Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Deadly Beautiful ❯ Skinny Girl, Light Fingers ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far. Yes, I know Trowa and Catherine are siblings, but at this point in the story, they don't know they are. Just trust my MAJOR INCEST SQUICK and keep reading. :D

Disclaimer: Every time I buy a Coke product, I check under the cap to see if I've won anything. I've bought about a hundred Cokes in the past year, and not once has the cap said, 'You have just won complete ownership and control of Gundam Wing.' I have won about ten free Cokes, but they're gone now (hic), so you can't have them.

Deadly Beautiful - Chapter 3

by danse

Duo gingerly peeled the band-aid off of his nose and frowned at his reflection. Early afternoon sunlight streamed in through the bathroom window and left a blinding patch on the mirror by his left ear. He had to close the blinds and turn on the overhead light so that he could see something. Once he could, he winced at his image.

His nose was slightly red around the deep cut that slashed across the bridge. Parts of his face and his bare arms were flecked with scratches from his dive through a closed window the night before. The redness in his eyes betrayed the late hour at which he'd gone to bed. He shut his eyes painfully and groaned a little. The muscles in his arms ached, and he wasn't sure why.

He stumbled into the shower and relished the hot water spilling over him, across his tired skin and through his long hair. He washed his nose as delicately as possible, trying to clean the cut and yet avoid the stinging pain.

After toweling off, rebraiding his hair, and dressing in black sweatpants and a white T-shirt, he put another band-aid on his nose and wandered into his kitchen in pursuit of breakfast. The flick of a switch started the coffee maker, and while he waited for it to prepare his morning pot, he walked into the living room and turned on the TV.

Duo had an unconcerned bachelor's approach to interior decoration. He lived in a smallish apartment on the fifth floor of a brownstone, in a mostly unnoticed but clean part of New York City. The inside was decorated sparsely, with slightly worn tan carpets and white walls that either a previous tenant or the landlord had painted long ago. The kitchen had some kind of off-white laminate on the countertops, and most of the appliances had come with the place.

His bedroom held only a double bed and a dresser, with clothes covering the floor in small piles. His living room consisted of his circa-early nineties TV on a cheap stand, a brown coffee table, and a threadbare grey couch, which he now sank down on to watch the news. He watched with relative boredom as the news anchor talked about a new volunteer halfway shelter across town, but the next item made him sit up straighter.

"…Early this morning, city police were called to the scene of a break-and-enter on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The home of Foreign Affairs Minister Edward Darlian was woken around 2:00 this morning by the sound of gunfire. Personal security in the Darlian home were unable to subdue the intruder, and the criminal escaped." The picture cut from the stone-faced anchor to a grainy video of someone in black bolting across an expansive yard, before dodging behind a tree and disappearing. The guards could be heard shouting in the background and one raced to the fence, about five seconds behind the escapee.

Duo's eyes went wide and he exhaled in relief. There had been no long brown rope trailing behind the person in black. His braid had stayed tucked inside his jacket and shirt the whole time. G would be angry about the videotape, but at least his most distinguishing feature wasn't on the video. The anchor kept talking on the TV about the break-in.

"…Not sure what the intruder's motive was, and none of the witnesses could describe him or her, except that the person was believed to be around five feet eight inches tall." The story continued with a brief background of Mr. Darlian's formidable contributions to world politics and his wife's humanitarian efforts with charity and so on. He had a daughter; a school picture of a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes flashed onto the screen. She was wearing the red uniform of a private school and was smiling prettily, showing a top row of white teeth. She couldn't have been older than sixteen.

Duo frowned at the picture and pressed a button on the remote control. The TV winked off and he went back into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. He sat down heavily in a vinyl-padded stool at the counter (he had no kitchen table) and brooded silently as he drank the hot brown liquid. The mission had been so simple, but he'd failed completely. G hadn't looked terribly pleased the night before, as it was. All of the publicity he'd attracted would make a second attempt very difficult.

The phone rang and interrupted his sullen mood. He picked it up with a sigh, suspecting who it was. "H'lo?" he said tiredly.

"Maxwell, we need you at the office. Linda in Accounting found a discrepancy in the reports you filed yesterday." The voice was that of a secretary whom he knew quite well. Of course there was no Linda, or Accounting department, for that matter. She was talking about the fouled-up mission, but spoke as if he had a desk job like a normal person. Phone lines were insecure and precautions needed to be taken to avoid suspicion.

"All right," he replied, dreading the day already. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

After changing into going-out-in-public clothes, Duo put his jacket on and walked down the stairs of his building to the street. Instead of going for his car, which was parked fairly close to the front door, he turned right and wove his way down the crowded lunchtime sidewalk until he came to a coffee shop. He pushed the door open and a tiny bell tinkled somewhere. Five people waited in line at the counter, and he joined at the end.

Ten minutes later, he sat down at a small table by the front window with a black coffee, a honey glazed donut, and the Times. Flipping past a grainy image of a black figure running across the front page, he found the comics and the sports section and distracted himself until he was done eating.

With a friendly nod to a hot dog vendor on the sidewalk, he continued in the same direction down the street. By this point, he wanted to put off going to the 'office' for as long as possible, so he decided to walk. Besides, he justified to himself, the traffic at lunchtime was too heavy to go far in a car, and it was only about ten blocks.

He managed to enjoy himself, walking casually along in the sunshine, so much that he let his guard slip a little. Normally, he would have heard the girl yelling, "Johnny! Johnny, get your ass back here!" as she ran through the crowd. Normally, he would have noticed her running towards him in time to do something about it. But he didn't, and soon he was flat on his back in the middle of the sidewalk, the wind knocked out of him. The girl sat up, shook her head, and staggered to her feet.

"Watch where you're going, buddy!" she snarled at him. She didn't bother trying to help him off the ground.

He just stared at her. She was short and skinny, with short black hair and sky blue eyes. They burned with a nameless, but alluring, spark. Duo blinked a few times and turned over to get his hands and a knee under him. By the time he got to his feet, she was gone.

A little dazed, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and started to walk away from the scene. After three steps, he stopped. Something was missing. He checked every pocket he had at least three times, but his fears were true. His wallet was gone.

With a groan and a sinking feeling, he remembered the fall; a light touch, then her hand ghosted away and concealed its treasure. He turned around and ran down the sidewalk for half a block, pushing through the people and squinting in the sun, but it was fruitless. The girl had escaped.

"Fuck!" he said loudly to no one in particular. What a great day…

Feeling a personal storm cloud collecting over his head, Duo resumed walking at a fast pace to his destination.

Duo stood inside a small, but dignified reception area, filled with coffee tables, chairs, and potted plants. He cleared his throat loudly and the woman at the reception desk looked up, tendrils of her grey hair falling in her face. She gave him a reproachful look.

"I called you an hour ago," she scolded him.

"I know. I was busy," Duo lied horribly. He was a good liar--he had to be--but he had never managed to lie to Helen.

"Uh-huh," She said skeptically. "Avoiding him, were you?" She went back to looking at her work, but he knew she was still listening.

"I had my wallet stolen."

She looked up at him again with sympathy. "Poor dear," she said sincerely. "But I think you should go in. He's getting impatient."

Duo acquiesced and walked over to the large, oak paneled double doors that led into G's office. They swung open silently when he pushed them, and he entered to see his employer leaning back in the chair behind his desk, talking on the phone.

"…I want you to bring it in today." G glared at the wall as he listened. "Well, stop by and leave it with Helen before you go." He tapped a finger on the arm of the chair, and then sat up suddenly. "That's not a request, it's an order. I expect you before 7:00 tonight," he barked, and then hung up the phone.

He looked at Duo standing just inside the door. "Don't just stand there, boy, come in!"

Duo sat in front of the desk, in the same chair he'd been in the night before. He noticed the throwing star sitting on the corner of the desk, sticking upright from a block of wood. He looked up at G, who started without preamble, obviously annoyed.

"I just sent an agent in to retrieve the security tape. You're all over the news, boy." G picked up a newspaper and started to read. "'The intruder escaped via a second floor window and eluded guards on the grounds, before leaving the premises near an alleyway. One guard sustained multiple gunshot wounds and is in serious but stable condition. Members of the Darlian residence declined to comment.'" He set down the paper and stared at a point just behind Duo's head, scratching his nose.

"This complicates things rather a lot, Maxwell. I consider it unlikely that we'll be able to use the same tactic again. A new plan is in order."

Duo opened his mouth hesitantly. "Um, forgive my ignorance, but why exactly is it so important that we kidnap Relena Darlian?"

G glared at Duo. "Duo, I keep my agents in the dark for a reason. Knowing too much can impair your judgement, cripple your mission, and endanger the lives of your coworkers. Your job is to do as I tell you and not wonder why. You don't need to know why. Leave the details to me. I told you when you joined this agency, all information is on a strictly need-to-know basis." And that was the end of that.

Duo stared at G across the desk. For an eternity he studied his tired eyes, his grey mushroom-cloud hair, and his long, crooked nose. This man had been his mentor for the last eight years. He had been an orphan on the street and G had taken him in. Helen had treated him like her own child. Here, in the basement training area underneath this office, he had learned the basics and then the intricacies of self-defense. He had learned how to put together and fire a gun. He had learned to wire explosives.

In eight years, he had become the best agent in G's service. He did all the dirty work: reconnaissance, assassination, arson, theft, kidnappings, and small-scale terrorism. He had trained new agents. He had interrogated people. He had no idea anymore of how many people he'd killed. By his own reckoning, Duo was sixteen.

He'd been through a lot, in his short life. But he was still privy to nothing. Maybe G was protecting him, and maybe knowing why would keep him from sleeping peacefully for the rest of his life, but he felt that it was his turn to know what was going on. He needed to understand the stakes.

He contemplated his employer for a while, and then looked at the throwing star. "You've got competition, haven't you? There's another organization and you're trying to stay a step ahead. You know who threw that at me," he gestured at the weapon, "and why. G, I need to know what the threat is, so I can be prepared."

G's face remained an emotionless mask. It was infuriating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and the icy tone sent chills down Duo's spine. "Maxwell, you're dismissed. I'll contact you at a later date with your next mission."

G began studying some papers on his desk, and Duo had to restrain the urge to fling the throwing star at his eye. He got up and left the room quietly, completely thwarted.