing left, I just don’t want to see it. I suck in a large deal of breath and with his hands gently on my shoulders, Wufei steers me around.
“Just look,” he says, voice softer than a whisper and I look.
Three helicopters are circling the sky, shining with large lights on the rubble and remains of the iron and steel factory, completely leveled to the ground. Ambulances and fire trucks are on the rough terrain, assisted by police officers and other rescue workers. The large, thick smoke clouds make it difficult for them to work, though it’s clear they’re assuming there are no survivors; the sirens and flashing lights are on, illuminating the light, tearing at the silence. I see people climbing up the hill; curious, wondering out loud what happened. They want to see the spectacle while they’re discussing avidly- to them, it’s something exciting. They’ve survived… they don’t even know what they’ve escaped from.
“The…” I can’t say it. How could I miss so many people, how could so many people miss me? When I struggled to cross the terrain, I didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear those wailing sirens, didn’t notice people climbing up the hill. I can do nothing but to look in horror at Wufei, who solemnly bows his head.
“I’m so sorry, Heero.”
“We wait for Duo.”
“We can’t. It’s a miracle itself that you made it out alive, Heero. You need medical attention, and we have to get out of here before the police start combing out the area. We’re not exactly safe if we keep standing here.”
“We wait for Duo.”
“Negative, Heero.”
“We wait for Duo.”
“No.”
“Screw the mission.”
“Get into the car, soldier!”
I curse my mind for listening to him. I curse my body for obeying him. My training has surpassed me; I’ve become nothing but that Perfect Soldier I hated so much. My Duo hasn’t been gone for a few hours and I’m already this empty shell, this… this bundle of nothingness that breathes and exists, though I don’t know why.
Wufei gets into the car as well, muttering in his native language. He’s clearly upset, and I calmly watch him from the passenger’s seat. He’s put the transmitter, the laptop and his other equipment on the back of the car. There wouldn’t have been room for Duo even if he had returned. This can’t be happening. This is nothing but a surreal dream… no, a nightmare. I smile while closing my eyes. When I open my eyes, a few hours from now, everything will have passed and Duo will be back with me, wrapping his arms around me and laughing. No Shinigami, no death, no despair. Everything will be all right.
The engine runs after a few tries, and Wufei shifts the gear into reverse, then suddenly the back door is yanked open. We both gasp as a flurry of black slips onto the back seat, shoving the equipment out of the way.
“Jesus Christ! Can’t you wait for me?”
“Duo!”
“Maxwell!”
“Duo, what the hell!” I scream at him.
“Get the fuck out of here, Chang!” Duo barks, face covered with smudges. The chestnut bangs cling to his forehead, and as far as I can see, his black scarf looks impeccable, woven into the strands. He doesn’t wear the microphone, and I see straps on his jacket; he still has his backpack. Wufei hits the gas pedal, steering the car over the road, shifting gears again and finally starts driving in a direction away from the factory. He keeps looking in the rear mirror, almost every second, frantically checking if it’s really Duo who sits there on the backseat.
“How did you get out of there? What happened?”
“The bombs went off prematurely,” Duo answers, and he shrugs. “I don’t know what happened exactly. I plastered the charges all over the sublevel, and went upstairs when I was done. Heero was in the big chief’s office and I was out of the factory when everything went off.”
“Impossible,” Wufei states bluntly, and he takes the words right out of my mouth. I want to agree, but I feel too tired and too shocked to even react. “Duo…” is all I can whisper.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He sounds calm, too calm. I know how Duo reacts after a mission. I’ve seen his every extremity. This isn’t one of his extremities.
“I went outside on Heero’s orders. His last words were even “Meet you outside?”. I was finished with setting the charges, so I left.”
“How could the bombs go off in the first place? I hadn’t given any command to you or to Heero to detonate the charges.”
“I don’t know,” Duo repeats. “I had everything in my hands when I got outside. Everything’s in my backpack, you can see it for yourself. I had programmed it but I hadn’t entered a countdown or the activation code.”
“It’s... it’s my fault,” I try to interject, “short-circuit...”
“Don’t talk nonsense. You’re in shock,” Wufei cuts me short. “We go to a hospital first. Do you need to be checked out, Duo? How far were you from the premises when the bombs went off?”
“Far enough. I’m fine. What’s wrong with Heero?”
Finally he asks about me. Wufei speaks again, not allowing me to respond. “Broken arm, cracked ribs, blood loss, and shock. I’ll take him to the Santa Maria Nueva, there’s a doctor fully trusted by ESUN.”
Great, they’re talking about me if I’m not there. If I wasn’t too tired to protest, I certainly would’ve said something. I hear Duo snort, especially when Wufei adds that he’ll get a check up too.
“I don’t need a check-up, I’m fine. I was outside, outside the gate, and nothing hurts, everything is just fine.”
“Did...” I finally manage to work up enough strength to speak up, “… did you go back for me?”
He turns his head to me, and his voice sounds funny. “Why else do you think I arrived later than you? Fucking hell, Heero, of course I went back for you! Who else would I look for in the fucking pieces of rubble that was left after my charges went off?”
For some reason, his words hurt me harder than any explosion could ever do. It’s clear that he’s hurt as well; his disbelief of me doubting him is painfully obvious in his words, in the tone of his voice. Wufei concentrates on driving, pretending not to listen to what we say. I recline back into the passenger’s seat, wanting nothing but to sleep. I look in the rear mirror, looking at Duo. He sits on the backseat, looking outside as if the landscape is fascinating him even though it’s dark and there’s nothing to see. I see a glitter in his eyes that I can’t really describe- it’s something other than the usual adrenaline rush we all experience. His hands are folded in his lap, only visible in the faint light of the passing street lanterns. He’s the epitome of calmness and distinguished, composed behavior; and with a glint in his eyes that’s not usually his.
I don’t recall much of the drive to the hospital. I don’t think it was more than five, seven minutes at most… I vaguely recall people swarming around me, doctors, nurses, Wufei, Duo. They yelled at me, asking me questions where it hurt most, what happened, what I wanted for dinner. I’m not sure if that’s what they really asked me, though… I guess blood loss does funny things to you. Maybe I imagined the empty terrain after the explosion as well, and was I just too far gone to notice the police officers and rescue workers.
“Heero… don’t leave me, Heero..!” Duo’s voice. God, how I want to lean back and bask in the glory of his voice. His words, his timbre, his voice… soothing, bathing, reassuring. The world has gone mad for thinking he could be someone else, for thinking he could be a killer. My Duo isn’t any of the things other people are accusing him of- there’s only one thing that he most certainly is and that is he’s mine. Mine, mine and mine again. I don’t ever want to let him go. My vision starts to blur and I loll with my head, fighting to stay awake.
“Don’t leave me… don’t you fucking leave me!”
“Language,” I want to admonish him, because we’re in a public place though I don’t mind if he swears in private. My voice has stopped working again and I don’t think I could say anything by now. Someone drapes blankets around me, warm fuzzy blankets. I shiver, only noticing by now the cold. Red… black… coffee… tea… I just want to go home. To our tiny apartment with the colorful touches, to our bedroom with the large bed. Duo insisted on buying the largest bed we could find- “We would need it”, as he said, and he was right-, and we ended up buying a gigantic bed that occupies the most of the room. There’s hardly any space left for a cupboard and a nightstand, but Duo doesn’t mind. I don’t either. We’re not that often enough at home to get worked up about interior decoration. Besides, what do I know about interior decoration… my idea of ‘decoration’ is to put a samurai sword on the wall for aesthetic pleasure. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“It’s okay. We’re safe. You can let go now.”
Let go? Am I holding something? “Wha…”
“It’s okay.” It’s Duo, whispering in my ear. It’s like a choir singing into my ear- I’m not exaggerating. I’ve always loved Duo’s voice, even if he raises it. The way Duo expresses himself with his voice has always fascinated me; I can tell his feelings sometimes better from the intonation in his voice than his body language. Even though he’s very expressive with his body, he can keep his posture very strict and rigid, blocking it from being approached any further. His voice never lies. Never.
He brushes his lips past my cheek. “We’re safe. It’s okay.”
Duo knows very well how I respond to his voice, and he doesn’t fail this time as well. He’s reassuring me, voice soothing, lulling me to sleep. I realize we’re in a hospital, yet everything passes by me as if I’m not really there. My mind registers the people tugging at my clothing, prodding and poking at me, preparing me for the impending surgery. My arm… I can’t feel my arm. I can’t feel a thing but Duo’s warm lips on my skin. Doesn’t death have an ice cold kiss? Duo is life… alive. He made it out of the factory, and he’s with me. He’s brushing his lips against my skin, not really kissing me, but the touch is intimate and warm enough to let me know he’s there, by my side. We’re safe. Mission... complete? I don’t care anymore. I want to sleep, and I try to bring up my other arm to caress his cheek, but I can’t move. I can’t move a thing. I just want to sleep.
“It’s okay,” he repeats, again and again. “You can let go now.”
I trust him. I’ve always trusted my Duo. I know I can trust him. If he says it’s okay, then it’s okay, and I obediently close my eyes, leaning into his touch, absorbing his warmth. Life. Energy. It’s okay.
-------------------
When I wake up, I’m slightly disorientated; I stare at a light gray ceiling, a bright tube light shining into my face. I blink. Who in his right mind flips on such a bright light?
A certain scent, a familiar scent. Large, corn yellow pieces of fabric... curtains. The same corn yellow colored blankets on me. An IV tube… hospital, no doubt.
“Easy there,” Wufei’s voice flitters through the air. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”
He uses the same words, because we’re soldiers. We know that saying this reassures the other, to let him know that the situation is all right. No imminent threat, no impending danger. I part my lips, wanting to speak, but there’s nothing that wants to come out. A wave of disappointment flows through me, seeing that’s indeed Wufei who sits next to my bed, and that Duo’s nowhere in sight.
Wufei nods before standing up and walking over to the small sink, tucked away in the corner of the room. I hear water running and subconsciously lick my lips. He returns a few seconds later, holding a paper cup in his hand. He holds it against my lips, tilting it slightly. One sip at a time, I know, and I use all my willpower to not guzzle the liquid down.
“You made it perfectly well through surgery,” he opens the conversation, concentrating on administering me the water. “Duo stayed with you all the time, making sure nothing happened.”
I look up at him, slight confusion visible until it dawns on me. I have this very high natural resistance to everything anesthetic, as well as regular medication. I’m not really sure if it’s natural though, as I’ve never allowed any doctor to research it, or if it’s something Doctor J.
“stimulated” in me. The training he gave me was incredibly strict and harsh, but I owe my life and survival to it. Hell, I would’ve died that the very instant when I self-destructed with my Wing Gundam if it weren’t for my well-trained and enhanced body. I’m quite hesitant to say that my body has been ‘enhanced’ or ‘altered’ for any reason; still, J. had his reasons and ways in which he operated, and I never quite managed to fathom them. Falling into enemy hands and succumbing to the first drug or truth serum wouldn’t do anyone any good. As a result, it leaves me with this bizarrely high resistance to medications, drugs or anesthetic; my system fights them off, and that’s why I had so much trouble ‘letting it go’. Duo sat through the whole surgery to make sure that I remained calm and quiet; otherwise I would’ve fought myself from under the narcosis.
“Where’s Duo now?” My voice works, finally. I’ve almost emptied the cup, and I want more. My throat is burning and I lick my chafed lips. Wufei notices it and stand up, going back to the small sink again, movements deliberately slow, as if to earn some time. What’s so difficult about the answer?
“Where is he?” Did they take him away from me? If so, heads are going to roll... friends or no friends, I will…
“I committed him to an extensive medical examination,” Wufei answers after a minute. “I think he was in shock after the explosion.”
“He behaved pretty normal to me,” I bite back, feeling an ancient old irritation well up in me.
Wufei turns around so brusquely that water spills from the cup he’s holding in his hand. “Heero! Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about everything that happened!”
“How can I forget?” My right arm feels like it’s as heavy as a ton of lead, the thick white cast rather hard to miss. My whole body aches, and with that slight raise in my voice my lungs act up again, my ribs hurt, I want to sleep for another millennia and Wufei still acts as if Duo’s the God of D.. no, the devil in disguise.
“What kind of extensive medical examination are we talking about?”
He heaves a sigh. “Heero, take it easy, please. There’s nothing to get all worked up about. I know that Duo seemed uninjured at first sight, but you never know. Your clothes have virtually the same density and specifications as light-weight armor; he could be sporting any wounds under it. Seeing the strange circumstances in which he suddenly showed up at the car, I thought it was for the better if he had at least some medical examination. Strange things could be going on in a man’s head after such...”
“What the hell is it that you want, Chang?” I suddenly realize that I haven’t proofed my surroundings, that my soldier instincts failed at taking in their surroundings. He told me that everything was safe, but I haven’t even convinced myself if it was really safe. For all I know, there could be someone else in the room, as the curtain is closed. Blowing up at Wufei isn’t the smartest thing to do, especially when in a hospital, and with a throat that feels like it’s been treated with a sawdust machine.
Chang Wufei doesn’t get mad. He doesn’t ‘do’ mad. Pissed off maybe, but not mad. From the way he’s frowning and slamming the precious cup of water down on the sink, I can tell he’s pretty pissed by now. He turns around, facing me, ebony eyes drilling into mine.
“Do you think I do this for fun, Yuy? That I enjoy squirming around those whom I consider my friends, twisting with words, fighting against prejudice and condemnation? Do you really think I enjoy seeing the suffering of those I hold in high regard?”
“You’ve already condemned us,” I fling back at him. “You didn’t say one word, one word in Duo’s defense when we talked about that whole Shinigami debacle in front of Une!”
“Damn it, Yuy!” Wufei takes a step forward, and for a second the possibility that he’s physically going to assault me crosses my mind. “I could do nothing but listen to her, nothing but agree with her at that very point! I’m protecting the both of you, can’t you see? If I’d disagreed with her, I would’ve been taken off this case, or sent away on paid leave. I want to be close to the source, Heero, and if I was to leave the ESUN for fighting too hard against them, I never could’ve kept this close an eye on them.”
I never heard so many words coming from Chang Wufei in such a short amount of time, and the only reaction that comes up in me is to blink with my eyes, rapidly.
“You... protect us? From what?” I know it’s a stupid question even before I finish asking it, and judging from his words, I can already guess the answer.
Wufei leans a bit back and picks up the cup again, refills it and walks back to me. His face is eerily calm and composed after his short outburst, and he hands me the cup. I can move my left arm, be it very slowly and awkwardly.
“Officially, we’re non-existent. Officially, there’s no need and no reason for a department with agents like us. Truth is, that Earth or the colonies would’ve gone under long before now if it weren’t for us, the agents who put their lives on the line to keep up the peace, to guarantee the peace, to keep others from fighting, making mistakes, waging wars again.” He sighs, looking at me straight in the eye.
“Une’s the head of our department, and the knowledge about this department is restricted, and I’m frankly of the opinion that even one more person knowing about it, is one person too many. Still, there are more operating behind the scenes; there has to be a budget coming from somewhere, there has to be responsibility to be taken and given. In short, people from up high have started asking questions ever since there was a certain pattern was detected from the aftermath of your missions.”
“Only from our missions?” I ask, listening intently to him.
Wufei nods, tilting the cup a little more, so I can take another sip. Cool, refreshing water.
Chapter 10 | Chapter 12 |