Author: CleverYoungThief

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: War/Suspense/Angst, Post EW, Language, implied drug use

Pairings: None

Archive: Gundam Wing Addiction

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue. College kids are like L2 kids; we got nothin'.

Note/Summary: I am still working on Requiem, but this is one of Requiem's many sidestories. This one explains what happened to Duo after the Waltz, and how he comes to be the councillor of L2, so I figured it was pretty important. (Did I mention I'm still working on Requiem?)

"Friends and liars, don't wait for me
'cause I'll get on all by myself
I put millions of miles under my heels
and still too close to you I feel..."

      --- Audioslave, I Am The Highway
"Ships that pass in the night, and speak to each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; so on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again, and silence."
      --- Henry Longfellow

Fall From Innocence Part 1
Excommunication

## ...It's over. ##

Quatre's voice was awed and soft over the comlink. Duo could almost hear the thoughts ticking off in the Sandrock pilot's head. The war was over. Peace time for good old Quatre, and Duo didn't know anyone who deserved it more. Winner Enterprises. Stock and mines and management. For a moment, he felt a flash of hatred so bright it seemed to scald him, and his cheeks burned with the shame of it.

But what about us, Quat? What about us? We got nothing left. We gave everything and we got nothing back for it.

Guys like me. Me and-

All he could see in his mind was the destroyed hulk that had been Wing, plummeting towards the ground like a shot bird, a deadly engine of destruction that had finally been brought down. His dark indigo eyes closed as a shudder ran through him.

Heero...

I... never really knew him.

Laughter rose in his throat, hysterical snickering, and he leaned against the panel of Deathscythe, his shoulders shaking with it.

## Duo. ##

Trowa's voice came over the comlink, gentle and calm. To Duo, it just sounded like a really good cop trying to talk down a jumper. He had seen someone try to jump off a high-rise on Topside once, and they had sent up a guy after him with a voice just like Trowa's.

The guy had jumped anyway. Duo saw him hit the cement.

Duo shook his head, hands clenched on the levers of Deathscythe's drive systems, a grin plastered across his face even though he was biting the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste the metallic coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

"Tro-" That was as far as he got, his voice shaky, before bursting into laughter again.

## Duo, are you all right? ##

Yeah, I'm great, buddy. I've just spent the majority of the last decade of my life as a terrorist, killing hundreds of people whose names I don't even know, and I've just helped to put myself out of a career. But other than that, I'm great. Fucking peachy.

Duo couldn't bring himself to say that. He just kept laughing, the hard laughter of someone who gets a fit of giggles in a solemn place, like church, and cannot help themselves. It wasn't mirth he was feeling, though. It was absolute and utter terror. The war was over. The monsters in the closet were dead, but when you had spent your whole life believing in them, how could you accept that they were gone?

He wasn't sure when the laughter turned to tears, but he felt wet warmth on his face. He buried his face in his arms, still making those helpless little choked animal sounds that were either giggles or sobs or both at once.

Finally, he raised his head, a smile still on his face. There wasn't joy or grief in his eyes.

They were empty.

He moved towards a disabled Leo that was lying nearby, its faceless, nameless pilot trapped by the crushed hatch. He raised his scythe. It was over. They had to finish...had to-

Quatre's horrified shout came over the comlink as he was about to bring the weapon down. Sandrock stepped forward, scimitars brought up to defend the fallen enemy soldier, if necessary. Their objectives were to avoid the loss of life, and they had succeeded.

## Duo, it's over! Stop! ##

Why?! They tried to kill us, why should we stop!?

Slowly, Duo lowered the scythe, the chittering buzzing sound of the thermonuclear blade audible over the harsh breathing in the comlinks. There was no harsh breathing coming from Duo's comlink.

Shinigami was still laughing softly under his breath.

Trowa's voice came to him again, still that voice that was smooth and dangerous and gentle as silk, the soothing comforting voice you used with crazy people, Shinigami thought.

## It's over, Duo. They're dead, it's over. ##

Even though Duo knew for a fact that the soldiers in the suits lying at the feet of his mech were not dead, just hearing the words from a comrade caused relief and a strange, satisfied feeling to rush over him, like cool water washing away blood.

The deadly fire that had been rising in him, threatening to burn everything around him, banked and smouldered. Shinigami faded away, like a nightmare that only seems real until you wake up, when daylight drives it away.

"... Dead?"

## We won. You killed them. They're dead. ##

They're not. They're not!!

He heard a burst of static as Trowa cut him off from the comlink, speaking to Quatre without letting Duo hear what he was saying. When he returned to Duo's frequency, his voice had not lost any of that deceptive gentleness.

## 02, status. ##

Duo's answer was calm, even friendly. Going against all training, he ignored the question.

"... Where's Heero, Trowa? Where's my partner?"

Trowa didn't answer. He couldn't. The silence after the storm of battle was deafening. Duo raised his scythe over the Leo again, the movement languid. On a side-frequency, he could hear the low, terrified moan of the pilot inside.

## If it makes you feel better, Duo, kill them all. But if Heero's dead, it won't bring him back. And you don't know he's gone. ##

Duo was silent a moment before he answered. "Ever heard of eye for an eye, Tro?" He raised the scythe further, his voice sinking to a whisper.

"Just this one, Trowa?" Duo asked, his voice mock-cajoling over the comlink. The Deathscythe pilot laughed softly, the sound cold as a lonely death in a distant place. "Eye for an eye. Just one... one for Heero."

## And you think he'd want that? You think he'd want you to kill a helpless enemy to avenge him? Duo, don't be stupid. Back down. ##

"... No."

Quatre's voice came to him, quiet. ## Heero isn't dead, Duo. He's alive. ##

Duo shook his head violently. No, it was just a trick. Quatre was trying to trick him, trying to stop him. "How do you know? You can't know that"

## I just do. Trust me, Duo. ##

Trust me.

Duo closed his eyes. Solo had said the same thing. But all his old friends were dead. He wasn't used to trusting anyone, not even Heero. He couldn't afford it. He couldn't go through the same thing he went through with Solo. Not again.

"No, no, no..." he murmured, the words mounting into a snarl. He slammed his fist against the inside of the hatch, but not hard enough to damage it. Deathscythe. The better part of him, now as useless as Shinigami himself. The war was over.

## Duo. ##

"What?!"

Trowa laughed softly over the comlink. ## I just want to go home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed... ##

Duo wiped the tears from his face, laughing a little, singing. "I had a dozen drinks about an hour ago and they went right to my head." He leaned across the panels of Deathscythe, taking a deep breath. Jesus... Jesus... what a fucking mess.

## Duo? ##

He closed his eyes. "What?"

## It's okay. It's over. ##

Duo slumped over in the seat of the cockpit as if all the wires holding him up had been cut, looking up through the hatch at the stars, dimmed above dark kleersteel. A strange, terrified smile crossed his face.

It's not over.

It's never going to be over.

~*~

They were arriving at the spaceport by night. Trowa had the radio playing softly in the front seat, and Wufei was sleeping in the back, curled impossibly around their collective luggage, what few possessions they owned. Three homeless, lifeless soldiers in a sea of them, a trio of anonymous faces in the crowd.

Duo's plaintive question echoed silently between them.

~~What about us?~~

Duo sat mutely in the front passenger seat, a wrinkled map spread across his lap. He studied it without even seeing it, his eyes staring past the paper.

"Baka, see the lights? That's the runways," Trowa said softly, more to himself than to Duo. He had heard Heero call Duo this and had since picked it up, the only one of the others to do so. Duo didn't want to hear the nickname, not from anyone but Heero, but he felt the chill of the world closing in on him, so his name -any name that was his- was a good sound. And someone to call it... that was even better.

Duo half-folded the map and tossed it to the floorboards, looking over the dash. A double line of bright blue lights dazzled his eyes, and he threw his hand up to shield them, peering beneath it.

So...the end of the line.

Trowa got stalled in traffic at the entrance to the spaceport parking lot. It was the end of the war. The end of all wars, some people said, and as much bullshit as Duo thought it was, he never disagreed with them. It felt like the end of the world to him, and it seemed that they weren't the only ones that had places to go.

Duo put his face to the cold glass of the car window, staring out into the night. A little boy in the backseat of the car next to him stuck his tongue out at the former pilot playfully. Duo managed a faint smile, pulling back to stick his own tongue out, putting his thumb to his nose and wiggling his fingers.

The boy grinned and ducked down beneath the window of the car.

"Wufei, we're almost there," Trowa said a little more loudly, trying to stir the Chinese soldier awake.

Wufei snorted in his sleep, pulling one of the knapsacks over his head.

A soft ringing noise came from someone on Trowa's side of the car, and he reached for the small alcove in front of the gearshift, pulling out a cellphone.

"Yes? Yes, okay. Oui. I'll meet you at L3, right?" Trowa steered one-handed, nodding his head to himself as he spoke. "Have you heard from Peacecraft? Oh. No, we're almost there. Are they?" Trowa sighed. "Right, right. Yes. We'll keep our heads down. You have Catherine's number? Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

He flipped the phone shut, then glanced over at Duo. "Quatre. He's handling the media. No word of Heero," he added, more softly.

Duo turned his face back to the window.

Finally, they made it into the parking lot, and Trowa pulled into the nearest available space, not searching out one as close to the building as he could, like most people would have. He unlocked the doors and slid out.

Duo didn't move for a moment, the map crumpled at his feet, head against the glass.

"Coming, Duo?"

"... Yeah." Duo forced a grin on his face and reached into the back seat and extended the knuckle of one fist, slugging Wufei hard in the shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was rich and confident and joking and fake.

"Punch-buggy, no hitbacks! Wuffers, get up. We're at the spaceport."

"Ow! Maxwell, say laan taan!" He sat up blearily, trying to strike back, but Duo moved out of range, smiling a little. It wasn't a happy expression.

"Yeah, and your mother wears army boots. Or as Quatre would say, airi fe sabahak."

Duo opened the door and got out, arching his back with a yawn, his fingertips outstretched as if he could touch the stars.

"Long drive," Trowa said, gazing out at the lit building complex that made up the spaceport.

"Tell me about it," Duo replied softly, and something in his voice made Trowa look over at him.

"What?"

"... Nothing."

Trowa went to the meter in front of the parking place, tapping it with two fingers, then he smiled ruefully. "I forgot to bring change."

Duo laughed as Wufei crawled out of the SUV, tossing Trowa's bags to him before slinging Duo's in his general direction. Duo barely grabbed them before they hit the cement, while Trowa caught his deftly.

"Careful, Wuffie, all my tools're in here. Anyway-" he said, glancing over at Trowa. "-we ever plan on coming back here again?"

Trowa cocked his head, looking at the Deathscythe pilot seriously. There seemed to be so much more in the words than was said. "No, I guess not, now that you mention it. I guess a parking ticket won't matter much for a car that doesn't belong to us, does it?"

Duo threw his free arm around Trowa's shoulders, grinning.

"Now you're thinking like a thug."

~*~

Duo curled up in a seat by the large windows, watching one of the shuttles slowly taxi in; as effortless as it was in the air, it was just a graceless hulk once it hit the ground. He pulled his jacket closer over his shoulders, shivering a little.

"My shuttle is here. I have to leave," Wufei said softly, standing. Duo threw the jacket off, standing up with Trowa.

"Well... take care of yourself," Trowa replied, holding out his hand to Wufei. Wufei shook it hard, gazing deeply into Trowa's green eyes for a few moments, silently, before letting his hand drop. Wufei turned grudgingly to Duo, holding his hand out.

Duo threw his arms around Wufei's neck. Wufei grunted, then relaxed in the American's embrace. He patted Duo on the back, clumsily.

"I will miss you, you pain in the ass," Wufei said softly, and when Duo laughed, it was a sound close to tears.

"Same here, pain in the ass." He drew back first, clapping Wufei on the shoulder, a painful grin on his face. "Take care of business."

Wufei smiled a little. "I will." He scowled slightly. "You should go back to the Preventers. They're good for you."

"Nah," Duo replied, still grinning a little. "Too much authority for me, Wuff. I'm more of a freelancer. But I give you joy of it."

"Hmph. Well... don't do anything illegal," Wufei said sternly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He glanced over at Trowa. "That goes for you too, Barton. I've been informed that it's always the quiet ones." He nodded to Trowa, who nodded back, smirking.

Wufei turned and walked off towards the boarding gate. Before he walked through, he turned and raised a hand to them both.

They raised their hands in return.

"And then there were two," Duo said, flopping down in exhaustion in the row of chairs.

The two of them were silent for almost five minutes, staring out into the night. Duo easily took up enough room for three people, sprawled across the lobby seats. Trowa sat on the end of the row, his back propped up against the armrest, his two small carry-on bags at his feet, and nothing else. They had no luggage to check.

"Duo."

"Hm?" Duo looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

"I think this is the longest time you've ever gone without talking in one sitting."

Duo snorted. "You broke me out of my reverie to announce that?"

Trowa looked at him steadily, legs stretched out in front of him on, feet propped up on his bags, ankles crossed. "No. I did it to ask you to come with me. Change your flight and come with me to the circus on L3."

Duo scowled a little in confusion. "You're shitting me, right?"

Trowa smiled. "Why would I? I'm sure we could find something for you to do there. You could do magic. Ever heard of Houdini?"

"Duh. My idol, bud."

Trowa leaned back and closed his eyes, smiling. "You could be an escape artist. Or an acrobat. Afraid of heights?"

"No, but I don't particularly want to get on good terms with 'em, either." Duo sprawled across the seats as he rested his head on his bag, gazing out at the runway lights and the stars. "No, Trowa, that ain't the life for me. Always movin' around, never get to know the heartbeat of a place." He shook his head, still smiling a little. "Guess I'm just a little homesick. Ain't that the craziest thing?"

"No. L2 is your home, after all."

"Yeah, but it's a shithole."

Trowa's reply was contemplative. "Well... it's your shithole, then."

Duo jerked a little.

"NOW BOARDING. FLIGHT 2457 TO L3-28293. PLEASE HAVE YOUR BOARDING PASS READY AT GATE FIVE-A."

Trowa sighed as he stood up, slinging a bag over each shoulder. "That's me."

Duo felt a rush of panic swell in him suddenly, a flash of grief that was dazzling in its intensity. The thought came to him unbidden, as it always did.

No... don't leave me alone...

He pushed it down, smiling as he stood up. He was sure it didn't even look real, this time. His throat hurt, and his eyes stung.

"Well, Tro... guess I'll see you when I see you. Send word to me... if you get in touch with Heero... okay?"

Trowa didn't smile back at him. He looked as sad and meditative as he always did, his eyes serene and gentle green pools. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me? We could stay in a hotel and catch the next flight."

Duo waved him off dismissively with a smirk, even though it felt like he was bleeding from the inside out. "No, s'okay Trowa. Really. Besides... what would L2 be without the great thief Shinigami?"

"A much more unfriendly place," Trowa answered solemnly, putting his hands on Duo's shoulders. Duo felt the mask waver a bit, shaken, and then he hugged the Heavyarms pilot. "Keep in touch, would you pal?" Duo whispered into his ear. "I feel like the last stray pup in a litter, here."

"I will," Trowa replied softly. He pulled back, taking Duo's hand and shaking it firmly. "I'll see you later, Baka."

Duo's heart hurt at the nickname. "Yeah, later Tro."

And then Trowa was gone, too.

Duo stood there, watching him leave, fighting back the urge to run after him, shouting, Wait! Wait, I change my mind, I'll set up tents or clean up elephant shit or shave the bearded lady, whatever you carnie guys do, just... don't leave me here. Don't leave me alone again.

He didn't say anything. He sat back down beside his bags silently and pulled out his fake ID papers, visa, passport, and boarding pass, rubbing his thumb gently against the edge of the ticket which would take him back to the only place he had ever called home.

No use talking, he decided, if there was no one left to talk to.

TBC...

Notes:
Say laan taan - asshole
airi fe sabahak - My dick on your forehead (can you ever imagine Quatre saying this? XD)

 

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