Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Deadly Beautiful ❯ Cross My Heart ( Chapter 39 )

Disclaimer: For this disclaimer, I tried to get a guest star. Unfortunately, Mr. Depp had to cancel because of a party of some kind. Instead, I asked my cat to stand in, to tell the world how I don't own Gundam Wing or any part thereof, and how I am making no money whatsoever from this work. All that she would say about it was, “Nyao”.

 

 

Deadly Beautiful - Chapter 38

 

by danse

 

- - -

 

The shop was cramped and somewhat dim, since some of the fluorescent overhead lights had gone out. The light coming through the windows was partially blocked by the yellow lettering stuck to the outsides, which spelled out, `Buy Sell Trade'.

 

Duo strolled in and casually examined a couple of portable CD players until the only other customer left, a tinkling bell heralding her exit. As soon as the door had finished closing, he dropped all pretenses and made a beeline for the counter. The shopkeeper, having of course seen him, watched silently.

 

“Hello, Howard,” he said.

 

Howard sighed and scratched at his wild, grey hair. “What can I do for you, James?” he asked. “Looking for a watch? I got some nice Rolexes in last week....”

 

`James' laughed. “I don't need any hot watches, but I do have a list, man. If you would be so kind....”

 

Howard didn't say another word, but stepped out from behind the counter to lock the front door and flip the sign from `Open' to `Closed'. Grinning, Duo followed him into the back room.

 

Duo had met Howard about a year earlier while doing some work for G. The old man owned a pawnshop in a seedy, run-down apartment area not all that far from where Duo lived. He sold the usual fare, but in the back he'd long ago established an underground weapons storage and dealership. Behind an inch-thick steel door, in what was supposed to be a safe, was a ten-by-ten-foot room stocked to the gills with guns, knives, swords, ammunition, stealth gear, and myriad other criminal and war-related equipment. Duo hadn't the faintest clue how he'd managed to amass all these things without drawing attention to himself, but here it was. Howard seemed to have a talent for finding not only all kinds of junk, but people to sell it to.

 

Duo pulled out his list and scanned the shelves somewhat eagerly while Howard stood by and supervised. The man had everything from grappling hooks to M-16s to stacks of ammunition, but there were a few notable absentees....

 

“What happened to all your incendiaries?” Duo asked, turning to face Howard with a coil of rope in his hand.

 

Howard frowned. “Got out of that shit. Since the government's big terror crackdown, it's pretty damned hard to get detonators and stuff in. If I can't get a selection, I'm not going to bother. Besides, being caught with that stuff would mean an injection for me, I think.”

 

Duo chewed his lip. His list included plastique, a specific kind of remote detonator that he'd figured Howard would have, and a spool of wire. Shit.... “Okay, this'll do then,” he said finally, indicating the weapons and equipment he'd pulled from the shelves.

 

Howard glanced at it all and quoted Duo a price, and they proceeded to haggle a bit. Finally, after settling on a thousand dollars less, Howard provided two duffel bags for the equipment and let Duo out the back door. The boy took the alley, which was populated only by stray cats and a sleeping wino, to the end of the block before walking out onto the street again, loading the bags into the trunk of his waiting Mustang and driving back home.

 

Lost in thought, he got out of the car in front of his building, leaving the bags in his trunk where they would be relatively safe from discovery. He was thinking of how he could get the rest of the equipment he needed. Theoretically, he could just deliver the goods he had and tell the others that he hadn't been able to procure explosives, but he would be damned if he'd come up short this time. This was a test; he needed to come through in spades for the group or he would never be able to gain their respect. Especially not Heero's. All his experience on the street and in the field had taught Duo to classify people according to their role in a group, and Heero had `Leader' written all over him; despite Quatre's obvious leadership skills and what he'd done already, it was clear to Duo that when it came right down to it, Heero was the dominant personality and would be the one in charge. Duo imagined that as soon as Heero could find a department where he was lacking, he would no longer be a part of this endeavour. He didn't want that to happen, not ever. Not now that he'd found his fight, and his compatriots to fight with.

 

He stomped up the front steps to the door, digging out his keys. He knew of exactly one place where the stuff he needed would definitely be available. He even knew the exact location where it was kept. The only thing he didn't know was how he was going to break into G's facility and Ivanov's department again without getting himself killed in the process.

 

I could just ask him for it, he thought briefly. Then he smirked. Yeah, I can see that conversation in my head. `I need some bomb materials. For, um, well... I'm getting ready for the Fourth of July early this year. No? Okay.' Fucking brilliant, Duo.

 

He'd have to sleep on this one. He had about two days to make it all happen.

 

- - -

 

The sun had just risen over the Maganac headquarters, and Quatre and Trowa were both just about ready for bed. Trowa had completely adjusted to a nocturnal schedule by now, and he and Quatre were sitting in the cafeteria eating cake and chatting before going their separate ways to bed.

 

“So,” Trowa said, taking a bite of cake, “do you think Duo's actually gonna come through with the equipment?”

 

Quatre gave him a bemused look. “You have no faith in Duo's abilities?” he asked blithely.

 

“Well... I dunno the guy. I can't say.”

 

Quatre fixed his gaze on his friend. “He will deliver.”

 

“You're so confident,” Trowa responded, taking a sip of coffee and wincing only a little. He was getting used to it.

 

“He said he has a connection,” Quatre pointed out. “This Howard seems like the real deal. A little sketchy, maybe, but I think he's got what we're after.”

 

Trowa raised an eyebrow. “Howard? Duo told you his name?”

 

Quatre froze. Of course, it would have been quite ridiculous for Duo to actually name one of his contacts to people he didn't fully trust yet. Quatre sighed inwardly. Perhaps his cover was finally blown. “Well... no,” he said, squirming a little.

 

Trowa put his fork down, pushed his plate away, and then folded his hands on the table in front of him as he gave Quatre an expectant look.

 

Quatre could feel his cheeks getting hot under this scrutiny. He stuttered ineffectually, trying to find words. “I, um... it-it's like this, you see....” he scratched his head. At last it all came out in an embarrassed rush. “Icanreadminds,” he blurted out.

 

The only response he got was a blank look.

 

After a few moments of intense discomfort on Quatre's part, Trowa opened his mouth. “Pardon me?” he asked gently.

 

The Arabic teen took a deep breath. “I... can kind of, I guess you could call it... I can read people's minds. A little.”

 

“Define, `a little'.” Trowa was wearing a poker face to kill for.

 

It was like he was outside his own body, looking at himself. Quatre was embarrassed to be acting like a toddler trying to tell a lie, fidgeting and squirming, looking anywhere but at Trowa. “I can feel... what other people are feeling. Sometimes I get a mental image or a bit of coherent thought. Remember that time when we were talking about your sister? In Georgia?”

 

Trowa sat back in his chair, staring at some point in the distance. He ran his hand down his face, rubbing his eyes and looking tired. “So you read my mind when you did that? I was thinking about my sister and you, like, heard that or something?”

 

“Close enough, yeah.”

 

Trowa looked right at Quatre, searching his eyes. Quatre was immediately shocked by a deluge of Trowa's emotions, a few whispered words and a flickering image. It was all too fast to sort through. “And Duo was thinking about this Howard guy,” Trowa continued.

 

“He was. The guy looks about sixty and wears Hawaiian shirts.”

 

The quiet boy before him suddenly burst out laughing with his head still in his hands, slicing through the tension as if with a knife. “Hawaiian shirts, eh?” he asked, grinning up at Quatre through his hands.

 

Quatre relaxed. “Yeah. The ones I saw were like, these incredibly gaudy, tacky things. It's kinda scary.” He grinned back.

 

Trowa stood up, putting down his coffee cup. “I think it's about time I went to bed,” he said. He left the cafeteria, still chuckling slightly.

 

Quatre sat back in his chair and drained his coffee before getting up himself.

 

- - -

 

Duo stood outside Dr. Ivanov's office door and took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving. When he'd steeled himself for the operation ahead of him, he knocked on the door. It echoed loudly in the empty hall. He could hear slow, measured footfalls on the other side of the door, and then it opened to reveal Ivanov standing in front of him, adjusting his reading glasses on his nose.

 

The old man beamed, opening the door wider. “Come on in, Duo. I am glad to see you, yes?”

 

Duo walked into the softly lit office, noting that the work lamp over the desk and another one in the far corner cast the only light. A tangle of wire and an open spiral notebook sat on the desk, abandoned to answer the door. He cast a short, sideways glance at the steel locker behind Ivanov's chair. That was where the equipment he needed would be.

 

Duo removed his favourite, black trench coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, settling himself in the armchair before Ivanov's desk. “How goes, old man?” he said teasingly.

 

Ivanov scowled playfully. “`Old man', tch. Do not wag your tongue at your elders, boy. Age means experience! And wisdom!” He sat down, looking relieved. “And let us not be forgetting the aches and pains, yes?”

 

Duo relaxed a little and engaged himself in the conversation, chatting with Ivanov about the pile of wire on his worktable and getting into a nice and geeky discussion about explosives, as usual. He was waiting for his window of opportunity; eventually the old Russian scientist would have to leave to use the bathroom down the hall or answer a message or deliver something to a colleague, and then he'd be able to make his move.

 

After an hour and a half, when it was getting well into the evening, Ivanov finally felt the call of nature. “I will be right back,” he said, waving slightly as he wandered out of the room. Duo sat tensely in his chair until the door clicked shut, and then was on his feet and behind the desk in one fluid motion.

 

He yanked open the second drawer down on the right and reached into the back, feeling the fake back to the drawer. He gave it a little push with his fingertips, and it moved to reveal the cold, hard shape of a key. Duo was at the locker in a flash, twisting the key in the lock and pulling the door open without a sound. He scanned the shelves, grinned, and pulled out two palm-sized spools of fine-grade wire, one of the remote detonators he needed, and with a gleeful little chuckle, a five inch cube of a new kind of plastic explosive, which had been divided into two slabs and wrapped in plastic film. He had enough in his hands to easily level the building he was standing in, if used properly. Chewing his lip, he did some mental calculations and took one more half-slab, choosing safe over sorry. He could further ration the explosive later if he needed to. He shut the locker door quietly and put the key back, arranging everything just as he'd found it. The whole break-in had taken about a minute in total.

 

He crossed the room quickly to put his purloined equipment into the pockets of his trench coat, and was just tucking in the last spool of wire when the door suddenly opened wide. Duo was startled out of his mind and jumped guiltily, turning to the door with the spool still visible in his hand.

 

The person standing there was not Ivanov.

 

He stared. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he said hollowly, feeling his cheeks getting warm.

 

“I should ask you the same thing,” Hilde responded, eyeing him. “Where's Ivanov?” she said after a minute.

 

“Bathroom.”

 

“What's that in your hand?” she asked, taking an attack stance as she edged a step closer and nodding at his hand.

 

He jammed the spool angrily into his coat pocket and shrugged it on, turning to face her as he pulled on the lapels. “It's nothing.” He hoped she could see the warning on his face. He was trying to project it as much as possible. He didn't want to be forced to do anything he would regret. Unfortunately, she was blocking the door.

 

Hilde studied him warily. “I found your gun behind the couch.”

 

Duo had already suspected as much. He was kind of amused that neither of them had been really surprised to see the other here. “I left it there that night you were having the nightmare, when you tried to dismember me in your sleep.”

 

She blushed instantly.

 

“Sleep is a bad place to be when there's potential enemies around,” he answered. His mind was racing. Ivanov's going to come back from the bathroom, and she's going to tell him everything.

 

“You're going to tell me why you're stealing from Ivanov, or there'll be more potential enemies,” she said softly. It was a well-executed threat, really, but he couldn't take her seriously when he could probably take her out with his left hand alone.

 

Duo took a step forward, thinking he could hear footsteps in the hallway again. The bathroom was probably a five-minute walk for Ivanov, with his arthritis. “Hilde,” he said as kindly as he could, “you don't want to get into this. You've-we've,” he corrected himself, “gotten you in over your head as it is, if you're into this end of G's operation. Just... stand aside.”

 

Hilde didn't budge. “You would actually steal from G, from Ivanov. They're kind men with a good cause. I can't believe you. Have they ever done anything to hurt you in all the time you've been here?”

 

Duo was sure he heard someone coming now. He rushed Hilde, shrugged off her amateur attempt at a counterattack, and had her pinned on the floor in less than five seconds. She opened her mouth, and he clapped a hand over it. “You're coming with me, and you're going to be quiet,” he said. He saw her fiery glare that said otherwise, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “If you don't, I will kill you. I will kill you with my bare hands.” He tightened his grip on one of her pressure points, and her eyes widened. She nodded quickly, looking at him with fear in her eyes.

 

Feeling sorry for her and disgusted with himself, Duo hauled her off the floor and dragged her to the door that linked the office and the explosives lab beside it. It was unlocked, thankfully, and they collapsed through it and shut it quickly. Duo didn't stop to listen at the door for Ivanov's return; he knew he'd probably hurt the old man's feelings by leaving without a word to him. That hadn't been the plan.

 

It was too late now. Knowing Ivanov might check the hall to see if Duo was still around, he led Hilde to the window in the back, flipping open the latch and pushing her through ahead of him. When they emerged outside, not far from the parkade, Hilde stopped, turned to him, and looked ready to let loose with both barrels right there, but he shook his head silently and guided her toward his car. “When we get home,” he said.

 

She fumed in silence all the way back to the apartment, and fumed some more while he made coffee and parked her with a cup on one of the kitchen stools, sitting across from her. Duo got one good sip of coffee in before her barrage started. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Lara fucking Croft?”

 

“I'm not a chick. Although I guess I do have the hair,” he said, examining his braid.

 

Hilde was contemplating ways to kill him with her coffee cup. Duo knew three good ones and could probably improvise a fourth with it in his hand. She glared at him. “So tell me what the hell that was all fucking about,” she swore. “Tell me why I shouldn't report you, or better yet, kill you.”

 

“Don't get overconfident, Hilde. I could kick your ass three times over. I was just doing my best not to hurt you there.” He sighed. “You really wouldn't understand why I was robbing the place anyways.”

 

“What did you take? Bomb stuff?” She hadn't touched her coffee yet.

 

He nodded. “I needed it, and I couldn't get it anywhere else in time.”

 

She wanted to know what he could possibly need it for that G wouldn't know about.

 

He had to tell her the whole story, in the end. “There's me and these four guys. We have an objective. An outside one. Kind of.

 

“I've been in this organization for nearly ten years, and my missions have always been solo. Never had a partner, never met anyone on the op that I had orders to work with. Then suddenly I'm doing these ops and I keep running into people. Teenage guys, my age. Same weird situation as me. Sometimes they have different objectives than me, but usually we have the same goal.” He reflected on the aftermath of that failed job at the Darlian mansion, when he'd discovered that Heero had been tasked to kill the daughter and Duo to kidnap her.

 

“We discovered that we all have the same bad guy, this group called OZ. And we're all going on the same operations, independently. This group is... bad. We're talking like, global domination bad. So why aren't we tasked to work together? Are there really five of us in the same situation, doing the same thing, and our bosses don't know? If that's true, then they're all idiots incapable of leading the groups they seem to lead. If it's not, then we're pawns. And I'll be damned if I'll go along with that.

 

“So we're working together, the five of us, under the radar, and we're going to destroy OZ on our own, because we can and we should. And I needed a bomb that I couldn't get, so I went and got some blind help from the people who should be looking after this anyway. Was it wrong of me?” Duo finished his speech and crossed his arms, looking at Hilde.

 

- - -

 

Hilde was stunned. Duo's a good guy after all.... She wasn't sure if she believed him or not, he was a fairly accomplished liar. She twisted her lips, mulling it over. “I think you're lying,” she finally said, testing the waters.

 

Duo didn't react. “You have my word that I am not.”

 

“What's that worth?” she smirked.

 

He was silent for a minute. “I swear on the Mustang. And on this cup of coffee.” He took another sip.

 

“Your twin loves, the car and coffee?”

 

He grinned.

 

She shook her head. “I don't think you could make up all of that on the spot, anyway. You're not that quick.” She needed some more proof though. “So what are you doing with this crap anyways?”

 

“I shouldn't have told you this much; you might be spying for G,” he growled.

 

She gave him a straight look. “You have my word that I am not,” she answered.

 

“I'd better,” Duo answered, setting down his cup. “We're going to Argentina. It's a big and complicated operation.”

 

Hilde finally took a sip of her coffee, and then made a face. It was getting cold. “So when will I get to meet these guys?” she asked.

 

Duo choked on his coffee. “Excuse me?” he gasped.

 

“You're going to make me just believe that they exist without ever actually seeing that they do? I don't trust you that much, Duo.” She raised an eyebrow.

 

Duo stared at her for a second, and then sighed. “I'll arrange something. But you have to keep your mouth shut, got it?” he threatened.

 

“Promise,” she said, raising her right hand in the air. She watched as Duo got up to put his empty mug in the sink and leave the room. As she heard the TV turn on, she got up slowly, stretching her arms.

 

She was pretty sure she believed what Duo said, but she knew she would be foolish to take his word for it. And yet he had just accepted her word that she wouldn't rat him out, without extracting any real promises from her that she would keep his secrets. He trusted so easily; he had trusted her when he'd taken her in and when he'd found her a job, and now he was banking on her not getting him killed. Although maybe it's payback for the things he's done for me, I guess. She rinsed her mug out, left it in the sink, and went to the bathroom.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

A/N: On a note that has absolutely nothing to do with the story, guys suck and no one really needs them. Happy Easter and sorry I'm so slow with the writing stuff.