Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ First Person Plural ❯ Chapter 5

The quiet solitude of the small cabin is a wonderful treat for me, and I can't pinpoint what it is about it that makes it this way. The only ones here are Heero and myself and he's in the shower at this moment in time. Perhaps that's it, someone being so close yet not intruding. Or maybe it's the unusual quiet in my mind, only the softest whispers and shifting touching me, no one demanding attention, wanting something I don't want to give, trying to put out control in some form or another. It feels amazing to be in control for once, but I don't let that put any illusions into my head that I have control. My control is trembling every moment of every day, some days it just feels more secure than others.

Taking in a deep breath of the cool winter air I wrap the blanket around me tighter, ignoring the cool drip of the water against the back of my neck. I readjust the towel as I shut the door and retreat back into the warmth afforded inside.

Pouring a cup of coffee I sink down into the chair at the table and take a sip before setting it down, then lift my hands and run the towel briskly through my hair. It might be considered silly to have washed it, considering the circumstances and location, but I have a blow dryer and it really did require a good washing, not so much from being in need of it itself but from someone else in my mind needing the time it would take. You make all forms of sacrifices.

Ah, the poor martyr.

"Not even you can ruin this moment, Meyer."

Back in the hall the shower turns off which causes the sink to give a little gargle somewhere deep in the pipes, and then that too ceases and several minutes later Heero steps into the kitchen, looking freshly scrubbed. I stand and pour him a cup of coffee, one cream, and two sugars.

Someone has been paying attention.

He takes it with a somewhat wary look in his eyes and then eases into a chair, blowing lightly on the surface of the liquid, breaking the still perfection of it. "Half a day to go before this and I'm not sure I can relax enough to enjoy it," he admits after taking a sip.

I ease into the chair beside him, head titled reflectively to one side. "Understandable quandary."

"Quandary?"

I look up from my coffee cup with a nod. "Yes, quandary, it means-."

"I know what it means," he cuts me off, then lowers his voice somewhat. "I'm just surprised you used it, that's all. You don't seem the type I guess."

I shrug that off and I can tell he's thinking on something. I wonder what that might be until he starts to speak.

"Duo, what…what was last night about?"

"Last night?" I ask, blinking at him curiously until Austin nudges me about the sleeping arrangements. "Oh, last night. Well… I guess I just needed some human contact that didn't involve violence or death." I shrug slightly.

He gives a nod. "I'm going to go dry my hair," I tell him, standing and leaving the cup on the table. I can feel his eyes on me as I pass. In the room I close the door and root around until I pull out a hair dryer. This really won't take that long; the hair has been wrapped in a towel for several hours already. Surprisingly it's only damp. I predict twenty minutes at the most. It's the tangles that I'm going to be a little concerned about, but not overly; when you have this high of hair maintenance you only buy the best things, and the best helps.

I turn the hair dryer on and bring out the brush.

________________________________________________________________ ________

"Duo, promise me something. Promise me after this one you'll stop."

That cuts me off cold and I sink down onto the carpet, back against the wall, staring abstractly at the wall opposite. What was supposed to be a quick phone call, a `hello, how are you, things are good don't worry', just went to all hell.

"You know I can't promise you that," I whisper.

There is a silence on the other end of the line, one that leaves me feeling nervous and unsure. The call had just become a major mistake, cutting into the serenity I had been feeling, the peace I had established, breaking down the mental stability, and murmurs began in my mind.

"You know I can't promise you that," I repeated, voice dropping even lower. "This, this is what I am, this is what has given me a reason to live this long, to continue. I can't give up my support, I can't…"

"Damn it to all hell, Duo! You would be making amazing progress by now-."

"I have-."

"No! Duo, you don't see it, but I do. You're slowly wearing yourself down; you're putting more strain on yourself than you should. You may feel like you can handle it, but you can't. You are setting yourself back, you're killing yourself, and you're isolating the others."

I give a start. I'm not the only one. There's more shifting in my mind, murmuring, and I go through a shocked series of rapid switches so fast that I don't know who it is or how many times.

It leaves me breathing hard. On the other end Dr. Johnson takes several calming breaths. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just, I lost someone today, she killed herself, and with Meyer and the cutting, I don't want you to end up that way as well. But I know that it doesn't do you any good, I'm sorry."

Shudder, switch. "No kidding." The tone is just cold and indifferent enough for her to pick up on the change.

"Austin."

"Yes Dr. Johnson."

"I know, I'm sorry, I won't let it happen again. Is everything all right?"

"Things have scattered a bit. It doesn't help out our sense of security when you lose control like that."

"I know-."

Shudder, switch. "Hey, let her alone Aus, she's having a bad day. We all can have bad days, right Doc?"

"Yeah, that's right Meyer. Did I upset you?"

"No, I'm okay. It startled me but it was worth Duo's reaction."

"All right, can I talk to Duo again?"

I'm sucked back into reality. "Hey."

"Duo?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. Listen, I'm going to let you go before I do anything else that I'll regret later. Just, try to take everything easy, please?"

"Sure," I tell her, then bid her a goodbye, looking at the phone curiously. What she said has formed an idea in my mind.

"What do we think about taking a vacation after this?" I ask softly.

Oooo, vacation. Um, Disney. No, I want to go camping. No, no, remember that really cool comic book store at that one place we stayed at last month, first I want to go there, and then I want to spend a couple days eating ice cream…

How about we just relax?

Oh, there was this amazing club just out of town in our last hideaway. It would be nice to go back there.

Just a beach would be nice, a little loft off the beach, settle down with some books, for some peace and quiet…

Yeah, we'll discuss this later. Heero's calling for us.

I push myself up and drop the phone back in the bag.

Oh, oh, oh, we could always find a place like this. Snowmen and such, but we'd need to invite someone else along to have snowball fights and stuff.

We could always invite Heero…

He'd go nuts with us without a mission.

Poor, poor sexy stoneface.

I know…

I was being sarcasmic.

Sort of like orgasmic?

I think he meant sarcastic…

Gah.

"What's up Heero?"

The sky.

"Come on, we better head out now. Trowa and Quatre are a little ahead of schedule."

"Let me grab my jacket."

I'd like to grab something.

________________________________________________________________ ________

"We'll hang back in the cover of the trees for a minute, watching, and then we'll move in and take a little look around. About that time Quatre and Trowa should be getting here, they're heading in with the `supplies', which will be set in various strategic places. Remember, we're not trying to bring the building down, just cause some minor damage and shake things up a bit."

That's nice. Why is he telling us this?

No clue.

"If they're placing why do I got to know?" I ask.

Heero turns from the wheel of the jeep momentarily, and then looks back to the snow-dusted road. "I just want to warn you."

"And why would I need to be warned?"

That's why.

I look up as we move through the trees, curiously, then focus inward to see what that meant when what had caught Ara's attention catches mine. A steeple. A cross. It's a church.

"What the fuck?"

"Duo, I was hoping there wouldn't be much problem, but that's why I'm emphasizing we're not doing anything to cause real harm, just to startle."

"It's a church, Heero."

"It's also serving to ferry weapons to the base underground."

"It's a church, Heero," I repeat, voice rising.

"I would have let you stay behind but I need you to be there. I'm going to feel odd inside, and I don't quite know what's what in the church you know. And you used to live in one-."

"What?"

"I did some research, you used to live at a church. You'll be able to slip in and see what all is in the back and stuff. That's your area of expertise."

I cross my arms tightly over my chest, now tense and alert, and I turn to look through the trees as Heero parks the vehicle. It's a newer church, simple yet somehow ornate. My breath catches in my throat and I feel goose bumps raise up on my arms.

No…

"I don't think I can…" I trail off, swallowing hard, and Heero looks over to me, reaching out and putting his hand on my arm.

"Listen, I wouldn't have had you come but for the fact I don't know shit about churches and you do. I just want you to wander inside, take a peek around, and tell me what you can see. After we make sure that Quatre and Trowa get everything going we can all get the hell out of here."

I turn to look at him. It seems reasonable enough, no real damage, just a little bit of trouble.

I swallow and look back to the church.

Oh boy, here we go. You, your moral high horse, I can just see the problems now. You're reason to live has just presented a little quandary now hasn't it? What will you do? Chance being a hypocrite, not able to do this, but isn't this what is keeping you alive? But a church? Hm… what will you do?

Shut up.

You're shit if you let them do this.

Shut up!

You're shit if you do this.

Shut up!!

But if you don't…

SHUT UP!

I twist around to Heero, startling him somewhat, and snap out the words. "In theory, they could still hold services here tomorrow if they wanted, that's how little damage will be done?"

"Yeah, in theory."

"Fine. I don't need this shit right now." I let out a shaky breath. "What are you doing to it?"

Heero looked out at the church through the trees, arms resting over the steering wheel. "Simple small explosions I think. We'll bring down the back of the building, to prove a point, because that's where the weapons are being delivered and loaded."

I stare out at the church as well. So many memories are attached to churches, so many of them not mine. Can I do this? Is it fair to the others?

And since when have you thought of the `others' before acting?

That's not very fair.

God, you're so selfish. I hate you.

"I don't know if I can, or should, do this Heero," I tell him, looking over at him.

He looks back to me, then out to the church again.

"I mean, what is this, just a cover? We're doing this so that we can leave? And why the hell can't we leave now, get up and go? Why couldn't we leave last night? I don't understand."

Heero tilts his head to one side.

"I hate being in the dark," I whisper.

Bad things happen in the dark.

"The truth?"

"No, I want you to lie to me," Meyer snaps.

"Well, the truth is that we want to cripple their weapon supply, and a large shipment just came in. I want to know about where they are located so that we don't have to take out the entire church to get to it."

I swallow and look back to the church, ask in a soft even voice. "Are you telling me that if I don't scout this out then you'll be forced to hit the whole fucking church?"

He turns in his seat with a sigh. "No, Duo, that's now what I'm telling you at all. I'm just saying that we have a pretty good idea of where they're probably at, but we want to be sure that there's nothing else back there."

That sounds reasonable.

________________________________________________________________ ________

"All seems clear," I tell them, sliding my gloves back on as I walk back to the van. It's unimaginably hard to pick locks when you have to do so through a thick layer of cloth. Not impossible, but hard. Not worth it unless necessary either.

"Mind you, the entire time I felt like I was violating something by being in places I wasn't supposed to be." I slap my hands together a few times, and then rub them together. "Then I found the weapons, and that changed pretty quickly."

"Can we get in easily with the stuff we have?" Trowa asks, leaning against the back of the van.

"I imagine so, there didn't seem to be all that much by way of security, or anyone for that matter. I left all the crucial doors unlocked, figured you'd need that. It's really easy to find too, after the door behind the pulpit you take three immediate rights and then two immediate lefts. From there, it's your choice."

Take down the entire fucking church!

Meyer.

What? Father Maxwell would roll over in his grave to know that churches were doing something…something…something so monstrous.

Meyer!

I would have strangled anyone I saw inside, so be fucking thankful there's no one there. How dare they… It's a church, a church! Is nothing sacred?!

"Duo," Quatre broke in softly.

I looked up at him, blinking.

"Are you okay, your face sort of contorted and you seemed to be getting upset…?"

"I'm fine. Just the thought of it, you know. You better hurry up and be done with it, eh, before someone comes poking around."

Quatre nods and turns to Trowa, motioning for them to get moving. It takes all of five minutes before they have everything set up and ready, and I'm settling back in the jeep, wondering if we're doing the right thing. This doubt isn't mine, it's Meyer's, but that doesn't mean I'm not feeling it.

"Worst case scenario," Heero states, sliding in, "is that they have a lot more back there than we know about, potentially explosive, beyond what's there now. The entire thing could go up in flames. Can you handle that?"

I nod confidently, not feeling it at all. Partly I'm distracted by the situation, and partly I'm distracted by the noise in my mind. Ara is letting into Meyer for his indecisiveness, and for bashing me down about my morals earlier and what that made me when he keeps changing his own tune. I smile slightly but it melts away.

Quatre is the last out. He turns partway down the walk to look back at the church, then lifts his eyes up and murmurs something.

Is he praying? Oh, how nice.

"Bailey," I breathe, turning my head toward the window.

"Pardon?" Heero asks, looking at me.

I shake my head, looking back to the church. It's so picturesque.

"Can we go now?" I ask Heero quietly, turning to look at him.

He opens his mouth to say something, and then he pauses, looking to me. He begins to speak again when something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and we both turn.

It's so horrific for me at first that it comes in pieces, first the background, so innocent and snowy white, and then the more immediate setting, the trees nearest to us, the pick up of wind, Quatre leaning in the passenger side of the van. And finally the rest of the puzzle falls into place.

Dark blue clothing mostly, in a blur, a small child no more than 8 or 9 running toward the church, a black cap over his head that seems about to tilt off with each thumping movement of his feet. Even from here I can tell he's laughing.

I seem frozen a moment and then there's a brief struggle for control in my mind and I find myself on my knees in the seat, frantically trying to get the door open. A part of my mind registers that it is locked, and I fumble with that, and then it's not me, but it is, and I'm an innocent bystander. And I hate when this happens, because I have to see what is happening and know that I can't stop it.

I don't know who's in control anymore, I'm fighting between sobs and screams of rage, and then the door gives, but there are these strong bands around my waist, keeping me back, and then I know that it's Meyer, because he's beating uselessly at the arms, yelling at the world for what is happening, and a hand clamps over his mouth, one he tries to bite down on which only earns a swift jab on the back.

I can hear Heero's words, they're penetrating the thick fog that I've been pressed beneath, and I struggle toward them, my body leaden and weak.

"Duo. Duo! Stop it, stop! You can't do anything! Stop, it's too late! Damn it Duo…!"

It's the intensity of fire against snow that brings me back, not Heero, not the heat, not the sounds, nothing but the sight of the church crumbling, and the fire that slowly licks it's way toward the front, and somewhere in a part of my mind I wonder if it's real, or if I'm dreaming.

Nightmares again, could be nightmares.

No…

I swallow convulsively, aware of Heero's arms loosening around me but not letting go, and I stare until I'm positive that there are flames reflected in my eyes.

The others are quiet.

They're scared.

They're upset.

They're in shock.

They're hiding away.

Heero turns to me and I feel his cold naked fingers on my face, smoothing my hair back. He's studying me closely, saying something, but I've gone deaf to the words. Even in his face I see the flames, and when he turns away, looking back to the scene, the image remains. Flames backed by Prussian.

He's speaking again, murmuring, and then he's letting me go, moving to get out, taking the keys with him, walking over to speak with Quatre, who is visibly shaken himself.

Duo…

Austin eases into my consciousness, giving me permission to simply not exist, and I feel the gloves being pulled off.

Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe.

He's pulling the wires out under the dash, starting the jeep. Heero turns with a surprised look on his face, Austin notes distantly.

Where are we going?

Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe.

Someplace safe.

________________________________________________________________ ________

Shoes, next to door, line up against the wall. Coat, over couch, fold nicely. Gloves, take them off, one at a time, make sure all the fingers are out, fold them, tuck them into the coat pocket. Place the hat over the jacket.

I'm so tired. Bailey has other ideas.

Opening the kitchen door, letting it swing closed, my body moves over to the supply closet and I realize with that mounting detached horror I rarely feel what's about to happen.

He brings out the bucket, then the floor cleaner, these he sets precisely on the sink as he turns the hot water on and lets it fill the bucket as he pours cleaner in. Lifting the bucket, setting it on the floor, picking up the two sponges and the brush, these are dropped to soak. I'm assaulted by the strong lemon scent.

He moves across the kitchen, stops at the table and pushes it back against the far wall. The chairs go on top of this. Inside I'm trembling because I know what's going to happen next, and I'm helpless to stop it.

Rolling up the sleeves, getting down on my knees, bringing out the brush and beginning to scrub the floor from the first tile at the corner behind the door, then to the one directly after that. These are not erratic movements, but perfectly calculated, the brush moving only over the selected tile, a specific amount of times, before he drops it back in the bucket, shakes it twice, then begins again until he moves on.

I can feel the tile biting into my abused palms as he reaches the halfway point in the kitchen, and still I know once he finishes that he won't be done, he'll start over again, from the other side, because the kitchen will never be clean. The skin on my palms is rubbing raw, my knees ache, I'm feeling lightheaded, but still he continues.

And each bit of pain brings me back to the awareness of my body, draws me back inside it, anchoring me to the flesh, but his control is too great for me to stop this madness he is putting me through, even when I am shaking with tears.

I want someone to come back and stop me. I want someone to force me to stop, because if not I won't until I pass out. It's happened before. I want someone to soothe me and tell me it's all right and I'm not going crazy. But at the same time, my tears come harder, the tightness in my chest increases, to think that someone will find me like this, in this shameful and pain filled predicament. It's too much to bear, for someone else to think I'm crazy.

I don't want to be crazy.

The water had begun to cool; cool too much for his liking, so we refill it, and by this time the water heater has kicked in. What was once warm is now searing and the raw skin burns and aches every time he cleans the brush.

Faintly the sound of another vehicle approaching registers, and it only makes me cry harder, from relief, from the pain, from my shame and fear of being found like this. The door is opening, I see feet, but my hands continue, even as I force my head up, to see the hazy and shocked face of Heero staring down at me.

Bailey continues, body rocking in a familiar motion, as if he isn't there.

I swallow down another sob that is threatening to choke what air I can bring in because of my panic and take in a gasping breath, whisper hoarsely to him in the hopes my words are not jumbled and gibberish. "Please Heero, please. Make him stop, please."

"Make who stop?" I think I hear him whisper distantly as I fade away. I can't be sure, I wish to anyone listening that it be so though.

"Please, I can't… make him stop…"