Still Breathing 2/?
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, alas.
Warning: This becoming very much a ghost story....
Notes: This story is a sequel to Breathing.
Still Breathing 1: http://www.faithinthemoon.com/2012/04/fic-still-breathing-1.html
There was more to Duo than any sane person might have guessed. Heero watched hours of video. There was something incredibly ambivalent about seeing his own lifeless body manhandled around by the bulkier white boy. It was profoundly uncomfortable to have to accept that he had been dead, for at least a couple of days. That was well beyond some mistaken for dead scenario. It was also disturbing to hear the kind of things his Duo said when no one was listening.
Heero was pretty sure that wanting to fuck a zombie did actually make you a necrophiliac.
As he watched the videos through to their conclusion though, he wasn't actually sure he was a zombie. To be a zombie, dead flesh has to be come alive... or somewhat alive. Heero knew he was alive enough that the best medical team in Washington, DC didn't accuse him of being a zombie when they gave him Duo's heart. He laid his hand over his heart, whispered his love and devotion to Duo, hoping against sanity that he'd feel his ghostly love's fingers brush across his forehead. Instead the whole chair he sat in tipped over, dumping him on his head.
He rolled, growled. "God damn it, Duo. What the hell?" For just a moment, he was completely sure that he saw Duo standing there as vivid as Duo could be loud. Duo pointed towards the door and gave Heero a look like he knew what he meant!
Heero got back to his feet, kicked the chair out of the way, pointed right back two fingers, almost like it was a gun. "Fuck you! You kept secrets from me, Duo Maxwell! Big secrets. When you're alive again, I'm going to kick your ass!"
Duo jerked, his head tilting back. Thick black trickles of liquid trickled down Duo's face, leaving only black, not even the slightest reflection of shape behind them.
Pain stabbed Heero's heart, hard enough to make him stagger to the desk. There were things he did not understand about the world. Completely stubborn, he reached out and grabbed the spectral Duo's hand, holding to him, feeling as if his hand were real. Holding Duo's hand, he reached up and wiped away the dark rain. "You're mine and I will not let you go. I have never seen you afraid before, Duo. What is it that scares you?"
"Payment," he mouthed, but then he was gone.
The hair stood up on the back of Heero's neck as something touched him, traced hard fingers over exposed flesh. It wasn't Duo touching him. His hand reached to touch the back of his neck... and came away red. "Whatever the fuck you are," Heero vowed. "I am going to find out what you are and put you down."
In that moment he felt such a powerful sense of violation that he lost the last of the hospital food he'd eaten, spilling it over the floor, on the desk, splattering everything within a five food radius. He felt like he'd been turned inside out, that the rage and hunger belonged to him, that hatred towards Duo was his. Confused, he dropped all the way to his knees. He loved Duo! He would never hurt him!
The flashback hit him with a horrible clarity, turning the car towards the pylon, his own hand reaching over to unfasten Duo's seat belt. Duo never saw his hand. The car crumpled against the huge unmoving cement tower. Duo smacked into the dashboard, blood sprayed. He went back against the seat, then forward through the shattering windshield. Heero screamed, crumpled all the way to the lab floor, his knees drawn to his chest, arms around them, sobbing. "I didn't do that! That's not how it happened!"
Hours later, Heero work in the chill dark. It was the first time he could remember waking up in his own vomit. Somethings are meant to be one time only events. He wrinkled his nose, sat up. The lights came on when he moved.
The world had not had ghosts. Now the world had ghosts. The difference could be that he'd gone insane. He could have driven them into a pylon and released Duo's safety equipment. He could be imagining that he did that because it was easier to be angry at himself then to feel powerless. He sat there under the table, arms around his knees, thinking through everything he knew.
He hadn't thought to look before, but he had been substantially different after that mission than he had been before it. Everything had been more vivid, more intense. He'd felt things he'd never felt before and he had thought that was because he'd quit working for Preventers. In fact, he'd quit working for Preventers.. not just because of that note Duo had shoved in his pocket... but because he was different.
Shifting, he braced his elbows against his knees, palms together, thumbs under his chin, and thought very hard. The world did not have ghosts. The world now has ghosts.
More than Duo.
Heero shrank in on himself. He knew who the other ghost was. Goosebumps wrapped cold around him. There was nothing he could do.
Duo. Duo only had him to protect and help him. He laid his hand over his chest. "You bastard," Heero hissed to the empty room. "You stay away from him! He's too good for you to touch!"
Thick black syrup dripped, pooling at the edge of the table. The thick substance drew out as if it were finger painting itself. "Subject 01."
"Fuck you," Heero screamed, scrambling back from where was, crawling out from under the other side of the table. How did you fight something that you couldn't see? Didn't know what it was made of? Heero did not believe in magic.
Not a ghost. An echo. His face drew tight and he searched for where Duo might have put his body on ice. “Duo, you fucker,” Heero said, angry and even more determined to save his best friend, his soul mate, the only fucking human he’d ever really connected to, from whatever shit he’d gotten himself into. “You better tell me what actually happened. Now!”
Loving fingers brushed over the still stinging scrapes on the back of his neck.... and he saw....