Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Overboard ❯ Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Treize Khushrenada ran his finger sadly over gleaming beech, recognising it immediately for what it was. An extremely beautiful, extremely expensive goodbye. He had known, when Milli had said that he was going back to Darke’s Cove, that this was how it would be. Time to move on.

After Mil had gone, he slid the console carefully into place beneath a small Brett Whitely, the sophisticated curve of the legs echoing the confident arc of the swooping dark lines above.

He eyed it consideringly, then inched it slightly to one side and stepped back to admire it, arms comfortable crossed across his chest, one hand supporting his elbow, the finger of his free hand smoothing over his elegantly arched brow in a habitual gesture.

Beautiful.

Maxwell Yuy pieces were destined to become collector items, no doubt about it.

A small crease grew between his eyebrows. The console… something about the legs and the clever detailing. He’d seen something like that before…

He shook his head dismissively. Duo Maxwell hadn’t stayed with furniture design. Or painting. Had gone into interior design with that girlfriend of his. Had grinned evasively, and said that it was where the money was, which was true, as far as that went, and they’d done very well, but it was just rubbish nevertheless. Duo didn’t need money. Treize thought that maybe he just didn’t want to strike out on his own. And not surprising really, after the tragic loss of his family.

But a great waste of talent.

Still. If he didn’t know better…



+++



At long last, the backyard was empty, except for the boys; the driveway, bare of cars, except for his truck, and Heero Yuy clung to the crumbling edge of his self-control with bloody and bleeding fingertips.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight and aching, staring intently at a flake of paint on the verandah rail. A remnant of D…Mari’s painting. Carefully picked at it with his thumbnail, eyes stretched wide.

“It’s alright guys. Go on in.” Struggling desperately for normal. “I’ll make breakfast in…in a minute. P…pancakes right?”

“But…”

“In!̶ 1;

The door closed quietly behind the boys, more quietly than it had ever shut in its entire life, and Heero collapsed onto the top step around his stomach, arms squeezing tightly around the ache in his middle. Sat hunched over his knees, shoulders drooping, staring blindly at the place where Duo’s gorgeous car had stood. Gorgeous Duo’s car. He choked on a terrifying shudder of laughter, abruptly cut off.

The place where Duo had disappeared.

Duo was gone.

His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists, then straightened them quickly, tendons leaping out in stark relief against tanned skin. Raked his fingers jerkily through his hair, then locked them together around his knees. Brought them up to his hair again, knuckles whitening in untidy fistfuls of hair, tugging jerkily, fingers tightening and releasing, then abruptly lunged to his feet.

“NO!!!”

Fine chocolate strands drifted to the verandah, wafting high on the still air, and slipping down between the boards to the worms and the damp, musty darkness. The pallid toadstools.

“No!” He started to pace backwards and forwards along the verandah, a drunken figure of eight, hand brushing the railing. The walls. The railing. The walls.

Touch… turn… touch…

“No!”

Backwards and forwards. A figure of eight was an ouroubos. The worm eating its tail.

Duo was gone.

“No no no no no…!”

Faster. The symbol for infinity. For I will love you infinitely for ever.

He was never coming home.

“No no no no NOOOO!!!”

Backwards and forwards, a pendulum swing.

Duo was gone.

Circles tightening, until at last he stood immobilised in the centre of the verandah, head thrown back and throat working.

“No! No! Oh God! Please…somebody…”

Please somebody help me…

Anybody.



+++



Gradu ally, the hens filed out of the azaleas, and went back to fossicking in the brown leaves at the base of the grapevine, clucking softly to each other. Fez and Rex found a splash of thin sunlight, and curled up together on the warm verandah boards.

Limp and exhausted, Heero sagged against the verandah post. Stared unseeingly at the busy hens, half hypnotised by the small movements of the round white birds, only his eyes flickering.

One of the hens, more daring than the rest, meandered out through the open gate into the driveway. Scratched busily in the gravel, uncovering a hint of gold, before taking fright and fluttering back over the fence.

Slowly Heero’s eyes came back into focus, losing their blind look, and he peered intently at the distant scar in the gravel, where Duo’s wheels had churned the driveway. Levered himself away from the post at last, and wandered over to look, bending to scrape the gravel aside from the unexpected glint.

It was Duo’s cross.



+++



Winter had finally arrived in Darke’s Cove, with driving rain, and gale force winds on the coast. A sheep graziers alert on the high ground, and snow down to 800 metres. Not that snow normally came to Darke’s Cove, so close to the coast, but anything could happen.

To Heero Yuy, the rain was almost a relief. Sunshine would have been wrong. He didn’t think that he could have stood to play football on the beach, or to fly kites off the Esplanade, the way that they’d done on those clear Autumn days when Duo was with them. Much better to be stuck inside, in the dark, rain-shadowed kitchen, with sleet sticking to the kitchen window and the wind shaking the tin roof. Although…

Heero stood still, spatula in hand, staring blindly at the kitchen bench. Remembered Duo frantically making school lunches, whizzing from one side of the room to the other in a slippery pair of socks and no shirt, with Heero’s baggy tracksuit pants trying to slide from his slim hips. His sleep-fuzzed braid flying at half-mast, part-unwound, and threatening to whip the packets of cereal off the table.

Even cooking reminded him of Duo.

Heero blinked hard, and turned his back on the stove, and the hyperactive ghost that haunted his kitchen.

The boys were gathered around the kitchen table, clamouring for breakfast, all except Tyler, who was flat on the floor in front of the refrigerator, trying to coax Fez with a piece of chicken.

“He won’t come out Heero. I can’t catch him. He always used to come out for Duo. Can I give him a pancake?”

Heero’s throat tightened painfully, and he clenched his jaw, stepping over Tyler to the table.

“No. Now get up off the floor Tyler. Flapjacks are ready. And wash your hands.”

Sulkily, Tyler headed for the sink. Ran the tap and waved his hands about, almost in the water. “Duo would let him have a pancake. Duo gives him donut. Duo said…”

“I said no!!”

Gritting his teeth, Heero served up the golden rounds and turned to the refrigerator for juice.

Climbing onto his chair, Tyler’s face fell disppointedly, and he poked at his flapjacks dubiously with his fork, his new, and very short, plait, poking straight out belligerently from the back of his head.

“These aren’t flatjacks! I want flat jacks!!!”

“What?? They are flapjacks! Look!” Heero forked one up and waved it at him “See??”

“Flat jacks! I wanted flat jacks! Like Duo makes!” There was a sudden silence. Obliviously, Tyler pushed his plate away defiantly, sending it skidding across the table with an almighty shove.

It was as if the plate was moving in slow motion.

Time seemed to stop, and Heero watched, with something like panic, as the plate slid across the table, overturning the juice and crashing onto the floor.

“WELL YOU CAN”T HAVE THEM!!! DUO’S GONE! HE’S GONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND??? HE’S FUCKING GONE!!!”



+++



When Heero finally lifted his head from his hands, the kitchen was empty.

Slowly he sat up in his chair, light-headed and exhausted, as if he’d just swum a big race.

What had he done? He was losing it. He never yelled at the boys, not like that. And poor Tyler was still sick…

Gradually he became aware that his hand was hurting and he stared down bemusedly at his clenched fist, the knuckles white with strain. There was something in his hand. Forcing open his stiff fingers, he discovered that somehow he was clutching Duo’s cross, so tightly that the corners had cut into his palm, the bright gold smeared with his blood to a dull brownish-red.

Rising stiffly, he took the cross to the sink and rinsed it off, drying it carefully on a tea towel. Stared bleakly at the four bloody marks on his palm.

This couldn’t go on. It wasn’t fair to the boys and it wasn’t fair to him. He had to let go.

Duo was never coming back. He had his own life. His own family, he supposed.

He would find that girl’s phone number, and ask her to return the cross to Duo. It was only right. It was precious to Duo, and it was Heero’s fault that he’d lost it.

Send the clothes back to the Goodwill store.

And then everything of Duo would be gone, and he could forget that he’d ever heard of Duo Maxwell.



+++



Heero ransacked the pockets of all his work clothes, but couldn’t find that girl’s number. Up-ended his toolbox out onto the floor of the shed, breaking his new safety glasses and losing two jars of odd screws under the bench in the process.

Defeated, he flopped down onto the cold concrete floor, resting his hands limply on his bent knees and staring bleakly at the mess. It was hopeless. He couldn’t find the number anywhere. He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised really. After all, it had gone down to the bottom of Darke’s Bay with him, and all of his tools. It was probably floating around with his old mobile phone somewhere.

Heero glared at his toolbox, racking his brains for another way to contact that girl. He refused to give up. Somehow he was going to get the cross back to Duo, and then this whole sorry mess would be over.

Suddenly, he had an idea, climbing to his feet and heading for the house, leaving his tools in a heap on the floor.

Relena. She knew that girl. He would ask her.



+++



Relena was distracted on the phone.

“Heero who? Oh. Heero. I’m sorry Heero but I can’t talk to you right now. Hilde’s getting married in three weeks time and I’m her chief bridesmaid. I have to catch a plane in the morning and… Oh-h! Heero! Actually I’m very glad that you called because I need someone to take care of the lamb while I’m away. And the snake. They’re no trouble. Really. The lamb’s only being bottle-fed three times a night now and the snake’s hibernating at the moment so it just needs to be kept somewhere warm. The bottom of your bed’s good although not too near the lamb of course…”

Heero hung up.

Stared blindly at the wall, wondering if a heart could break twice, because he’d thought that his was broken before, and now it had broken again.

Duo was getting married.

Slowly he uncrumpled the scrap of paper in his hand and stared bleakly at the telephone number written there.

This made no difference.

He would return the cross to Duo, and then it would all be over.



+++



Heero looked at the precious telephone number, now rather tattered, then stuffed it back into his pocket. Took it out. Stuffed it back in again. Took it out and dialled it really quickly, before he had a chance to change his mind, hands shaking.

Clutched the phone tightly.

It was ringing.

Oh hell! What if Duo answered? What would he say? Hyperventilating, Heero swapped the phone to the other ear, swiping sweaty palms on his pants.

“Hello?”



+++



“I’m sorry but Ms Schbeiker is unavailable right now. Please leave a message and…”

Heero slammed the phone down without replying. He’d tried to ring that girl fifty-three times since Relena had given him the number, and each time she’d refused to pick up the phone.

He groaned miserably, burying his face in his hands. He supposed that he really couldn’t blame her. He had basically kidnapped her fiancé.



+++



Sixty-seven times.

That girl’s phone message took precisely fifteen and a half seconds to run. That meant that if he rang for a year he would have heard it approximately…two million thirty four thousand times.

Ouch.

Heero set his jaw. He had to do this. For Duo. He was not going to give up. Was going to ring that girl and make her give Duo his cross if it killed him. Or her answering machine. Preferably the machine. He really hated that machine

Sixty-eight times.

Hell. The rice was boiling over.

There had to be some other way to contact that girl.

If only he hadn’t always avoided being given Relena’s mobile phone number, then he could have rung her. She was with that girl now. He probably should have thought of that before, but he’d been distracted by the snake. But there had to be someone…

Heero slumped in his chair. Rested his elbow tiredly on the kitchen table, head in hand. Dragged Duo’s cross out from under his T-shirt and dangled it before his eyes, watching it spin gently, glinting soft gold in the light from the kitchen window. Very soothing thing, Duo’s cross. Duo must be missing it.

Distantly, he wondered how he’d lost it. He was always so protective of it. When Otto grabbed him probably…

Otto!!

Otto Richter. He’d been with that girl.

Al-ri-i-ight!! Problem solved. He’d ring Otto and ask Otto to ask that girl to ask Duo to ring him about his cross. No problem. Now to get in touch with Otto.

Heero leaped to his feet and fired up his laptop to check the telephone directory.

Gahh. Unlisted number.

This was ridiculous. So much for technology. Smoke signals would have been easier. Then at least the Fire Brigade would turn up, and they had access to ex-directory numbers…

Sheesh.

Heero swept spikes of brown hair out of his eyes, brows knotting determinedly. Somewhere, he knew that he’d seen a photo of Otto Richter. Somewhere recently…



+++



“Oh dear…I’m not quite sure…would you like another cookie dear?”

Heero gritted his teeth, and tried not to pace.

“No thank you Mrs Noventa.”

He had finally remembered where he had seen Otto’s photograph. In Mrs Noventa’s kitchen. She had shown it to him when he had been in to replace her cupboard doors. Otto’s phone number was, naturally, on the back of Otto’s photograph, which was naturally, missing.

“It’s not lost dear…just mislaid. I’m sure that I had it…it was just…or was it when…oh dear. Was it very important dear?”

He sighed and reached for a cookie. She was so nice and it was rude to keep saying no. Hm. Double chocolate chunk, with chopped nuts, and chocolate buttons on top. He rummaged surreptitiously through the jar, looking for a smallish one.

At last, right down at the bottom of the jar, he found a cookie that was slightly smaller than his hand. He inspected it sadly, thinking that Duo would have loved these cookies. Took a large bite.

And stopped. There was something strange about Mrs Noventa’s cookie. It was sort of…chewy.

Taking it from his mouth, he scrutinised it with misgiving. There was a small triangle of coloured cardboard poking from one corner. Oh help. Mrs Noventa had dropped something into the cookie dough. She’d be mortified.

Desperately, he looked for somewhere to hide the evidence. There was nothing. No dog. No useful piles of junk, no circulars, no half-done homework, no empty egg cartons being saved for a friend with hens. He was too far away from the bin, and he couldn’t really drop it into a drawer. That would be mean. She’d get ants.

At last, he spotted an African violet on the bench. It was small but it would have to do. Maybe he could bury the cookie in the soil. He inched towards the bench, waited until Mrs Noventa bent to pull out a drawer, and then dived for the plant pot.

“Heero!”

With a startled exclamation, Heero dropped the cookie to the floor, where it shattered into a zillion, high-calorie crumbs, and one singed piece of cardboard. A red chocolate button rolled under the refrigerator.

Mrs Noventa put down the photo album that she had wanted to show him, and clapped her hands delightedly. “ Heero! You found Otto’s photo! Here! You simply must have another cookie!”



+++



Heero dumped the jar of cookies onto the bench, and dialled the number from the back of the photograph. To his complete surprise, the phone was answered on the third ring, by an oddly familiar voice, which turned out to be Otto Richter’s. Heero had talked to Otto often, on the hospital job. But talking to someone about bench height and ergonomic shelving was different to asking them about your errant ex-boyfriend, and Heero stumbled to a halt after the initial greetings. Otto came to his rescue.

“If you’re looking for Duo he’s not here. He’s disappeared.”

Otto was keen to get this whole Duo mess sorted out once and for all, so that Hilde could get on with something, or someone, else. He was blunt to the point of terseness, obviously blaming Heero for the whole thing. As did Heero. And Duo, and everyone else, for that matter. “Hilde’s a bit upset.” As if that mattered to Heero.

Duo had gone.

Disappeared.

Again.

Three weeks before the wedding and he hadn’t had a single suit fitting.

So it was true. That little tiny bit of hope that Heero had been hoarding, that Relena had made some kind of horrible mistake, because after all it wouldn’t be the first time, sank like a stone into the murky waters of despair.

Hilde really was getting married in three weeks time.

Twenty one days.

30,240 minutes.

1,814,400 seconds which was…

…umm… 3 by ten to the minus 8 light years. Roughly.

Not long.

Oh God.

Drowning in that moment of desperate panic, that occurs at the bottom of a very deep dive, when you haven’t hit bottom, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever reach the surface again, occasional words filtered through to Heero, like bubbles through water.

Hilde, said Otto, had no idea where Duo might have gone. Hilde was very concerned because he still had big gaps in his memory and she was worried that he might be taken advantage of. The again was implied. Hilde was worried about the firm’s reputation. Hilde was at her wits end because she wanted that little prick to give her away in three weeks time and Otto was damned if he’d let his fiancée be upset any…

Heero hung up.

Gasped for breath like a drowning man, suddenly hauled from the water. His heart pounded fiercely, and the blood, surging through his veins, made his whole body tingle with something like returning circulation, as parts of him that had been numb, suddenly sprang to life, with desperate hope.

Oh God oh God oh God.

That Girl…Hilde…her name was Hilde…was marrying Otto.

Not Duo.

Duo wasn’t getting married to Hilde.

He might not be with Heero, but he wasn’t with Hilde either, which meant that…maybe…maybe…he didn’t love Hilde after all. Hilde certainly didn’t seem to love Duo, given that she was marrying Otto Richter. And if Duo didn’t love Hilde then maybe he would give Heero another chance.

The only problem was…

Where was Duo?



+++



Unshaven, unkempt, and wearing a three-day old shirt, from a tiny Goodwill shop in Darke’s Cove, Duo Maxwell was stuck at the airport, his flight delayed by fog. Absently, he promised himself that, as soon as he got organised, he was going to buy some decent clothes.

He probably shouldn’t have bailed on Hilde, that way at least he’d have been able to go back to the apartment and pack. But she’d pissed him off so badly, that he couldn’t stay in the car with her another minute, with her endless, nosy questions about him and H…his disappearance. Always too nosy for her own good, Hilde. And she knew him a bit too well. He’d never been able to keep any secrets from her, not even in High School. Somehow, he suspected that the earth-shattering revelations that he’d had about himself with Heero, weren’t coming as a major surprise. Pity she hadn’t bothered to point it out to him before. Because, he was in little doubt, that what he felt for H…that what he felt was real. Completely different to anything that he’d ever felt for Hilde.

Whether he’d been conditioned into it, by Heero’s story, or not, probably didn’t matter. Sex was 95% in your mind anyway; you just had to look at some of the odd couples around, to know that. He’d liked being Heero Yuy’s boyfriend, God Save his Mortal Soul, a heck of a lot more fun than being Hilde’s, and so his mind had believed, and his stupid 5% of a body had just followed happily along for the ride. Very happily, dammit. Had taken over, somewhere, and was now firmly in the driver’s seat, steering him directly to Hell. Bless me Father for I have sinned…and I’m terribly sorry, but I’m gonna keep sinning baby. Stupid body. However it had started, this desperate miserable ache, was part of him now, and it wasn’t going away.

And he had this terrible, sinking feeling that Hilde knew exactly that. When she’d said that she wanted to break it off and marry that Otto guy, there’d been this creepy, speculative look in her dark eyes that he hadn’t liked one little bit. Like the joke was on him. He hated that! It was none of her freaking business!!

Although walking away at the traffic lights was probably a bit childish… Funny though. He grinned, remembering Hilde, and that Otto guy, scrambling around at the lights, trying to get the car moving, with all those other cars lined up, honking their horns behind them. Otto, getting stuck trying to climb out of the back seat. Man he was tall!! And then stalling until the lights turned red again. Hilde was hopeless, driving a manual. She’d better not scratch his car. Oh well.

Hilde’d be okay. He’d ring her up when things had settled down a bit. Just not yet.

Yawning, he slumped down into his seat, stretching out his long legs, and tapping a rectangle of white cardboard thoughtfully against his thigh. Checked the date on his watch, and then the time. He had ages before his flight. Heaps of time for a phone call. He lifted the card and scrutinised it, as if he’d never seen it before, flipping it over and over between his fingers. On one side, it read Darke’s Cove Municipal Council. On the other side, was a telephone number, and a name, in blue ball point, with a smiley face next to it.

Alex.

He’d forgotten that he had this card. He’d shoved it into the back of his wallet, that day at the Dog Pound. Would probably have thrown it away, if he’d remembered that it was there. Finding it today, of all days, was like Fate. Now all that he had to do was find the guts to make the call. Yeah. Right.

“Shit!”

He couldn’t do it. Balling up the card, he hurled it into the nearest bin.

Found it ten minutes later, under a mountain of discarded paper cups and hamburger pickles. Refused an offer of five dollars for a cup of coffee, from a dear old lady who was going to visit her daughter in China, walk the Great Wall, and then go to Mongolia; because she’d always wanted to sleep in a yurt, and you just never knew what was around the corner, did you dear?

No. You freaking well never did.

He glared at the card. He was going to do this. He had to be true to himself. And he was not going to let Heero freaking Yuy rule his life.

Squaring his jaw, he punched numbers into his mobile phone.

“Hullo?”



+++


< br> Wriggling uncomfortably on his plastic chair, Duo was still waiting for his flight, which was still delayed by fog, and eating very expensive food, of the pre-prepared and plastic-wrapped variety, that a week ago he would have bought three of and shared out between the five boys, with a piece left over for H… whoever wanted it.

But money didn’t matter any more. Apparently he was well off. Extremely well off. Horrifyingly well off, when he thought of Cody’s new shoes. Don’t think about that…think about…

He checked his flight again. Still delayed. He checked the weather in five states. Still horrible. He looked at his watch, the date, the time, the frayed end of his braid, the front cover of the tall blonde’s newspaper and the long line of people at the baggage check-in. He congratulated himself on being early, even though he would probably still be freaking early this time tomorrow. There was some really major hold up in Baggage Check-in.

He watched idly. It was difficult to see over the queue, to the shortish person at the front, but the top of what appeared to be spears, poked towards the ceiling. Wooden ones. Duo shook his head pityingly. No wonder there was a problem. There was no way in the wide world that they’d let them take those on board, not with the way that they’d stepped up airport security recently. And…was that wooden, planky thing a shield? Cool. However it didn’t appear to be the spears that were causing the trouble. Or the shield. It was a shield. After a lot of one-sided argument, by someone with an insistent, educated voice, and a lot of measuring with a builder’s tape, they were set aside to be hand luggage. Pity the bozo in the neighbouring seat. Now there was some other problem.

Duo looked sympathetically at the poor suckers in the queue. This looked like it could go on all day.

A little boy was tugging at his mother’s sleeve and pointing at something on the floor. A little boy with blonde curls and a dinosaur T-shirt. Duo’s heart clenched painfully. Don’t! To distract himself he tried to see what was so interesting. Some sort of cage or something. Like the one he’d found for Tyler to take Fez to Show-and-Tell in.

Shit.

He was trying to move on with his life but everywhere he went, everywhere he looked, everything reminded him of his… Heero’s… family… so that missing them was a constant, dull ache. Like an amputated limb that still hurt, even after it was gone. For a brief moment in time, he’d had a family again, and now they were gone, and the loneliness was even worse than before, because now he’d remembered what he was missing. Even if it was all a lie. That didn’t make it hurt any less. If only you could chop love off, like gangrene, and chuck it away.

How dared Heero Yuy do that to him. He should’ve punched him out. If only he didn’t miss him so freaking much…

Shit.

Balling his fists, Duo leapt up and marched away from the long queue, and the cat cage, the blonde curls, and the builder’s tape measure, his braid snapping behind him in time with his hurried movements. Maybe he’d go to the viewing deck.

That educated voice, that had been so insistent in the background for the last fifteen minutes, suddenly arose loud from Baggage Check-in, like a delighted foghorn.

“Duo my dear boy! You came to meet me!!”

Ignoring the fact that Duo was marching in the opposite direction. Surprised, Duo turned at the sound of his name.

“Uncle Gerald??!”

Complete with a sheaf of wickedly-barbed spears, a head-high, rectangular shield, and accompanied by a rather gorgeous, and extremely young, and dusky maiden, bearing a small, mud-brown piglet in a cat cage. All for hand-luggage.

The strange powers of coincidence indeed.



+++



Heero dragged himself from thoughts of Duo to answer the front door, flinging it open and scowling furiously. He had to find Duo now and this was just slowing him down.

It was Walker.

Heero’s scowl mutated into an outright glare, tempered around the edges with vague tinges of guilt.

“Umm… Heero. Hello.”

Faltering, Walker cleared his throat, gazing at Heero uneasily. Involuntarily, his hand strayed up to rub his nose, and remained, hovering protectively. A hand with, what appeared to be, a snake bite, to Heero’s guilty satisfaction.

“I have a message. From Duo. He rang me at work.”

“What?!? What is it? Tell me!” Forgetting snakebites, Heero flung open the door, and stepped out eagerly onto the porch. Reached for Walker, who edged nervously backwards, hovering on the edge of the step.

“Well…umm...not a message. Not exactly. It was more like he wanted me to do something for him.”

“What? What did he want? What did Duo say? Where is he? Did you see him? Is he coming home?”

Elbowing Heero aside, the boys charged past him onto the front porch, surrounding Walker, and skewering him with a barrage of questions, whilst Rex danced around his feet and gazed at him soulfully.

“Hey Cody!” Walker relaxed infinitesimally, safe behind the barrier of small boys, and ruffled Cody’s short, brown bristles affectionately. Then Rex’s. “Rex!!” Turned to Joe and grinned.

“Joe?? Well. It’s kind of for you. Duo said that there’s some chest of drawers somewhere…?”

Clamouring excitedly, the boys dragged Walker inside with a twin on each hand, to discover Duo’s chest of drawers that Heero had made, the one that was still Duo’s, even though he was gone, that still stood at the back of the futon, refusing to believe that Duo wasn’t coming home, that now had a ferret nesting in the bottom drawer with the socks, because it had been open on that horrible, horrible day and Heero couldn’t bear to close it. Came downstairs in the dark sometimes when the boys were asleep and rifled gently through the folded clothes, burying his face in a t-shirt that still smelled faintly Duo-like, and listening to the silence of a Duo-less house.

Now, drawers flew open, and Duo’s clothes arced onto the futon in a chaotic rainbow, until finally the boys found what they were searching for; in the bottom drawer, under the, now very-testy, ferret.

It was a top-of-the-range mobile phone, in brightly coloured wrapping paper. With Joe’s name in calligraphy, and a white card, that had once been blank, but that now said Happy birthday Dude!!!, and bore a lovingly detailed, pencil sketch, of Joe and Mari sitting on the swing, signed Much love, Duo.

Turning, Heero bolted from the room, still holding a pair of socks.

He was damned if he was going to let Ed Walker see him cry.



+++



If anybody in Darke’s Cove knew where Duo would go, it would be Howard.

“Naah. Haven’t seen the Kid. Why?” Howard looked at Heero sharply. “You and him have a fight? That’d be a pretty dumb thing to do yanno.”

Heero shook his head silently. No. Not a fight exactly. More in the nature of a collision at sea, with a lot of yelling and screaming and Heero going down with his ship.

But if Howard knew nothing, there was little to be gained in telling him the whole, sad story, except a lot of cigar-flavoured recrimination.

Howard thought that Heero was worrying over nothing. Privately thought that Duo and Heero were like bookends, one lost without the other. Belonged together like night and day. Or one and two. And today he had other fish to fry. Big ones. He clapped an arm around Heero’s unresponsive shoulders and waved his cigar jovially. Maxwell Yuy furniture was causing a deal of interest and Howard had commissions to keep Heero busy for the indefinite future.

Heero knew that he should be excited at the prospect of work that he loved, and no more struggling with bills, but there was nothing inside him but dark, oily swirls, and regret, like pieces of flotsam.

Howard’s enthusiasm finally wound down enough for him to notice Heero’s complete lack of response. He puffed on his cigar and eyed Heero shrewdly over his sunglasses. Patted him on the shoulder, as if he was his favourite son-in-law. “Wouldn’t worry. He’ll be back. Thinks the world of you boy.”

“No.” Miserably, Heero looked out of the misted window, peering through the driving rain, to where he knew the Fresh Ketch sprouted comfortably from the end of the pier. Winter was finally here. His voice was soft and sad. “I don’t think so. I really don’t think he will.”

The door tinkled musically, and Heero was vaguely aware of another customer shaking off his umbrella and leaving it by the door, of Howard moving away at last, towards the counter.

Heero stayed by the window, lost in thought, his breath making a little circle of condensation, on the cold glass. Would things have been different if he’d told Duo the truth that night? Would they be different if they’d done more than just kiss in the sand? At least he would have had one perfect memory to last him a lifetime. A long, sterile, lonely lifetime, of duty and getting things done, and no more flat jacks, or multi-coloured hair, or sea shells with the sound of the sea hidden in Fibonacci coils. The thought spawned a terrible, dull ache in his chest, as if heartache were a cancer, eating him from the inside out.

Howard had been his last hope. There was no one left to ask.

Duo was gone.

He’d never again see those violet eyes sparkling with mischief and mayhem, be smacked in the face by his plait as he spun round too fast, feel those warm, soft lips…

“Heero!”

Hell and damnation. Heero blinked rapidly. Howard was bringing his customer over to him. Commissions. Heero went rigid with discomfort and looked around quickly for an escape route. He really didn’t want to talk business right now. In fact, he didn’t really care if he never talked business again. But it was too late. The man was already stepping towards him, hand extended.

Heero blinked in surprise, taking in reddish hair and elegantly forked eyebrows.

“Treize? Treize Khushrenada?” He hadn’t seen Treize since that thing happened with Relena’s brother. He’d thought that he’d left town.

“Heero? You’re the Maxwell Yuy who’s making this wonderful furniture?” Treize stared at him in surprise, and some disappointment, then abruptly realised his rudeness.

“I do apologise. That was extremely rude of me. You’re obviously very talented. It’s just that with the name Maxwell…well…You’ll think this is silly but… When I was given my first piece recently it reminded me so much of a friend of mine that subconsciously I was hoping… Great Aunt Molly’s in hospital with smoke inhalation…you might have heard…and I thought that while I was here I’d take the chance to look for another piece and find out if it really was him.” He shook his head ruefully. “Silly. As I said. Wishful thinking on my part. Duo never specialised in furniture design. A pity. In my opinion he was most gifted.”

Heero, who was staring absently out of the window again, heard Duo’s name like electricity, spiking through the damp air. He spun to face Treize, grabbing his sleeve in his excitement.

“Duo? Duo Maxwell? You know Duo Maxwell?” Heero’s face was flushed and his eyes glowed as if lit from within. “Have you seen him?!! Tell me!!!”

Treize eyed the hand clutching his sleeve, taken aback by the other’s sudden excess of excitement.

“No. I haven’t seen Duo recently.” Carefully, he detached Heero’s fingers and brushed off his sleeve. “But I have known him for years. Ever since Professor McGee introduced us.”

Heero’s face fell, but his mind still raced frantically. Professor McGee…Professor McGee… Now why did that name sound so familiar…?

Treize smiled reminiscently. “Yes. It was quite humorous really. One minute he was setting my broken leg and then the next…completely out of the blue mind you…he was asking me to look at his godson’s portfolio. It was extremely good too…”

Treize fell silent. It was extremely good. Mostly, some very individual pieces of occasional furniture, but also some rather good oils. One was particularly memorable. A woman, painted from memory. Exquisite detail, in the eyes, and the swirls of long chestnut hair. Haunting. He’d tried to buy it, just the sort of interesting work that he needed, to establish the gallery when he was starting out, but Duo had refused. He’d pestered Duo ever since, to paint him another piece.

Although, even if the portfolio hadn’t been good, he would have helped. Anything for Professor McGee, who’s inquisitive eyes saw through rumour, to the pain beneath, and who had helped Treize at a time when no one else would. And then, of course, he’d met Duo, who was his own reward.

Setting his broken leg…

With a gasp of recognition, Heero brutally cut short Treize’s wistful thoughts. “You mean Doctor McGee?! Old Doc?? From the hospital??”

Treize looked at him in surprise. What on earth was he getting so worked up about? He moved his sleeve out of the way. Just in case. It was Armani.

“Yes. That’s right. Doctor McGee. He never cared to be called Professor. Doctor McGee is Duo Maxwell’s godfather”