Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ In the City at Night ❯ Initial Exposure ( Chapter 17 )

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

Initial Exposure

"I hate intensive," Heero grumbled to Jordan, rolling over on his mattress. "Makes me sick to my stomach every time."

"You're the one who couldn't say for certain who the last three people you screwed was," Jordan noted teasingly.

"Yeah, yeah, asshole, laugh it up."

"I'm gonna pump you with more pain-killer," Jordan informed him. "You're being pissy."

That got him a level look.

"Sit back down, Maxwell," Doctor Morris muttered in agitation as he moved into the room the two former pilots were sharing. "Honestly..."

"Sorry," Jordan apologized, moving to sit on his bed again, then lean over and lay down.

Heero had taken more of the blast than either Logan or Jordan. Jordan'd gotten directly behind Logan when the explosion happened, so on top of taking more of the blast than the man, he'd also shielded both Logan and Baits from the fall-out. Heero'd been thrown next to Jordan in the grass, and Logan was pissed at both of them for it.

"You two drive me insane," Morris added petulantly as he moved up to Heero's bedside and started swabbing the guy's arm. "Can't you ever go out and do something without needing Remalene, Yuy?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Heero protested. "I take it I'm clean?"

"This is an antibiotic," Morris muttered, shoving the needle in. "We'll give it a few minutes to start working, then we'll give you the Remalene. Why are you awake?" he added the question to Jordan.

"I've been taking Remalene for a week or so...but I am getting tired."

"So you stand next to Yuy and what? Talk about the weather?"

"I was gonna increase his drip," Jordan noted with a grin. "He bitches worse'n a girlfriend."

Morris grinned at that.

Heero tsked, then sighed. "What do I have?"

"Minor STD," Morris retorted. "I'm not gonna ask and suggest you don't tell me."

Heero snorted.

"That's nasty," Jordan informed his friend.

"Fuck you," Heero muttered easily.

"I'm glad to have you back, Maxwell," Morris muttered, smirking at the pilot. "Now go to sleep."

Jordan flashed the man a slight grin and closed his eyes. That was a good idea.

X x X x X

Corringer rubbed at his sore arm as he moved down the walkway toward Eastland's post. It'd been three days since Yuy had attacked him, and the trial for it had proceeded as it always had. They'd been reprimanded and their weekend leave had been suspended for two weeks.

"You look like shit," Duty noted, looking out at the guy with a grin. "What happened to you?"

"Yuy," Mat returned, sighing as he moved into the place. "You can have guests?"

"Only for a bit," Eastland shrugged, studying the guy. "What happened?"

"I managed to forget your warning about Maxwell being friends with the resident god-father," Mat explained. "I was told to question him about Piet, and I did it...and he ended up bruised for it."

"You know better'n that shit," Duty noted, shaking his head. "You're a fuckin' moron sometimes, I swear."

"Thanks," Mat sat in the free chair beside the gate-guard. "Anything interesting going on here?"

"Well, Yuy and Maxwell went and saved Baits," Eastland shrugged. "No one knew he'd been nabbed, but they saved him all the same. We're closing down the base now. No one in or out."

"Saved?" Corringer demanded, his heart stopping.

"Yeah, you didn't hear? Shit, Mat, it's been announced for the last twenty minutes. Where you been hiding?"

"Under a rock to keep of those fuckers' radars."

Duty grinned appreciatively, then indicated the compound. "I have back-up men coming here in a while...they're gonna start pulling leaders into bases and crap, too."

"Why?"

Duty shrugged, "They didn't give us the full details, but I gather some sort of coup attempt's been sniffed out. Baits is in intensive care, and they're not entirely sure he won't die. They're pumping him with Remalene, anyway. He told that some guys in masks ambushed him and took him to some house a week or something ago. The morons didn't take his phone from him, though..."

"His phone?" Mat asked, blinking several times.

"Some oversight, huh?" the soldier grinned impishly. "He called Yuy earlier, and he tracked the phone down. He took Maxwell, and they went to see what they could find."

"And they didn't die? Either of them? Baits is alive?"

"So is Doll," Duty agreed. "But Doll is all pissed. I guess when the explosion happened...shit, those fuckers are insane. You have no idea how insane...they frickin' jumped from the second story window and landed that shit! Can you believe it?"

Corringer was staring at him in utter disbelief.

"Maxwell was carrying Baits and Doll was in front, so Maxwell landed on Doll and shielded him from the explosion. He and Yuy are pretty fucked up, I guess. Their backs and shit...but Doll made it out with one or two abrasions."

"Logan Doll?" Corringer demanded, thinking of Yuy's long-time friend with some irritation.

"The one and only," Eastland agreed.

"I bet they'd be pissed if something happened to Doll, huh?" Mat added, looking to the floor.

"Doll's their best friend, well, one of," Duty agreed, studying him. "You look a little pale, man. You okay?"

Corringer nodded, rising to his feet as he saw a group of men trooping toward the gatehouse with weapons. "What were you saying about a coup?"

"Baits and Marquise," Duty muttered, studying him. "The base will be officially closed as soon as those guys get here," he indicated the men.

"Shit," Corringer glanced toward the open gates with the knowledge that he couldn't leave. He may have befriended Duty, but if it weren't a life or death matter, the man wouldn't disobey his orders. "Damn..."

"You better go, I have to play leader now," Duty added. "I'll catch you after my shift or something."

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later, I guess..." Corringer hesitated in the door, then moved onto base major.

The house had exploded and no one had died...someone had stopped the assassin before he could take out Marquise...but those others were still dead...and Beedus was still gone.

"Hey!" Duty called from the door, grinning slightly at his friend. "All's well that ends well!"

"Yeah, cheers," Mat agreed with a fake smile. "I'll drink one for ya."

Eastland laughed, "Thanks."

X x X x X

It was quiet.

Jordan walked along the outside of the armored car with a large gun in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. His eyes were everywhere as he and the other lucky soldiers picked for the duty ranged a good five feet or more from the car. He could feel someone watching him, and wondered who it was. The attention bordered on hostile.

"Maxwell," Heero's voice came over the radio, "Smile, why don't you? Our guest probably isn't too happy."

Jordan grinned slightly, rolling his eyes as he wondered why they'd been selected to escort the car when they'd both been knocked out on an almost dangerously high dosage of Remalene for a night. The smaller wounds were gone entirely, and Jor was almost certain his hair had grown an inch. That still left large bruises and abrasions, albeit not as large as the initial blast had made them. He glanced toward the armored vehicle, wondering who was inside of it again. No one knew which official was going where...aside from the CIA or some shit. Internal Affairs? Were those even valid terms anymore?

To salvage any possible names from the almighty list Heero kept mentioning, many minor officials were being escorted to bases along with the people who actually mattered. They themselves didn't really realize where they stood.

The thing that made the reinstated soldier sick to his stomach was that he knew the person in the car was a big-wig. On top of that Terry Shifton was tenth in line...and Zachary Baits himself.

Someone knew that Baits was fourth in line...or was it fifth? Did they realize that Terry Shifton was? Or that the person in the car?

Quatre moved into view on one side, and Jordan raised the weapon warningly. He didn't point it at his friend, but no one was supposed to get as close as Quatre even was.

"Sorry," Quatre called, keeping pace with him. "I was told to let you know that everything is ready. They figured it'd be safer to send someone you know over so you didn't shoot the messenger."

"Great," Jordan thanked him with a wry grin. "Get out of here before someone panics."

Quatre flashed him a grin, then disappeared from where he'd come from.

"What was that?" Heero demanded.

"Winner says everything's ready," Jordan replied easily. "Do me a huge favor and get me a drink, huh?"

"Okay," Heero muttered, "We're on Remalene and high dosages of pain killers. You are not to have alcohol."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Is the chatter necessary?" someone random demanded.

"Look at it this way," Heero started.

"It's when we're quiet that there's a problem," Jordan agreed.

"The banter means all's going according to plan," Heero explained.

"If we start barking orders you'd better fuckin' do as told," Jordan agreed.

No one said anything and Jordan grinned slightly.

"Thing about Yuy and Maxwell," someone else muttered, "is that they work together seamlessly. They can tell each other layers by the tone of their voices. The order to smile means that they're piss bored as we are. The asking for a drink and subsequent refusal means that they're probably gonna go drink until they pass out after the mission..."

"Hey!" Jordan protested. "Those are as close to state secrets as we get!"

The guy laughed and things fell quiet again.

Quiet...too quiet...

Jordan grinned ruefully at the clichéd thought. He saw some soldiers standing on a balcony in one of the buildings. Trowa was with them. They all had their arms crossed as they watched the car move up and drive by. Everything on the base had taken on a grave sorta silence, almost as if grieving...

Everyone was realizing that all was not well on the home-front.

"Let's pick it up, boys," an amused female voice muttered...and the car sped up.

"Fuck you," Jordan informed whoever she was as he started to jog. His leg was mostly healed, but his back was ripped up. That included the backs of his legs.

"You're gonna burn, Lizzy," Heero agreed.

"The sooner we get to the sanctum," Lizzy retorted, "The sooner you can go get plastered."

"I was just thrown ten feet when a house exploded at my back!"

"If you couldn't handle this, you wouldn't have been assigned it," Lizzy reminded him. "So both of you stop bitching."

"I don't know you," Jordan noted, "And I'm pretty sure I don't like you."

"I'm hurt," the woman noted. "You ruined my life."

Jordan grumbled about the ways in which he could ruin her life, but didn't bother saying it into the walkie. There was no point. He kept pace with the vehicle and waited patiently when they finally did find their "sanctum". He watched the soldiers fanning out as Heero moved around the car to stand by him.

"You okay?" the soldier asked, scanning some.

"I'm only bleeding a little," Jor reassured him. "You?"

"Same. Think we'll live?"

"Nope."

"Damn, good funeral?"

"Mediocre."

"Pessimist."

"Optimist," Jor shot back.

They grinned at each other.

"Clear," the word came over the radio from several directions as soldiers moved up to the door.

The car door swung open...to reveal Zechs Marquise.

They stared at each other, though it was obvious from the leader's expression that it had been him watching Jordan balefully on the drive up.

"Why aren't you dead yet?" Marquise asked curiously.

"Get inside," Heero hissed, his hackles seeming to be raised as he looked around.

Zechs glanced at the guy, then started forward. He had a cane, but it seemed to be more an affection than an actually used thing.

"Well," Heero muttered when Zechs had moved into the building with soldiers around him, looking to Jordan. "Look at it this way. You get to talk with him now."

X x X x X

"You were almost killed," Chai protested as she clung to Jordan's forearm. "You told me there'd be no problems..."

"Well," Jor muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter and turning to face her. "In a technical sort of way, there wasn't. We went in, got our man, and got out. All things considered, we got out with minor injuries."

"But..."

"Whether you realized it or not," he muttered, "I've been doing this since I was about twelve...on different layers. I was fifteen in the war...and I'm here and whole still. Don't freak out on me, please. I know it's hard, but...this is no different then Angels...not really. At least now we know when we're in danger."

Chai's expression blackened as she started to draw herself up.

The vid beeped.

They both looked at it, then Jor moved to hit the button.

"Maxwell?"

"Yeah," Jordan replied, studying the unfamiliar man's face. "What can I do for you?"

"Zechs Marquise is asking that you meet with he and Yuy in Baits' hospital room."

"I'll be there in five," Jordan muttered, disconnected and looking to Chai. "Do you want to clear Jonny or not?"

She started to protest, following as he started for the door.

"I want Jon cleared," Jordan insisted as a car pulled up out front. "I have to go deal with this...just...I'll be back."

"Hurry up," Quatre snapped as Trowa followed him into the house. "You're gonna piss Zechs off."

Jordan blinked at him. Quatre had dark rings under his eyes and stress lines all over his face. There was a sort of haunted-distance in his direct look, and he didn't seem like the man Jordan knew...had he been like that when the car was rolling in? Quatre'd been far enough away at that point that there was no real way Jordan would have been able to see him.

"Zechs is already pissed at you," Trowa corrected, shaking his head slightly to indicate that Jor shouldn't ask. "Evidently your five year sabbatical offends his fine sensibilities."

"Sabbatical my ass," Jordan grumbled, glancing to Chai and then moving from the house.

"How long is this gonna keep going on?" Chai demanded, crossing her arms as she met their eyes. "I've been with him for three weeks now and we don't get any time together."

"Just have patience," Quatre muttered, looking away tiredly. "This is getting more and more complicated..."

"He almost died," she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself as the fear of hearing returned. "He almost..."

"I know! Okay?" Quatre's shout ripped from his throat as his own worry mingled with her fear and uncertainty. He tried to fight the emotions as the idea of Jordan really dying crossed his mind and mixed with the stress he'd been feeling since he'd realized what the trio had been up to...

The stress from the previous night along with every other person's stress he'd encountered on the base slammed into him again. The knowledge that he could lose his friends and their own realization of the same fact...Chai's sudden descent into the unknown...it all slammed into the man, and he did the one thing he'd been fighting since he'd seen the ambulances pulling back into the base. He crumpled forward to the ground, sobbing helplessly as the emotions raked along his senses like fire.

Chai, helpfully, became even more afraid...though Trowa'd been trained along with Heero and Wufei for the breakdowns. A sort of resignation emanated from him as he leaned down and collected the blond from the floor. "It's okay, Q," he reassured him, starting to rub his back. He meant it, too. "You just need to let it go...don't keep it...it's not yours."

X x X x X

Jordan reeled as his mind noted Zechs had thrown a punch. He'd followed Heero into the hospital room, and the blow knocked him back against the door, slamming it shut loudly.

"What's going on?" Baits muttered, rousing from the doze he'd fallen into.

"Zechs!" Heero protested.

Jordan reeled again as Zechs punched him again, and realized that Trowa'd made one of his lovely understatements. He dodged the third blow, feeling a bit of vindictive gratification when the man's hand slammed into the door painfully.

"Knock it off!" Heero shouted, darting in to grab the guy as Jordan dodged another blow. "Stop it!"

"You have some balls!" Zechs shouted, swinging at Jordan again.

"And I'll keep them, thanks," Jordan snapped, slamming the man backwards against the door and pinning him there. "It's fuckin' good to see you, too," he added, wiping at something on his chin that he realized was blood.

"I'm grateful to be party to the reunion," Baits noted.

"Are you all right?" Heero's focus changed instantly to the bedded man.

"I'm fine, Heero..."

"Fucker," Jordan added to Zechs, moving toward the mirror...Baits started to protest, and Jordan turned his head in time to see something moving at him. He grabbed Zechs' cane in sheer disbelief before yanking it from the man's hand and hitting him with it.

Oops, he hadn't meant to do that.

Zechs'd cringed, expecting more, then blinked when Jordan threw the piece of wood to his feet, glaring the him down.

"Do I want to know?" Zach Baits asked Heero.

"Probably not," Heero reassured him, smiling slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired...you sure you don't want to tie one of them down?" he looked to where Zechs had leaned over to grab his cane.

"I'm about to let Jor go," Heero noted.

"Jor?" Zechs asked, focusing on him. "Who is Jor?"

"Har har har," Jordan grumbled, going back to wiping his mouth down. "Duo is dead, fucker. Deal with it."

"I'm so pissed at you," Zechs snapped.

"Good."

They glared at each other.

"I'm curious to know why I'm graced with this," Zach noted to Heero.

"I haven't figured that out either."

"Funny," Jordan looked to the men, "Same goes for me."

"You're an asshole," Zechs snapped at him. "A childish fucker with no consideration! You don't care that you just abandoned everyone for five years for some bitch!"

"Ooh," Heero cringed, as the man he and Jor had saved looked to him curiously. "Bad idea."

"Some bitch?" Jordan repeated, straightening.

"Some little Angels whore..."

Heero covered his face with his hands...as Jordan launched himself at Zechs.

"You should probably stop them," Zach noted, watching as the two scuffled. He wasn't sure why he didn't find the sight alarming, but he had a feeling the pain meds pumping into his veins might have something to do with it...

There was a small table beside a sink just beside where the pair of fighters fell to the floor, and the rolling around slammed them into the legs...so a pitcher of cold water spilled and tumbled over both their faces and heads. They coughed, sputtered, and choked as they stopped fighting one another in shock, then moved to clear their faces.

"I guess that worked," Zach added, yawning and covering it with one hand as he met eyes with Heero a moment a moment.

"Yeah," Heero darted forward and drug Jordan across the floor as he tried to regain himself, then moved to stand between the pair as they recovered. "You two done yet?"

Zechs started sputtering something as Heero turned and refilled the pitcher, but Jordan just sat where he was. It was obvious that he was thinking; his eyes were moving as his breathing became more erratic...

"I say again," Heero repeated, studying his friend warily. "Are you two done yet?"

"That fuck..." Zechs half-shouted.

Heero poured the pitcher over Zechs' head.

Zachary started laughing.

"You okay, Jor?"

"Everyone's...everyone's against her...everyone..." Jordan didn't quite look up.

"It's her fault you stayed there for five years," Heero agreed. "She's not a slut, granted, but it was her fault. You done yet, Zechs? Now that you've pushed him into something of an anxiety attack I think you'd better be...for your sake."

Zechs blinked up at the man as he wiped his hair from his face, then focused on Jordan.

"He loves Chai," Heero added to the man, shoving him against the wall with his foot as he refilled the pitcher again. "And that was the most callous and needless thing I've ever heard you say."

...and he poured the pitcher on Zechs' head again.

Zachary started laughing again as a hesitant nurse stuck his head into the room and stared at the downed and sputtering leader.

"Get us some coffee," Heero ordered the man. "And a few towels."

"There are towels over here," Zach pointed at a counter along one side of the room, then yawned again.

"All right," Heero moved across the room as the nurse disappeared. He took one towel and threw it at Zechs' face, but walked the other to Jordan. He studied his friend's eyes as he passed it to him, then turned to look at Zachary. "Right...this is Jordan Maxwell. I've been friends with him since I was about fifteen."

"He's the one who carried me," Zach nodded, then smiled at Jordan as the guy wiped his face off. "Thank you, very much."

Jordan offered him a slightly crooked grin as he focused sidelong on Zechs.

"I'm sorry," Zechs sighed. "I just...well, you just abandoned us all here..."

"We all have to do what we have to do," Jordan snapped at him, using Heero's leg to climb somewhat unsteadily to his feet. "Chance's already pointed out that..."

"Chance?" Zechs asked blankly.

"Heero," Zach gave the man a confused look.

"Uh...yeah," Jordan hesitated as he realized what he'd said. "Anyway, if I hadn't met up with Chai I'd have gotten ahold of you guys...but I wasn't moving around in Angels and didn't want you to find me."

"So you just befriend the man who tried to get me killed," Zechs grumbled.

Heero sighed in resignation.

"Jon did not hire the fucking assassin!" Jordan snapped.

They stared at each other a long moment.

"Breer's been here, hasn't he?" Zach asked. "I mean...his calls are monitored and crap, and I didn't get grabbed until...well, I think Jordan was on base, actually. I don't think it's likely that Breer could have managed it."

"Besides," Jordan added in a dark tone. "His focus is on the panel...and Baits isn't on the panel."

"Call me Zach...or Zachary if you want to be formal. I think I owe you my life, Mr. Maxwell. You could call me your bitch and I'd only smile and nod."

Jordan flashed him a slightly appreciative grin, then shook his head. "If I hadn't done it, Chance'd have grabbed you...or Doll."

"I was in some severe shock," Heero corrected. "I didn't snap out of it until Logan shot the window out."

"It was him?" Jordan flashed his friend a grin, then moved to sit on the foot of the bed and pat Zach's shin.

Zachary studied the back of his head a long moment before turning to focus on Zechs again. "You know you're out of line on this one, right?"

"What's a brawl between friends?" Zechs shot back, moving in closer himself as he dried his hair. "Though Heero owes me."

"No, no I don't," Heero muttered. "I could have done something physical to get your attention, but water dries."

Zechs gave him a look.

"So what was so important you called me away from my fight with my girl?" Jordan demanded. "She's upset with me for a building exploding at my back. I need to work some serious consolation here, and you're acting like I'm subservient to you."

"You have to do what I say," Zechs retorted.

"Just like with Une, huh?" Jor met eyes with Heero.

"Stop," Heero ordered, giving Zechs a look. "If you only called him here because you could, I'll kick your ass myself."

"I called him here so he'd be in the hospital by the time I was done with him."

"You're so fucking mature it amazes me, Marquise," Jordan snapped, rising to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go dose myself on Remalene and pain-meds. It was nice meeting you," he added to Baits. "I'll have to come back again."

"I'd like that," Zach agreed, smiling at him tiredly. "Just be sure to call to see if I'm asleep or not."

Jordan grinned at that, then cast a glare at Zechs...and stormed from the room.

Heero shook his head in disgust at Zechs himself, then focused on his friend. "So what can you tell me about the men who grabbed you?"