Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Immunity ❯ Symptoms ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Immunity, part 1
Immunity
By Cassima



Synopsis: Duo begins acting strangely.

Warnings: Yaoi; 02x01 and 03x04 pairings; angst; violence. Not beta-ed.

Rating: PG-13 for yaoi, violence, and possibly
some language. If you don't know what yaoi is,
you probably don't want to keep reading.

I'm sorry there's no sex, but Heero's hormones keep
talking about sex, so that should passify you.

Author's note: My first Gundam Wing ficcie. Woo-hoo!



God was my copilot, but we crashed into the mountains and I had to eat him.



If he had been an ordinary man, Heero would have fidgited.

It wasn't really his style, though, so he settled for
deepening his scowl and eyeing his scanners distastefully, as if it were their fault, the wretched things. How he hated those scanners. It was irrational hate, though, so he strove to quench it, to stonewall it out. Besides, the Perfect Soldier felt no emotions, especially not towards pieces of dumb equipment that never showed him what he wanted to see and kept thrusting the pestering truth in front of his eyes so he couldn't ignore it. It was a real shame; he did ignorance so well. "We have to go."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Quatre protested feebly from his perch in Sandrock. His voice was as tired and strained as the rest of the pilots felt, and Heero could see him absently rub at his exhausted eyes through the tiny viewscreen. "Just a little while longer."

Heero's impatience grew exponentially with every passing second. Oz's forces were gathering around them in a naggingly familiar but somehow too obscure to recognize formation who's counter suggested a hasty retreat--a retreat that was soon to become impossible. "We have to go n--"

"Heero, he's coming!" Quatre interrupted, a dollop of concern and a dusting of relief melding into his voice.

Sure enough, the whoop and holler of the Shinigami pilot crackled through the radio, and Duo's face flickered onto the screen, obscured by a slight fuzzing of the transciever. "Sorry, guys," he cackled, "But Death had a few unschedueled visits to make." His expression was almost too brazen.

His gundam moved in a slight jerking pattern, and Heero frowned again. The baka must have been quite off his game if he had allowed *that* much damage to his
precious Shinigami. But, there would be time aplenty for stern recriminations later. "Let's go," he said instead, voice ever hard and unconcerned, and began to maneuver Wing Zero back to their hideout.

Duo let fly with another one of his normal death threats to Oz, Romafeller, and guys who looked at him funny, and followed suit.



Two Weeks Later


Something was wrong with Duo.

Normally, Heero would chalk it up to the American being himself and forget it, but the fact that he had noticed was surprising enough to make him meditate on it.

No, Duo was still doing the single, non-practical braid. He was still donning the uncharacteristically somber priest's clothing in the morning. He was still talking too much while Heero was trying to work.

But, still, something was off.

He was a little quieter, as if he were thinking more.
Some of the old jokes were gone, and the ones that remained seemed to just repeat over and over--worse than normal. He just didn't seem... like Duo. His words and actions lacked their usual spontineity; it was almost as if he planned everything to say, had every contingency accounted for.

There was something in his eyes--a coldness, as if he had frozen out all outside influences. It could have
been a hardness, even, as if he had seen something that had jabbed his heart--severed it's connection to the rest of him. It was close to blankness, as if he were going through all the motions and feeling nothing. No, Heero told himself sternly, you're not going to think about that baka right now. Concentrate on the problem at hand.

Unfortunately for the mission, though, Duo remained
firmly fixed in his mind. At first, he had found the
boy an annoyance to be frustratingly tolerated, despite
several death threats and an unhealthy amount of rolling his eyes. Now, however... Heero found that Duo was tolerated more... easily. It was almost a--joy to tolerate him. Duo's like a virus, he mused. After a while, you just can't get sick of him.

"Iie!" he yelled at his wandering thoughts, wondering where all his drilled discipline had scampered off to. It took so little to get himself off track nowadays... so frustratingly little. Heero's eyes bored into the flickering white screen of his computer, and he
reluctantly forced his attention back to the problem
at hand: the recent Oz tactics.

Oz had been pulling some odd stunts lately--frustratingly familiar but somehow unattainable by a fickle memory--and to know how to best attack these strategies, he needed to know the person calling the shots. Sending out a quick email to a source of his, LazerEye, he shut down his computer and decided to ask Quatre if he'd noticed Duo's odd behavior over the past two weeks, ever since the three of them had returned from that one mission.

Coolly, he stood and walked downstairs to find Quatre
predictably meditating on some tea. "Heero," the other boy murmured as he opened his eyes. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Something's wrong with Duo," Heero said bluntly.

Quatre blinked and shook himself out of whatever
revire he had been in. "I hadn't noticed anything."

"He's acting funny. Quiet, for him. And he talks
funny."

"Tea?"

"Hn." His eyes flickered down to the teacup in front
of him before he grunted and settled down in the chair next to the Arabian.

Quatre poured him a cup and refilled his own. "Heero... have you ever noticed that Duo... well..." the blond boy struggled to explain. "He... likes you?"

Heero blinked. This was not the trauma story he had
been expecting. "Huh?"

"Duo has strong..." Quatre blushed and looked away,
taking a big gulp of tea. "I really think you should
talk to him."

Heero shrugged. "Hn."

"In fact, the sooner the better. You never know when the next mission might come up." Quatre's eyes fixed--not on Heero, but somewhere behind him.

Heero turned around to look. Sure enough... "Duo."

The gundam pilot twisted the end of his braid in his
fingers--a nervous gesture Heero had never seen before on him. "Heero... can we talk? In private?"

Quatre put down his teacup and stood, looking away from the thick look that passed between the two. "Uh... Trowa and I are going to go take a walk... maybe join Wufei fishing." Flushing, he left to extricate his boyfriend from the other room.

Heero stood and followed Duo back to his room. Even though it was growing late, and shadows encased the entire room, he left the lights off.

There was an awkward pause.

"Well?" Heero finally asked, his tone a bit harsher than he intended.

"I... I've been having these... these feelings..." Duo began tentatively.

"Hn."

"And... I thought..." Becoming bold, Duo pushed him
up against a wall.

Heero grunted in surprise and looked at the other's eyes. There was something funny about them--they were a little too something... "Duo, what are you--" His next words were cut off by a firm and gentle pressure to his lips.

The kiss was strange and slightly mechanical. Neither moved their lips, but Heero eventually relaxed enough to shut his eyes.

When Duo broke away, Heero stared at the other boy in
shock. Those had been Duo's lips--like in the dream--but nothing like the dream. But still--Duo's lips--Duo was pressing him against--the wall was behind him--unyeilding--the wall--Duo--it--

He licked his lips absently and unblinkingly focused
on the Shinigami pilot's eyes. Strange--they were so blue they seemed violet--actually, they were
violet--a very intense violet--too violet--

"Duo?" he whispered to the other's nose, and
unconsciously leaned in to try the kiss again.

Sharp, consuming pain twisted through his gut, and he choked down a scream. The Shinigami pilot moved back a step, an odd look on his face, as Heero tore his gaze from those damn purple eyes to look at the knife sticking out of his green tank top. It was unbelievable. As his body slumped to the floor, he touched the black plastic handle to make sure it was real. "Duo?"

He looked up at the American in the dim light, bewildered and a bit hurt. "Duo?"

The purple eyes gittered and seemed to glow with
pride. "Ninmu Kanryou."

Heero grasped the knife handle in his stomach to pull it out, to strike back, to defend, to--

He promptly passed out.



She took a bite of the apple and chewed thoughtfully,
examining the vids on the screen. The formations were definitely something new, though the pattern seemed somewhat familiar. Was it Treize trying to be creative, Zechs attempting ingenuity, or something new and exciting?

Swallowing, she absently took another bite of the
crunchy fruit.

Oh, how it bothered her! Something important was
licking the back of her mind, something that would
get this entire mess off her desktop and back to Wing Gundam pilot 01, where it belonged. It wasn't random--prime numbers only--but what was that maneuver called??? And, where would someone learn it?

With an impatient sigh, she ran the clip again. Yes, sure enough, here came the expendibles again--honestly, why did Oz invest so much in mobile dolls that were so incredibly useless?--and down came Gundams 01, 02, 03, and 05, rushing to the aid of Gundam 04, and now the worthless mobile dolls were mobile doll kibbles and bits, due to the Great Almighty Deluxe Edition Gundams, and--

She stopped in mid-bite and paused the vid. Rewinding it a few bits, she watched the bit over and glared stonily at the screen. "What the--I can't believe it!" Pulling up an old vid, she played the two side by side.

It was unmistakable.

"Who the fuck is piloting Gundam 02?"

With a deep scowl, she pulled a text book of fencing techniques off the wall, thumbed to the third chapter, looked up the name, and wrote a scathing letter to Heero Yuy.



When Heero came to, he was still propped up against
the wall. The clattering and clicking of typing was
coming from the direction of his room, through the door
that connected their two rooms, from his computer, so
he pried his cottony eyes open and forced them to focus.

Duo was sitting at the keyboard, fingers flying as he
assimilated the information.

What was Maxwell doing at his computer?

With a sigh, he slipped past consciousness again.



It was twilight when Duo finally reached Quatre's
hideaway. He was smelly, dirty, bruised, and cut all over, and his body ached in so many places that he wanted to cry.

He thought about going through the front door, but he really just wanted to skip the explanation and hide under his bed for a week. That not being an option, he'd settle for giving Heero the short version, showering, and falling asleep before he had to expand to the long version. If he talked about it, he'd have to think about it, and he really didn't want to think about it.

So he climbed through his window.

The room was dark, shadows crawling over the furniture, and he briefly considered turning on a light. Nah, too much trouble, he decided, and promptly stubbed his toe.

"Ah!" he cried, hopping up and down and fumbling for
a light switch. "Son of a three toed monkey bitch!"

Light flooded the room, and he squinted and blinked
before adjusting to the brightness.

And then he gasped. "Heero?"

The other Gundam pilot lay in a puddle of his own blood, a knife protruding from this abdomen. Sickened, Duo rushed to his side. "Heero!" he breathed again, pulling out the knife and yanking a random shirt from the ground and pressing it tightly to the wound. Breathing deeply, he found his voice. "Everyone! Hurry! Help! Help!"

Silence was his only answer.

"Help!" he screamed. "GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!!"

One hand firmly pressing down with the shirt, he
raised his other to check Heero's pulse. Weak, but present.

"C'mon Heero--wake up--look at me--Yuy--C'mon you bastard--don't you die--Heero--you son of a bitch--don't you die--Heero..."



They had just entered the door when they heard Duo's
screams. Quatre, already paled from the intense vision
from his Uchuu no kokoro, turned ashen. The three men
exchanged a hurried glance before racing for the stairs. They pounded up in a herd, each fighting to arrive first. They threw the door open to Heero's room--nothing. Racing next door, they flung wide the door--and froze.

Duo was pressing a stained shirt to Heero's abdomin,
muttering frantically, and trying to hold back tears.
"He was stabbed!" he cried. "I came into the room, and he was lying here! Stabbed!" He stared at Heero's paling face. "Don't just stand there! Somebody call for help!"



The waiting room was silent except for the squeak of the nurses' rubber soles on the bleached-clean linolium
floor and the whine of the gurneys as the tired wheels struggled to remain attached to the legs as they were pushed from room to room.

Quatre squeezed Trowa's hand a little tighter and leaned into the other boy's shoulder. He ached for Duo.
The other boy had broken down for a moment after the
paramedics arrived, before shoving the pieces of his
broken spirit back into place and adopting the calm depression that he was still in now. He was sitting across from them, away from everyone, with his head bowed and firmly in his hands. He hadn't moved since they arrived, but Quatre seriously doubted that he was asleep.

The thing that bothered Quatre the most, however, was
Duo's denial that he had seen the attacker. Duo claimed that he hadn't seen anybody; that he had simply walked into his room and found Heero lying there. The problem was, however, that Duo was covered in bruises and cuts. He looked like he'd been through hell--and those injuries hadn't been there before Quatre and Trowa had left. They were new and explainationless. He had shied away from asking Duo about them in respect for his upset about Heero, but it was expanding to rediculous
porportions in Quatre's imagination, and needed to be put to rest. With a final peck on his boyfriend's cheek, Quatre rose and moved to Duo's side.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Duo didn't raise his head. "Hey, Quatre."

"You okay?"

Duo shifted slightly. "Been better."

"Duo... who hurt you?"

A bitter laugh came from the bowed head, and Duo
shifted enough to see Quatre from behind his arms. "Now that's a loaded question."

Reaching over, Quatre gently pressed an agitated-looking cut.

Duo yelped and twitched away a little. "Touché.
That individual little sucker was a present of Guard
Number Three, Mr. Big and Hairy."

He frowned. "Who?"

Duo continued on, as if unable to stop. "The bruises
on my ribs and legs are curtesy of Mr. Broken Tooth. The cuts and bruises on my back and forehead--oh, and let's not forget the big Daddy of all bruises on my neck--are reminders of my personal favorite of the guards, Mr. Bony Ankles. And who could ignore the fun markings on--in--" he broke off and began to shake with suppressed tears, pain, and rage.

Quatre stared at him, confused. "I thought you didn't see anybody."

Duo lifted one bleary eye to look at Quatre. It was
surprisingly bloodshot. "I wish I hadn't."

The Arabian was definitely confused. "But you said
you didn't see Heero--"

"You think this happened when I found Heero?" the
incredulation that colored his voice took Quatre aback.

"When else could it have happened?"

Duo eyed him. Was the boy stupid? "Well, I have been missing for a while," he suggested, a bit sarcastically.

Quatre exchanged a glance with the onlooking Trowa
and Wufei. "What are you talking about?"

An angry glint sparkled over his face. "What do you
mean, what am I talking about? How could you not notice?" He stood up and backed away, suddenly eyeing the other Gundam pilots. "Why are you guys looking at me like that? You didn't notice I was gone?"

Wufei scowled. "You weren't gone, you idiot. I
distinctly remember you making coffee this morning."

"Coffee?!" Duo exclaimed. "I haven't made coffee for
a month! You complained too much last time!"

"You were whining about the mission we had yesterday," Trowa said calmly.

"Mission?!" He surveyed the three boys and shook his
head. "You're all insane! Death doesn't take this!
Shinigami is leaving. You're all insane."

Trowa paused. "Shinigami? You haven't spoken your
gundam's name for the past two weeks or so."

"I haven't been around for the past two weeks or--" he grabbed his side with a gasp and fell to one knee.

Wufei, being the closest, checked him over first. "He's seriously wounded," the boy reported grimly. "His injuries are infected, and he has a fever."

"Help!" Quatre called to a passing nurse. "Our
friend needs medical attention!"

The nurse frowned as she saw Duo, and immediately
called to another passing nurse. "Bring a stretcher
and call Dr. Karl off his break!"

As Duo was taken away, Trowa held back one of the
nurses by the arm. "I think you should use a
rape kit."

She nodded curtly and followed the stretcher, leaving a gasping Quatre and a scowling Wufei to help Trowa fill out the paperwork.

Coming up beside his lover, Quatre touched his
shoulder. "Trowa--you really think...?

Images flashed through Trowa's head, and he briefly closed his eyes against the sudden influx of information. Duo, sitting gingerly. Duo, shying from touch. Duo--"Yes."

Quatre shivered and gripped his lover tightly
around the waist. "Oh, Duo..." He buried his
face in Trowa's chest.

Trowa's arms came up to gently cradle the shivering
Quatre, but his eyes were steadily fixed on the door the doctors and nurses had rushed Duo through.

Wufei scowled darkly and muttered something about a lack of decent justice.



Heero glared at the nurse, his hands still outstretched and face commanding her to relinquish the tool.

She held it just out of reach. "We have to have
rules about this, Mr. Yuy. You may only use it during specified hours, or it may destroy the delicate callibrations on the equipment we have here. Also, you need rest. Your body had a shock, and if your friends hadn't found you so quickly, you would have bled to death. So, if I let you use this computer, it must be on my terms, understand?"

"Aa."

She placed the computer in his hands. "You can use it until 2:30, and then you have to nap. Got it?"

He grunted unhappily and flicked it on, dismissing
her with the turn in his attention.

"Nurse Kevin will be in to check your medications in a bit. If I find out you gave him any lip--and I will find out, believe me--I will personally confiscate that piece of junk. See you later, Mr. Yuy."

Heero glared at her retreating back before returning his attention to his precious laptop. He wasn't going to think about Maxwell. He was going to find the answer to the tactics riddle, hack into the Oz database and steal information, and perhaps schedule a mission or two--

He shifted his weight a little and winced as the
gaping hole in his abdomen screamed its existence. Well, maybe the mission would have to wait...

Love was confusing to Heero Yuy. It wasn't something
he had been on either the giving or recieving end of for his entire life, so his experience was limited to what could be gleaned from second-hand observation and knowledge.

He had found it a strange master, intimidating and controlling, and perhaps a wee bit unpredictable, but he had never heard of anyone stabbing the one they loved. That just wasn't lover-like behavior. For example, look at Quatre and Trowa. They were always touching each other and looking each other--but they didn't try to stab each other. Even when they fought--seldom, to be sure, but not unheard of--they did not deal with concealed weapons. Maybe it was a strange custom from L2--

"You're rationalizing," he warned himself. Duo did not stab you because he loves you, he stabbed you because it was his mission. But, why would the scientists want Heero dead? And, did Duo love him? If he could have, he would have glared at himself; this was not the mental set of the Perfect Soldier.

Ah, a reply from LazerEye. Opening it up, he absorbed the answer and began to mentally plan, carefully reading over the material she had sent him.

He paused when he got to the end paragraph. What
the...? The pilot of Shinigami was still Duo! Well,
maybe not after Heero got better and beat the shit
out of him, but for now Duo was still Death.

Noticing that her computer was still hooked up to the
network, he initiated conversation and her picture
blinked onto screen. "Yuy," acknowledged her breathy
voice.

"Duo Maxwell is still the pilot of gundam 02," he reported.

She shook her chubby face, and two vidclips appeared
at the bottom of her image. They began to play side by side, looping so that the images repeated the initial clips over and over again. "Watch," she advised. "There's a different pilot in that machine. The style is completely different. Watch how the first pilot uses the Sythe most of the time, while the second pilot relies mainly on guns, which are 02's secondary weapon system only, and pretty piss-poor useless. Notice the full utilization of the agility verses the struggling to master complex maneuvers. That second pilot is completely inept. These are different people, Yuy."

"Impossible," he replied woodenly, still reviewing
the evidence before him. "I saw him enter his Gundam on this date. I also saw him exit it. I was with him the entire time."

She glowered, not used to being challenged. "Hey,
stuff like this doesn't lie."

The clips re-started themselves. "Alternative
conclusions?"

Her fingers began to skate over the keyboard, and a look of absent concentration covered her face. Suddenly, she looked back at the camera in surprise.
"You're in the hospital!"

He glared.

"A knife wound?" Her look was almost amused.

"This is not relevent," he intoned.

"No, but it is interesting," she responded, back in the database she'd hacked into. "Did you know
there's a Mr. Duo Maxwell nested down in Intensive
Care?"