Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Overboard ❯ Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The morning after the gale blew in to Darke’s Cove with a stiff breeze, that chased away marshmallow clouds and let the catholic sun bloom bright and clear, sparkling on scudding waves, and warming truanting children and headmistresses alike, although not Heero Yuy, who trudged down Main Street in the shadow of his own, personal, storm cloud of gloom. He had money problems.

Three thousand one hundred and fifty two dollars. And ninety-nine cents. Hell and damnation. Heero looked grimly at the total on the docket from Coates hardware store.

Shit.

A router, two drills, jigsaw, small power saw, plane, belt sander…

Damn that blue-haired girl anyway. If she’d been a bit more specific about her cupboard door, then he wouldn’t have had virtually every power tool he owned in that blasted toolbox. And now at the bottom of the ocean. Curiously, he didn’t blame Duo Maxwell.

…hand saw, hammer, all of his chisels…blast it. Mobile phone. Damn. He’d forgotten his phone. He’d need to get a new one.

Hell! He really couldn’t afford this. Truck registration and insurance were due this month as well. And he’d be damned if he’d use the boys’ money. It was for them. For college, or whatever.

He glared at the docket…ninety-nine cents…sheesh…why bother…they only round it off to a dollar anyway…and then, when it didn’t spontaneously combust, jammed it into his jacket pocket. A crackle of paper reminded him that he still had a pocketful of mail, which he’d grabbed as he left the house. His face cleared. Somewhere in that pile was an official looking letter. Maybe it was the new motel fit-out. He unearthed the crumpled envelopes and sorted through them quickly as he walked, his step lightening.

The remembered letter was at the bottom of the pile, a large, white envelope, and he plucked it out quickly and smoothed out the wrinkles, jamming the rest back into his pocket. But instead of Coastal Comfort Motels, it read Department of Child Welfare, in fine black print in the top, right hand corner.

Heero stood rooted to the spot.

Adrenalin surged through his veins and for a frightening moment the world around him simply disappeared, his ears filled with a roaring noise and his vision narrowing to small scratchings of black, insect trails on white paper.

He peered at it intently, as if searching for a clue that would prove that it was all a mistake; some other Heero Yuy, some other Child Welfare, someone else’s screwed-up life. But all he saw was a Return Address, for a Post Office box to a Call Centre halfway across the country. Doubtless to discourage a person from actually trying to follow it up.

He turned the envelope over and over in his hands, trying to force himself to open it, until at last, taking a deep breath, he did so, carefully and methodically, and unfolded the letter, reading the contents in a single, stony glance.

Oh hell.



+++



Engrossed in his letter Heero stood rock-like on the pavement, a silent island of worry. Thursday was Pension Day in Darke’s Cove; Shopping Day, with the streets at high tide, and surges of passers-by eddied and washed passed him in a flood of shopping and snatches of conversation.

Until finally a pair of pink, high-heeled shoes hove into view, running under full sail. They tacked through the flood, came about and anchored themselves firmly in front of him.

“Heero! What a lovely surprise!” Relena’s eyes filled with concern, as she leaned down and peered up under his bangs to look him in the eye. “Heero? Are you all right?”

He reluctantly looked up from the letter and jammed it into a pocket, as if it was the gas bill. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh. Are you sure?” She smiled at him uncertainly. From the part that she’d read over his shoulder she was sure that that had been a letter from Child Welfare. The letterhead was most distinctive.

Heero did not look very happy. Relena hoped that it wasn’t bad news. It couldn’t be anything to do with that silly hospital report of Possible Child Abuse, because that was just plain ridiculous. And she had made that very clear to That Woman when she had telephoned.

She thought that probably what Heero needed was a show of support, and to know that he had a Special Friend who would always be there for him. She patted him comfortingly on the arm with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Well…if I can help in any way. Please just let me know. I’m your friend. I mean…you can always call on me. Anything at all...Anything.” She looked at him hopefully.

“Thanks Relena…”

“…I’d be happy to. I mean…really! If you need someone to help out with the boys or…” Her face brightened and she latched onto his forearm, long, pink fingernails digging in just a little. “I know!! I could bring them home after school. It’s on my way. Really. And I could stay with them until you got home if you liked!”

“Thanks Relena but…” For a surreal moment, Heero wondered briefly how the boys would react if he told them that their headmistress was bringing them home from school. And babysitting them. He shuddered.

Relena didn’t notice, still excitedly organising Heero’s life, bubbling over with enthusiasm. “I could start dinner!! If I was there anyway I mean. Or…if there was any washing or anything… I mean…I know what a long day you have and I’d…”

“NO!” Heero disentangled his arm firmly. “Really. Thanks Relena…but no.”

“…I’d like to help.”

His face softened infinitesimally. “Thanks Relena. But I can manage. Really.” He changed the subject firmly. “Um…isn’t that Molly Slaven’s maltese?”

She transferred her single-minded gaze from Heero’s face to her other favourite obsession; an animal in distress. In this particular case, a scruffy, little, white dog, wriggling unhappily in her arms, the cause of its distress rather obvious to Heero.

“I’m taking it to the Pound. It was running around loose.” She beamed at him, pleased with her good deed, and the chance to tell Heero about it.

“But it’s always loose.” It was the most stupid dog. It was a maltese. “It always goes home eventually.” Heero was confused.

“Well… But that’s just not good enough. It could get stolen…or run over…or anything.” Relena’s eyes widened with distress at the thought, and at Heero’s obtuseness.

“Relena…she’s an old lady. She loves that dog. She’ll be desperate if she can’t find it.”

“Well it shouldn’t have been out.” Relena looked at him firmly. End of argument.

“But…it wasn’t out out.” Not the end of the argument. “It keeps Molly company all day while she sits outside the Lansdowne, selling raffle tickets for the Shamrocks.” Relena must have laid in wait for it for ages, to catch it away from old Molly. “You know that. She’ll die without it.” An exaggeration, but largely true. And the Shamrocks football team would certainly die without Molly. Trowa played for Shamrocks.

“Yes…but Heero…” She smiled at him fondly. Men could be so dense sometimes. “What if it got run over? Think how upset she’d be.”

Well. Yes. He supposed that that could possibly happen, except that the dog spent almost its entire life draped over Molly’s feet, like a dirty, white rug.

“Or what if it bit someone and had to be put down? She’d be devastated. You know that Heero” She bit her lip, blue eyes brimming with tears at the thought of old Molly’s anguish.

Well. Yes. It was a snappy little thing. Although virtually toothless. And with its arthritis it was hardly going to pursue anyone down the street.

He blinked. He must be missing something. “But…won’t the Pound put it down anyway?”

“Of course not!” Relena stared at him loftily, sniffing back tears. “At least not straight away. And not at all if she goes and pays the fine.”

“But…its eighty dollars! She’s on a pension. She only gets a hundred and fifty a week. And the Pound’s out near my place. She doesn’t have a car!”

“I know.” She shook her head sadly, lips pursed in distress. The general public just never learned. “So much misery could be avoided if only people would research the cost of a pet before buying.”

Heero blinked again. He was definitely missing something.



+++



Eventually, even escapee Headmistresses and their animal captives had to return to their confines, either school or Dog Pound, and Heero was left in peace, to trudge firmly in the opposite direction, reading and re-reading his crumpled letter.

At least Relena had distracted him for ten minutes.

He shook his head, distractedly sweeping a hand through his unruly brown hair, which immediately flopped back down into his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. There had been two complaints of child abuse against him. Someone had actually accused him of crushing Cody’s fingers with a shovel. Who would do that? He’d lived here his entire life. Everyone knew him. And yet there were actually two people who thought that he would hurt his boys…horrible.

He shook himself from his thoughts. That wasn’t important now. The main thing was what to do about it. Invisibility wouldn’t work this time.

He glared at the fateful line. ‘…would like to see yourself and your partner at your earliest convenience.’ Blah, blah and more blah.

What in hell was he going to do? He didn’t have a partner. And it wasn’t convenient. Not now, or at any time really. Even in a house filled with five noisy boys, in a town stuffed with people who’d known you since baby-hood, it could be lonely sometimes.

Head down and sunk in thought, Heero didn’t notice the sturdy back in front of him, until he cannoned into warm, green-checked flannel with an audible grunt, almost knocking the other over.

“Hey! Watch what you’re…Heero?”

“Trowa! Hell! Sorry! Wasn’t looking.”

“S’okay. Oh. Here. You dropped something.” It was the letter, caught up against a telephone pole. Trowa swooped to snatch it from the pavement, in a sweeping arc of long arms and tumbling cinnamon hair, before the salty breeze whisked it away. Trowa had done a lot of gymnastics as a kid, where Heero had been a swimmer. However, they’d both loved basketball, and, together, had formed a formidable combination that had lasted them all through school, and beyond. Trowa’s long, lanky frame made him perfect for basketball, unlike Heero, who was only average height, but also excelled, due to fierce determination and masses of lean, compact muscle, like coiled springs.

Trowa un-handed the letter with a theatrical flourish to Heero, who crumpled it into a ball without looking at it and jammed it back into his jeans pocket.

“Bills huh?” Trowa looked sympathetically sidelong at Heero from beneath the unlikely fall of his long, chin length bangs, as they leant into the breeze, tramping side by side, hands shoved in their pockets. Trowa had his heavy, yellow oilskins tucked into the crook of his elbow, on his way back down to the docks for the night’s fishing. Wordlessly they veered towards the marina.

“Bills. I wish! No. Child Welfare.” Heero jammed a wealth of twisted, unsavoury meaning into the two words.

“A-gain??” Trowa grimaced in sympathy.

Heero didn’t answer, just scowled in reply. He glanced away from Trowa, out across the bay where white caps still raged after the gale, and sighed. “My fault. I lied to them. Told them I had a partner. Now they want to meet him. Her. Whoever. Or they’ll take the boys away.”

“Shit.” It was Trowa’s turn to look out across the water. He’d lived through this with Heero before. He turned back to Heero.

“Well… Can’t you just get a pretend boyfriend or something?” Trowa knew better than to suggest a girlfriend. Basketball, and associated showers, had been a bonding experience in more ways than one. He glanced across at Heero. “I’m serious. How would they know?”

“Hm.” How indeed. Heero ruminated, his glare slowly fading. Damn! It wasn’t such a bad idea. In fact…it was a good idea. Trowa was a genius. And it would only be for a little while. Just to meet Child Welfare. But who?

“Course…” Trowa looked Heero up and down, grinning slyly. “…you could always just get yourself a real boyfriend Yuy! You need a good…” He yelped as Heero shoulder-barged him hard off the pavement, stumbling sideways with his hands trapped in his pockets, then ducked his head and barged back, chuckling. “Well you do! How long since…hey!!!” Heero stretched up to wrap him in a headlock, and then expertly hooked a leg behind his knee and dumped him onto the grass, stalking away quickly before Trowa could return the favour.

Never was how long. And Trowa jolly well knew it too. Five rowdy boys and a job didn’t leave a lot of time for anything else. It was all very well for Trowa. He had a boyfriend somewhere. Captain of a charter boat or something. Heero wasn’t quite sure how they’d met. Out at sea probably. Two ships that didn’t pass in the night. Heero sighed, undetectable to everyone, except, possibly, Trowa.

Trowa stared sadly after him from his seat on the grass. The boys were a convenient excuse, but Heero hadn’t always had them to look after, and they both knew it. Heero hadn’t even glanced at another boy sideways since that thing, whatever it was, had happened with Alex after practice that afternoon, and that idiot Mueller had got the whole school in a homophobic uproar. And then Alex had joined in, the dickless asshole. Heero never had said what happened. Just glared, and got quieter, if that was possible. Typical Heero. And then, of course, Odin had died and Heero really had had other things on his mind.

Trowa rolled backwards into a handspring, scooped up his raincoat and ran to catch up, rubbing his hip absently, then pulling his flute from his back pocket. Another dent. Damn. He shoved it back in his pocket.

“I wish I could help Heero. You know that. Right?” Heero could hear the sincerity in his voice. He did know that. Trowa had been his best friend since forever. “But… Hell. Nobody’d believe it. Everyone round here’s known us since we were kids. They all know I’m not your boyfriend. Isn’t there someone else who could help out? I mean…it’d just be for a few days. Welfare’d eat it up But it needs to be someone that nobody knows. Otherwise people’ll know it’s not true and you’ll be stuffed.”

He was right. Glumly, Heero looked for answers in the philosophy scratched into the pavement, hunching his shoulders against the wind. Easier said than done. Where was he supposed to find a stranger who would pretend to be his boyfriend? And do it before the end of the week. It was hopeless.

“Hey shit buddy. Guess what.” Trowa elbowed him playfully, trying to distract him. “Speaking of strangers…The darndest thing. You wouldn’t believe it. I pulled a mermaid out of the drink last night.”

“Yeah. Right.” A mermaid. Trowa was such an idiot sometimes. The concrete was more entertaining. And who the hell was Joan anyway…

“No. Really!” Trowa soldiered on, determined to cheer him up. Heero was such an idiot sometimes. “Well…at least…it looked like a mermaid. He did I mean. Mer-man I guess. You’ve never seen so much hair! And on a guy too. Way down past his butt. Like that picture of the Sirens in Classical Lit.”

Heero jerked in shock and looked up at Trowa incredulously. He had seen that much hair. Recently too.

“You should’ve seen the look on Jay’s face. He was sure it was a real mermaid. Silly old…”

“What happened to him?”

“Well…I thought he was gonna have a heart attack. Especially when he saw that Mermaid-man was butt-naked…”

“No!! Idiot. Not Jay!”

Jay had been coach of the swim team, and, personally, Heero thought that a heart attack could not come a minute too soon. Jay had survived an encounter with a shark sometime in his putative youth and had come off somewhat the worse for wear, although Heero had always suspected that the shark had it worse. Although at least it had been spared having to eat Jay. Heero grabbed Trowa’s arm and hauled him to a stop, swinging him around to face him.

“The guy. What happened to him? Was he d…okay?” For some reason, Heero couldn’t bring himself to say drowned.

“Oh. Him. Well he was okay. Amazing. He was a long way out too. Near Whale Banks. Bit hypothermic but still...” Trowa shook his head in disbelief, remembering a moonlight-pale shape tumbled on hills of water, tangled in hair like seaweed. Eerie. He shuddered slightly. “We brought him in to the hospital. Didn’t remember a thing. Can you believe that? Not how he got out there or what his name was or anything. Police are trying to identify him but…” He shrugged expressively, hands outstretched theatrically. Trowa could be very Latin sometimes. “…no luck so far. He’s a complete stranger.”

A complete stranger.

Heero was staring at Towa like a stunned mullet from last night’s catch, and Trowa quirked a curious eyebrow. “So what’s it to you? Heero? You know him or something?”

There was no response.

He quirked the other eyebrow. “Yuy? Hey…Heero!!”

Heero’s thoughts whirled. A complete stranger…

“Hey!!! Earth to Heero!!!”

Heero blinked and re-focused on Trowa. “This guy… I’ve just had an idea…”

“Oh so that’s what that was!!”

“Dumbass.” His lips twitched reluctantly. “I’ll tell Welfare that he’s my boyfriend…”

“What! Heero …you can’t…”

“…and afterwards I’ll ring up his girlfriend and send him home. No problem.” He had her number somewhere, on the job spec. And then that blue-haired vixen could come and take her grumpy, little, pretty, little, totally gorgeous, straight boyfriend and Heero would never have to think about him again. He sighed softly.

“But whoah…!! Heero! Problemo! MEGA big problemo. Why would he go along with it?!?”

Duhh. “He doesn’t remember. Remember? I’ll just tell him that it’s true.”

“You’d lie to him.” It wasn’t a question.

Heero’s lips compressed into a thin line. Yes. He would. Honesty was important…but…sometimes it was a luxury. Like now. His family was the most important thing in the world to him. And he owed Odin.

“But...but…” Trowa sighed. He could think of a million reasons why this was a bad idea. Not least of which was that Heero would lose the boys for sure if he got caught out. And besides…

“Heero what about the guy? I mean…he’s probably got a family somewhere. A job. A dog to feed. You know…a life!?!? Unlike some people round here...”

Heero shrugged. So…he couldn’t leave the kids alone at night. So what. Trowa just went out and got drunk and made an idiot of himself anyway.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Trowa. “Look! If I don’t identify Duo…this guy…he might never get his life back. I’ll be doing him a favour. Just…not straight away that’s all.” And besides. Nothing in Duo’s life could possibly be as important as five boys being taken from their only family, and the home that Heero had fought tooth and nail to salvage from the wreckage of their lives.

Anyway. Duoowed him. About five days worth, by Heero’s calculations. More, at labourer’s rates. And five days should be more than enough to get Welfare off his back. Presumably, once they’d seen his partner, that would be that.

Trowa frowned, unconvinced. “A girlfriend you said.” His brows twisted quizzically. “I mean…he’s probably not gay Heero!! Have you thought of that?? What if he freaks out?”

Yeah. Been there…done that…got the T-shirt. Hell.

“So?” He shrugged. “Pretend boyfriend. P-r-e-t-e-n-d Trowa. As in …not real? I’m not going to attack him or anything. Geez Louise! He doesn’t even like me!”

Ooops.

Where had that come from?

Heero’s face burned, and he turned away from Trowa’s piercing green gaze; the gaze that could spot gulls diving on a school of fish way over the other side of the bay, that could always tell when Heero was going for a lay-up instead of a long shot, and that knew that Heero didn’t really liiiiike-like Dorothy Catalonia long before Heero did. Heero was hawk-quiet, fiercely independent and didn’t trust anyone, not even his best friend, and so Trowa had learned to read sideways glances, infinitesimal twitches and stony silences, even better than he read Spanish. And he read Spanish very well.

Trowa was looking at him thoughtfully. Muy interesante muchachos. “He’s pretty cute Heero.”

Heero gave an infinitesimal twitch, glanced sideways then frowned in stony silence. Mucho muy interesante.

Trowa checked his watch fatalistically, with much the same expression he’d had when an 11-year-old Heero had suggested that they break into West Cliff Public and hide in the air conditioning ducts, to watch their rivals’ last basketball practice before the semis. When Heero got an idea in his head there was no stopping him.

“We should see the police first. High tide’s not ’till six. I’ll come with you. Wufei’s a good bloke. He’s on my bowling team. Unlike other people” He glared at Heero.

Heero just shrugged.

“Let’s go.”



+++



Hilde Schbeiker rolled over in her bunk and groaned, pressing palm to pounding forehead. She lifted her head and struggled to focus blearily on the clock in the cubbyhole opposite. Was that…five past ten…or… ten to one! Shit! She’d slept half of the day away. She really had to slow down the drinking. This was happening way too often lately.

She struggled up into a sitting position and scrabbled around in her overhead locker, blindly searching for the green jar of painkillers which she’d left within easy reach. She fumbled two tablets into her hand and untangled herself from the cover, staggering to the sink for water.

Absently she wondered where Duo was. He was being unusually considerate today, letting her sleep. In the wheelhouse with Q probably. Good. She didn’t really feel up to another argument right now. If only Duo would just grow up…

Two practised, heaving gulps and she’d choked down the bitter tablets, then stood, hands clenched to the cold sink, eyes screwed closed and teeth gritted, swallowing bile and willing the tablets to stay down. At last her stomach slowed its churning and she let out a shaky breath, then rolled herself back into her heaving bunk, closing her eyes and lowering her head gently onto the softness of her pillow as she kicked off her shoes, and fumbled the covers up over her shoulders.

Hopefully Duo would leave her in peace for just a bit longer…



+++



“Hey Wufei.” Trowa propped up the doorframe of the cupboard sized office grandiosely termed the Darke’s Cove Police Station Incident Room, green eyes twinkling at the serious face behind the desk “How’re you doing?”

“Trowa.” The policeman nodded briefly. “You missed the game.”

“Yeah. Tide was wrong.”

“Hm.” The other glanced at Heero, his black eyes, hawk-like and intense. “And you are…?”

Heero held out his hand. “Heero Yuy.”

“Detective Constable Chang. Wufei Chang.”

Detective Constable Chang looked as Chinese as his name suggested, his hair, the blue-black sweep of a raven’s wing, pulled back tightly into a ponytail, to expose delicate, high cheekbones and dark, almond-shaped eyes.

Nice hair. Normally Heero liked straight black hair, but Chang’s was pulled back so tightly that it seemed to drag all expression from his face, where messy bangs might add piquancy. If a face was already full of elfin charm. Nice eyes too, dark, Heero’s favourite, but somehow just…not…er…violet enough…

Trowa’s shoulder bumped meaningfully against Heero’s, and Trowa’s eyebrows, visibly entertained, climbed beneath his long fringe. Heero dragged his thoughts away from the problems inherent with Chang’s eyes and back to the matter at hand.

“I’d like to file a missing persons report please.”

Chang dragged a piece of paper across his desk and looked up at Heero expectantly, pen in hand. “Relationship?”

“Uhh...he’s my…b…” Heero hesitated. “…b...uhh …”

It was still not too late to back out. Probably Relena would love to help him.

“…boyfriend.”

His extremely un-gay, homophobic boyfriend, who looked like all of Heero’s dreams sprung miraculously to life, and had made it perfectly obvious that he wasn’t interested in Heero. “My boyfriend. Duo Maxwell.”

“Distinguishing features?”

Heero rattled off the details quickly, before he could change his mind. “About my height. Long hair. Brownish.” Like a beautiful piece of polished birds-eye maple, swirled and dappled with streaks of teak and mahogany, but he didn’t think that Chang really wanted to hear that. Chang looked like a mud-brown sort of person to him. “In a plait. Really, really long hair…” He made a vague gesture with his hands indicating Duo’s probable hair-length.

“Ahh. Outlandishly long hair.” Chang looked up from his writing. “I think that we may have someone…”

“..and a birthmark on his butt.” Heero sucked in a deep breath, remembering that birthmark and its natural habitat, smooth, rounded, compact muscle and....

“…matching that description up at the hospital.”

“It’s not outlandish. Just long.” For some reason, Heero felt compelled to defend Duo’s hair to Chang.

Chang just looked at him. “Let’s go.”



+++



Twenty minutes later, at the hospital, a small crowd of people hovered outside the closed ward door, all of them staring expectantly at Heero.

Chang had followed Heero and Trowa to the hospital in his patrol car, and then insisted that they find Duo’s doctor, some blonde girl, slightly Asian-looking, with her hair twisted into two plaits. Thank heavens it wasn’t old Doc McGee. Doc McGee, who’d delivered Heero and Trowa and never let them forget it, who’d pulled six slug-gun pellets from Heero’s butt and never let him forget it…or Trowa…who’d patched up more broken bones than they cared to remember, and who knew very well that Heero lived alone with the boys. Heero hadn’t even thought of Doc McGee. If old Doc had been here, Heero’s mad scheme would never have worked.

Heero didn’t know whether he felt relieved or disappointed.

But Doctor McGee was on holiday apparently, somewhere warm, and they had this girl instead, looking much more efficient than Doc in her white coat, although not nearly as comforting, and standing quite close to Chang.

Staring expectantly at Heero.

It felt like one of those kid’s games where you started off alone and every time you tagged someone you ended up with another person hanging off you, until you ended up with a big, long line of followers, all pushing and shoving you.

All jostling to watch Heero make an idiot of himself in front of a total stranger.

Oops. Not a total stranger. His boyfriend. Duo was his boyfriend, and he’d better start remembering that.

But what if Duo remembered him? What if Duo freaked out? What if he screamed out that Heero was a freaking, peeping tom pervert, in front of Chang, the doctor, Trowa and the entire hospital?

And what if he didn’t remember?

What then?

Heero hesitated, feeling nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach, just like he used to feel at the start of every big race. He was up on the blocks and balanced over the water, a whole crowd of people at his back, all depending on him. Once he dived in, and identified Duo, he couldn’t turn back. He would be committed, and all he could do was swim for his life until he reached the finish. Or drown.

But here, right now, he had a choice. He didn’t have to dive in. He could walk away. Say that he didn’t know Duo. Or…

…he could hand over the phone number and send him back to that girl. Never see him again. His fists clenched in his pockets, and he felt the crumple of the Welfare letter beneath his tense fingers. He straightened his shoulders, feeling strangely relieved. He didn’t have a choice. He had to do this. And besides.

It might not be him.

Heero drew a deep breath and edged closer to the door to peer through the small square window, with the oddest sensation, almost of vertigo, as if he was falling into...

…hell and damnation.

It was him.

Duo Maxwell.

He looked just the same as before, except that now he combined alluring and extremely annoying with childishly endearing. Maybe it was to do with having clothes on. Maybe it was because the long, white, hospital gown looked three sizes too big for him. He fidgeted, seated on edge of the bed, legs dangling and kicking restlessly as he looked around the room, a wide strip of white sticking plaster on his forehead.

He reminded Heero of nothing so much as Tyler. A lot. A naughty little boy, bored out of his skull and about to do mischief. If it had been Tyler, Heero would have been putting the scissors away and hiding the matches. But this was Duo Maxwell. A very naughty little boy, now all grown up…with an athlete’s slim build…an enticingly quirky mouth…and possibly the most beautiful eyes that Heero had ever seen in his life… Heero felt a jolt of some inexplicable emotion as the butterflies fluttered to life again. For long moments he stared at the figure on the bed, forgetting to breathe. Then Duo glanced up at the door, looking right into his eyes, and Heero jerked back, his heart pounding. Chang and the doctor stared at him expectantly. Trowa was grinning, the bastard.

Heero took a deep breath.

“It’s him.” He was going to hyperventilate.

“Duo Maxwell.”



+++



Duo stared expectantly at the door as they entered the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Chang stepped forward, throwing an irritated glance at Heero.

“Hello…uh…umm.” Chang coughed. “This is Heero Yuy.” He waved in Heero’s direction. “Mr. Yuy claims that he knows you. Do you recognise him at all?”

Duo looked hopefully at Heero. Heero was the one who’d been watching him through the window. There was something about him… His eyes. Those lapis lazuli eyes. He’d seen those eyes before. He was sure of it.

Heero forced himself to meet Duo’s eager inspection. For a moment he almost panicked as he saw that dim spark of recognition in those violet depths, but as Duo refrained from leaping up and denouncing him as a pervert he relaxed. So far, so good.

Duo stared at Heero, waiting for a sudden flash of illumination. When nothing happened he cleared his throat.

“So. Umm. Who am I?”

Hell. This was it. For a terrifying instant, words abandoned Heero and he stared blankly at Duo. Hell. He was no good at pretending stuff. He’d hated Drama at school. How would he sound, if Duo were really his boyfriend? Hurt, he supposed, at being forgotten. And, probably, pleased to see him. Would he kiss him? He went cold, then hot at the thought. His heart pounded furiously.

Suddenly completely unable to meet Duo’s eyes, his gaze fell, catching on the glint of gold at Duo’s collarbone. “Your cross! You still have it!” he blurted out.

Duo’s hand closed around the worn cross, in a gesture so familiar that it was automatic, and glanced down. “Yeah.

“It was in his hand.” Trowa’s deep voice interjected from the back of the room. “We had to prise his fingers open.”

Duo spotted Trowa lounging interestedly in the background and grinned. A familiar face. “Hey Trow.”

“Hey yourself.” Trowa inspected him, eyes twinkling. “Looking a bit overdressed there.”

Duo grinned back. “Yeah absolutely.” He surveyed the white gown. “Better than before huh?” He flipped the back opening, eyes twinkling cheekily at Trowa. “Good ventilation too.” He turned his attention back to Heero.

“So…uh…Heero? That’s right isn’t it?”

Heero nodded.

“Heero.” Duo said his name again, as if tasting it. “So…um…Heero? Who am I?”

Heero swallowed hard. Just his name. No big deal.

Just his name.

“Heero?” Trowa prompted gently from the wall.

“Duo. Your name’s Duo. Duo Maxwell.”

“Duo?” Nope. Duo shook his head, rubbing his aching forehead in frustration. Didn’t ring any bells at all.

Duo’s eyes rested on Heero, glinting with a hint of hope. Something in Heero melted and glowed warmly at being the focus of that hopeful regard, but he pushed it away. Duo Maxwell was a non-gay, freaking pain in the butt and Heero was going to get his five days worth, then piss him off. Time to get with the program.

At last, Heero had made it into race mode, where there was no turning back and it was just breathe, and put one arm in front of the other until the end.

He scrutinised Duo carefully. “You’re absolutely sure that you don’t remember me at all?”

“Nope.” Duo shook his head reluctantly, his braid swinging behind him. “Not really. Although…” His eyebrows knotted thoughtfully, “I guess you do look kinda familiar. But…geez…I dunno…you’d think…”

So. Duo didn’t remember him. Okay. Time to move on. Heero relaxed subtly, his heart slowing its frantic pounding and forced himself to lean casually against the edge of the bed, his face carefully blank. Pretend. He could do this. “But Duo…you remember us surely?”

“Us???” Duo stared at him in confusion, rocking back a pace.
“Mm hmm. You and me. We’re…umm…” Heero paused. This was it. No turning back. He clenched the sheet tightly. “…partners.”

“We what?” Another backwards step.

“Mm hmm.”

“You mean like…business…partners. Right?!?”

Heero shook his head. “Uh uh.”

Against all expectation, Heero was starting to enjoy himself. The small part of him that wasn’t entirely focussed on getting them out of the hospital, and home, noted that watching Duo squirm was fun.

Duo squeaked, stepped backwards, and cannoned into the bed, sitting down hard, his eyes wide and panic-stricken.

“But I don’t remember you at all! How could I not remember that???” He distractedly looked Heero up and down, in a way that Heero would have found extremely hot, if only Duo hadn’t made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t gay, and that he didn’t like Heero. “I mean…if you’ve…and I’ve…and we’ve…” Duo blushed. “Surely I’d remember something about you!” He turned and appealed to the doctor, as to a higher authority. “I’d remember something about him! Wouldn’t I?”

The pretty doctor was unsure. Broken limbs and sucking chest wounds she could handle. Gorgeous young men falling into the sea and turning up…naked…she blushed slightly…in her hospital with amnesia were somewhat outside her range of experience. Although, she thought that if it were her, she would have definitely remembered Mr. Yuy. “Well actually Mr… uh… Maxwell… this is somewhat outside my…”

“I don’t freaking believe it!” Duo had an infuriating feeling that he was being tricked somehow, and he didn’t like it at all. His quick temper flared. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Heero. “Knowing my name doesn’t prove freaking anything!! Anyone could know that! Shit…my freaking milk-man could know that! If I have a milkman. You could just be some freaking bozo I’ve met in the street somewhere!!!”

Heero flinched imperceptibly, to everyone except Trowa, who was propping up the wall near the door and watching closely.

Recovering, Heero raised his eyebrows innocently. “What possible reason could I have for pretending to know you?” Apart from wanting you to masquerade as my partner so I don’t have my children taken away from me that is…

“Well…I dunno…” Duo’s hands fisted on his hips and he lifted his chin belligerently, scowling down his nose at Heero. “Maybe I’m really rich or something…or maybe you need me for some sort of scam or…”

Heero decided it was time to change the subject. “I can prove it. You have a birthmark on your butt. Only a lov…” He swallowed. “…very close friend would know that. Right?” Probably.

“A what? Where?! I do not!” It was a squawk of indignation.

“A…birthmark…on your…butt. And you do.” So nyah. Heero spoke slowly and clearly and very annoyingly, and resisted the overwhelming urge to stick his tongue out. He was enjoying this.

“A birth-mark! Ugh!! You’re kidding me right?!” Duo craned his neck to peer unsuccessfully over his shoulder then turned back to Heero uncertainly. “I do?”

“Uh huh. Kind of cute actually.” Heero smirked at Duo, who glared. “Blackish. Sort of crescent shaped. A bit like a sickle. Or…a scythe.”

“On my butt???”

“Uh huh. Right cheek. Trust me.” Heero’s gaze was limpid in its blue untrustworthiness. He reached for Duo’s hospital gown. “Here I’ll show you.”

Trowa, forgotten in the background, blinked in disbelief, his eyes widening. Was Heero Yuy flirting with Duo Maxwell? Heero didn’t flirt with any one. He leaned his shoulders more comfortably against the wall and settled back to enjoy the show.

“Get off me!!!” Duo twitched away from Heero and backed quickly around the other side the bed, one hand defending his behind, the other hand fending Heero off. His eyes shot furious, violet sparks across the bed, daring Heero to come closer on pain of instant dismemberment.

“All right all right!” Heero held up his hands in the universal gesture for ‘it wasn’t me,’ and tried not to burst out laughing at the sight of Duo holding his gown protectively closed behind him. “You look then. Uhh…sweetie pie.”

Trowa grinned, and turned a laugh into a cough, entranced by the thought of Heero calling anyone sweetie pie. He was flirting. Well, well. Amazing.

Duo eyed Heero suspiciously to make sure that he wasn’t going to leap the bed, and then quickly glanced over his shoulder, trying to flip the hospital gown out of the way, whilst still protecting his naked posterior from view. After a few moments of unsuccessful wriggling, he spun on his heel and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door furiously behind him.

Lolly wrappers wafted to the floor from the top of the bedside cabinet.

Heero stared at the door, transfixed.

Trowa coughed politely, his green eyes twinkling at Heero, while his face remained carefully impassive. One elegant eyebrow lifted quizzically and Heero glared at him. Trowa knew Heero too well. It was annoying. Heero dragged his thoughts away from Duo’s semi-naked butt and its birthmark. Again.

They all waited silently. A few minutes later the door opened slowly and Duo stood framed in the doorway staring at Heero, eyes round as saucers. Abruptly he grinned, arms outstretched, all anger forgotten. Heero blinked at the sudden change.

“Hey Honey…I’m home!!

He caught at his braid uncertainly.

“I guess.”



+++



Heero was saved from any embarrassing effusions of affection from his new old spouse by the arrival of lunch, which turned out to be an extremely important meal in Duo’s book. Heero took one look at the hospital lunch and decided that Duo must at one time have lived out of dumpsters, to be so enthusiastic about pressed chicken and custard.

While Duo ate, Heero jettisoned the visibly entertained Trowa, who was showing signs of wanting to go home with them, despite high tide at six, and rushed out to the nearest charity store to buy Duo clothes, claiming that he hadn’t realised that Duo was butt naked, which he hadn’t, but failing to mention that Duo had no clothes at all at home either. He quickly cobbled together a vaguely functional collection of clothing that looked roughly Duo’s size, with complete disregard for style, shape or colour, and then rang Child Welfare to arrange an appointment.

The sooner he could parade Duo in front of that woman, the sooner they could get back to normal life, and the sooner Duo would be gone.

And that was a good thing. Really.



+++



Detective Constable Chang sat down at his desk with a sigh, signed his name in cramped, backward-slanting script, then stood up again and pushed the thin, manila folder into the file drawer marked Missing Persons. A blemish on his dark sleeve caught his eye, and he completely failed to notice that the file slid into ‘D’ for ‘Duo’ not ‘M’ for ‘Maxwell’. He slammed the heavy drawer closed with the metallic clang of justice being served. A satisfactory morning.

He carefully plucked a long, blonde hair from his shirt, then went to get himself a cup of weak green tea. A most satisfactory morning indeed.



+++



It took longer than Heero had expected to extricate Duo, sans Trowa, from the hospital, because Duo had to say goodbye to the blonde lady doctor, the nurses on duty, the burns girl in ICU, and give the playing cards back to the kids down in the Paediatric Ward. It probably would have been easier if they’d just jumped out of a window, then set their own legs. By the time they finally left, they were late for their Welfare appointment, and Heero had to speed through two red lights to get there.

Darke’s Cove wasn’t big enough for a Welfare office, so they had to take the highway to neighbouring Good Forest. As well as the Welfare office, Good Forest also had a Mall. In fact, several Malls, five high schools and an outpost of one of the Universities. Darke’s Cove did, however, have a state-of-the-art Hospital, thanks to lobbying from the fishing industry and the cannery.

In between down-shifting and lane changes Heero explained tersely to Duo about Child Welfare.

Looking sidelong, gauging the effect, he noticed that Duo’s eyes were very wide. Maybe the shock of hearing about the fateful letter. Maybe the shock of hearing that he had five kids. At the age of…uh... He peeked again. Something young. Maybe just the shock of the semi-trailer in front that had just started to turn unexpectedly into the cannery from the outside lane. Oops. Hell! He hauled on the steering wheel and swerved onto the wrong side of the road.

“Shit!!!” Duo slammed his fist against the side of the door, righteously angry. “They can’t do that! Can they?”

There was a stack of cars all coming towards him. Holy hell and damnation. Heero downshifted fast, roared past the semi and eased back into his own lane, with at least twenty metres to spare. Did that guy just flip him off?

“Well technically they can if they have an arrow on the back that says do not overtake turning vehicle but…”

Duo stared at him as if he’d just grown another head

“N-o-o. Geez! Freaking Child Welfare! They can’t take your kids away just because you’re a single parent for a day can they?!? That just sucks!!”

“Oh. Them. Well technically they can.” Heero was an expert on the machinations of Child Welfare. “But at the moment they just want to meet you.”

“Shit!” Duo fumed at the road. “So we still might lose our kids.” He took a deep breath then turned glumly to Heero. “Heero I’m so sorry. If I’d been home this wouldn’t have happened. It’s all my fault.”

Heero blinked, braking hard as a taxi did an illegal u-turn in front of him. He had imagined a lot of scenarios in the last twenty-four hours, ranging from Duo pressing himself against him and promising to never wear clothes ever again, to Duo hitting him with a saucepan. Or him hitting Duo with a saucepan. But he had never once pictured Duo apologising to him. He felt extremely guilty.

After several more stressful, guilt-laden minutes, of Duo bemoaning his carelessness in inadvertently getting lost at sea, somehow, and hitting his head and losing his memory, somehow, and Heero gritting his teeth, they arrived at their destination.

Looming ominously over an otherwise blameless, and attractively landscaped plaza, Child Welfare was housed in a tall, red-brick building, with ornamental masonry, a large, stone legend, saying Established1924, on the wall, above the top-storey windows, and a kebab shop on the ground level. Welfare lurked behind a glass doorway with black lettering, hidden beside the kebab shop, and a very narrow, very long, flight of stairs. No wonder that woman was so skinny.

Heero waved Duo briskly at the woman from Welfare then whisked him away again, claiming that Duo was tired after his ordeal. The scary lady made tutting noises and firmly instructed Heero to take him home straight away. It was annoying to note that she seemed much friendlier after meeting Duo. She even fed Duo chocolate cookies, which cheered Duo up, to the point where he was whistling as they headed for the stairs. The fact that Heero had given her Chai, with honey, seemed to count for nothing. Heero put her lingering coldness towards him down to ferret-induced stress.

He felt vaguely sympathetic. About the stress at least. Ever since Heero had told Trowa about the letter, Heero had been swept along in a flood-tide of events, without a chance to think about how he was going to handle things. He would feel a lot better once he had a plan. At last, in the narrow stairs, redolent of garlic and roast lamb, trudging back down, while Duo ate the last two cookies, Heero took advantage of the sudden deafening, crunch-filled silence, to think about what he was actually going to do with Duo Maxwell, now that he had him, and cobbled together a plan of action, to get through this peculiar mission that he’d set for himself.

Sadly, he decided that now that he had Duo Maxwell, he couldn’t actually do anything with him. Especially not what he wanted to do. Carefully he averted his eyes from Duo’s butt, traversing the stair below. Duo might be the most attractive human being that he’d ever seen in his entire life but… that didn’t count. What counted was keeping him in the dark until the Woman from Welfare was satisfied. Everything else was secondary.

And it was only fair to Duo. Much as he would like Duo to be his boyfriend in fact as well as in theory, it just wasn’t right to take advantage of his lack of memory. Duo was not gay. At least, according to Duo. Even though Heero had very solid…rock hard actually…evidence to the contrary.

Anyway. Duo believed that he wasn’t gay and had made his position perfectly clear at their first meeting, and Heero would respect that. He would keep his distance. Duo would be an honoured guest in his house, and no more. Heero would treat him politely, and with respect, and then he would send him home and never think of him again. Much.

Mentally he ticked off points on his mission-plan. Keep his distance. An honoured, respected, soon-to-be-absent house guest. Okay. Mission accepted. Honour. Respect. He could do this.



+++



“HELL AND DAMNATION!!! Duo Maxwell get your butt back inside the truck this instant!!!”

Duo was kneeling on the seat, hanging half out of the passenger window, eating a kebab dripping with garlic sauce, chilli, hommous, tabhouli and extra cheese, at that difficult, half-eaten, falling out of the wrapper stage, and lollygagging at the sights of Darke’s Cove. To be fair, his perfect, jeans-clad butt was actually in the pickup, but waving around near Heero’s face, causing him a considerable amount of anguish. Heero, who had finished his plain kebab efficiently and making no mess at all, unlike Duo, clenched his fingers firmly around the steering wheel, so that they would not be tempted to touch, and ground his teeth.

Keeping his distance from Duo was a lot harder than Heero had expected. It seemed that the sickle-shaped birthmark was enough to convince Duo that Heero really was his long-lost love and he’d kept up a steady stream of friendly chatter from the moment that they’d left the hospital, trying to put his arm around Heero’s shoulders and even, once, looking as though he was about to hold Heero’s hand.

After their meeting with Welfare, Heero drove Duo back to his new house… home… along the coast road and Duo enlivened the trip with a ceaseless stream of exclamation over Darke’s Cove while Heero said ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ and occasionally ‘I really don’t think...’

Wriggling back into the pickup, a chuckling Duo perched on the edge of his seat leaning over the dashboard and craning his neck to try and see the whaling monument. He whistled softly. “Great white pointers Batman…it’s so biiiig. And they say that size doesn’t matter...” He grinned, swallowing the remains of his kebab in two large, meaningful gulps, licking his fingers slowly, and glancing sideways at Heero, who flushed and looked away, imagining situations where size might matter. Duo flirting with him was not in the plan. He would have to modify it accordingly.

Their road home wound along the coastal cliffs before turning inward, and Duo was immediately enraptured by The Pinnacles. Heero was less enamoured, and refused steadfastly to look at them, having unfortunate memories of Relena and Rex.

Duo was half-turned in his seat, straining to look back over his shoulder. “Whoa! Dude! Check…it…out! I have got to climb that.” He paused and looked at Heero enquiringly. “Have I climbed that?”

“No!” Heero replied hastily. “At least…not while I’ve known you.” Yes! That worked. He unclenched his sweaty hands from the steering wheel ever so slightly.

Duo relaxed back into his seat, shaking his head. “Wow. It’s amazing you know. I don’t recognise a thing.” He frowned ruefully. “Damn! This sucks! It’s as if I’ve never even been here.”

Heero flinched imperceptibly and renewed his grip on the steering wheel, staring stonily at the road.



+++



Duo peeked sidelong at his boyfriend.

Strange.

You’d really think that there’d be some reaction to your own boyfriend, but there was nothing. Not the faintest twinge of recognition. You’d think that there’d be some-thing. Soul calling to soul…two hearts beating as one…palms meeting palms like two halves of the same shell…or some such girlie shit like that. Even just a mutual love of chocolate cookies.

Well not today.

Nothing.

Not a sausage.

It was really odd.

Although…he eyed the messy, brown bangs and dangerous, cobalt eyes appreciatively…his hormones were definitely registering something. Probably about a seven and a half on the Richter scale...what was that…plates falling off shelves…people screaming? Yep. That was it. Heero was very cute. And check out those biceps! Damn! He had good taste. Even if he did say so himself.

Tentatively he reached out and patted Heero’s thigh experimentally, in a casual sort of boyfriend-to-boyfriend gesture. Woah! Quads of steel! Check…it…out! He had to stroke. He couldn’t help it. Curiously he flexed his own thigh, disappointed to note that it was not quite so steel-like. Pretty good though. He squeezed Heero’s thigh again in comparison, and it twitched nervously away from his hand. Oops. No squeezing the merchandise…uh… boyfriend.

Okay. Be optimistic. Maybe it wasn’t a twitch. Maybe it was just a gear change.

It was a gear change.

They were there.