Gundam Wing, Shutter, Heero x Duo [1/3]
Jun. 5th, 2015 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_goldenpathTitle: Shutter
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings: forthcoming Heero x Duo
Genre: some drama, romance
Warnings: shounen-ai, foul language
Summary: Heero Yuy, award-winning reporter and photographer, travels to the L2 cluster colony to write a book about the colonists and the ongoing war. He’s more than surprised to find a young cleric, a priest, who will do anything to save the children at his church.
Key: ----- = scene change
I tried to kill some time at the space port by filling out a ridiculous easy crossword puzzle. Whoever made space travel this incredibly tedious, I would like to have a conversation with him. Or her, I don’t know. My destination, the L2 colony cluster, was the worst of them all to boot. Not in terms of ‘tedious’, but in terms of ‘aggravating’. The security checks were ludicrous and complicated, even for such a difficult colony like L2. I had stripped down to my skivvies at least ten times for a bunch of guys (and girls) to show that I wasn’t a terrorist, a smuggler, a kidnapper or any other kind of criminal, let alone I was considering committing such heinous acts. My press card, usually good for immunity, caused me a lot of trouble; heck, I think it was because of the press card that I had to go through so many checks. Lucky for me, I’m not easily intimidated or impressed. I’ve been to war zones before; stripping down and being interrogated by some burly guys barely registered on my radar. It did annoy me greatly, though. Now that I had passed security, I walked straight into this big, empty hall where every traveler to L2 had to wait until it was time to board the shuttle.
Most of the times when traveling, you’ll see kiosks, tax-free shops, a food court, some entertainment. Here, nothing. Not even a vending machine. Usually a hall like this would be hustling and bustling with people, but here it was silent, like a grave. These people weren’t exactly aching to return to L2, and looked like they could burst out in tears any moment. As a reporter, I was itching to ask about their stories. What were their reasons? Why did they go to L2, what was waiting for them there? But everyone looked defeated, tired and aggravated, so I didn’t think they would appreciate me asking questions.
I had brought only one suitcase with me, and my special, smaller case for my cameras and lenses. I was going to stay on L2 for a week, which should be more than enough to get me started on my book. My boss, Quatre Raberba Winner, media tycoon and international president of Globe News, ran a tight budget and he wasn’t too keen on investing time and money in a trip to the infamous colony cluster.
“What are you planning to do? What are you looking for, Heero?” he asked me when I suggested the plan.
“I want to find and write about the people behind the war,” I said. “The real people, I mean. Civilians, who suffer from the consequences of the military’s actions. People who try to survive, who fight to live to see another day. L2 has always been a hotbed of rebels and revolutions. There’s got to be a million of good stories in there, Quatre.” Yeah, I called my boss by his first name. One can afford that kind of privilege, after winning so many prestigious awards. I appreciate the recognition, but I don’t care for the awards in itself; trinkets, but Quatre likes to display them in his office.
“Stories like that have been done before, Heero. With the current war going on, I rather have you here.”
“Trowa is on the East-European battlefield,” I protested, “and Wufei is covering the Asian countries. What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking about Sanq Kingdom,” Quatre said.
“Sanq? Relena Peacecraft? The Queen of the World?”
“Rumors are going around that the Romefeller Foundation is trying to sway her over to their side,” Quatre said. “You have a good nose for politics, Heero. You have the uncanny talent to unravel that web and translate it to our readers, who have a right to transparent information.”
“Please,” I was about to beg him, “no one has ever done an in-depth background story on L2 before, let alone write a book about it. Nobody knows what moves the people there, how they live, how they breathe, what they think!”
Quatre seemed to reconsider. I knew I almost got him. “Who knows, this kind of research can gain us another award,” I tried to push him over the edge.
“I’m not into the press to win awards, Heero,” Quatre said. “I want to tell the truth. With all these different factions and wars and Gundams on so many sides, mankind needs an independent, objective party to bring the news. I have the great fortune to be independent - no military or civilian force will tell me what to publish. Receiving recognition is wonderful, but it’s not my main goal.”
“I know,” I said. Nobody had to convince me of Quatre’s good, gentle heart. “Let me go to L2. Please.”
“It’s dangerous,” Quatre objected. I wanted to snort, but I refrained from doing so.
“I’ve been to several war zones before,” I reminded him, “I was almost stomped on by Wing Gundam to get the right picture, do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said and admitted defeat. “Fine, Heero. You’ll get a budget and the opportunity to visit L2. But I want you to be extra careful. My resources on the colonies, especially L2, are extremely limited. There’s not much I can do for you if or when you get accused of terrorism. You can get into trouble there easily, even if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll be extra extra careful,” I swore.
And so I found myself at the international space port, heading for the L2 colony cluster. A strict anti-technology rule was enforced; no one could bring along cell phones, laptops, recording devices or anything else electronic for that matter. That’s why I had stuffed my suitcase with pens and a lot of paper. I carried nothing but my special case with the cameras and lenses, and a small plastic bag with some energy bars and a bottle of water. Good thing I bought the food and drink earlier, because like I said, in this waiting hall was nothing for sale. I sat down on one of the rickety plastic chairs, carefully holding my balance, and mentally prepared myself for another long wait.
“Flight 87C65 to L2 will board now,” a mechanical voice announced. I got up from my seat and moved to the gate, just like everyone else… as if they were shuffling towards their imminent doom. Even the children were eerily silent, clinging to their parents’ coats. I kept my ears and eyes open for all the impressions, I didn’t want to miss out on a thing. I presented my boarding pass to the cabin personnel, who at least had the courtesy (and professionalism) to smile and welcome me, even if it’s a watery smile, and even if they have to confiscate my energy bars and water bottle, as ‘outside food and drink is not allowed, sir’. Annoyed, I settled into my seat and ignored childishly the whole safety instruction schpiel. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. The personnel finished their story with an extra warning about more security checks after landing on L2. I grunted. Well, I wanted this myself, so I better not moan and gripe about it, right? I strapped myself in and prepared myself for launch. A commercial, cheap flight like this wouldn’t treat me to anything luxurious, even the seat felt like a wooden plank. All right, time to get some sleep. I was sure L2 wouldn’t give me much time to rest, I had work to do.
The cabin personnel’s warning about more security checks hadn’t been a joke. As if I hadn’t stripped down enough back on Earth, I had to do it all over again, and my press card was studied as if it was some secret license to kill. What were these people expecting? Finally, totally beaten and tired, the only things I wanted were a hot shower, something decent to eat and sleep for a couple of hours. It was impossible to book a hotel from Earth, so I had to find one on my own. Without any tourist information or other helpful people around, I decided to settle for the first hotel I saw, the one closest to the spaceport. It wasn’t as shady or grimy as I expected; in fact, it looked rather clean and professional. I was glad to see a friendly receptionist who handed me the keys to my room (after paying up front, cash, as space credit isn’t accepted). The room itself was small, but clean and sparsely furnished. It didn’t matter to me; it wasn’t like I’m here on a holiday. I took off my clothes once more, this time to jump under the hot water spray. I was told the utilities were pretty much low standard on L2, and could be randomly shut off. I didn’t use the water for longer than five minutes, which is enough for a quick, refreshing cleansing. I dried myself off and with a rugged towel around my waist, I called room service. The menu they offered was modest and sky-high expensive, but I ordered anyway. I just wanted to have something to eat, budget be damned. Fatigue hit me hard, and I barely managed to stay awake until the food was brought up. Tasteless and bland, but I shoveled it into my mouth, just in time before I passed out.
I should’ve set my alarm clock, of course. I wanted to go out at night to see the underbelly of L2, the dark corners and dirty alleys of the colony. But I slept until the next morning and woke up feeling pretty much frustrated. I just wasted an entire night, I hadn’t got one picture or one letter on paper! In my defense, space travel is quite exhausting. You have to adjust yourself to a completely different environment and many people feel queasy after entering a colony. Different atmosphere, different pressure - it’s not like Earth at all. I felt slightly light-headed, and I knew I was probably going to feel that way for as long as I would stay here. I didn’t think of bringing any medication with me, I wouldn’t know what would help to get adjusted to the difference in pressure. I just had to take it like it was. I went downstairs to the extremely sober breakfast buffet: coffee, artificial butter, soft bread and some jam. I passed on the pale eggs and something that looked like… pancakes? Waffles? I had no idea, but it didn’t seem cooked all the way through, and I didn’t fancy getting sick. So I took a few slices of bread and a mug of coffee, before I packed my stuff and ventured out on the streets.
L2 in the early morning was like any other colony I had visited. People out on the streets, the daily hustle and bustle: small crowds, gathered together for a chat, others hurrying along, carrying a briefcase, a bag…but somehow, it felt depressing. I didn’t see many smiles, but I saw plenty of suspicious and anxious looks… and a lot more children, unaccompanied. War orphans, I guessed, who were abundant on L2 for some reason. I saw the little ones running, swerving around people, their hands quick and silent, only to find empty pockets. People on L2 weren’t rich. It reminded me to be very careful, as I had promised Quatre; if my wallet with my press card was stolen, I’d be really in a bind. Not to mention my camera equipment: I kept a small digital camera in my pocket as I preferred my Nikon with a long-focus lens, which was way bigger and more obvious. I took a few pictures here and there, avoiding portraying people without their consent. The streets and the buildings, in far more dilapidated conditions than I had ever seen, were free to photograph. It was a poor colony, but not necessarily unhappy, or so, I thought. The continuous war threat and the presence of violent rebel factions on the colony put a lot of pressure and strain on the inhabitants. It was no secret that L2 housed more criminal, smuggling and rebellious gangs than any other colony. I continued walking, scouting my territory and trying to figure out how I could come into contact with the colonists, preferably the first generation. I was going to create an outstanding, thorough portrait of L2, and in the line of Quatre’s principles, without any subjectivism or judgments. I wanted to learn how and why L2 was the hotbed of massive rebellion. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I barely felt the tug on my jacket. I failed to register it somehow, as I was distracted by the church I saw in the distance. Just as I was wondering what a church was doing on L2, I felt the light tug, just too late. When I looked down, a young kid with chestnut hair ran away from me, my digital camera in his hands. My flabbergasted mind weighed the options of running after the kid against the value of the camera. I had a steady income, I could pay for a new one and right now, I hadn’t used it yet, so the memory card was still empty. On the other hand, I’d be the laughing stock of the international press if they learned I was pick-pocketed like a gullible chicken. And maybe it was some kind of instinct, or a gut reaction, because before I knew it, I was running after the kid and yelling at him to give my goddamn camera back. Nobody turned around to look or to help me out. To make matters worse, the kid laughed out loud, laughing at me for being such a dumb moron! His laughter dissolved quickly though, when he noticed I didn’t give up that easily.
I took great pride in my condition and stamina, which was necessary to work as a reporter, especially when venturing into war zones. I managed to catch up with him and I was just inches away from grabbing his tattered coat. But then something didn’t cooperate: a tile was missing in the pavement and I simply tripped and fell. In my fall I grabbed a fistful of the kid’s coat, dragging the boy with me as I smacked to the ground. I heard him cry out, along with shattering metal and glass hitting the pavement, and I connected painfully with my jaw to the rough stone. The pain shot through my entire body and I saw stars, before everything turned black.
-----------------
When I opened my eyes, I was met with silence. Confused, I blinked and stared at the grey ceiling. I didn’t know where I was, this wasn’t my hotel room or a hospital. A groan escaped me as pain returned full force, especially my jaw and head. What had happened? Oh yes, my mind was quick to supply me: I had been mugged and I had run after that kid, until I tripped and fell. At least I wasn’t left out on the streets to be robbed of everything else. I turned my head. The room was fairly dark, but I could make out the outlines of a large wooden dresser with copper handles. The curtains were closed, a heavy fabric that drowned out most of the sunlight. I craned my neck a little; next to me was a nightstand with two candlesticks and a black book. Along the wall, a closed chest and a chair. On the chair… those had to be my clothes, neatly folded. Surprised and slightly shocked, I put my hand on my chest, only to touch my own, naked skin. Someone had undressed me! I quickly checked, but to my relief I was still wearing my underwear. Now I noticed the bandages on my hand. I couldn’t remember if I had injured it during my fall. I heard footsteps, approaching my room. I put my hand back under the sheets and closed my eyes again. With a creaking sound, the door went open and someone entered. I could hear the rustling of fabric. It was strange how calm I felt, I didn’t feel anxious or scared at all. Soft, gentle breathing… and the curtains were pulled open, for just a small strip of daylight to shine into the room. I refrained from squinting or showing any other sign of being awake. Cool, gentle fingers touched my jaw.
“Nothing is broken.” A warm, female voice. “He might have a concussion, though.”
“He can stay here as long as is necessary, when he wakes up.” The male voice took me by surprise. I hadn’t heard the second visitor at all! I twitch just a little. Hands on the sheets, tugging. The woman was tucking me in. “Thank you, Sister.”
“I’ll go prepare the afternoon tea.” The rustling of the fabric again. Sister? What’s going on? Is this a hospital after all? The curtain was still open and I couldn’t help but to crack open one eye, out of curiosity. I saw a lot of black, but from where I was lying, I couldn’t see the man who spoke. Such a rich, warm timbre… I wanted to keep my eyes open, I wanted to speak and move around, but my body protested; the pain was still there and before I knew it, I sank back into darkness.
The next time I woke up, it was dark again, night-time dark. I threw off the blankets and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. A bit too abruptly, as the movement made me feel slightly dizzy. My feet hit the icy cold, stone floor. Shivering, I hopped over to the chair and grabbed my clothes. My knee refused to cooperate - and not much to my surprise, it was sporting bandages as well. I really had hit the ground harder than I thought. Stupid, I should’ve just let the kid go. The digital camera wasn’t worth that much, certainly not worth all this trouble. People had taken me in and cared for me, and I never liked owing people something. I dressed myself and because it was dark, I walked with my arms outstretched, touching and following the wall until I reached the door. The hallway was sparsely lit and voices flowed towards me. I ventured out, still slightly dizzy. A jolt of pain traveled from my jaw to my head every now and then; uncomfortable, but bearable. I went into the direction of the voices. Young voices, children…? I heard the scraping of chairs over tiles, the rattling of knifes and other cutlery… was it dinner time or something? I had no idea about the time and as I checked my wrist, I realized my watch was gone. Frustrated, I continued walking and ended up in a large room, furnished with long, wooden tables. Children, seated on both sides of the tables with a bowl of something that looked like porridge in front of them, all locked their curious eyes on me as soon as I entered the room. All the voices died down. For the first time in my life, I was completely at a loss for words. The sudden silence was such a sharp contrast to the earlier noise, that it made me feel embarrassed. A woman in the middle of the room turned around, her black robe rustling. She had to be the same woman who visited me earlier today - now I understood the black color. Sister. She was a nun. I was at the church I saw earlier, I just had to be. In the few seconds that everyone was staring at me, I spotted the kid who mugged my digital camera. To my morbid satisfaction, I saw a huge bruise on his cheek and a bump on his forehead; then I immediately felt bad. After all, I was the one who dragged him with me.
The woman approached me, showing a kind, friendly smile. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said and put the dirty bowls she was carrying, back on the table. “Would you like something to eat?”
“I don’t want to be of any inconvenience,” I said.
“Not at all, not at all… here, please, sit down.” She pulled out a chair at the head of the table, and I hesitantly sat down. One of the children, a girl about twelve years old, handed me a bowl with the porridge-like substance. I thanked her. The woman sat down next to me.
“My name is Sister Helen,” she said. “Welcome to Maxwell Church. I’m sorry, but the Father has stepped out for the night. Eat, eat!”
It wasn’t porridge, but mashed potatoes, hearty and hot, and it filled me up much more than I anticipated. The kids were still looking at me, curious and suspicious, but after a few minutes, the chattering started up again and soon enough, everyone resumed eating.
“Maxwell Church,” I repeated.
“Yes, the safe haven for these children and everyone else who seeks refuge or a shelter.” She finished her own bowl. “We thrive on donations and the kindness of people.”
It was a poor place, obviously. The kids had clothes on that had been mended a lot of times, and the wooden tables were rickety and worn. On Earth, this would be called a ‘dump’. I realized my bad manners.
“I’m Heero Yuy,” I said. “I’m a reporter for the Globe News.”
“I didn’t think you were a regular tourist,” Sister Helen said. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened, Heero. Solo isn’t a bad kid…forgive the children. They grow up in poverty and the first thing they learn is that stealing is their only way to survive, unfortunately enough. He figured he could make a profit off of your camera.”
“I didn’t mean to make him fall as well,” I said. “I saw he had a big bump on his head.”
“He’s had worse.” She smiled. “If it takes a bump on the head to teach him that stealing is wrong, I’d be happy for him to only have one bump.” One of the children asked for her attention and I used the interruption to finish up my own meal. Soon after, she started to clear the dishes, but when I wanted to help, she firmly sent me back to my room.
“The children will help me. Please rest for the night, Heero Yuy. You took quite the fall. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
----------------------
My temporary habitat looked very different in the morning. It was fairly cold, the church didn’t have any central heating. Fortunately I wore a coat yesterday, so I put that extra garment on. I noticed the quality of the heavy wooden furniture; this has seen probably more generations than any kind of furniture back on Earth. I longed for a shower, but I hadn’t see any… cleaning facilities and I doubted the church would dispose over much running water. I didn’t want to drain the church of its resources, so I left my room and went back to the large dining hall, homing in on the sounds of the children again. This time, large loaves of bread were on the tables, along with butter, the same jam as I was served in the hotel, and something that looked like processed cheese. I didn’t see any milk or fresh fruit. Sister Helen greeted me like a long lost friend and asked me if I slept well.
“Like an ox,” I answered. “Thank you for your care.”
“I’ll take a look at your bandages later,” she said. “Would you like to see the Father now, or rather wait until after you’ve had breakfast?”
I didn’t want to be a bother to this kind woman, and I didn’t want her to spend any more time or food on me, when the children needed it much more. “I like to see the Father,” I said. Just a few words of thanks to the man and I was out of here. I was almost two days behind on my book - I couldn’t waste any more time. Sister Helen smiled and showed me the way.
She guided me through several high-arched hallways to an office. She knocked on the door, waiting for the “Enter” to open it, pushing against the heavy object. She stepped in and I waited patiently for her to beckon for me. “Father, this is Heero Yuy, our guest.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
She motioned with her hand and I stepped in, only to have my still painful jaw going slack. With all the ‘Father this’, and ‘Father that’, I had imagined an elderly man who lead this church friendly yet firmly, not a young man about my age, with striking features: conspicuous large eyes with a purplish/violet hint to it, a gentle heart-shaped face and chestnut, long hair with cinnamon strands, tied together in a braid. When he got up from behind his desk, the braid slipped over his shoulder; it had to be at least… three feet long? I was just… completely amazed. He was dressed in black, in a very old-fashioned tunic that reached his knees. The silver crucifix on his chest spoke volumes. I was so baffled that I almost forgot to shake his hand, which he extended to me.
“Heero Yuy, good to see you,” he said.
“I… I’m pleased to meet you,” I managed to croak out. His handshake was firm. He pointed me to a chair opposite his desk. I sat down, still too amazed to bring out a coherent word.
“I’m Father Maxwell, but most people call me Duo,” he said. “Please forgive Sister Helen’s fondness for official titles. Well, Heero Yuy, I wished we met under better circumstances. On behalf of Maxwell Church, I offer you my apologies for what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. I knew I’m staring and I forced myself to look at the picture behind him: a painting of the Maid Mary and baby Jesus. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Solo is one of the many kids who have no home but the streets,” Duo said. “I don’t try to make excuses for him. He knows very well that stealing is wrong. Life’s tough for the children on L2. You’ve seen for yourself in which circumstances they grow up. I try to provide them with food and shelter, but there’s only so much I can do.”
“You do the best you can,” I said. “I was an easy target, with the camera and all.”
“Global News, right?” His smile was so wonderful, I couldn’t get enough looking at it. “What brings a reporter from Earth to L2, if I might ask?”
I told him everything about my plans for my book, the report, Quatre, Global News, and he nodded as I talked. After I was finished, he reclined into his seat.
“I wish I could help you with your book,” he sighed. “But both your cameras got pretty smashed, I’m afraid. And as you might understand, Maxwell Church doesn’t have any insurance or the funds to reimburse you.”
My cheeks turned a little red. “I’m not asking for money,” I said. “I… should’ve been more careful.”
“Let’s not play a blame game,” Duo said. “You’re welcome to stay at the church for as long as you like, Heero Yuy. Perhaps it’s interesting for your book to spend a few days here, so you can see how life is for the children, how the next generation grows up on L2. It’s the least we can do in return.”
“The kid… Solo’s all right?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better. Don’t worry about him.” Duo slid his chair back and opened the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out my wallet, watch, cell phone and the two cameras. “Here are your personal belongings. Once again, I’m very sorry about all of this.”
I leaned forward and checked the cameras. Surprisingly enough, the Nikon was hardly damaged, except for the long-focus lens. The digital camera was a goner, though. I pulled out the memory card and handed the camera back to Duo.
“It’s nothing much, but maybe the kids can play with it? The little ones, I mean? This has no street value.”
“I think they know more about street value than I do,” Duo said. “It’ll make a wonderful toy. Thank you, Heero.” He smiled again. How could someone be so handsome with just a smile? And why was I thinking about him as ‘handsome’? “Feel free to stay and look around. The church is public domain.”
“I have to go back to my hotel,” I said. “But I’ll come over and look you up.” I wanted to see more of him, and at least take a picture.
-----------------------------------------------
Back at my hotel room, I inspected the Nikon some more. Aside from a dent and a few scratches, the camera had survived. Just like I thought, the long-focus lens was beyond repair, its glass had shattered on the pavement. I put it back in my suitcase, just in case Quatre wanted to deal with the insurance, though I didn’t think they’d cover an incident like this. I decided to go out on the streets and when I went downstairs, the woman behind the reception desk gasped when she saw me.
“What happened to you?” she asked, and her hand went subconsciously to her jaw. I had looked in the bathroom mirror and seen the bruising; it was a very impressive black and blue, and my hand was still bandaged.
“An accident on the street,” I said.
“I usually work the night shift,” she said apologetically. “I haven’t seen you return last night. Usually we file a missing person’s report when someone doesn’t return after two days.”
“I’m all right,” I said. “I just had a run-in with the pavement, and I got taken care of at the church.”
“Maxwell Church?” She looked… disappointed, disgusted even.
“How many other churches are there?” I asked, but the sarcasm eluded her.
“None,” she answered. “But you should be careful.”
“I’ll be sure not to trip again,” I answered dryly. She shook her head.
“No, about the church. Not many people associate freely with Duo Maxwell.”
“Oh, really?” I briefly wondered why I got so defensive. After all, I hardly knew Duo.
“He’s not a real priest,” she said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “He grew up in that church himself.”
“And that makes him a criminal?” I raised my eyebrow.
“He’s a godsend for the kids,” she said, “but there’s something strange about him. His name goes around in the criminal circuit. He was a thief before he started serving the church.”
“We all make mistakes in our pasts,” I said sharply. She nodded reluctantly, looked at me and decided she had said too much.
“If you want a check-up at the hospital, I can give you directions,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” I answered, tone of voice slightly kinder and I turned around to leave.
-----------------------------------
While I wandered around outside, my thoughts went back to Duo. One hand, I was glad he wasn’t an ‘official’ priest; it made me happy, for whatever reason. On the other hand, he had introduced himself as Father Maxwell, which meant he took his…profession very seriously. Where could I ever hope to stand with this man? Oh yes, I was having it bad, I just knew it. I was falling head over heels in love with him, and why in the world was it always someone out of reach? My previous crush had been the brother of the Queen of the World for crying out loud, if you wanted to talk about someone hard to reach… and now Duo Maxwell, how could this be? Why was this happening to me? I just met the man, and I wasn’t the kind of guy to go for looks alone, was I? However, the woman at the reception desk had mentioned something grave about him. Duo’s name going around in the criminal circuit? I couldn’t imagine that could be true. He was looking out for the children, not endangering them. I decided to focus on my book for now. Quatre wanted to see results, I wasn’t here to act in favor of my love life. I was a reporter for the Global News and not Heero Yuy, the Single Reporter Looking for a Hot Guy Even if He’s Wearing Priest Garb. I used the Nikon to snap pictures, this time from people after I asked their consent.
I listened to their stories, jotted everything down in my self-developed shorthand that none could read but me. I crossed a market, a business district, a pawn shop (no long-focus lenses, unfortunately) and a few suburbs. L2 was in a depraved state because of the government refusing to cooperate with Earth or any other ally. The economy thrived on smuggling, as the government didn’t align itself with any of the factions in the ongoing war. Therefore, they didn’t receive any (international) support and had become totally dependent on smuggling and other criminal activities, for which the inhabitants suffered; there was no stable economy, no steady import or export of goods, ranging from daily bread to maintenance. At first sight, everything seemed ‘innocent’; children playing on the street, only to wear those ratty, ill-fitting and often mended clothes. Women chattering and talking to each other, but not being able to buy vegetables to make a healthy dinner. When looking further: a pharmacy without anti-fever meds. Long lines for the bakery, the butcher shop, any kind of store. Dilapidated buildings, cars rusting where they were standing, no public transport. I was surprised to discover the friendliness of the colonists, after I got past the initial suspicious and distrust. I did receive some looks because of the Nikon, and I could see certain types calculate its value, debating if it was worth attacking me for it. I was better prepared to defend myself from burly guys picking a fight with me than a super fast kid swiping my digital camera, I thought to myself, bitterly. But would I have ended up at Maxwell Church if that brat hadn’t…? Probably not… however, the church stood out in this landscape, so I figured I would have visited it anyway, sooner or later. But then again, I would’ve only met Sister Helen. Duo might not have been around… and so my thoughts kept going in circles, back to Duo, over and over again. And so it wasn’t strange that I found myself at the church once more. Sister Helen was in front of the building, sweeping the stairs. Two of the oldest girls were helping her out, carefully removing dust and sand.
“Heero!” She smiled as soon as she saw me. “You shouldn’t be out and about like that,” she chastised me gently. “Katherine, get our guest a glass of water. Would you like to sit down?”
“I’m a healthy young man,” I tried to joke.
“You injured your knee,” she reminded me. The bandages had been irritating me, so I had removed them, back at the hotel. The scrapes on my skin barely deserved to be bandaged; I had injured myself much more as a kid, falling off my bike once. “You should sit down. Did you come for the Father? I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”
Now that I had met Duo in person, and saw for myself how young he was, it felt very strange to hear anyone refer to him as Father, especially because the woman in the hotel had told me he wasn’t a real priest. Sister Helen probably didn’t care much for Duo’s background, if she kept calling him like that.
“Sister Helen, you’ve probably been here for a long time?” I asked. She looked at me.
“I was born and raised on L2, yes.”
“You must know what I do for a living,” I said. I still didn’t know who had undressed me, but I figured she had seen my wallet and press card. “I would like to talk to you about this colony, and cite you as a source for my book. With your permission, of course.”
She hesitated, clearly overwhelmed by my request. “Please give it a thought,” I asked her. “If you don’t want to, I understand. You’re not in any way obligated.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, relieved that she didn’t have to answer right away. As it was, Katherine returned with the glass of water, followed by Duo. He stepped through the large door opening, his exuberant smile already present.
“Heero! So good to see you. I trust you haven’t encountered any other people trying to get your camera? You’re right in time for dinner.”
“Oh, I, eh, I was just passing by,” I said, at the exact moment my stomach chose to let out a loud grumble. I had skipped lunch in favor of interviewing and photographing the colonists. I always forgot to eat when I was doing research.
“I’ll put out one more plate.” Duo grinned at me.
“Father,” Katherine said and tugged at his garb.
“Yes, Katherine?”
“Are you going away tonight again?”
My curiosity was piqued. At the previous dinner, Sister Helen told me that Duo had ‘stepped out for the night’. I have a very curious nature of course, I’m not a reporter for nothing. And if Duo’s name really went around in the criminal circuit - which I still refused to believe - then of course he would conduct his… ah, business, during the nocturnal hours. No sign of worry or distress showed on his face as he ruffled the girl’s hair.
“I’ll be having dinner with all of you tonight,” he said and the girl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “All right, let’s set the table!” They went inside the church and Sister Helen picked up on my inquiring look.
“He visits the sick and the dying,” she explained. “It may not mean much to everyone, but to some it does. He’s with them in their last hour of need and their final minutes.”
I felt terribly ashamed. Here I was, thinking that a ‘fake’ priest was all but the center of the criminal circuit, while Duo was consoling those who had fallen upon hard times and those who needed comfort when the end was near. He did this out of the goodness of his heart, who was I to doubt that?
That night, I helped with the dishes, despite Sister Helen and Duo protesting. It was a very easy chore, as the children passed the plates around and around until it was completely dry and put away in the wooden cupboard. The children weren’t obligated to do the chore, but anyone could see that they were very fond of both Helen and Duo, and helped out spontaneously. The few adults seeking shelter at the church, put the chairs back together at the tables and swept the floors. Every now and then, the electricity flickered. I wasn’t used to L2’s fickly power supply, but nobody paid attention to it. The majority of the church was illuminated by oil lamps and huge candles, only the kitchen and the laundry/washing room used electricity, whenever it was available. After the dishes were done, I started the interviews with the adult people in the church, and I spoke to some of the children to learn about their background. I ignored my cramping fingers from all the writing I did; so many stories, ranging from plain bad luck to miscalculated fortune. The children often had the same story: abandoned, dumped, left behind. Sad stories of people framed by the government, not knowing what to do anymore, desperate, and the children taking the brunt of it. I was going to need weeks, if not months, to work on all of these stories and do them justice. I wanted to capture the spirit, the atmosphere of both happiness and sadness on the colony. For the umpteenth time I wished I could’ve brought my laptop or a recording device, but that was against the rules.
When I took a break, I noticed that Duo was also in the living room. I called this the ‘living room’ because it featured a large, old-fashioned open fire place, which was a good thing as the church didn’t have general heating. He was standing amidst the other adults, and it didn’t escape me that they treated him with reverend respect. Just when I looked at him, Duo caught my stare and smiled at me. Blushing like a teenager, I tried to return the smile but ended up in a wolf-like grin, so I quickly turned my head away. I didn’t miss one of the young kids, I recognized Solo, running up to Duo and all but latching onto his leg.
“Duo, Duo, there’s someone here to see you!” His voice rang out in the tall room, echoing. Sister Helen, standing next to him, put her hand on Duo’s arm.
“You’re busy,” she said, “I’ll go, Father.”
Solo shook his head. “No, no, it had to be Duo! He wanted to talk to Duo only.”
“Some people are more demanding than others,” Duo said. “Thank you Sister, I’ll see this guest myself.”
He left the living room a little too quickly to my taste, and something about his answer and attitude was off. Sister Helen or the children didn’t seem to notice and the people Duo had been talking to, huddled together at the fire place with a mug of coffee. Without another word, I left the living room as well. I didn’t know why I decided to follow Duo, rather than to chalk it up to my natural curiosity. I made sure that my footsteps didn’t echo on the tiled floor, and I shuffled forward, keeping my distance. I didn’t need to go that far though, I could already pick up on the voices from where I was, pressed flat against the wall.
“I told you not to come here,” Duo’s voice was curt and sharp, lacking its usual warmth. “Not in the presence of the children!”
“I just swung by,” another voice, definitely male, older, and cold. “I wanted to see for myself what’s so important to you. You’re doing a great job.”
“Spare me your platitudes.” A door was opened, the sound of creaking wood. Duo’s office? “We’ll talk inside.”
It was the shortest conversation I had ever heard, but nobody needed to tell me that it was foreboding. Duo’s voice held something menacing, something angry… and if I thought it was lacking warmth, it was still a furnace compared to the other guy’s voice. So cold, so… emotionless. Who was he and why had he such an effect on Duo? I kept my ears peeled, but I didn’t hear any other sounds but the children playing, and I was afraid getting caught in the hallway as the kids tended to run up and down here. I went back to the living room. Nobody had missed me and I continued my interviews and writing my stories until it was time to retreat. I decided it was best for me to go back to my hotel and work on the interviews. I had more than enough material to write a good introduction to my book. Of course, I had reserved a big part for Duo as well; I wanted him to play an important part in my book. I went to say goodbye to Sister Helen and the children.
When I walked up to the large entrance door, Duo was standing in the opening, looking out over the cobblestone square. I looked in the same direction, but I only saw the retreating back of a skinny man with white hair.
“Excuse me,” I coughed, to show that I wasn’t sneaking up on him. Duo didn’t even startle.
“You’re leaving already?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“I take it you’ve got enough information?”
“Enough to get an introduction started. It’s going to be a great book.”
“I’m sure of it,” Duo said, but he sounded a little defeated. Was I mistaken, or was his face slightly pale?
“Everything all right?” I asked tentatively.
“Don’t worry,” Duo said and his smile was back full-force. “Have a good night, Heero.”
-------------------------------------
Duo and his mysterious guest kept plaguing my mind. I wished I had seen the other guy’s face. I wanted to know who he was and why he had upset Duo. He had to be upset; despite that lovely smile, something was bothering him, I was sure of it. While I was slaving over my story, Duo’s face came up in my mind, and his “Have a good night, Heero.”. It almost started to sound ominous. I checked my watch; it was close to midnight. I was ready for the second phase of my plan: L2 by night, the underbelly. I couldn’t write a comprehensive book about L2 without experiencing both sides in person. Today I’d seen the surface, now it was time to see what was submerged in the colony. There was only one way to solve this: I had to find out what was bothering Duo, and by default, bothering me. I had to return to the church and figure out what was going on.
Maxwell Church was dark and ominous, looming as a tower of vengeance in the late hours of the night. I imagined Sister Helen wandering the hallways to comfort sick and sad children, and as for Duo… my imagination drew a blank. I’d love to see him nice and safe and warm in his bed, but I had the feeling he wasn’t the kind of person to snuggle up all cozily like that. I wouldn’t mind having him snuggle up to me, though… and that was a thought I had to file away immediately because it was disturbing my concentration, and I just saw a backdoor of the church open. All my hours of waiting paid off. A slender figure, clad in black, left the church. Judging from his height, it could be Duo, but I shouldn’t be drawing conclusions until I had checked my facts. I knew better than to plain assume things. I have reported war zones and battlefields since I was barely eighteen. I was there, on the frontline, I was close to mobile suits, heck, I’ve even seen a Gundam up close and personal. I was there, with my camera, with my recording devices, with my laptop. I wrote award-winning articles, but let me tell you, no one is thinking of a Pulitzer when the beam cannon of a Gundam is firing just inches away from you. At least I wasn’t. I was an observer, I still am, and tonight I was observing someone who just snuck out of the church. I had learned a lot on those battlefields. How to stay undetected. How to keep a low profile. I had no difficulties tracking the person who kept a steady pace, jogging through the streets of L2, easily and handily using the shadows. The woman from my hotel… could she be right after all? The way the person comported himself showed an excellent experience. This was something he had done many times before. I tried to keep my personal thoughts out of it. Observing and objective, remember?
He stopped in front of a building that I didn’t recognize. Everything looked the same in the dark, but this guy knew his way around. For a moment, I lost him out of sight. I scoured the building until I saw movement, so fast that I asked myself whether I imagined it. Someone was climbing through a window to get inside. I crossed the street and attached myself to the wall of another building. I wasn’t going to follow him inside, so I patiently waited. It didn’t take too long; after twenty minutes I heard just the tiniest noise of the window opening again. A faint rustling of fabric, and then someone came climbing down. As soon as his feet hit the ground, I moved - not even wondering for a second whose business I was meddling with. I grabbed the person in black at the shoulder, turned him around and in the faint, artificial moonlight, I recognized those eyes immediately, the only visible part of his face.
“Duo,” I hissed, shocked and disappointed at the same time. His eyes went wide, probably not because he had been caught, but because it was me who had caught him.
“Heero?” His voice was unusually high-pitched. “What are you doing here?”
“I think the question is, what are you doing here?” I had a firm grip on his shoulder and forced him back against the wall. He didn’t put up any resistance, my grip was tight enough to not break free that easily. “Do the children know that their Father rummages around at night?”
“Oh, please.” Duo did a half-hearted attempt to swat at my wrist. “Are you a cop? An undercover? You’re not a reporter after all, are you?”
“I am.” I was fairly calm, even if my stomach and my heart were jumping up and down. The adrenaline flowed through my body, and I noticed I was trembling. Duo didn’t seem to notice, or not to care, though. “I’m a renowned war reporter on Earth.”
“Well, do I have a newsflash for you,” Duo said coldly. “This is L2. We don’t have war - we are a war. Let go of me, Heero. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“Then tell me. I’ve seen worse.”
“Not all wars are fought with guns and Gundams.” He snorted derisively when he saw my surprised look. “News travels slow to L2, but we’re not totally deprived. We know what’s going on outside of the colony, even if we are a few months behind.” His voice was muffled by the shawl he was wearing to cover up his face, but I could make out the words. “You have no right to judge me, Heero. Now, let go of me.”
“No.” To get my point across, I tightened my grip and now he was shoved against the wall. He narrowed his eyes. “Let go of me. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Then tell me,” I repeated. I moved up my other hand and tugged at the black scarf, firmly wrapped around his head. I figured he had tucked his braid under it as well. Freeing up his nose and lower part of his face, I stared at him intently. “Tell me.”
“Get away from me,” he hissed. The artificial moonlight shone on his face, rendering him visibly pale, ghostlike, with far more pronounced cheekbones and a hollow to his face that I didn’t notice at all when Duo was in the warm, kind environment of the church.
“What did you do?” I asked, totally taken aback. “Duo, what’s going on?”
This time, his attempt to break free wasn’t half-assed. With surprising strength, he rammed his hand against my lower arm, immediately followed by a blow to my stomach. He was so fast and agile that I found myself doubling over, wheezing the breath I’d been holding.
“Don’t you ever come close to the church again,” was his parting shot, and he was swallowed up by the darkness.
--------------------------------
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings: forthcoming Heero x Duo
Genre: some drama, romance
Warnings: shounen-ai, foul language
Summary: Heero Yuy, award-winning reporter and photographer, travels to the L2 cluster colony to write a book about the colonists and the ongoing war. He’s more than surprised to find a young cleric, a priest, who will do anything to save the children at his church.
Key: ----- = scene change
I tried to kill some time at the space port by filling out a ridiculous easy crossword puzzle. Whoever made space travel this incredibly tedious, I would like to have a conversation with him. Or her, I don’t know. My destination, the L2 colony cluster, was the worst of them all to boot. Not in terms of ‘tedious’, but in terms of ‘aggravating’. The security checks were ludicrous and complicated, even for such a difficult colony like L2. I had stripped down to my skivvies at least ten times for a bunch of guys (and girls) to show that I wasn’t a terrorist, a smuggler, a kidnapper or any other kind of criminal, let alone I was considering committing such heinous acts. My press card, usually good for immunity, caused me a lot of trouble; heck, I think it was because of the press card that I had to go through so many checks. Lucky for me, I’m not easily intimidated or impressed. I’ve been to war zones before; stripping down and being interrogated by some burly guys barely registered on my radar. It did annoy me greatly, though. Now that I had passed security, I walked straight into this big, empty hall where every traveler to L2 had to wait until it was time to board the shuttle.
Most of the times when traveling, you’ll see kiosks, tax-free shops, a food court, some entertainment. Here, nothing. Not even a vending machine. Usually a hall like this would be hustling and bustling with people, but here it was silent, like a grave. These people weren’t exactly aching to return to L2, and looked like they could burst out in tears any moment. As a reporter, I was itching to ask about their stories. What were their reasons? Why did they go to L2, what was waiting for them there? But everyone looked defeated, tired and aggravated, so I didn’t think they would appreciate me asking questions.
I had brought only one suitcase with me, and my special, smaller case for my cameras and lenses. I was going to stay on L2 for a week, which should be more than enough to get me started on my book. My boss, Quatre Raberba Winner, media tycoon and international president of Globe News, ran a tight budget and he wasn’t too keen on investing time and money in a trip to the infamous colony cluster.
“What are you planning to do? What are you looking for, Heero?” he asked me when I suggested the plan.
“I want to find and write about the people behind the war,” I said. “The real people, I mean. Civilians, who suffer from the consequences of the military’s actions. People who try to survive, who fight to live to see another day. L2 has always been a hotbed of rebels and revolutions. There’s got to be a million of good stories in there, Quatre.” Yeah, I called my boss by his first name. One can afford that kind of privilege, after winning so many prestigious awards. I appreciate the recognition, but I don’t care for the awards in itself; trinkets, but Quatre likes to display them in his office.
“Stories like that have been done before, Heero. With the current war going on, I rather have you here.”
“Trowa is on the East-European battlefield,” I protested, “and Wufei is covering the Asian countries. What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking about Sanq Kingdom,” Quatre said.
“Sanq? Relena Peacecraft? The Queen of the World?”
“Rumors are going around that the Romefeller Foundation is trying to sway her over to their side,” Quatre said. “You have a good nose for politics, Heero. You have the uncanny talent to unravel that web and translate it to our readers, who have a right to transparent information.”
“Please,” I was about to beg him, “no one has ever done an in-depth background story on L2 before, let alone write a book about it. Nobody knows what moves the people there, how they live, how they breathe, what they think!”
Quatre seemed to reconsider. I knew I almost got him. “Who knows, this kind of research can gain us another award,” I tried to push him over the edge.
“I’m not into the press to win awards, Heero,” Quatre said. “I want to tell the truth. With all these different factions and wars and Gundams on so many sides, mankind needs an independent, objective party to bring the news. I have the great fortune to be independent - no military or civilian force will tell me what to publish. Receiving recognition is wonderful, but it’s not my main goal.”
“I know,” I said. Nobody had to convince me of Quatre’s good, gentle heart. “Let me go to L2. Please.”
“It’s dangerous,” Quatre objected. I wanted to snort, but I refrained from doing so.
“I’ve been to several war zones before,” I reminded him, “I was almost stomped on by Wing Gundam to get the right picture, do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said and admitted defeat. “Fine, Heero. You’ll get a budget and the opportunity to visit L2. But I want you to be extra careful. My resources on the colonies, especially L2, are extremely limited. There’s not much I can do for you if or when you get accused of terrorism. You can get into trouble there easily, even if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll be extra extra careful,” I swore.
And so I found myself at the international space port, heading for the L2 colony cluster. A strict anti-technology rule was enforced; no one could bring along cell phones, laptops, recording devices or anything else electronic for that matter. That’s why I had stuffed my suitcase with pens and a lot of paper. I carried nothing but my special case with the cameras and lenses, and a small plastic bag with some energy bars and a bottle of water. Good thing I bought the food and drink earlier, because like I said, in this waiting hall was nothing for sale. I sat down on one of the rickety plastic chairs, carefully holding my balance, and mentally prepared myself for another long wait.
“Flight 87C65 to L2 will board now,” a mechanical voice announced. I got up from my seat and moved to the gate, just like everyone else… as if they were shuffling towards their imminent doom. Even the children were eerily silent, clinging to their parents’ coats. I kept my ears and eyes open for all the impressions, I didn’t want to miss out on a thing. I presented my boarding pass to the cabin personnel, who at least had the courtesy (and professionalism) to smile and welcome me, even if it’s a watery smile, and even if they have to confiscate my energy bars and water bottle, as ‘outside food and drink is not allowed, sir’. Annoyed, I settled into my seat and ignored childishly the whole safety instruction schpiel. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. The personnel finished their story with an extra warning about more security checks after landing on L2. I grunted. Well, I wanted this myself, so I better not moan and gripe about it, right? I strapped myself in and prepared myself for launch. A commercial, cheap flight like this wouldn’t treat me to anything luxurious, even the seat felt like a wooden plank. All right, time to get some sleep. I was sure L2 wouldn’t give me much time to rest, I had work to do.
The cabin personnel’s warning about more security checks hadn’t been a joke. As if I hadn’t stripped down enough back on Earth, I had to do it all over again, and my press card was studied as if it was some secret license to kill. What were these people expecting? Finally, totally beaten and tired, the only things I wanted were a hot shower, something decent to eat and sleep for a couple of hours. It was impossible to book a hotel from Earth, so I had to find one on my own. Without any tourist information or other helpful people around, I decided to settle for the first hotel I saw, the one closest to the spaceport. It wasn’t as shady or grimy as I expected; in fact, it looked rather clean and professional. I was glad to see a friendly receptionist who handed me the keys to my room (after paying up front, cash, as space credit isn’t accepted). The room itself was small, but clean and sparsely furnished. It didn’t matter to me; it wasn’t like I’m here on a holiday. I took off my clothes once more, this time to jump under the hot water spray. I was told the utilities were pretty much low standard on L2, and could be randomly shut off. I didn’t use the water for longer than five minutes, which is enough for a quick, refreshing cleansing. I dried myself off and with a rugged towel around my waist, I called room service. The menu they offered was modest and sky-high expensive, but I ordered anyway. I just wanted to have something to eat, budget be damned. Fatigue hit me hard, and I barely managed to stay awake until the food was brought up. Tasteless and bland, but I shoveled it into my mouth, just in time before I passed out.
I should’ve set my alarm clock, of course. I wanted to go out at night to see the underbelly of L2, the dark corners and dirty alleys of the colony. But I slept until the next morning and woke up feeling pretty much frustrated. I just wasted an entire night, I hadn’t got one picture or one letter on paper! In my defense, space travel is quite exhausting. You have to adjust yourself to a completely different environment and many people feel queasy after entering a colony. Different atmosphere, different pressure - it’s not like Earth at all. I felt slightly light-headed, and I knew I was probably going to feel that way for as long as I would stay here. I didn’t think of bringing any medication with me, I wouldn’t know what would help to get adjusted to the difference in pressure. I just had to take it like it was. I went downstairs to the extremely sober breakfast buffet: coffee, artificial butter, soft bread and some jam. I passed on the pale eggs and something that looked like… pancakes? Waffles? I had no idea, but it didn’t seem cooked all the way through, and I didn’t fancy getting sick. So I took a few slices of bread and a mug of coffee, before I packed my stuff and ventured out on the streets.
L2 in the early morning was like any other colony I had visited. People out on the streets, the daily hustle and bustle: small crowds, gathered together for a chat, others hurrying along, carrying a briefcase, a bag…but somehow, it felt depressing. I didn’t see many smiles, but I saw plenty of suspicious and anxious looks… and a lot more children, unaccompanied. War orphans, I guessed, who were abundant on L2 for some reason. I saw the little ones running, swerving around people, their hands quick and silent, only to find empty pockets. People on L2 weren’t rich. It reminded me to be very careful, as I had promised Quatre; if my wallet with my press card was stolen, I’d be really in a bind. Not to mention my camera equipment: I kept a small digital camera in my pocket as I preferred my Nikon with a long-focus lens, which was way bigger and more obvious. I took a few pictures here and there, avoiding portraying people without their consent. The streets and the buildings, in far more dilapidated conditions than I had ever seen, were free to photograph. It was a poor colony, but not necessarily unhappy, or so, I thought. The continuous war threat and the presence of violent rebel factions on the colony put a lot of pressure and strain on the inhabitants. It was no secret that L2 housed more criminal, smuggling and rebellious gangs than any other colony. I continued walking, scouting my territory and trying to figure out how I could come into contact with the colonists, preferably the first generation. I was going to create an outstanding, thorough portrait of L2, and in the line of Quatre’s principles, without any subjectivism or judgments. I wanted to learn how and why L2 was the hotbed of massive rebellion. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I barely felt the tug on my jacket. I failed to register it somehow, as I was distracted by the church I saw in the distance. Just as I was wondering what a church was doing on L2, I felt the light tug, just too late. When I looked down, a young kid with chestnut hair ran away from me, my digital camera in his hands. My flabbergasted mind weighed the options of running after the kid against the value of the camera. I had a steady income, I could pay for a new one and right now, I hadn’t used it yet, so the memory card was still empty. On the other hand, I’d be the laughing stock of the international press if they learned I was pick-pocketed like a gullible chicken. And maybe it was some kind of instinct, or a gut reaction, because before I knew it, I was running after the kid and yelling at him to give my goddamn camera back. Nobody turned around to look or to help me out. To make matters worse, the kid laughed out loud, laughing at me for being such a dumb moron! His laughter dissolved quickly though, when he noticed I didn’t give up that easily.
I took great pride in my condition and stamina, which was necessary to work as a reporter, especially when venturing into war zones. I managed to catch up with him and I was just inches away from grabbing his tattered coat. But then something didn’t cooperate: a tile was missing in the pavement and I simply tripped and fell. In my fall I grabbed a fistful of the kid’s coat, dragging the boy with me as I smacked to the ground. I heard him cry out, along with shattering metal and glass hitting the pavement, and I connected painfully with my jaw to the rough stone. The pain shot through my entire body and I saw stars, before everything turned black.
When I opened my eyes, I was met with silence. Confused, I blinked and stared at the grey ceiling. I didn’t know where I was, this wasn’t my hotel room or a hospital. A groan escaped me as pain returned full force, especially my jaw and head. What had happened? Oh yes, my mind was quick to supply me: I had been mugged and I had run after that kid, until I tripped and fell. At least I wasn’t left out on the streets to be robbed of everything else. I turned my head. The room was fairly dark, but I could make out the outlines of a large wooden dresser with copper handles. The curtains were closed, a heavy fabric that drowned out most of the sunlight. I craned my neck a little; next to me was a nightstand with two candlesticks and a black book. Along the wall, a closed chest and a chair. On the chair… those had to be my clothes, neatly folded. Surprised and slightly shocked, I put my hand on my chest, only to touch my own, naked skin. Someone had undressed me! I quickly checked, but to my relief I was still wearing my underwear. Now I noticed the bandages on my hand. I couldn’t remember if I had injured it during my fall. I heard footsteps, approaching my room. I put my hand back under the sheets and closed my eyes again. With a creaking sound, the door went open and someone entered. I could hear the rustling of fabric. It was strange how calm I felt, I didn’t feel anxious or scared at all. Soft, gentle breathing… and the curtains were pulled open, for just a small strip of daylight to shine into the room. I refrained from squinting or showing any other sign of being awake. Cool, gentle fingers touched my jaw.
“Nothing is broken.” A warm, female voice. “He might have a concussion, though.”
“He can stay here as long as is necessary, when he wakes up.” The male voice took me by surprise. I hadn’t heard the second visitor at all! I twitch just a little. Hands on the sheets, tugging. The woman was tucking me in. “Thank you, Sister.”
“I’ll go prepare the afternoon tea.” The rustling of the fabric again. Sister? What’s going on? Is this a hospital after all? The curtain was still open and I couldn’t help but to crack open one eye, out of curiosity. I saw a lot of black, but from where I was lying, I couldn’t see the man who spoke. Such a rich, warm timbre… I wanted to keep my eyes open, I wanted to speak and move around, but my body protested; the pain was still there and before I knew it, I sank back into darkness.
The next time I woke up, it was dark again, night-time dark. I threw off the blankets and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. A bit too abruptly, as the movement made me feel slightly dizzy. My feet hit the icy cold, stone floor. Shivering, I hopped over to the chair and grabbed my clothes. My knee refused to cooperate - and not much to my surprise, it was sporting bandages as well. I really had hit the ground harder than I thought. Stupid, I should’ve just let the kid go. The digital camera wasn’t worth that much, certainly not worth all this trouble. People had taken me in and cared for me, and I never liked owing people something. I dressed myself and because it was dark, I walked with my arms outstretched, touching and following the wall until I reached the door. The hallway was sparsely lit and voices flowed towards me. I ventured out, still slightly dizzy. A jolt of pain traveled from my jaw to my head every now and then; uncomfortable, but bearable. I went into the direction of the voices. Young voices, children…? I heard the scraping of chairs over tiles, the rattling of knifes and other cutlery… was it dinner time or something? I had no idea about the time and as I checked my wrist, I realized my watch was gone. Frustrated, I continued walking and ended up in a large room, furnished with long, wooden tables. Children, seated on both sides of the tables with a bowl of something that looked like porridge in front of them, all locked their curious eyes on me as soon as I entered the room. All the voices died down. For the first time in my life, I was completely at a loss for words. The sudden silence was such a sharp contrast to the earlier noise, that it made me feel embarrassed. A woman in the middle of the room turned around, her black robe rustling. She had to be the same woman who visited me earlier today - now I understood the black color. Sister. She was a nun. I was at the church I saw earlier, I just had to be. In the few seconds that everyone was staring at me, I spotted the kid who mugged my digital camera. To my morbid satisfaction, I saw a huge bruise on his cheek and a bump on his forehead; then I immediately felt bad. After all, I was the one who dragged him with me.
The woman approached me, showing a kind, friendly smile. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said and put the dirty bowls she was carrying, back on the table. “Would you like something to eat?”
“I don’t want to be of any inconvenience,” I said.
“Not at all, not at all… here, please, sit down.” She pulled out a chair at the head of the table, and I hesitantly sat down. One of the children, a girl about twelve years old, handed me a bowl with the porridge-like substance. I thanked her. The woman sat down next to me.
“My name is Sister Helen,” she said. “Welcome to Maxwell Church. I’m sorry, but the Father has stepped out for the night. Eat, eat!”
It wasn’t porridge, but mashed potatoes, hearty and hot, and it filled me up much more than I anticipated. The kids were still looking at me, curious and suspicious, but after a few minutes, the chattering started up again and soon enough, everyone resumed eating.
“Maxwell Church,” I repeated.
“Yes, the safe haven for these children and everyone else who seeks refuge or a shelter.” She finished her own bowl. “We thrive on donations and the kindness of people.”
It was a poor place, obviously. The kids had clothes on that had been mended a lot of times, and the wooden tables were rickety and worn. On Earth, this would be called a ‘dump’. I realized my bad manners.
“I’m Heero Yuy,” I said. “I’m a reporter for the Globe News.”
“I didn’t think you were a regular tourist,” Sister Helen said. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened, Heero. Solo isn’t a bad kid…forgive the children. They grow up in poverty and the first thing they learn is that stealing is their only way to survive, unfortunately enough. He figured he could make a profit off of your camera.”
“I didn’t mean to make him fall as well,” I said. “I saw he had a big bump on his head.”
“He’s had worse.” She smiled. “If it takes a bump on the head to teach him that stealing is wrong, I’d be happy for him to only have one bump.” One of the children asked for her attention and I used the interruption to finish up my own meal. Soon after, she started to clear the dishes, but when I wanted to help, she firmly sent me back to my room.
“The children will help me. Please rest for the night, Heero Yuy. You took quite the fall. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
My temporary habitat looked very different in the morning. It was fairly cold, the church didn’t have any central heating. Fortunately I wore a coat yesterday, so I put that extra garment on. I noticed the quality of the heavy wooden furniture; this has seen probably more generations than any kind of furniture back on Earth. I longed for a shower, but I hadn’t see any… cleaning facilities and I doubted the church would dispose over much running water. I didn’t want to drain the church of its resources, so I left my room and went back to the large dining hall, homing in on the sounds of the children again. This time, large loaves of bread were on the tables, along with butter, the same jam as I was served in the hotel, and something that looked like processed cheese. I didn’t see any milk or fresh fruit. Sister Helen greeted me like a long lost friend and asked me if I slept well.
“Like an ox,” I answered. “Thank you for your care.”
“I’ll take a look at your bandages later,” she said. “Would you like to see the Father now, or rather wait until after you’ve had breakfast?”
I didn’t want to be a bother to this kind woman, and I didn’t want her to spend any more time or food on me, when the children needed it much more. “I like to see the Father,” I said. Just a few words of thanks to the man and I was out of here. I was almost two days behind on my book - I couldn’t waste any more time. Sister Helen smiled and showed me the way.
She guided me through several high-arched hallways to an office. She knocked on the door, waiting for the “Enter” to open it, pushing against the heavy object. She stepped in and I waited patiently for her to beckon for me. “Father, this is Heero Yuy, our guest.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
She motioned with her hand and I stepped in, only to have my still painful jaw going slack. With all the ‘Father this’, and ‘Father that’, I had imagined an elderly man who lead this church friendly yet firmly, not a young man about my age, with striking features: conspicuous large eyes with a purplish/violet hint to it, a gentle heart-shaped face and chestnut, long hair with cinnamon strands, tied together in a braid. When he got up from behind his desk, the braid slipped over his shoulder; it had to be at least… three feet long? I was just… completely amazed. He was dressed in black, in a very old-fashioned tunic that reached his knees. The silver crucifix on his chest spoke volumes. I was so baffled that I almost forgot to shake his hand, which he extended to me.
“Heero Yuy, good to see you,” he said.
“I… I’m pleased to meet you,” I managed to croak out. His handshake was firm. He pointed me to a chair opposite his desk. I sat down, still too amazed to bring out a coherent word.
“I’m Father Maxwell, but most people call me Duo,” he said. “Please forgive Sister Helen’s fondness for official titles. Well, Heero Yuy, I wished we met under better circumstances. On behalf of Maxwell Church, I offer you my apologies for what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. I knew I’m staring and I forced myself to look at the picture behind him: a painting of the Maid Mary and baby Jesus. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Solo is one of the many kids who have no home but the streets,” Duo said. “I don’t try to make excuses for him. He knows very well that stealing is wrong. Life’s tough for the children on L2. You’ve seen for yourself in which circumstances they grow up. I try to provide them with food and shelter, but there’s only so much I can do.”
“You do the best you can,” I said. “I was an easy target, with the camera and all.”
“Global News, right?” His smile was so wonderful, I couldn’t get enough looking at it. “What brings a reporter from Earth to L2, if I might ask?”
I told him everything about my plans for my book, the report, Quatre, Global News, and he nodded as I talked. After I was finished, he reclined into his seat.
“I wish I could help you with your book,” he sighed. “But both your cameras got pretty smashed, I’m afraid. And as you might understand, Maxwell Church doesn’t have any insurance or the funds to reimburse you.”
My cheeks turned a little red. “I’m not asking for money,” I said. “I… should’ve been more careful.”
“Let’s not play a blame game,” Duo said. “You’re welcome to stay at the church for as long as you like, Heero Yuy. Perhaps it’s interesting for your book to spend a few days here, so you can see how life is for the children, how the next generation grows up on L2. It’s the least we can do in return.”
“The kid… Solo’s all right?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better. Don’t worry about him.” Duo slid his chair back and opened the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out my wallet, watch, cell phone and the two cameras. “Here are your personal belongings. Once again, I’m very sorry about all of this.”
I leaned forward and checked the cameras. Surprisingly enough, the Nikon was hardly damaged, except for the long-focus lens. The digital camera was a goner, though. I pulled out the memory card and handed the camera back to Duo.
“It’s nothing much, but maybe the kids can play with it? The little ones, I mean? This has no street value.”
“I think they know more about street value than I do,” Duo said. “It’ll make a wonderful toy. Thank you, Heero.” He smiled again. How could someone be so handsome with just a smile? And why was I thinking about him as ‘handsome’? “Feel free to stay and look around. The church is public domain.”
“I have to go back to my hotel,” I said. “But I’ll come over and look you up.” I wanted to see more of him, and at least take a picture.
Back at my hotel room, I inspected the Nikon some more. Aside from a dent and a few scratches, the camera had survived. Just like I thought, the long-focus lens was beyond repair, its glass had shattered on the pavement. I put it back in my suitcase, just in case Quatre wanted to deal with the insurance, though I didn’t think they’d cover an incident like this. I decided to go out on the streets and when I went downstairs, the woman behind the reception desk gasped when she saw me.
“What happened to you?” she asked, and her hand went subconsciously to her jaw. I had looked in the bathroom mirror and seen the bruising; it was a very impressive black and blue, and my hand was still bandaged.
“An accident on the street,” I said.
“I usually work the night shift,” she said apologetically. “I haven’t seen you return last night. Usually we file a missing person’s report when someone doesn’t return after two days.”
“I’m all right,” I said. “I just had a run-in with the pavement, and I got taken care of at the church.”
“Maxwell Church?” She looked… disappointed, disgusted even.
“How many other churches are there?” I asked, but the sarcasm eluded her.
“None,” she answered. “But you should be careful.”
“I’ll be sure not to trip again,” I answered dryly. She shook her head.
“No, about the church. Not many people associate freely with Duo Maxwell.”
“Oh, really?” I briefly wondered why I got so defensive. After all, I hardly knew Duo.
“He’s not a real priest,” she said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “He grew up in that church himself.”
“And that makes him a criminal?” I raised my eyebrow.
“He’s a godsend for the kids,” she said, “but there’s something strange about him. His name goes around in the criminal circuit. He was a thief before he started serving the church.”
“We all make mistakes in our pasts,” I said sharply. She nodded reluctantly, looked at me and decided she had said too much.
“If you want a check-up at the hospital, I can give you directions,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” I answered, tone of voice slightly kinder and I turned around to leave.
While I wandered around outside, my thoughts went back to Duo. One hand, I was glad he wasn’t an ‘official’ priest; it made me happy, for whatever reason. On the other hand, he had introduced himself as Father Maxwell, which meant he took his…profession very seriously. Where could I ever hope to stand with this man? Oh yes, I was having it bad, I just knew it. I was falling head over heels in love with him, and why in the world was it always someone out of reach? My previous crush had been the brother of the Queen of the World for crying out loud, if you wanted to talk about someone hard to reach… and now Duo Maxwell, how could this be? Why was this happening to me? I just met the man, and I wasn’t the kind of guy to go for looks alone, was I? However, the woman at the reception desk had mentioned something grave about him. Duo’s name going around in the criminal circuit? I couldn’t imagine that could be true. He was looking out for the children, not endangering them. I decided to focus on my book for now. Quatre wanted to see results, I wasn’t here to act in favor of my love life. I was a reporter for the Global News and not Heero Yuy, the Single Reporter Looking for a Hot Guy Even if He’s Wearing Priest Garb. I used the Nikon to snap pictures, this time from people after I asked their consent.
I listened to their stories, jotted everything down in my self-developed shorthand that none could read but me. I crossed a market, a business district, a pawn shop (no long-focus lenses, unfortunately) and a few suburbs. L2 was in a depraved state because of the government refusing to cooperate with Earth or any other ally. The economy thrived on smuggling, as the government didn’t align itself with any of the factions in the ongoing war. Therefore, they didn’t receive any (international) support and had become totally dependent on smuggling and other criminal activities, for which the inhabitants suffered; there was no stable economy, no steady import or export of goods, ranging from daily bread to maintenance. At first sight, everything seemed ‘innocent’; children playing on the street, only to wear those ratty, ill-fitting and often mended clothes. Women chattering and talking to each other, but not being able to buy vegetables to make a healthy dinner. When looking further: a pharmacy without anti-fever meds. Long lines for the bakery, the butcher shop, any kind of store. Dilapidated buildings, cars rusting where they were standing, no public transport. I was surprised to discover the friendliness of the colonists, after I got past the initial suspicious and distrust. I did receive some looks because of the Nikon, and I could see certain types calculate its value, debating if it was worth attacking me for it. I was better prepared to defend myself from burly guys picking a fight with me than a super fast kid swiping my digital camera, I thought to myself, bitterly. But would I have ended up at Maxwell Church if that brat hadn’t…? Probably not… however, the church stood out in this landscape, so I figured I would have visited it anyway, sooner or later. But then again, I would’ve only met Sister Helen. Duo might not have been around… and so my thoughts kept going in circles, back to Duo, over and over again. And so it wasn’t strange that I found myself at the church once more. Sister Helen was in front of the building, sweeping the stairs. Two of the oldest girls were helping her out, carefully removing dust and sand.
“Heero!” She smiled as soon as she saw me. “You shouldn’t be out and about like that,” she chastised me gently. “Katherine, get our guest a glass of water. Would you like to sit down?”
“I’m a healthy young man,” I tried to joke.
“You injured your knee,” she reminded me. The bandages had been irritating me, so I had removed them, back at the hotel. The scrapes on my skin barely deserved to be bandaged; I had injured myself much more as a kid, falling off my bike once. “You should sit down. Did you come for the Father? I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”
Now that I had met Duo in person, and saw for myself how young he was, it felt very strange to hear anyone refer to him as Father, especially because the woman in the hotel had told me he wasn’t a real priest. Sister Helen probably didn’t care much for Duo’s background, if she kept calling him like that.
“Sister Helen, you’ve probably been here for a long time?” I asked. She looked at me.
“I was born and raised on L2, yes.”
“You must know what I do for a living,” I said. I still didn’t know who had undressed me, but I figured she had seen my wallet and press card. “I would like to talk to you about this colony, and cite you as a source for my book. With your permission, of course.”
She hesitated, clearly overwhelmed by my request. “Please give it a thought,” I asked her. “If you don’t want to, I understand. You’re not in any way obligated.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, relieved that she didn’t have to answer right away. As it was, Katherine returned with the glass of water, followed by Duo. He stepped through the large door opening, his exuberant smile already present.
“Heero! So good to see you. I trust you haven’t encountered any other people trying to get your camera? You’re right in time for dinner.”
“Oh, I, eh, I was just passing by,” I said, at the exact moment my stomach chose to let out a loud grumble. I had skipped lunch in favor of interviewing and photographing the colonists. I always forgot to eat when I was doing research.
“I’ll put out one more plate.” Duo grinned at me.
“Father,” Katherine said and tugged at his garb.
“Yes, Katherine?”
“Are you going away tonight again?”
My curiosity was piqued. At the previous dinner, Sister Helen told me that Duo had ‘stepped out for the night’. I have a very curious nature of course, I’m not a reporter for nothing. And if Duo’s name really went around in the criminal circuit - which I still refused to believe - then of course he would conduct his… ah, business, during the nocturnal hours. No sign of worry or distress showed on his face as he ruffled the girl’s hair.
“I’ll be having dinner with all of you tonight,” he said and the girl’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “All right, let’s set the table!” They went inside the church and Sister Helen picked up on my inquiring look.
“He visits the sick and the dying,” she explained. “It may not mean much to everyone, but to some it does. He’s with them in their last hour of need and their final minutes.”
I felt terribly ashamed. Here I was, thinking that a ‘fake’ priest was all but the center of the criminal circuit, while Duo was consoling those who had fallen upon hard times and those who needed comfort when the end was near. He did this out of the goodness of his heart, who was I to doubt that?
That night, I helped with the dishes, despite Sister Helen and Duo protesting. It was a very easy chore, as the children passed the plates around and around until it was completely dry and put away in the wooden cupboard. The children weren’t obligated to do the chore, but anyone could see that they were very fond of both Helen and Duo, and helped out spontaneously. The few adults seeking shelter at the church, put the chairs back together at the tables and swept the floors. Every now and then, the electricity flickered. I wasn’t used to L2’s fickly power supply, but nobody paid attention to it. The majority of the church was illuminated by oil lamps and huge candles, only the kitchen and the laundry/washing room used electricity, whenever it was available. After the dishes were done, I started the interviews with the adult people in the church, and I spoke to some of the children to learn about their background. I ignored my cramping fingers from all the writing I did; so many stories, ranging from plain bad luck to miscalculated fortune. The children often had the same story: abandoned, dumped, left behind. Sad stories of people framed by the government, not knowing what to do anymore, desperate, and the children taking the brunt of it. I was going to need weeks, if not months, to work on all of these stories and do them justice. I wanted to capture the spirit, the atmosphere of both happiness and sadness on the colony. For the umpteenth time I wished I could’ve brought my laptop or a recording device, but that was against the rules.
When I took a break, I noticed that Duo was also in the living room. I called this the ‘living room’ because it featured a large, old-fashioned open fire place, which was a good thing as the church didn’t have general heating. He was standing amidst the other adults, and it didn’t escape me that they treated him with reverend respect. Just when I looked at him, Duo caught my stare and smiled at me. Blushing like a teenager, I tried to return the smile but ended up in a wolf-like grin, so I quickly turned my head away. I didn’t miss one of the young kids, I recognized Solo, running up to Duo and all but latching onto his leg.
“Duo, Duo, there’s someone here to see you!” His voice rang out in the tall room, echoing. Sister Helen, standing next to him, put her hand on Duo’s arm.
“You’re busy,” she said, “I’ll go, Father.”
Solo shook his head. “No, no, it had to be Duo! He wanted to talk to Duo only.”
“Some people are more demanding than others,” Duo said. “Thank you Sister, I’ll see this guest myself.”
He left the living room a little too quickly to my taste, and something about his answer and attitude was off. Sister Helen or the children didn’t seem to notice and the people Duo had been talking to, huddled together at the fire place with a mug of coffee. Without another word, I left the living room as well. I didn’t know why I decided to follow Duo, rather than to chalk it up to my natural curiosity. I made sure that my footsteps didn’t echo on the tiled floor, and I shuffled forward, keeping my distance. I didn’t need to go that far though, I could already pick up on the voices from where I was, pressed flat against the wall.
“I told you not to come here,” Duo’s voice was curt and sharp, lacking its usual warmth. “Not in the presence of the children!”
“I just swung by,” another voice, definitely male, older, and cold. “I wanted to see for myself what’s so important to you. You’re doing a great job.”
“Spare me your platitudes.” A door was opened, the sound of creaking wood. Duo’s office? “We’ll talk inside.”
It was the shortest conversation I had ever heard, but nobody needed to tell me that it was foreboding. Duo’s voice held something menacing, something angry… and if I thought it was lacking warmth, it was still a furnace compared to the other guy’s voice. So cold, so… emotionless. Who was he and why had he such an effect on Duo? I kept my ears peeled, but I didn’t hear any other sounds but the children playing, and I was afraid getting caught in the hallway as the kids tended to run up and down here. I went back to the living room. Nobody had missed me and I continued my interviews and writing my stories until it was time to retreat. I decided it was best for me to go back to my hotel and work on the interviews. I had more than enough material to write a good introduction to my book. Of course, I had reserved a big part for Duo as well; I wanted him to play an important part in my book. I went to say goodbye to Sister Helen and the children.
When I walked up to the large entrance door, Duo was standing in the opening, looking out over the cobblestone square. I looked in the same direction, but I only saw the retreating back of a skinny man with white hair.
“Excuse me,” I coughed, to show that I wasn’t sneaking up on him. Duo didn’t even startle.
“You’re leaving already?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“I take it you’ve got enough information?”
“Enough to get an introduction started. It’s going to be a great book.”
“I’m sure of it,” Duo said, but he sounded a little defeated. Was I mistaken, or was his face slightly pale?
“Everything all right?” I asked tentatively.
“Don’t worry,” Duo said and his smile was back full-force. “Have a good night, Heero.”
Duo and his mysterious guest kept plaguing my mind. I wished I had seen the other guy’s face. I wanted to know who he was and why he had upset Duo. He had to be upset; despite that lovely smile, something was bothering him, I was sure of it. While I was slaving over my story, Duo’s face came up in my mind, and his “Have a good night, Heero.”. It almost started to sound ominous. I checked my watch; it was close to midnight. I was ready for the second phase of my plan: L2 by night, the underbelly. I couldn’t write a comprehensive book about L2 without experiencing both sides in person. Today I’d seen the surface, now it was time to see what was submerged in the colony. There was only one way to solve this: I had to find out what was bothering Duo, and by default, bothering me. I had to return to the church and figure out what was going on.
Maxwell Church was dark and ominous, looming as a tower of vengeance in the late hours of the night. I imagined Sister Helen wandering the hallways to comfort sick and sad children, and as for Duo… my imagination drew a blank. I’d love to see him nice and safe and warm in his bed, but I had the feeling he wasn’t the kind of person to snuggle up all cozily like that. I wouldn’t mind having him snuggle up to me, though… and that was a thought I had to file away immediately because it was disturbing my concentration, and I just saw a backdoor of the church open. All my hours of waiting paid off. A slender figure, clad in black, left the church. Judging from his height, it could be Duo, but I shouldn’t be drawing conclusions until I had checked my facts. I knew better than to plain assume things. I have reported war zones and battlefields since I was barely eighteen. I was there, on the frontline, I was close to mobile suits, heck, I’ve even seen a Gundam up close and personal. I was there, with my camera, with my recording devices, with my laptop. I wrote award-winning articles, but let me tell you, no one is thinking of a Pulitzer when the beam cannon of a Gundam is firing just inches away from you. At least I wasn’t. I was an observer, I still am, and tonight I was observing someone who just snuck out of the church. I had learned a lot on those battlefields. How to stay undetected. How to keep a low profile. I had no difficulties tracking the person who kept a steady pace, jogging through the streets of L2, easily and handily using the shadows. The woman from my hotel… could she be right after all? The way the person comported himself showed an excellent experience. This was something he had done many times before. I tried to keep my personal thoughts out of it. Observing and objective, remember?
He stopped in front of a building that I didn’t recognize. Everything looked the same in the dark, but this guy knew his way around. For a moment, I lost him out of sight. I scoured the building until I saw movement, so fast that I asked myself whether I imagined it. Someone was climbing through a window to get inside. I crossed the street and attached myself to the wall of another building. I wasn’t going to follow him inside, so I patiently waited. It didn’t take too long; after twenty minutes I heard just the tiniest noise of the window opening again. A faint rustling of fabric, and then someone came climbing down. As soon as his feet hit the ground, I moved - not even wondering for a second whose business I was meddling with. I grabbed the person in black at the shoulder, turned him around and in the faint, artificial moonlight, I recognized those eyes immediately, the only visible part of his face.
“Duo,” I hissed, shocked and disappointed at the same time. His eyes went wide, probably not because he had been caught, but because it was me who had caught him.
“Heero?” His voice was unusually high-pitched. “What are you doing here?”
“I think the question is, what are you doing here?” I had a firm grip on his shoulder and forced him back against the wall. He didn’t put up any resistance, my grip was tight enough to not break free that easily. “Do the children know that their Father rummages around at night?”
“Oh, please.” Duo did a half-hearted attempt to swat at my wrist. “Are you a cop? An undercover? You’re not a reporter after all, are you?”
“I am.” I was fairly calm, even if my stomach and my heart were jumping up and down. The adrenaline flowed through my body, and I noticed I was trembling. Duo didn’t seem to notice, or not to care, though. “I’m a renowned war reporter on Earth.”
“Well, do I have a newsflash for you,” Duo said coldly. “This is L2. We don’t have war - we are a war. Let go of me, Heero. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“Then tell me. I’ve seen worse.”
“Not all wars are fought with guns and Gundams.” He snorted derisively when he saw my surprised look. “News travels slow to L2, but we’re not totally deprived. We know what’s going on outside of the colony, even if we are a few months behind.” His voice was muffled by the shawl he was wearing to cover up his face, but I could make out the words. “You have no right to judge me, Heero. Now, let go of me.”
“No.” To get my point across, I tightened my grip and now he was shoved against the wall. He narrowed his eyes. “Let go of me. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Then tell me,” I repeated. I moved up my other hand and tugged at the black scarf, firmly wrapped around his head. I figured he had tucked his braid under it as well. Freeing up his nose and lower part of his face, I stared at him intently. “Tell me.”
“Get away from me,” he hissed. The artificial moonlight shone on his face, rendering him visibly pale, ghostlike, with far more pronounced cheekbones and a hollow to his face that I didn’t notice at all when Duo was in the warm, kind environment of the church.
“What did you do?” I asked, totally taken aback. “Duo, what’s going on?”
This time, his attempt to break free wasn’t half-assed. With surprising strength, he rammed his hand against my lower arm, immediately followed by a blow to my stomach. He was so fast and agile that I found myself doubling over, wheezing the breath I’d been holding.
“Don’t you ever come close to the church again,” was his parting shot, and he was swallowed up by the darkness.
