Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Starting Over ❯ Fireworkds ( Chapter 9 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Makoto Sagara 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Romance / Shounen | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 10.23.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Romance / Shounen | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 10.23.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Title: Starting OverAuthor: Makoto SagaraSeries: Gundam WingArchive: the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, my update LJ, and the gw-fanML on yahoo); anywhere else, please ask first.Category: Angst, ActionPairings: 1+2+1, Hilde/Cathy, 3+4+3Rating: T+Warnings: Shonen ai, language, angst, sap, Post-EW, Episode Zero story spoilers, some violence, actionDisclaimers: I make no money, so suing is pointless. If you think I own GW, then you need to see someone. I have the number to a nice doctor... Oh, SALLY!
Author’s Notes: Omg, I’m so sorry! I didn’t forget about this story, I promise. I’ve just been involved in other stories and RL got weird for a while. I swear that I haven’t abandoned it. It’s just taking longer than I hoped to get around to the chapters with ten works-in-progress right now!
Starting Over, Chapter 9 - Fireworks
Heero nodded to Chang and Winner before he slipped down the dark, dirty alley so that he could begin the process of scaling the building’s side to reach the second floor of the abandoned department store. Strapped to his back was a bag full of C-4, detonators, and several sticks of old-fashioned dynamite. ‘What would Dr. Shaw say if he saw me slipping back into the role of terrorist not even two weeks after my release?’ he thought as he grabbed a hold of the crumbling wall of his target. ‘He’d probably try to throw me right back into therapy, no questions asked.’
When he reached the top, he looked around with a sharp eye, taking in the position of the prostitutes and gang members he could see from his perch. Two men stood at each street corner, while scantily clad teenaged girls and a boy walked up and down the block, trying to tempt the drivers of the vehicles that raced by. Heero could barely hold in a snarl of disgust when a car door opened and revealed a man around the age of fifty or so, Asian decent (probably Vietnamese or Cambodian if the colouring was any indication) and a big-breasted blonde girl hopped in before the door shut again.
He took out the walkie-talkie that Quatre had insisted he take and pressed the comm button. “I’m on the roof,” he said quietly.
“Acknowledged,” the blond responded. “Wufei and I will get into position. Five minutes, and then you can begin to place the charges. When you hear gunshots, get out of there.”
“Ryokai,” Heero said before sliding the walkie-talkie back onto his belt and making his way over to where the roof was beginning to fall down. It was there he placed the first of the C-4 blocks. He then turned his attention to his watch.
True to his word, Quatre and Chang engaged in a very loud and attention grabbing argument with the gang members nearest them. He could hear disparaging remarks being made by both sides, along with occasional comments about one or another’s mothers. The former Wing pilot never understood the subtle art of insults, especially when it turned to parentage. He noticed that Duo and Trowa refrained from engaging in those types of conversations, but Chang had made a comment a time or two towards Duo about his lack of parents. He found it useless when one looked at it. They were all orphans now.
Pushing those idle thoughts away, Heero slipped down into the building through one of the gaping holes in the roof. A small, satisfied smile crossed his face when he made no noise. Without wasting a second, he began distributing the explosives as evenly as possible. Just as he was about to set the last three sticks of dynamite he had in the middle of the sleeping quarters, the sound of feet scuffling on the marble floor made his head turn in the direction of the nearest staircase.
There at the top was the leader of Los Chupacabras and a very ugly woman. He would have compared her to Dorothy Catalonia, but even the tall, blonde woman was aesthetically pleasing, if one discounted her odd, grey eyebrows. “Who’re you?” the dark skinned teen growled, shoving the girl away from him as he moved a hand to the waistband of his pants.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Heero said calmly, pulling his own gun out before the gang’s leader even had his hand on the butt of his gun. “Who I am is of no matter. I know who you are.”
“Everyone in this territory knows who I am,” the kid said with obviously false bravado. “Are you with those faggots down the road? I knew I shoulda set the whole damn place on fire.”
Heero, instead of answering the disgusting creature before him, pulled the trigger of his weapon and smiled when the gang leader jumped back from the marble chips that flew from the floor by his feet.
“You’re a fuckin’ psycho, just like the rest of them fags!” He reached for his gun again and Heero popped off another shot, hitting him in the foot this time. “WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Heero stared coolly at the black teen, gun still poised and ready to maim when needed. However, he wasn’t ready for when he was attacked from the side by the girl, whom both males had forgotten about.
“DON’T SHOOT KILLA, YOU FUCKIN’ FAGGOT BASTARD!” she screeched, dragging ragged nails across Heero’s face as she tried to wrestle his gun from his hands. “YOU ASSHOLE! I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!”
The former Gundam pilot wondered if he should rid himself of the girl by a swift chop to the neck, and if he did so would he kill her. When she attempted to kick him in the groin with her pointy shoes, Heero felt an overwhelming sense of anger and smacked the girl hard across her face. He watched as she collapsed and turned his attention back to ‘Killa’. He was staring down the barrel of a Tech-9, an old-fashioned but still rather effective automatic weapon. “You really shouldn’ta hit my girl, man. Now, I’mma hafta kill you.”
Heero said nothing as he ducked, lashing out with one booted foot and connecting with the teen’s shin, causing the spray of bullets to go out in different directions as the boy fell and forgot to take his finger off the trigger. He felt one graze his shoulder and ignored the hot pain that lanced down his arm from the wound to his fingertips. Before the boy could get his balance back to try and shoot him again, Heero jumped forward, snatching the gun away and punching his opponent in the nose, shattering it if the way it gave under his knuckles was any indication. The indignant howl also helped to confirm his suspicions.
With the two teens down, Heero hastily threw the last of his charges into a dark corner. He could hear footsteps pounding up the staircase, letting him know that the altercation hadn’t gone unnoticed. He raced over to the hole he used to enter the building, shouting and shots ringing out as he pulled himself over the lip of the ceiling. He could hear the walkie-talkie screeching in Quatre’s panicked tones, but ignored it as he raced across the tiles to the next building. At the last second, he jumped, just barely grabbing onto the edge of the roof.
He could feel the ragged bricks scrapping at the jeans he was wearing and tried desperately to find a foothold so that he could pull himself over. After a few seconds of scrambling, he finally managed to get enough leverage and hoisted his body with a power that was belied by his lean frame. He lay down against the slate tiles, breathing through his mouth to catch some air. When he was sure that he wouldn’t sound so winded, he picked up the walkie-talkie.
“HEERO? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? ANSWER ME THIS SECOND! I’M NOT GOING TO TELL DUO THAT YOU FUCKING DIED ON A STUPID MISSION LIKE THIS!” Quatre was screaming in a pitch that Heero didn’t think the blond could actually reach without doing permanent damage to his vocal chords.
“I’m fine, Quatre,” he whispered.
“What happened?” That voice was Chang’s. Heero had never been happier to hear the Chinese man’s clipped tones.
“The leader and his girlfriend came upstairs as I was about to place the last of the charges. I had to take them down, but the noise reached down to the others. I managed to escape before they could catch me and I am currently on the roof of the building next to their hideout.”
“All of the charges are set?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful,” Quatre said, obviously having taken the radio back from Chang. “Climb down the fire escape on the back wall, and we can make our way out. When we get the appropriate distance, then we’ll blow the charges.”
“Ryokai,” Heero muttered, slipping the device back into the waistband of his jeans and sitting up. He could make out the forms of a few of the gang bangers attempting to climb up to the roof, but none seemed physically able. He shook his head and belly-crawled to where he could see the metal fire escape, right where Quatre had said it would be.
He quickly made his way down the two storeys of metal stairs and then ran full speed down the alley until he made it to the rendezvous point with Chang and Quatre. The blond gave him a watery smile, while Chang ran a critical eye over him.
“You’re out of practice, Yuy.” Heero stared back at his former comrade and waited for the critique. “You’re injured and your clothes are torn. Duo’s going to have a fit.”
“It was acceptable in the situation,” Heero answered stoically. “Besides, I’ve had worse, and from Duo himself.”
Chang eyed Heero’s mending nose and snorted. “True. Set off the explosives, and then we’ll return back to the orphanage. Hopefully, we’ll get there before the older children return from school. We need to clean up and don’t want them to ask questions.”
“I agree,” Quatre said, rubbing a spot of blood on his pale cheeks. “I don’t think that we were every that stupid when we were teenagers.”
“We were never regular teenagers, Winner,” Chang said casually as the started down the street. “We were fighting OZ when we were their age.”
“That’s a sad thought,” the blond said morosely.
Heero ignored their banter, counting the seconds in his head as they walked down the street. When they were fifteen seconds, ten blocks, away from the gang’s hideout, he blew the detonator. The ground was rocked by the explosion, forcing Heero to his knees. He heard grunts coming from his companions, signifying that he wasn’t the only one affected by the blast’s impact. “We need to hurry,” he said tersely, getting to his feet and ignoring both the jarring pain of his wounded shoulder and the knee he’d obviously bruised on the ground. “This area is going to be crawling with law enforcement shortly, and I don’t want to be caught.”
The three men were silent as they raced down the back alleys to the orphanage, but the only thing on Heero’s mind was a nice shower and possibly a nap before he found somewhere else to be. He was definitely doing nothing but bringing trouble to his old comrades.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Duo looked up from where he’d just put down little Megan for her afternoon nap when the building started to shake. It felt like an earthquake had rocked L2, but he knew that was impossible. It had to have been an explosion. He felt sick as that realization struck home. As angry as he’d been at Heero for being an idiot, he didn’t want him hurt or worse. While he made his way downstairs to where his friends were waiting, Duo silently prayed that Heero and the others would be all right.
He looked up as he saw the main doors open, showing Heero holding his left shoulder and Wufei and Quatre only appearing dirty and a little torn. The braided man was grateful that the children had all gone down for their naps already, so he didn’t have to deal with questions he couldn’t answer. “What happened?” he whispered heatedly.
“Maxwell, you don’t really want us to answer that question,” Wufei answered coolly. “I’m going to take a shower and then call Une regarding the whole situation. If the police show up in the meantime, tell them I will speak to them when I’m done with her.”
“A shower sounds like a good idea,” Quatre said tiredly. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Duo turned to look at the last man as his two friends went up to their rooms. “Are you going to shower as well?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at the obviously wounded Japanese man.
“I would like to have my shoulder dressed and the lacerations on my face cleaned before I attempt a shower, if you don’t mind,” Heero said, sounding as tired as Quatre had.
“You’re not going to tell me what happened either, are you?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
“I’d rather not, Duo. When the police get here, you, Trowa, and the girls show know very little about what occurred. It’s safer for you and the children that way.”
“Trowa, could you,” Duo waved one hand in Heero’s direction, “you know? Take care of Heero’s injuries. I’m going to go start up a snack for the kids.”
“We’ll come with you,” Hilde and Cathy said, getting up from the chairs they’d commandeered in the old lobby. The three were silent as they headed into the kitchen, but once the saloon doors swung shut, Hilde spoke again. “Do you think he’s going to stay for sure, Duo?”
“No clue, Hill,” Duo answered, getting ingredients ready for chicken salad. “Let’s hope that Tro can talk some sense into him.”
“If you’re counting on my brother, you must be desperate,” Cathy joked, chopping up grapes and celery for the braided man.
‘You have no idea how much, Cathy,’ he thought while going through the familiar motions of snack preparation.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trowa hauled out the first-aid kit while Heero sat down in one of the recently vacated seats. “You know, coming back injured like this is something I would have expected of Duo or Wufei, not you,” the banged man said stoically.
“It was unavoidable,” Heero answered, trying hard not to say more than was necessary. “It was unplanned. As I told Chang and Winner, I have had worse injuries, from Duo himself.”
“So true,” Trowa said, cleaning out the obvious scratch marks with hydrogen peroxide. “He shot you during your first meeting, right?”
“Yes, he was protecting Relena.”
“And she threatened to shoot him, if I remember the story correctly.”
“You do.”
“What is up with you and the people who care for you? Are you all insane?” Heero hissed as his friend dumped a large amount of the liquid on the bullet grazing on his shoulder. “Don’t answer that. It was rhetorical.”
“I figured as much,” Heero replied through clenched teeth as he saw antiseptic being smothered over his wounds before bandages were put in place.
“Well, you look like shit, Heero, but you’ll live.”
“Thank you, Trowa.”
“Well, it’s not as bad as the last time I had to patch you up,” he said, one eyebrow arching over a single, amused green eye. “So, there’s progress for you.”
“I am going to take my shower now. If Duo needs me, please let him know.”
“Will do. Be careful. I’m sure Quatre or Wufei have more words for you regarding the mission.”
Heero nodded before heading up the stairs at a sedate pace. He still hadn’t made up his mind as to whether he should leave or stay with the others at the orphanage, but he knew he’d have to do so, and soon, if the looks Trowa gave him earlier meant anything.
TBC
Author’s Notes: Omg, I’m so sorry! I didn’t forget about this story, I promise. I’ve just been involved in other stories and RL got weird for a while. I swear that I haven’t abandoned it. It’s just taking longer than I hoped to get around to the chapters with ten works-in-progress right now!
Starting Over, Chapter 9 - Fireworks
Heero nodded to Chang and Winner before he slipped down the dark, dirty alley so that he could begin the process of scaling the building’s side to reach the second floor of the abandoned department store. Strapped to his back was a bag full of C-4, detonators, and several sticks of old-fashioned dynamite. ‘What would Dr. Shaw say if he saw me slipping back into the role of terrorist not even two weeks after my release?’ he thought as he grabbed a hold of the crumbling wall of his target. ‘He’d probably try to throw me right back into therapy, no questions asked.’
When he reached the top, he looked around with a sharp eye, taking in the position of the prostitutes and gang members he could see from his perch. Two men stood at each street corner, while scantily clad teenaged girls and a boy walked up and down the block, trying to tempt the drivers of the vehicles that raced by. Heero could barely hold in a snarl of disgust when a car door opened and revealed a man around the age of fifty or so, Asian decent (probably Vietnamese or Cambodian if the colouring was any indication) and a big-breasted blonde girl hopped in before the door shut again.
He took out the walkie-talkie that Quatre had insisted he take and pressed the comm button. “I’m on the roof,” he said quietly.
“Acknowledged,” the blond responded. “Wufei and I will get into position. Five minutes, and then you can begin to place the charges. When you hear gunshots, get out of there.”
“Ryokai,” Heero said before sliding the walkie-talkie back onto his belt and making his way over to where the roof was beginning to fall down. It was there he placed the first of the C-4 blocks. He then turned his attention to his watch.
True to his word, Quatre and Chang engaged in a very loud and attention grabbing argument with the gang members nearest them. He could hear disparaging remarks being made by both sides, along with occasional comments about one or another’s mothers. The former Wing pilot never understood the subtle art of insults, especially when it turned to parentage. He noticed that Duo and Trowa refrained from engaging in those types of conversations, but Chang had made a comment a time or two towards Duo about his lack of parents. He found it useless when one looked at it. They were all orphans now.
Pushing those idle thoughts away, Heero slipped down into the building through one of the gaping holes in the roof. A small, satisfied smile crossed his face when he made no noise. Without wasting a second, he began distributing the explosives as evenly as possible. Just as he was about to set the last three sticks of dynamite he had in the middle of the sleeping quarters, the sound of feet scuffling on the marble floor made his head turn in the direction of the nearest staircase.
There at the top was the leader of Los Chupacabras and a very ugly woman. He would have compared her to Dorothy Catalonia, but even the tall, blonde woman was aesthetically pleasing, if one discounted her odd, grey eyebrows. “Who’re you?” the dark skinned teen growled, shoving the girl away from him as he moved a hand to the waistband of his pants.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Heero said calmly, pulling his own gun out before the gang’s leader even had his hand on the butt of his gun. “Who I am is of no matter. I know who you are.”
“Everyone in this territory knows who I am,” the kid said with obviously false bravado. “Are you with those faggots down the road? I knew I shoulda set the whole damn place on fire.”
Heero, instead of answering the disgusting creature before him, pulled the trigger of his weapon and smiled when the gang leader jumped back from the marble chips that flew from the floor by his feet.
“You’re a fuckin’ psycho, just like the rest of them fags!” He reached for his gun again and Heero popped off another shot, hitting him in the foot this time. “WHAT THE FUCK, MAN? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Heero stared coolly at the black teen, gun still poised and ready to maim when needed. However, he wasn’t ready for when he was attacked from the side by the girl, whom both males had forgotten about.
“DON’T SHOOT KILLA, YOU FUCKIN’ FAGGOT BASTARD!” she screeched, dragging ragged nails across Heero’s face as she tried to wrestle his gun from his hands. “YOU ASSHOLE! I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!”
The former Gundam pilot wondered if he should rid himself of the girl by a swift chop to the neck, and if he did so would he kill her. When she attempted to kick him in the groin with her pointy shoes, Heero felt an overwhelming sense of anger and smacked the girl hard across her face. He watched as she collapsed and turned his attention back to ‘Killa’. He was staring down the barrel of a Tech-9, an old-fashioned but still rather effective automatic weapon. “You really shouldn’ta hit my girl, man. Now, I’mma hafta kill you.”
Heero said nothing as he ducked, lashing out with one booted foot and connecting with the teen’s shin, causing the spray of bullets to go out in different directions as the boy fell and forgot to take his finger off the trigger. He felt one graze his shoulder and ignored the hot pain that lanced down his arm from the wound to his fingertips. Before the boy could get his balance back to try and shoot him again, Heero jumped forward, snatching the gun away and punching his opponent in the nose, shattering it if the way it gave under his knuckles was any indication. The indignant howl also helped to confirm his suspicions.
With the two teens down, Heero hastily threw the last of his charges into a dark corner. He could hear footsteps pounding up the staircase, letting him know that the altercation hadn’t gone unnoticed. He raced over to the hole he used to enter the building, shouting and shots ringing out as he pulled himself over the lip of the ceiling. He could hear the walkie-talkie screeching in Quatre’s panicked tones, but ignored it as he raced across the tiles to the next building. At the last second, he jumped, just barely grabbing onto the edge of the roof.
He could feel the ragged bricks scrapping at the jeans he was wearing and tried desperately to find a foothold so that he could pull himself over. After a few seconds of scrambling, he finally managed to get enough leverage and hoisted his body with a power that was belied by his lean frame. He lay down against the slate tiles, breathing through his mouth to catch some air. When he was sure that he wouldn’t sound so winded, he picked up the walkie-talkie.
“HEERO? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? ANSWER ME THIS SECOND! I’M NOT GOING TO TELL DUO THAT YOU FUCKING DIED ON A STUPID MISSION LIKE THIS!” Quatre was screaming in a pitch that Heero didn’t think the blond could actually reach without doing permanent damage to his vocal chords.
“I’m fine, Quatre,” he whispered.
“What happened?” That voice was Chang’s. Heero had never been happier to hear the Chinese man’s clipped tones.
“The leader and his girlfriend came upstairs as I was about to place the last of the charges. I had to take them down, but the noise reached down to the others. I managed to escape before they could catch me and I am currently on the roof of the building next to their hideout.”
“All of the charges are set?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful,” Quatre said, obviously having taken the radio back from Chang. “Climb down the fire escape on the back wall, and we can make our way out. When we get the appropriate distance, then we’ll blow the charges.”
“Ryokai,” Heero muttered, slipping the device back into the waistband of his jeans and sitting up. He could make out the forms of a few of the gang bangers attempting to climb up to the roof, but none seemed physically able. He shook his head and belly-crawled to where he could see the metal fire escape, right where Quatre had said it would be.
He quickly made his way down the two storeys of metal stairs and then ran full speed down the alley until he made it to the rendezvous point with Chang and Quatre. The blond gave him a watery smile, while Chang ran a critical eye over him.
“You’re out of practice, Yuy.” Heero stared back at his former comrade and waited for the critique. “You’re injured and your clothes are torn. Duo’s going to have a fit.”
“It was acceptable in the situation,” Heero answered stoically. “Besides, I’ve had worse, and from Duo himself.”
Chang eyed Heero’s mending nose and snorted. “True. Set off the explosives, and then we’ll return back to the orphanage. Hopefully, we’ll get there before the older children return from school. We need to clean up and don’t want them to ask questions.”
“I agree,” Quatre said, rubbing a spot of blood on his pale cheeks. “I don’t think that we were every that stupid when we were teenagers.”
“We were never regular teenagers, Winner,” Chang said casually as the started down the street. “We were fighting OZ when we were their age.”
“That’s a sad thought,” the blond said morosely.
Heero ignored their banter, counting the seconds in his head as they walked down the street. When they were fifteen seconds, ten blocks, away from the gang’s hideout, he blew the detonator. The ground was rocked by the explosion, forcing Heero to his knees. He heard grunts coming from his companions, signifying that he wasn’t the only one affected by the blast’s impact. “We need to hurry,” he said tersely, getting to his feet and ignoring both the jarring pain of his wounded shoulder and the knee he’d obviously bruised on the ground. “This area is going to be crawling with law enforcement shortly, and I don’t want to be caught.”
The three men were silent as they raced down the back alleys to the orphanage, but the only thing on Heero’s mind was a nice shower and possibly a nap before he found somewhere else to be. He was definitely doing nothing but bringing trouble to his old comrades.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Duo looked up from where he’d just put down little Megan for her afternoon nap when the building started to shake. It felt like an earthquake had rocked L2, but he knew that was impossible. It had to have been an explosion. He felt sick as that realization struck home. As angry as he’d been at Heero for being an idiot, he didn’t want him hurt or worse. While he made his way downstairs to where his friends were waiting, Duo silently prayed that Heero and the others would be all right.
He looked up as he saw the main doors open, showing Heero holding his left shoulder and Wufei and Quatre only appearing dirty and a little torn. The braided man was grateful that the children had all gone down for their naps already, so he didn’t have to deal with questions he couldn’t answer. “What happened?” he whispered heatedly.
“Maxwell, you don’t really want us to answer that question,” Wufei answered coolly. “I’m going to take a shower and then call Une regarding the whole situation. If the police show up in the meantime, tell them I will speak to them when I’m done with her.”
“A shower sounds like a good idea,” Quatre said tiredly. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Duo turned to look at the last man as his two friends went up to their rooms. “Are you going to shower as well?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at the obviously wounded Japanese man.
“I would like to have my shoulder dressed and the lacerations on my face cleaned before I attempt a shower, if you don’t mind,” Heero said, sounding as tired as Quatre had.
“You’re not going to tell me what happened either, are you?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
“I’d rather not, Duo. When the police get here, you, Trowa, and the girls show know very little about what occurred. It’s safer for you and the children that way.”
“Trowa, could you,” Duo waved one hand in Heero’s direction, “you know? Take care of Heero’s injuries. I’m going to go start up a snack for the kids.”
“We’ll come with you,” Hilde and Cathy said, getting up from the chairs they’d commandeered in the old lobby. The three were silent as they headed into the kitchen, but once the saloon doors swung shut, Hilde spoke again. “Do you think he’s going to stay for sure, Duo?”
“No clue, Hill,” Duo answered, getting ingredients ready for chicken salad. “Let’s hope that Tro can talk some sense into him.”
“If you’re counting on my brother, you must be desperate,” Cathy joked, chopping up grapes and celery for the braided man.
‘You have no idea how much, Cathy,’ he thought while going through the familiar motions of snack preparation.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trowa hauled out the first-aid kit while Heero sat down in one of the recently vacated seats. “You know, coming back injured like this is something I would have expected of Duo or Wufei, not you,” the banged man said stoically.
“It was unavoidable,” Heero answered, trying hard not to say more than was necessary. “It was unplanned. As I told Chang and Winner, I have had worse injuries, from Duo himself.”
“So true,” Trowa said, cleaning out the obvious scratch marks with hydrogen peroxide. “He shot you during your first meeting, right?”
“Yes, he was protecting Relena.”
“And she threatened to shoot him, if I remember the story correctly.”
“You do.”
“What is up with you and the people who care for you? Are you all insane?” Heero hissed as his friend dumped a large amount of the liquid on the bullet grazing on his shoulder. “Don’t answer that. It was rhetorical.”
“I figured as much,” Heero replied through clenched teeth as he saw antiseptic being smothered over his wounds before bandages were put in place.
“Well, you look like shit, Heero, but you’ll live.”
“Thank you, Trowa.”
“Well, it’s not as bad as the last time I had to patch you up,” he said, one eyebrow arching over a single, amused green eye. “So, there’s progress for you.”
“I am going to take my shower now. If Duo needs me, please let him know.”
“Will do. Be careful. I’m sure Quatre or Wufei have more words for you regarding the mission.”
Heero nodded before heading up the stairs at a sedate pace. He still hadn’t made up his mind as to whether he should leave or stay with the others at the orphanage, but he knew he’d have to do so, and soon, if the looks Trowa gave him earlier meant anything.
TBC