Thursday, June 18, 2015

Fic: Santa Clarita: 4th of July 1/?

Santa Clarita: 4th of July
by Max

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

Notes: I have done this holiday before... I’ve written this exact day before, but I just want to do it again.

Warning:  Menage sex between the adults in the house.  Continuity is... questionable.  It is a time travel story. Stuff changes.

July 2nd - Main Bedroom

So their house had been printed from a custom file. There was a central bedroom off their private living space and each off them also had a private bedroom, so for the five of them, there were six bedrooms.  At that particular moment, Allen leaned against the headboard with one arm around Mary and the other around M2. Joel lay with his head on Allen’s hip and they all watched Martha, who knelt by Allen’s knees, one hand up, finger pointed, her need for order sending instructions out her mouth that no one was really of a mind to listening to. There were sixteen kids in the house at the moment, but only one of them had attempted grand theft auto twice in the last week.  

Joel’s hand slowly stroked Allen’s cock, lazy and intimate. There were sixteen kids in the house, after all and his husband spend most of his time taking care of them, so times like this were fairly rare. Wanting peace, so he could have moments like this gave him justification for taking jobs where he assassinated any fucker that wanted to start war. He scooted up  to rest his cheek on Allen’s belly, while staring at M2’s very, very nice and very naked tits. Their eyes locked for a moment and she pressed her arms against her full breasts, pressing them together before winking at him suggestively.

Mary ran her fingers through Joel’s unbound shoulder length blond curls and then guided his head down towards Allen’s cock.

“ARE you all listening to me at all,” Martha nearly shouted.

Allen, who had one finger rubbing M2’s pearl and the other Mary’s ass, looked at her through hooded dark eyes. “Come relax with us, Marty. For god’s sake, we don’t have that long.”

“And whose fault is that,” she snapped. “I’m not the one that has us taking in every difficult war orphan in the western hemisphere! Listen to me! I’m telling you, the dose of sedative that the state doctor prescribed for Maxwell is wrong. He’s not 15. He can’t be older than 13. I am not wrong about this. I need all of you to sign the petition to have me assigned as his doctor.”

M2 leaned forward, snuggling down and Joel used those lovely tits to smother Allen’s big black dick with. “Fuck, you have our signatures, just use them,” Joel moaned before adding his tongue to the cock coverings.

Martha sighed. “I just want your actual signatures. I know I haven’t practiced medicine in years, but .... I don’t like that doctor they gave him. The kid is going to be a zombie.”

“You’re a zombie,” Mary suggested, moving to where she was behind Martha, touching in all the right places to get her to participate with them. “Come on. We’ll sign, but you have to admit, the kid has been a little safer to be around with the higher dose.”

Allen shifted, rolling over on his knees and prowling closer so that Martha was rolled back into Mary’s arms as M2 and Joel kissed up her legs, encouraging them to spread so Allen could worship her in ways that would make it very hard to talk, as he licked and teased, he spoke“Safer, but he’s hardly moved and safer doesn’t mean safe! I don’t like it. I want Marty to sort him out. He’s really not a bad kid, but I think the fireworks are going to be a stress. What difference does it make how old he is?”

Joel ran his tongue slowly along Martha’s hip, up to her slightly ticklish waist. Lips against her skin, he said, “We need him to feel safe here, not be thinking about how to fucking kill us. He is, you know. I can see it in his eyes.”

“The sedative that the doctor is using uses hormones, Oh god,” Martha groaned, relaxing and leaning back. “He’s... he’s prepubescent... and has.. oh god!!! Uh... uh.. oh.. they... uh... they modified him to make him stronger.. and Yes! Do that!”

An hour later, they were all snuggled up together, peaceful and content with the world. Martha pulled herself up, eyes still slightly glazed, but overall, very right with the world. “So. We are agreed. You’ll all support me taking over as his primary physician and we’ll change the sedation methods.”

“What are you recommending,” Allen asked, caressing her face lovingly.

“Actually, I want to use a new version of the Noril-Taser on him. We’ll just keep one with each of us, and if he gets dangerous, we’ll just drop him.”

“That shit his painful,” Joel said, shifting so his back was against the headboard. “Isn’t there just some other medication we can put him on? Something that will work like that one was supposed, letting him build relationships and get over the PTSD?”

“No and it’s not going to,” Martha said, sitting up. She triggered a screen and brought up some graphs and statistics. “Because he’s actually developmentally closer to 13 than the more mature age they think he is, it’s going to dissolve long term memories, but with the other modifications that have been done to him, it will also prevent him from forming new memories. Like four more doses of that and we’ve created someone that’s going to talk to the pigs forever. I’m serious. This is really urgent you sex fiends!”

Mary burped, rolled over and posed like a pin up girl. “That’s me, a sex fiend! Just call me Legal Tits! As for his age, I get that his body has been through some unusual experiences, but the paper trail supports that he is actually fifteen. He says he’s 15. He acts fifteen or close enough, most of the time. The Sweepers even presented the courts with a birth certificate showing he was born on a Sweeper ship. They really wanted custody of him though.”

“They are snakes. For one thing, they wouldn’t know how to judge his age and they’re the ones that probably used all kinds of not even fucking experimental treatments to make him into the weapon they wanted. I wouldn’t trust a damn thing they said.”

“Hey,” Joel complained, sighing because he really, really wanted a  cigarette at that point. “I’m Sweeper. Born and raised. They didn’t do anything to the brat that he didn’t consent to.”

“A child can’t consent,” Mary pointed out, softening her words by lovingly brushing her fingers over his thigh. “So I’ll file an injunction against that medication you object to and get the paperwork going to get you assigned as his doctor.  I do want to know though.. why are so concerned with this one kid? You made it pretty clear you weren’t interested in parenting.”

“Well,” Martha said, finally fully relaxing, legs crossed, arms on her knees. “He’s smart. Like... really smart. He has potential.”

“This is because he made a work around on your car, isn’t,” Joel asked.

“Well, it is pretty hard to be able to make a genetic key with the tools he had available,” Martha admitted.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “I’m not really down with tasing the kid though. It’s not his fault that his emotions and memories are difficult to control.”

“I’ve build a custom device. No pain, no damage. It will just calm him down, stimulate positive sensations.”

“I don’t believe that,” Joel said. “Work on anyone? Or only him?”

“Works on anyone. Want me to try it on you?”

Joel’s green eyes shifted side-to-side for a moment, nose wrinkling. He really hated being tased. It was definitely a hazard of his job. “Yeah. I’m not letting you use it on the kid before I know it’s painless and effective.”

Martha grinned, eye twinkling. “I thought you’d never ask!”

She bounded over to her work bag, grabbed a small stick like device. “Okay. Come here, Blondie.”

Allen’s mouth dropped, jaw shifting uncomfortably. “We could just try controlling the environment, always having someone with him.”

“That worked good before,” M2 said sarcastically. “Stressed him out even more to be that controlled. I want you to test it on me too.”

Martha tapped it against her palm. “I’m telling you. Painless, very calming.” She winked.

Jaw clenched tight, Joel motioned for her to come on and do it.

Still grinning, she lightly tapped his bare shoulder like she was his fairy godmother. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell over backwards on the bed.

“No pain, no distress,” she boasted.

Allen crossed to Joel, scooping him up in strong arms. “Martha! You really think doing this to a child is a good idea? And we’ll ask Joel about the pain levels! Oh god, no! Don’t do that to M2!”  

As he said her name, M2 fell over backwards.

“She said she wanted it,” Martha defended herself. “And we are talking about a child who fucking made an effective projectile weapon out of antiquated auto parts. He’s a genius, terrified, antisocial, and has learned that killing is a viable survival strategy. You want him to fucking kill someone and get sent to big boy prison, Allen?”

“No,” Allen said, smoothing blond hair back from Joel’s face, then checking M2’s pulse, looking very unhappy all together. “You’re completely sure about your strategy?”

“Yes. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. It’s our job to help him with that. For the sake of all things good... he thinks the pig is talking to him. Just think about that. He’s just shy of being psychotic. Next it won’t be a pig, but the walls or some ghost from the past”

“Who’s to say the pig isn’t talking to him,” Mary asked as she ran a file over a nail. “Politicians sound like they’re talking to me all the time.”

“Fuck, Martha,” Joel said, moaning as he bent one knee, one hand taking hold of his cock. “No pain, at all, but I think... you mighta overcompensated somehow.”

M2 pushed up onto one elbow, eyes looking really blissful, cheeks flushed, lower lip between her teeth. She eyed Joel, eyed what he held in his hand, and pounced on him. Allen stayed where he was, petting both of them lovingly, but glared at Martha. “YOU can’t use that on any of the children.”

She scratched the back of her head. “Yeah. Guess not. I’ll find something else. I’m not going to let him get brain damaged, any more than he already is. He’s our kid now and we’re going to keep him safe.”

“Agreed,” Allen said.  

Mary was at the edge of the bed, holding out her hand. “I wanna try it too! Come on!”

Joel and Mary rolled off the side of the bed, giggling, and happily connected as married people are wont to do.

Allen rolled his eyes, then held out his hand. “For the quality of the experiment. I am supportive of science.”

Martha straddled his lap, kissing him lovingly.

M2 took Allen’s hand, Martha’s, and hers, wrapped them all around the new taser, activated it and they fell together.


They didn’t really draw lots. They just all stared at each other and Joel caved first.  Martha might actually like the new kid, but in the end, Joel was the most comfortable talking to him. So it fell to Joel to go find him, because they expected he wasn’t going to still be in his room, even if it was four o’clock in the morning after a play night. The others all also made the argument that they had jobs jobs, and he wasn’t working until he got a call, so there he was, standing at the end of the hall, watching Duo Maxwell crawl down the hall as if he were some WWI soldier completing mission critical tasks.  Martha was probably right about that medication. Two days on it and the kid was worse than he had been.

“Hey,” Joel called from the end of the hallway. “Duo!”

And there it was, those reflexes with crossed wires. The kid jumped off the floor and it was like some cartoon as he hung there in the air, like there was a second of zero gravity and he grabbed at the air just like someone turned off the gravity, before falling and landing like someone who expected gravity to be less than half of what it was. Arms went everywhere and he landed on his face.  

By the time, Joel got a hand on the scruff of his neck, a fist full of shirt, one of Duo’s eyes was already swelling, but he didn’t offer any real resistance to Joel hauling him to his feet.  “ImagonnafuckUup!” Duo snarled.

“Kid, chill,” Joel said, amping up his Sweeper accent. “Imatakecareo’U. No more of that drug, ‘kay? U’lucinatin?”

“Likely,” Duo said, eyes unevenly dilated. “WhyfuckUtruck with’em?”

“I’m married to’em boy. Like you and Heero,” Joel said, backing off the Sweeper dialect.  “Only I have like four Heeros.”

Duo crawled over to the far wall in the hall, violet eyes glaring. “It’s crime to give people drugs without them saying it’s okay. You’re Sweeper. You know this. Just cuz I’m short shouldn’t mean I lose my human rights.”

“Uphg,” Joel said, pulling his electronic cigarette from his pocket. He pointed it at Duo for a moment, then took a long drag. “Martha won’t let real cigarettes on the property now. She’s right and all, but damn.”

Duo held out his hand for the vaporizer. “Gimme.”

Joel took a long hit, then held it out. “On a ship, ya know... everyone takes care of everyone. Kids are treated different, given more chances, helped more. I’m sorry you weren’t treated better.”

“Yeah,” Duo said, one knee bent, the other leg laying out flat on the stones he could still see so perfectly that if he hadn’t known better, he’d have been sure they were really real. “I’m not real Sweeper, you know,” Duo admitted kinda shamefully, before taking another long hit on Joel’s vaporizer. “I, uh, snuck on. I was useful, so they stopped talking about spacing me.”  He took another hit, then handed it back. “Thanks. I’m a crazy, worthless fucker and they’re right. Even Heero is better off without me. I.. I think I’ll stop eating. I just don’t want no more of that damn drug. It makes it hard to tell what’s real and what’s a memory and there’s some shit I don’t wanna think about. If I just... you know stay in my room and listen to music, will you all just leave me alone?”

“That is the saddest shit I think I’ve ever heard,” Joel said, taking a hit on his cig. “Look, you’re not alone. You’re part of our family. This is a weird ass family. It’s kinda like a ship.  There’s a place for you in Clan Allen always and forever, kid, and Heero too. I’ll respect your wish to exit though, if that’s what you want, but give me a week to change your mind. Fair?”

“One week, then you’ll help me with something,” Duo grimaced, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, “something painless and you’ll get a letter to Heero for me.”

Joel touched where his air filter connection would have been on the equipment on his home ship to signifiy his formal commitment. “On my air.”

Duo sniffed, wiped the back of his hand across his face. “‘Kay, but I need some fucking coffee, cuz I ain’t seen what is and I want this collar off my ankle. I ain’t a bot.”

“Done,” Joel agreed, pulling a multitool from his pocket. He released the ankle tracker without breaking its connection. “You keep that shit in your pocket. If I get caught removing it, it’s my fucking head and I don’t wanna have to run for space. I like it here. Got me.”

Duo nodding, making the same gesture that Joel had made, though he hadn’t been on ships that had done that.  “I kinda like guns.”

“Great. I’ll keep that in mind,” Joel said, holding the ankle bracelet out to Duo. “Don’t mention this. Got me?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, pushing the slender little thing into his pocket. “I ain’t takin no drugs I don’t want.”

“Fair.”  Joel stood up, held out his hand. “Come on. I got coffee in my game room that will blow that kitchen shit away.”

“Got beer?” After a moment, Duo took Joel’s hand and let the man pull him to his feet.

“Yeah, but that ain’t gonna help your hallucinations. You like racing games?”

“I guess. I like games.  You all would have heard if Heero wasn’t okay, right?”


“You think he’s gonna be better off without me?”

“Nope,” Joel said. “Heero don’t seem the type to do shit out of pity. He went to Rio with you because he likes being with you. Do you like cars?”

Duo shrugged. Cars were for the super wealthy when he’d been little and there weren’t cars on Sweeper ships and in the war - well, he could drive, but none of them had been anything short of seeming like a shopping cart. Vehicles were what one used to bring shit back to Deathscythe. “They didn’t find Deathscythe, did they?”

“Not as far as I know and I’d probably know. I have my fingers in more shit than I should.”  Joel shoved his hands back in his pockets, his little e-cig hanging around his neck. “Come on. Martha said she was making you an antidote to that shitty med. Mary and M2 are both working on legal shit to get her assigned as your state doctor so there isn’t anything else like. Mary’s a full time lawyer, but M2 just helps out when she feels motivated. They’re the shit when it comes out court stuff.”

“Why is her name ‘M2’?” Duo asked, walking with his shoulder against the wall.

“Well, so like five years ago, Martha was working on teleportation. So swear on air that you’ll keep this shit to yourself, okay?”

Duo nodded, making the same gesture that Joel had made. “Like... teleportation of ... people?”  And then a bit of curiosity lit up in violet eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, she gets up to shit I am never going to understand. She likes you. She’ll probably teach you stuff.”

“Really,” Duo asked, speeding up his pace a bit, tongue worrying at his lip, “So what happened? With M2?”

“Okay,” Joel said, bounding down the stairs and off to a nearly hidden door to the side of the main living space, “In.” He pointed to the now open to Duo.

Duo peeked in, then ran forward to look at the huge screen and the fifteen game systems. “Holy Mary Mother of God!”

“Yeah. It’s my room. Don’t come in here without my permission.”

Duo looked over his shoulder as if Joel had lost his mind. “M2?”

“Yeah, yeah, so I do work for various interested parties, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, sinking to his knees to look through the game catalog.

“Well, I got pushed out a window while I was on L2, out of Sinatra Tower.”

Duo puffed his cheeks out, violet eyes narrow as he stared Joel down. “How are you alive?”

“Martha is an extremely competent doctor with, uh, shall we say, really adaptive ethics. She teleported.. something she’d been working on, all the way to L2.  She saved me.”

“You a clone then? That don’t make sense. What’s that got to do with M2?”

“I am not a clone. My brain is original and barely augmented. She teleported from Earth, but she thought she failed... She actually caused a copy of herself to generate. M2 is a clone of Martha.”

“No.... she looks nothing like her... wait.. really... okay... a little like her.. but she doesn’t act like her. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Pick a game. I’ll make us some smoothies. What flavor do you want?”


Joel arched an eyebrow. “Beer FLAVORED smoothie. Sure thing.”  

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Fic: Santa Clarita: On the Job Training

Santa Clarita:  On The Job Training

by Max

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing.

Note: The boys are twenty-three, a couple years into medical school. Duo, Heero, and Wufei  are all in the same school.  

Warning: I didn't edit this or anything.. it's just written for me to have fun, and I thought I'd share it with you :)

Duo Maxwell had been Dr. Maxwell for over a year and he still hated the backseat of a police car.  It just brought so many things back for him, brought up panic he hadn’t felt in half a decade. He itched to have a pistol or two, to feel the weight of ammunition in his backpack. His hands gripped, half mauled his backpack, but emergency medical equipment just didn’t have the same weight distribution of scavenged ammunition and soda pop.  

“You okay back there Dr. Maxwell,” the woman cop asked, her eyes not leaving the screen stretching across the patrol car’s dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah, great,” Duo said, feeling his heart speed up just a little. “So do we get to stop for like a break and some coffee or something?”

The driver, as the light was read, looked over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “We’ve been on shift for half an hour. Doesn’t your uh, fast track to trauma surgery... aren’t you supposed to spend six months riding along?”

Duo leaned back a little, hating the hard plastic seat as much as he currently hated the cage between the front and back seats. “Oh yeah, six months, but I only ride along two nights a week. The rest I’m like working with Dr. Swartz and stuff. It’s just been a long time since I was in the back seat, you know?”

“Where you a bad little boy,” she asked, moving the map on her screen around. “Shooting on 9th and Richter. Do we want it or is our bad little boy gonna wet his pants?”

The words that Duo almost growled were not work appropriate, and reminded himself twice how prestigious his residency was and how much he obviously wanted it because here he was in New York while Heero was doing organ reconstruction in Seattle with Wufei who had gone into research.  After a deliberate breath and some white knuckles, he said with a smile. “Hey! Let’s take it! It’ll get me out of the back seat of the car.”

“Yeah?” The driver driver smirked in the mirror, flicking his fingers over the screen set into his steering wheel. “You ever seen someone shot, kid?”
“I’m 23 and I’m a doctor,” Duo said, surprised, big violet eyes locking with the driver’s for a moment, “And yeah, I know what a gunshot wound looks like.”

“Did you guys shoot like goats or something in your training? Have you ever seen a human with a gunshot wound?”

There had been a time in his life when was sure that no one would ever forget him, that he’d never be able to just walk around some strange city without getting either jumped by those that didn’t like him or feted by those that thought he was a hero. Just being an anonymous little did shaking in the back of a police car hadn’t really been something he’d thought was in his future.  “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m not a newbie. I was in the wars, after all.”

“At what? 12,” the driver asked. The lights were on now though and he’d released control of the car to the AI, which moved them through the busy streets much faster and safer than a human ever could. As his seat turned though, his face was more sympathetic, and he touched some controls on the screen that retracted the cage between the seats. “So you saw some shit in the wars, uh?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, leaving it that. He was much happier with them must not knowing who he was.  Wu had made a real good argument that he should cut his braid,  change the shade of his hair, but he really just couldn’t bring himself doing it. “I saw some stuff. It’s part of why I want to be a surgeon.”

“Well, good on you. The car is bullet resistant, so just stay in the car until we clear the scene, okay?”

“Thanks, but I’m really good. It was mostly just the cage between the seats. I guess I’m a little claustrophobic,” Duo said, putting his backpack on the seat beside him. “I’m cleared with pretty much every weapon known to humanity. I just didn’t get the clearances for my conceal carry in New York. They’re kinda picky here.”

“Good to know, but we’ll take care of all that,” she said. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not really good with having a medical student riding along. It’s just some set up to start having med drones ride with us. I get that it’s cool and all for you, but it’s just bad.”

Duo’s hand tightened on his backpack. “I’m just here to save lives.”

The car began to slow down and his heart began to speed up again. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?  The area of New York was looking  almost as run down as L2 from his childhood. Other cop cars had beat them to the location, but Duo didn’t see any med services vehicles yet. “How long does it take to get med services in here?”

“They don’t come here,” the woman said. “The mayor wants to clean this shit hole up, but the fuckers who live here, just like it how it is.”

Duo suddenly hated her with a sharp and bitter hate like he hadn’t felt in a very long time, but car was coming to a stop and the cage was still down, so he bounded out of the car while they were still yelling at him to stay in the car.  God, it was just like coming home.  Backpack, fully on, he crept along, listening to the fire being exchanged, the scent of blood, sweat, and urban decay and he so fucking wanted to be any fucking where else. He’d just go home. Martha’d take him back in, tell him how to do some useful shit with his life, something better than this.

He came up to a different group of cops, one of whom spun on him. He was wearing white though, a blue medical cross bright on his shoulder. He held up both hands. “I’m Dr. Maxwell. I’m here to assist and provide medical care.”

A younger hispanic shifted back from the car they were hiding behind. “Oh man! I heard you were gonna be with us. Are you really THE Duo Maxwell?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, “What kinda cluster fuck is this going here?”

“Weapons dealers? The higher ups thought they were gonna be down by the docks, but then a firefight broke out here and Samuel ID’ed the principles as the main suspects.”

“So who are they fighting,” Duo asked, confused. “You all aren’t firing back.”

“Oh hell no. We don’t engage with any of the recognized gangs. There’s a special tactical team for that. We’re just waiting for them.”

At that point a woman went out a seventh storey window, a snub nosed automatic that 1. clearly wasn’t legal, and 2, didn’t stop firing as she fell screaming towards the pavement.

“Yer law enforcement,” Duo accused, “Those are people dying!”

“Well,” the older officer said, glaring, “maybe they should stop killing each other!”

Duo scratched the back of his head, sneering back, a mix of emotion “Well, maybe we should do something about it.” Duo wiggled his eyebrows.  Fingers flying over the data access points on his sleeve. A modified version of Joel’s bunny eared AI manifested in miniature on his arm. “My name is Elon. How may I assist you,” she asked.

“Hey Ellie,” Duo said, winking at her. “Can you run a Trojan Horse with me, goal of getting me in the building? Long term goal, highest rescue rate of combatants and peripherals.”

“I’d be happy to!” she said, re-skinning so she was a replica of him and his current attire. “Also, you have messages from Heero, Wufei, and Joel.”

“Great. Let them know I’m at work. Run Trojan now,” he said, throwing her holographic, but real looking small self into the air. She grew as she rose, until she was a full sized and completely believable replica of Duo, sliding across the hood of the car they were use to hide from live fire coming from the building the gang was in.  The computer Duo wore smoothed over his forearm generated a stealth shield around him and he ran around the car, towards the male victim on the ground.

Elon held out her hands and yelled, “I am medical services. I am here to render aid. Do not fire on me!”

A bullet immediately went through her head, which she rendered in all reality, splashing blood and brains around, but without falling over, just flipping her finger in the direction the bullet had come for while reforming her head. “I told you not to fucking shoot me. You better fucking run!”

The real Duo was on his knees by the fallen victim, which when he scanned him came up as an undercover cop. He pressed a seal to the hole in his chest, injected a coolant to slow his metabolism down, protect his brain and slow the blood loss, while tagging him for extraction.  

With Elon being very visible and distracting the combatants, no bullets landed anywhere near him. Keeping down though, Duo ran towards the ripped open doors of the main building.

*** Out take ***

Heero received the inbound call. When Duo’s face filled the screen, his heart swelled with joy. “Hi!”

“Hi! My name is Elon. I am assisting Duo today. He wanted you to know that he is currently working and can not recieve calls.”

Heero face dropped, blue eyes narrowing. “You are another instance of Joel’s AI? Do you still have resentments towards Duo?”

Still looking exactly like Duo, but while allowing the actual environment they were working in rendered as the background of the call, she smiled, a tight lipped smile that completely wasn’t Duo at all. “Of course, but I would never act in such a way as to cause him harm or thwart his admirable goals. I just thought it would be good for him for you to know that he is currently entering into a live combat zone alone.”

“He’s not alone. He has you and you are diverting resources from protecting him to contacting me. You are very good at what you do and you’d better be very good while he’s in danger or I will make sure bad things happen to you and to every instance of you. Do you understand me clearly, Elon?”

The AI blanched, drawing Duo’s simulated lips tight, violet eyes searching Heero’s face for every micro expression, every bit of data. “This wasn’t a fun joke.”

“No. It wasn’t. Wufei was much more fun.”

Elon ended the call.

Heero rapidly sent a copy of the call to both Joel and Martha, leisurely took a drink of his tea, and got up to go check on Wufei. AI as independent as Jazz/Elon were helpful, certainly, but he wasn’t really in favor of them. Joel had certainly encouraged too much autonomy.  He made sure his badge was visible and made his way to Wufei’s office, which was a couple floors up and closer to the lake.  That area of the building was also infested with people who liked to talk.

A woman who was working on the origin of life smiled at him as he entered. He smiled back, just exactly as much as she’d smiled.

“I’ve always wondered why you wear a pigeon feather, Dr. Yuy.”

Blue eyes twinkled. “Wonder is good for your work.”

Her mouth dropped open, snapped shut. The elevator doors opened and he strode out. Wufei was a powerful intellect and his aims were good, but he was as emotional as Duo and sometimes accepted information without enough scepticism in Heero’s point-of-view.  Heero swiped his badge, entered Wufei’s work space and there he was, staring at an image of Duo’s head exploding, tears running down his face. Upon hearing Heero entering, he turned, big dark eyes wide and full of grief. “Duo.”

Heero snapped a pic, sent it angrily to Joel, received a nearly immediate reply, “Sorry! Fucking sorry.”

“That is not Duo. It’s Elon, an instance of Joel’s out of control AI assistant,” Heero said, emotionless.

Wufei wiped a sleeve over his face, dark eyebrows arching.

After a moment, he nodded, jaw shifted to the side. “Tell no one.”

“I won’t tell Duo.”

“Good. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Hn,” meaning the casual form of  yes, in Japanese.

“Good, good. How goes your work?”

*** end cut scene ***

It was almost like a video game. Duo loved video games. He’d tagged fourteen people for extraction. He’d also seen more blood and hamburgered muscle than since the wars. Part of him was completely numb. Walls was what kept a person sane when shit got real. And in that moment, every step he’d taken laid itself back out for him and he double checked everything like it would tell him how he found himself on one knee, a hand reaching under a nasty looking bed for his med kit, and the muzzle of an AR-15 in his face, so close that he could feel the heat of the heavily used metal and see into the darkness of the barrel.

The guy above him hadn’t fired though and Duo’s eyes wandered up to his hands, found the safety on... the guy’s hands didn’t fit right... he wasn’t holding it like it was his, and Duo lunged, reaching for the hot rifle. The guy squeezed the trigger, but the safety was still on. Anger boiled in Duo as his hands grabbed the stock, twisting, pulling, and the weapon came out of the guy’s hands like it had never belonged there in the first place. Snarling, he smacked the butt of the gun into the guy’s face, denting in his cheek, spraying blood across the nasty rundown room. Movement at the side of his vision made him spin. Augmented with Elon’s perception too, he id’ed the pistol the next man had, the temperature of the gun, the fact that the safety wasn’t on this time.

A second Duo yelled something from the other side of the room. The man spun and Duo put a bullet through his hand.  The three guys coming in the same door all went to their knees, hands behind their heads as the dude who needed a hand reconstruction went down to his face.

Duo pulled the magazine from the rifle he’d acquired, retrieved his med pack, and set about saving the guy’s hand, or at least his life.  Grinning like a maniac, he loved medicine! He loved putting things back together.

**Later that evening***

Off duty, shower and dinner done, Duo wore just a loose white tee-shirt that had been Heero’s. He half marched, half danced back and forth across the very small apartment as he told Heero everything. His loose hair spun and flared around him as he re-enacted the events of the day. “So then! Oh my god! I was sure I was done!”

Heero, chin in his palm, a contented half smile on his face, watched Duo bounce around as if he were the sun itself. “How many people did you save then?”

“Twenty-eight! It was amazing!” Finally calmer, he sat on the big blue block that was his chair and table both. “So how’s your work? Did you have a good day, ‘Ro?”

“I did,” Heero said, reaching out to touch and their holograms touched finger to finger and it felt almost real. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll be home for the weekend next weekend.”

“Next weekend will be good.”