Title: Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

Part: two / ?  Chance Meetings

Authour: sushisama (sbolce@esper.com)

Warnings : shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 3+4/4+3 (implied)

Disclaimer : I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, not as fun as reading fan fiction from some adoring fan, at least.  But, I’m side tracking here.  ^-^;;; There would be no point to suing me, though I have money, it isn’t much. 

Notes:  Thanks to everyone that reviewed the first part.  I really wasn’t expecting everyone to like it so much...  That makes me feel all fuzzie inside.  Or maybe that’s because of my sinus infection?  I don’t know.  *shrugs*  So, by request, I finally typed up part two (you’d better be happy, Gavin).  You must realize, though, that I’ve actually already written parts one through four and a half.  Whether or not they get typed just depends on how lazy I am.  Hieh.  Anyways, enough with the babbling!  On with the second part.

            / / = denotes thoughts : [ ] = begins and ends dreaming : ( ) = flashbacks

::*~~*::

            On the trip back to the safe house, it was as quiet as the trip back from the mission the day before.  Heero was, again, being the driver of the vehicle while Duo stared out his window.  His thoughts kept going back to the night before and that morning.

            / He wanted me to hold him.  He wanted me to hold him. /  He sighed heavily, getting the attention momentarily of the Japanese pilot.  Duo watched the trees as they went along the road, recalling the entire morning.

            ( Duo awoke to the sight of the Japanese boy still in his arms.  He smiled and nestled his cheek into Heero’s hair.

            “Hn...”

            “Are you awake, Heero?”

            “Have been.”

            “For how long...?”

            “Fifteen minutes.”

            Duo couldn’t help but blush a little.  He expected Heero to shove him away once he woke up.  Yet, there he was, the Wing pilot still curled up in his arms.  / Don’t let this moment end, please... don’t let it end... /

            To the American’s disappointment, Heero pushed Duo away a bit, unwrapping himself from the other’s arms.  “We should be getting ready to leave.  Quatre will be waiting,” he muttered, standing up.

            Duo nodded in agreement.

            Heero stepped over the bathroom door, resting his hand on the knob.  Then he spoke, not turning his head. “- Duo?”

            “Yeah, Heero?”

            “Thank you.”

            Before Duo could say anything in return, Heero had already closed the door. )

::*~~*::

            “Heero?” Duo broke the silence.

            “What?” the answer came flatly.

            / Damn it, he’s gone back to his old self. /  “What.. was that about?”

            “What was what about?”  Heero pretended not to remember. He knew what the American meant.  He just didn’t want to admit the weakness... or his dream.  / No... I can’t let him know he caught me in a moment of weakness.  I am the perfect, I cannot have weaknesses. /

            “Don’t play dumb.”  Duo’s voice had a hint of concern. 

            “It was nothing.”

            / Stop, Duo, / he mentally warned himself.  / You’ll push him away.  He’ll hate you for having seen his tears, for holding him.  Let it stand, at least I’ll remember it; at least it means something to me. /

            “Nothing? You were clinging on to me like a child!”  Duo’s mouth betrayed his thoughts.  Heero gave silence as a response.

            / Instinct.  It was only instinct.  I needed the comfort, even if just for a moment.  It felt like the thing to do.  Always go with your feelings... always go with your feelings.. /  Heero swallowed. / But how can I tell Duo that?  No, he’ll think me weak.  He will... /

            “Heero.”  The American laid his hand on the Japanese one’s that was resting on the steering wheel.  “Tell me what happened.  What was wrong?  Come on, you can tell me – I won’t judge, I just want to help.”

            His touch was warm and soft.  He kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the boy’s compassion.

            “Heero..”  He rubbed his thumb across the back of Heero’s hand. “Please...”

            / God... I didn’t know touch could feel so ... nice.   He’s so warm.  And soft.  I just want to go back into his arms, against his skin... /

            Heero’s eyes widened.  He ripped his hand away from the American’s touch.  He let his eyes stay on the road,  putting all his concentration into what lay ahead, not noticing the confused look on Duo’s face. 

            Duo stared at the dark haired boy for a minute, hoping that Heero would look at him, it only for a second.  Unfortunately, the gaze was not returned.  Sighing, Duo sank back into his seat, leaning his head against the window.

            The rest of the trip was made in silence.

::*~~*::

            “What!?”  Duo exclaimed.  “But... but we just got back from a mission!  Don’t we even get to sit down for a minute!?”  He threw his arms up to emphasize his point.

            He still had his pack swung over his shoulder, standing just inside the door, Heero standing behind him.  Quatre, the one he was yelling at, was flinching at the American’s voice.  He wasn’t comfortable with being yelled at and wished he had sent Trowa or Wufei to give the message instead.

            “I-I’m sorry, Duo...”  The American crossed his arms and glared at the Arabian.  But Quatre could tell that he was only trying to mock Heero.  The blonde had to stifle a giggle.  “But we have to move out a.s.a.p.  We’ll go to a hot springs afterwards, okay?  That’ll be relaxing.”

            “Sounds good to me!”  Duo’s glare subsided to his normal, goofy smile.  He turned to the boy behind him.  “What do you think, Heero?”

            “Hn.”  He pushed the braided boy aside and moved until he was just behind the blonde.  His back still facing them, he commented, “You shouldn’t have to bribe him.  He should do it without hesitation.”  He was speaking to Quatre directly, ignoring Duo.  “We’ll brief in the living room in five minutes. “  The Japanese boy walked down the hall to his room.

            Duo and Quatre watched Heero until they heard the sound of his door closing and locking.

            “Hn!” Quatre looked back at the glaring boy, Duo’s hands on his hips.  “Man, why is he always so uptight?”  He sighed heavily.  “No rest for the ‘Perfect Soldier’, I suppose...” / Even if he did get more sleep than me last night... /

            “Would you like any coffee, Duo?” Quatre laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

            “Yeah, that’d be great, Quatre.”

::*~~*::

            Five minutes later, Duo found his way into the living room, a cup of coffee in hand.  He had changed into a black muscle shirt and blue jeans.  The room had four large chairs in it, one already occupied by Heero, and a couch, with a small coffee table in the middle.  He flopped down into a large chair, sinking into its cushions.  He looked at the Japanese boy that was sitting on the other side of the room from him, who was pulling out his laptop.  Duo closed his eyes, taking a sip of coffee, and let out a sigh.  His peace was broken by the sound of typing.

            Duo looked at Heero.  His eyes went over Heero’s face, noticing how cold and stern it was.  So much different than the night before.  Heero had smiled when he received the back massage.  Not an evil smile, like did sometimes on missions, but a real smile.  Duo let out another sigh.  / I wish he’d smile like that more often.. /

            “What is it Duo?”

            Duo was ripped out of his thoughts.  He had been staring, he realized.  He shook his head, the chestnut braid swooshing back and forth.  “Nothing...”

            At that moment, Wufei appeared in the doorway.  He ran his eyes over the two boys.  Duo was staring at Heero.  But the second he stepped in, the American turned to face him.  He had a look of concern on his face, but it was quickly replaced by his customary grin.

            “Hey, Wu-man!  How ya been?  Miss me any?”

            “Ch’.” Wufei moved over to a chair next to Duo and sat down.  “I enjoy the company of silence more than your voice, Maxwell.”

            “Hidoi, Wufei!” Duo cried, sticking out his tongue at the Chinese pilot and pulling down his eyelid.

            “Welcome back, you two,” came a voice from the door way.  Duo and Wufei looked up at the boy in the door.  His red-brown bangs were slicked over to one side so only one eye could be seen.  Heero didn’t bother looking up.

            “Hey, Trowa!” Duo gave a small wave.  “Was it boring without the two of us here?”  he inquired.

            “Yes, it’s dull without your fighting,” came Quatre’s voice behind Trowa.  He giggled at his own joke.  Heero gave a glance through his bangs at Quatre then went back to typing.

            Trowa and Quatre sat on the couch.  Duo noticed how close they were to each other, surprised that Quatre wasn’t sitting in the other’s lap.  The other pilots knew they were together; it wasn’t any secret.  They probably just wanted to act accordingly in public.  He glanced over at the Japanese boy, then back at the couple, envying them a little.

            / Trowa used to be so cold.  Now that he’s with Quatre, he’s warming up to us.  Why can’t Heero let me do the same for him? / He took a sip of his coffee and turned his attention directly at Quatre, as well as the other three pilots.   He had been the one to receive the message, so they expected him to rally it.

            “Well.”  The Arabian cleared his throat.  “The mission’s for all five of us.  We are to infiltrate the OZ base at the coordinates given to us.  We have to access some specific files, destroy their computer system, and blow up the hanger that’s there.  I will stay in the getaway van and give you all directions on where you need to go. Duo –“ He glanced at the American pilot. “-You will be getting in to grab the files and set the virus.  Wufei –“

            “Wait,” Duo chimed in,  putting his coffee on the small table.  “Should I really be the one to do the computer stuff?  I’m not as good at it as Heero or Trowa...”

            “The orders said you’re the one to do it, Duo.” The American gave a sigh of defeat.  Quatre continued, “Wufei, you and Heero will be in charge of destroying the hanger.  There’s supposively some new type of mobile suit there.”

            “And me?”

            “You’ll be backup, Trowa.”  The green-eyed boy nodded.  “You’ll wait for my signal to set the explosives.  After Trowa and Duo have evacuated and met up with me, I’ll give the signal.  Then you two head back towards the van.  Got it?”

            “Ninmu ryoukai.”  Heero closed down his laptop and stood up.  “Let’s move out.”

            After Heero exited, Trowa and Quatre followed.  Wufei got to the door and then stopped, turning around to face the American pilot.  He was staring at his cup of coffee, his chin on his hands.

            “Come on, Maxwell.  We’re leaving now.”

            The braided boy didn’t move.

            “Maxwell?”

            The Chinese pilot stared at the American.  /What’s wrong with him?  He should’ve complained about leaving this quickly.  Or at least hurry to follow Yuy and annoy him./

            “-Wufei?”

            “Yes, Maxwell?”

            Duo paused.  “Never mind...”  He stood, coffee in hand, and walked to the side of the black-haired boy.  “Let’s get goin’, okay?  Don’t want Heero to get mad, ne?”  He flashed his trademark smile at Wufei and then walked out.  The Chinese boy watched after him, sighing, and then followed.

::*~~*::

            The mission seemed simple enough.  All Duo had to do was send the files to Quatre and then inject the virus into the system.  He had already sent the files and was now working on the virus.  Trowa was standing a few doors down, keeping a look out.  Duo figured that Heero and Wufei were already in the hanger by now, waiting for Quatre’s signal.

            Duo was about 90% done with injecting the virus, when Trowa’s static voice came over his com.

            “Duo.. There.. soldiers... ming... you way.  Be...ful.”  Duo wondered why the communications were so messed up, though Trowa was only a few doors away.  / He must’ve moved. /

            Heeding the warning, Duo slid across the wall, watching the computer screen.  Ninety-eight percent.  Duo wasn’t worried about staying to make sure it was completely done.  He slipped through the door opposite the one he had come through.  He took his gun from its side holster, ready to shoot anyone that got in his way.

            He looked over the room he had just entered.  It was large and hollow, like a hanger.  It was a small hanger, to be exact : only about three mobile suits could be held in it.  / Wait...  There was supposed to be only one hanger, and Heero and Wufei are there. /  He surveyed the area for his friends.  / And they aren’t in here, so - /

            Duo’s mouth flew open when he laid his eyes on the mobile suit that occupied the room, merely fifteen meters away.  It was kneeling on one knee, its cockpit open.  There was a sheet upon its frame, enabling him to see much detail, but he could see its figure and some of its colours.  It was crimson and charcoal.  But what really got him was that the mobile suit wasn’t designed like any of the Leos or Aries, but like... like a Gundam!

            “Shimatta.” 

            Duo tried to find the source of the voice.  He his himself in the shadows behind a lift.  The source was on the knee of the Gundam, adjusting something on its arm.

            “It was overkill... My poor baby...” 

            Duo cocked an eyebrow at the weird statement.

            The figure stopped what he was doing and turned his head towards the door that Duo has just slipped away from.  He heard footsteps and voices from the previous room.  He held up his gun, ready to shoot anyone that came out the door.  The noises faded away.  Duo let out a sigh of relief, lowering his gun.  He looked back at the person on the Gundam, only to find the human missing.

            Duo was suddenly grabbed by his right wrist.  A pressure point was hit and he dropped the weapon while his arm was being twisted behind his back.  Another arm wrapped itself around his neck, giving a light squeeze.  Duo instinctively reached up his free hand to grasp at the arm around his throat, only grabbing the sleeve of the other’s jacket.  When he did get his fingers around his arm, he pulled at it to no avail.

            The American let out a whimper as his arm was pulled far enough so that his hand could grab his left side.

            Duo could feel the warm breath of the attack on his neck, as well as his hair, as he leaned closer to his ear.  “From OZ, I suppose...?  Want to join your fallen comrades...?”  The voice had a hint of disturbing playfulness.

            The American’s only response was a choke, the arm tightening around his throat.  It was suddenly removed, but a second later, Duo’s braid was grabbed and used to fling the American back, so the assailant could knee him in the solar plexus.  Duo fell to the floor, gasping for breath.  He turned onto his side, coughing.  He looked up, trying to see his attacker’s face, but was unsuccessful due to the dim lighting.

            The Deathscythe pilot flipped on his stomach and then rose so he was on his hands and knees.  However, his ribs were kicked in by a heavy boot, sending him back to the floor.

            The braided pilot was flipped onto his back by the other’s foot.

            “...uhhh...” Duo looked up at the figure now standing over him.

            “Hm,” the shadow half-scoffed, half-snickered.  “At first... I thought you were a girl.”  He positioned himself so that his feet were at Duo’s sides, pinning his arms.  He squatted down, leaning his face close to the American’s.  Through his dazed vision and the dim light, Duo could see the flicker of a gray eye.  The other was covered by what seemed to be hair.  The depth of the other’s eye was even more devoid of emotion than Heero’s cobalt eyes, but at the same time they were full of mischief, violence, and.. lust?  The mere thought of it made Duo shiver.

            The grin across the other’s face grew wider, please by the American’s fear.  He placed a gloved hand upon the shocking boy’s forehead, brushing his bangs out of his face.

            “Though... you are awfully cute, boy or girl.  Too bad you saw my baby.. “  The attacker shifted his gaze to the Gundam and then back to the boy beneath him.  The American’s eyes were tightly closed, letting out a small mewl.  The aggressor moved his hand from the forehead to the Deathscythe pilot’s throat, his other gloved hand joining it.  He applied pressure.

            The American’s vision was slowly fading to black, the world dissolving with it.

            Sure of the braided boy’s unconscious, the figure leaned over to kiss his forehead.

            “Oyasumi, my little Gundam pilot,” he whispered.

::*~~*::

            Heero tightened his grip on the handle of the Desert Eagle.  He stood just outside of the door to the hanger, Wufei on the other side of it.  They had their bags of explosives swung over their shoulders, watching the hallway for any signs of officers.  It had been forty minutes since Duo was supposed to inject the virus.  He should’ve been done by now.  What the hell was taking so long?  Heero took out his com and switched it on.

            “Quatre.”

            “Yes?”

            “Have you head anything from Duo or Trowa?”

            “I heard from Trowa a little while ago.  He had encountered some officers, but easily took them out.  Some others had entered the computer room, but they came back empty-handed.  Trowa assumed that Duo had slipped out and already made his way back.  The coms weren’t working between the two, so maybe-“

            “Hey, Quatre,” the Chinese pilot spoke into his own com.

            “Yes, Wufei?”

            “What does the door across from us go to?”

            Heero eyed the black-haired pilot and then looked across the hall.  Indeed, there was a door there, that blended in pretty well with the rest of the wall.  Even the Wing pilot himself had trouble seeing it.  It was a little smaller than the door the two pilots were now standing in front of.

            “Umm... What door, Wufei? There are no other rooms then the one next to you guys.”

            “Quatre, tell Trowa to come up here and take out place.  Wufei and I will out this new room.”

            “Roger.”

            With that, the two pilots put away their coms.  They approached the door, of which had a keypad lock on it.  It was more than easy for Heero to pick.

            They slid against the walls of either side of the door, Heero with his gun in hand, Wufei having his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathed it if needed.

            Heero gestured that he was going to continue down the wall and that Wufei should continue down the other one.  He nodded and they completely separated paths.

            Heero surveyed the area, noticing a large mobile suit in the small hanger.  It was completely wrapped in a parachute sheet, enabling the Japanese youth to see what model it was.  He continued looking around the room, until he laid eyes upon a figure leaning up against a crate.  Upon closer inspection, he saw a chestnut colour braid snaked from the head to the ground.

            Heero’s eyes widen and he hurried over to the fallen pilot, peering to his sides to make sure no one was around.  He leaned over the American and laid a hand on his shoulder.  He shook him lightly.

            “Oi, Duo..  Get up, we need to get going.”

            No response.

            Heero pulled the braided pilot close to inspect him.  He was out.  Cold.  The Japanese pilot let out a sigh as he picked up his fallen comrade and swung him over his shoulder.

            He heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed and looked to its source.  Wufei had his sword drawn, down in a fighting stance, facing a person who had their arms crossed.

            A dim light hung above the two.  Because of it,  Heero could catch a glimpse of the teenager’s features.  The Wing pilot’s mouth fell open.

            The youth’s left eye was covered by red and black bangs, his right eye the colour of gray.  The hair on his head came to the nape of his neck, a rat tail sneaking down to his middle back.  He skin was a golden colour, the Egyptian heritage showing.  He wore an aviator’s jacket that had the eye of Horus on the back, and a blue shirt that showed a little of his chest.  Around his neck was a chain with dog tags.  His hands were gloved.  He wore large parachute pants that were tucked into military lace-up boots.  There was a mocking grin plastered on his face, gray eye twinkling.

            The Wing pilot switch Duo more comfortably (for him, at least, seeing as Duo was out) into both his arms after putting his gun back in his spandex.  He gulped and bit his lower lip.  Then he walked over to the quarrelling teenagers.

::*~~*::

            Wufei stood in a stance, sword drawn, glaring at the boy that had approached him from the shadows.  / So silently, / Wufei thought,  / I never even heard his footsteps. /  He wore a cocky grin, arms crossed, looking at the Chinese pilot through only one gray eye, the other covered by hair.  From his face structer and skin tone, Wufei could decipher that he was Egyptian.

            Before the black-haired boy could strike, a voice spoke from the darkness.

            “Saraka.”

            The red headed youth and the Chinese pilot turned to the source.  Heero stood there, holding the American pilot in his arms, the ladder being unconscious.

            The Egyptian teenager grinned wider.  “Heero-kun.  I didn’t think I’d see you anytime soon.”

            “What are you doing here?”  Heero snarled.  His voice was a little quieter than normal and had a trace of apprehension within it.  Wufei noticed the Wing pilot’s gaze was set directly on the other’s gray eye, as if expecting this ‘Saraka’ to make a sudden motion.

            “Ch’,” was Saraka’s reply.  He tilted his head to the side in an arrogant manner.  “Just thought I’d go out for a mission, ne?  Needed some action.  So boring back at the lab.”  The other put his hands behind his head.  “So easily destroyed, all of them.  I was going to get rid of the base... but...  aw, hell, isn’t important, ne?  You guys were probably going to do it anyways, weren’t you?”  He looked towards Wufei.  “Another pilot, I take it?”  He looked at the boy in Heero’s grasp, a twinkle of like in his eye.  “Him, too?”

            The Japanese boy’s grip on the American visibly tightened.  The look of apprehension started to mingle with pure anger.  “Yes.  Do you know what happened to him?”

            Saraka shrugged.

            “Excuse me.”  The two boys turned to face Wufei, who was only now sheathing his sword.  “May I know what’s going on and who the hell this is?”

            “My name is Saraka Set Legacy,” the red headed boy started, extending a hand to the Chinese pilot.  “I pilot the Gundam Amun.  And you?”

            Wufei blinked.  Another pilot?  That couldn’t be possible.  After a few hesitant seconds, the Shenlong pilot grasped the other’s hand and shook, tightening his grip a little.  However, Saraka didn’t even seem to be notice; instead, he tightened his own grip, causing Wufei to wince.  “I... I am Chang Wufei, pilot of Shenlong.”  They dropped their hands.  “How do you know Yuy?”

            “I guess you could say we’re old comrades.”

            Heero flinched at Saraka’s words, but quickly recovered his composure.

            “So, what are you doing alone?  If you’re a Gundam pilot, shouldn’t you be working with us?”

            Saraka’s eye seemed to light up.  “Is that an invitation?”
            “I suppose so.”

            Has Wufei taken his eyes off the Egyptian pilot, he might’ve noticed the short look of panic that had crawled onto Heero’s face.  He shook his head and found his equanimity once more.

            Saraka turned to the Japanese pilot.  “Of course, you don’t object, right, Heero-kun?”   He flashed the Wing pilot a toothy grin, a chanellege to object to the offer in his eye.

            “Hn.”  Heero turned his gaze to Wufei.  “He’s trustworthy and he and his Gundam could make a valuable addition.”  He regretted accepting, but he didn’t want to explain to the Shenlong pilot –why- he didn’t want the Egyptian pilot around.  No, he couldn’t tell anyone about –that-.

            Saraka pulled out a permanent maker from his jacket pocket and stepped up to Wufei.  He handed the Chinese pilot the writing utensil and pulled up his left sleeve.  There was a pattern of anhks that encircled right above his elbow.

            “Here: Write the coordinates of you safe house down.”  He flipped his arm over to the lighter side of his arm (which wasn’t much lighter) and trusted it in front of Wufei.  “You guys can go ahead and leave, I’ll wait here for thirty minutes and then blow this place up.  I’ll find some place to hide my baby and then meet up with you guys at the safe house.”

            Wufei cocked an eyebrow at the Egyptian’s pet name for his Gundam.  He then said, “And if we move out by then?”  He uncapped the pen and began to write on Saraka’s skin.

            “Though I highly doubt that, “ Saraka mused, shrugged with his free arm. “I’ll find a way to contact you.  Hell, unless Yowai has had some sort of character change, he’ll probably be sitting at his laptop.  I’ll just email ‘im.”

            “ ‘Yowai’ ?” Wufei recapped the pen and handed it back to Saraka, who pocketed it.  The Shenlong pilot was still not that good with Japanese and was unsure of the meaning of the word.

            “My little nickname for Heero,”  he snickered.  He walked over to the Japanese pilot and swung an arm around his shoulders.  “Ne, Yowaiko?”

            “Omae o korosu,”  Heero snarled, his words carrying a personal hatred for the Egyptian.

            The Amun pilot smirked at the Wing pilot but then turned his gaze to the unconscious boy in his arms.  His smile widened.

            Eyeing the Egyptian wearily, Heero said, “Let’s get going.”  He shrugged off Saraka’s arm.  “We’ll see you at the safe house.  Wufei, go find Trowa;  I’ll go ahead and take Duo back to the van.”

            The Chinese pilot nodded.

            “I’ll see you two later.”  Saraka waved.  “Aten-Ra be with you.”  He walked over to the mobile suit, no doubt his Gundam, that was covered by the parachute sheet.  He disappeared underneath it.

            Heero began to walk away to the door they had come through, Wufei close behind.  Duo made a small whimper and buried his head into Heero’s chest.  The Japanese boy let out a sigh, hoping that they would not encounter any officers on the way back.

::*~~*::

            Trowa settled into the driver’s seat, Quatre sitting in the passenger, and Wufei right between them in the back, kneeling on the cold floor.  Heero was poised against the double doors of the van. 

            He had laid Duo in his lap, inspecting him for visible injuries.  A couple of bruises on the face, one on his arm.  No blood, though.

            In the front, the other three pilots were discussing what all had happened.  It seemed that Duo’s COM had had a malfunction, the reason why Trowa had trouble warning him and locating him afterwards.  Wufei talked about the meeting with Saraka and about the Amun pilot’s arrival in about a day.

            Heero found himself only half-listening.  He had put all of his attention into the boy in his arms.  He ran his calloused fingers over the bruised sides of Duo’s neck.  He had been strangled, apparently.

            Duo had no sense of consciousness.  Heero was unsure how long Duo had been like this before he and the Shenlong pilot had made it into the newly found hanger.  It must’ve been awhile, though.

            Heero brushed chestnut strands from Duo’s face.  He stared at the other’s heart-shaped face, his lips twisting while the Deathscythe pilot let out a moan.  The Japanese pilot stoked Duo’s cheek mindlessly.  Heero found an apart of him hating the sight of the American in pain.  But he had been in pain before, and Heero had not cared as much as he did now.  So, why was he feeling protective, only recently?  Like... like he wanted to rip off the head of whoever had harmed the loud-mouthed pilot.

            “What was his name again?” Quatre asked to Wufei in front.

            “Saraka,” the Chinese pilot replied.

            Heero felt his mind spin into anger at the mere mention of the Egyptian.  He unconsciously entwined his fingers with Duo’s as he remembered the all-to-familiar look Saraka had given the American.  He knew the look very well.  It was the same look the Egyptian had given him every time he... Heero made an inaudible growl in his throat at the thought of the humiliation he had gone through due to Saraka.

            /  Saraka... /  His grip tightened around Duo’s hand.  He drew the boy closer, allowing the American’s head to rest in between his neck and shoulder.  Heero wrapped his free arm around Duo’s waist and laid his cheek on the top of his head.  He couldn’t explain the need for protecting the braided pilot.  It was just... there.  Maybe he had always felt defensiveness for Duo, just not this strongly?  Until, that is, there was a real threat.  A threat like Saraka.

            How was he to explain his feelings?  He wasn’t sure what any of them meant.  He wasn’t supposed to have these kind of protective feelings for anyone.  No, there was not supposed to be any attachment to anyone.  Yet, Heero knew, that if Saraka even so much as touched Duo, he would give him the most torturous death ever.

            / No...  I can’t.  Saraka is useful; I can’t kill him due to some person vendetta.  Besides – /  Heero closed his cobalt eyes, / – Duo may not like the idea of this kind of protection.  It’s too... personal.  This must end.  Having to protect him is a flaw, a weakness.  No, you cannot – you will not – think me weak, Duo. /

            With a sign, Heero laid Duo on the metal floor of the van, the American’s head drawn onto his lap.  He took the rubber band from Duo’s braid and gently pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor.  The Wing pilot began to unbraid the mass of hair and play with it, a subconscious action.  His eyes became unseeing as he retreated into the back of his mind, digging for something, anything, that would tell him what he was feeling.

            Wufei looked over his shoulder to check on the two in the back.  He cocked an eyebrow at the scene of Heero playing with the Deathscythe pilot’s chestnut braid, the Japanese boy’s eyes distant, a mix of anger and confusion with the cobalt.  He didn’t even seem to notice the look of curiosity and concern that Wufei was giving him.

            / He’s been acting odd since we met up with Saraka.  I wonder how they know each other...? /

::*~~*::

            / Duo...  You’re changing me so much.  How..?  Damn it!  Why did you hold me last night!?  That must be it!  I probably just feel like I owe him something.. /  But he was lying to himself.  He would never feel like he owed someone anything – because he never did before.  / But now... now I feel like I owe him something.  So, I’ll... I’ll protect you from Saraka.  I won’t let him touch you.  Even if he uses me again, in your place.  I won’t let him new you.  I promise... /

            “What was the, Yuy?”

            Heero snapped to attention.  / I said that out loud!?  Damn it!  Those words are for Duo only.  And he’s missed the chance to hear them... /  “Nothing.”

            Wufei stared him for a moment, then moved his eyes to the American in Heero’s lap, then back to the Japanese boy.  “How do you know Saraka, anyways?”

            Heero’s features seem to tighten at the sound of the Egyptian’s name.  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.  Later, Wufei.  When we get back and I’ve had a chance to sleep.”

            The Chinese boy’s obsidian eyes met Japanese’s cobalt ones.  The look of confusion and anger was still there.  He decided not to press the matter, so he shrugged and turned his attention back to the front and the two other pilots.

            Heero sighed and leaned his head down so his lips were close to Duo’s ear.  “I promise.”