Skip to main content

fic: A Wrench to the Heart 19/?

A Wrench to the Heart 19/?

By Max

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

“I don’t want a tea,” Mercy said emphatically. “I want a fucking scotch on the rocks, a double with a beer chaser.”

She stood by the window in the proper sitting room.  The chair Sung had pinned Duo in still had a slightly twisted leg. It had been a very eventful month. Duo was in his bed, with both Galen and Pikachu working on repairing his neural networks. Heero, Quatre, and Charlotte were in the proper sitting room.

“I don’t think Duo has any alcohol,” Heero said, “And the computers are too busy to generate any right now.”

“I have some whiskey,” Charlotte said. “I’ve found it pretty helpful around here.”

“If you don’t like it here,” Heero started.  

She pointed her finger at him. “OH don’t you even. I am not leaving early and you need me. You just remembered who you are. You’ve got fifty years to process.”

Heero snapped his mouth shut. Quatre snickered.

“Girl,” Mercy snapped, “Go get the whiskey. You,” she pointed at Quatre like he was a naughty little boy. “What are you laughing at. You think fifty years is a bit of a gap? You must find my two hundred year jump to be hilarious!”

“Now that you mention it,” Quatre said, “It is pretty amusing.”

Heero glared at Quatre. One of the things that he’d learned as Alexander was that it was a very bad idea to taunt people. That Quatre looked decidedly pleased with himself, as he was about to start a challenging game of golf.  “It must have been disconcerting though, to blink and see your baby boy turn into a grown up man.”

Quatre’s smile was just slightly sadistic to Heero’s understanding.  Once, before a mission that they were doing together, he’d found Quatre dipping his bullets in a green fluid that Heero had formerly mistaken for absinthe. When he’d noticed Heero watching him, he’d had that kind of smile and said, “Don’t get hit by any of these bullets.”

“Quatre,” Heero said softly. He hadn’t spoken to Quatre about the bullets. He hadn’t spoken to Quatre much about that time he got insane and blew Trowa into space. His voice was calm now, but not to be ignored, “Mercy is Duo’s mother.”

“Of course,” Quatre said, putting a hand over his mouth for a moment, but the look of predator also faded. “I’m sorry for the manner in which you were brought to the present, Ms. Reigh.”

“It’s Dr. Reigh,” she said, a darkness flashing in her eyes. “I’m a trauma surgeon. I shall tell you that it was disconcerting. One moment I was sitting with my boy, reading him a story, then I felt a chill and opened my eyes here. The moment I saw him, I knew that he had time travel and upload.”

“I have time travel,” Quatre snapped. “What do you mean by upload?”

“This is all virtual reality, right?”

“No, Madame. This is all physical reality. It cost so much energy to reprint your body that I am stuck here for at least three more Earth months.”

“It’s better than if they’d pulled the energy from the colony. We would have had to have asked for assistance. Awkward.”

Quatre nodded.

“Wait... my rescue wasn’t planned? My son didn’t do it, did he?”

“I’m sure he would have, given a bit more time to think it through. He’s just been a little busy with not dying from a brain tumor and getting married to the love of his life,” Quatre said, his sadism rising a little.

“Where is she? I want to meet her,” Mercy said.

Charlotte had returned and was pouring a glass of whiskey for each of them.

“Duo is marrying me,” Heero said. “I am a professor of astronautical engineering and I love him with all my being.”

Mercy took the whiskey, nodded her thanks, took a drink of her whiskey. “So. My son is gay. I’m assuming you’re male. I have trouble telling with Asians sometimes. Are you a boy or a girl?”

Heero wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think my sex is relevant.”

“I look forward to delivering your baby,” she said, her eyes dark. “And you,” she turned on Quatre. “You have time travel, but not for very long, apparently, and you lost control of both the technology and your ship’s security to a bunch of children. You’re awfully full of yourself for a boy who can’t manage security on his own ship.”

“I’ll have you know,” Quatre said, rising from Duo’s pretty Queen Anne chair.

“Roy!” Charlotte yelled, “No!”

Mercy moved quick, faster than Heero had expected. Roy’s teeth had been about to sink into her ankle. She had him by the scruff of the neck, holding him up so their eyes were about level. He puffed out his cheeks.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think you’re a monster. Daddy’s sick again. You did it!”

“Everyone is a monster, boy. Don’t bite people who are part of your tribe. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, M’am.”

“I did not make your dad ill, but I am going to make him better. You may address me as Grandma Mercy. What’s your name?”

“Roy Maxwell. Ima sorry I was gonna bite ya.”

She put him down and Charlotte pounced on him. “You know better than that! Now go meditate! You’ve had too much excitement today and your homework isn’t done!”

“But there were monsters! The monsters were burning up Grandma Mercy! She was screamin and everything,” Roy said, protesting as he was walked out of the room.

Mercy touched the iced down whiskey to her forehead. “You lost control of your ship to him?”

“Not just to him,” Quatre said, arms across his chest, chin lifted defensively.  “It was mostly Julia and Saphron.”

Mercy caught a bit of motion behind the larger couch and then big eyes peered over the top. Now Julia’s eyes were violet, the same shade as Duo’s and her hair was the same shade of brown. Her current body couldn’t have been older than five and she gave Mercy this look of hero worship.

“Who are you,” Mercy asked, sipping her whiskey.

Julia boosted to the back of the couch and threw her leg over. She wore a dress that Shirley Temple might have worn, little blue shoes and ankle socks. “I’m Julia. May I please call you Grandma Mercy too?” She smiled adoringly.

Mercy arched an eyebrow, gave Quatre a look. “Julia took control of your ship, did she?”

Heero rubbed his throat, which suddenly felt sore as he thought about Julia being a xenomorph face hugger. “She doesn’t always look like that.”

“Is she Daton’s biological child?” Mercy held out her hand and Julia ran to her, hugging her leg as Julia smoothed the soft brown braid.

“Hardly,” Quatre sneered. “She’s a menace. I’d put her in stasis, if it were up to me.”

“You’re mean,” Julia said, hiding her face from Mercy, but flicking a forked tongue out at Quatre.

“Come on, sweetie,” Quatre snarled, “Show Grandma Mercy your true colors.”

“Now now,” Charlotte said, “Let’s not go there. Come on, Juju, let’s go get your bath taken care of then you can lay down with your daddy for a little while. You can read him a story.”

“Okay,” Julia said as she ran into Charlotte’s arms. “Is Saphie okay? Her mind went pop today.”

“Yes, I know,” Charlotte said, carrying Julia on her hip. “I gave her something to sleep. She’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Is there anything else I should know. Wait. What year is it?”

“It’s 443AC,” Heero said.

Mercy downed the rest of the whiskey and sank down onto the couch. “So tell me about this world?”


An hour earlier, when Julia had come to get Duo’s help. In the back of Duo’s mind, Shinigami had noticed, watched... woken up a bit. Then when Duo had hit that door and started backing up, the threat had done what it always did for him. It was like a fucking jolt of adrenaline to the core of his being. He remembered that woman. It wasn’t his memory. It was Duo’s memory and painful proof that he was just an after spawn, some coat that Duo had made to protect himself. As Duo’s consciousness slipped from the forefront, Shinigami woke, really woke. The memory of Duo clinging to that woman was so vibrant to him. Then a boot in his face and pain like he’d never known... and for the very first time, there he was.. His own memory, his first moment of consciousness was laying on the mossy ground, listening to Mommy scream, the grunts of the man, the scent of burning. His present self took data that he had in the present, buried memories and sensation... and he knew that Julia was with him, holding him, promising him that everything would be okay. And he loved her. He loved her like he’d never loved anyone or anything. He loved her enough that he was himself, separate from Duo.

The stream of energy pulling from Quatre’s ship was still active. For a moment he felt terror. He’d never felt afraid on his own before... not for himself. Only in that moment did he really understand that he’d never been real himself. He was afraid to jump. He was afraid to stay, afraid that this moment of actual being would go away and his own true life would be so short.

So he jumped.

He left Duo’s body, slipping into the data stream at the speed of light. He walked right by Pikachu as if he were frozen because he moved so slowly. Shinigami grabbed the time control node from him, winking slow enough that Pikachu could see him, but then he was off, sucking energy for a respawn of his own body.

For a tiny moment in actual time, he brushed by Sung Chang. Both of them more digital than flesh, the edges of their beings blending, until Shinigami pulled back. Sung pushed into the digital space, searching for him, reaching for him. Shinigami perceived Sung’s face, his soul, his very being and put up barriers and pulled his own being back. Anger like black tide rushed at his barriers, dark and blue, possessive.

Shinigami spun his attention to Sung, replied with a wall of jade light. “No.”

A shared space manifested and Sung poured into his form like black sand spilling in an hour glass. He was a beautiful creature, his hair dancing around him like fireflies. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean no,” Shinigami said. “I mean no. I don’t love you. I never loved you. I don’t want to be with you. But yes, I want you gone from this colony when I get back.”

“You’re a shit,” Sung said sweetly. “You need me. You love what I do to you.”

“I liked fucking you,” Shinigami allowed. “Leave Duo alone, and we’re good. Bother him, in the slightest, and I’ll hurt you. Dr. Chang, you know how good I am at that and how much I enjoy it.”

“You’re sick,” Sung hissed.

“Not gonna deny that,” Shinigami said, winking. “But you need to be gone when I get back.”
“I’m going to make you better,” Sung promised, then was gone.

As soon as he was gone though, Shinigami went back along his path. He spun energy out of Quatre’s ship, a little out of Camelot and then he hit down on L2 and grabbed more energy. His body was expensive, filling into real life, his body building up on a cellular level.

Shinigami shivered as his new body woke up, the nerves tingling as they came into being. Rage was a very comfortable emotion for him. The scent of burning flesh singed his nose and he snarled, a tingle going over his scalp. He stood up, ashes in the air, under his feet. He wore black body armor. His eyes were the darkest purple and he felt a powerful satisfaction that they’d never be different.  He stood up, smiled at the bounty hunters. The one with the flame thrower fired it back up.

Shinigami snapped his arm out and a gundanium shaft extended. When it was fully out, a green energy scythe sizzled into being. “Having fun yet boys?”

“What the fuck do you want? We aren’t going to share the bounty on this bitch.”

Shinigami spun his scythe around, the green casting a glow over his face. “I don’t want yer money, boys. But I’m a tell you a secret.”

“Kid, yer a freak. Get lost, we ain’t killed the brat yet. He’s gonna get away and that’s gonna make for a lot of work.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Shinigami said, grinning like he was the devil himself. “Some things don’t pay enough.”

“You really think yer the shit, doncha,” the dude with the flame thrower said. He fired it up and aimed it at Shinigami.

A dark fabric thin wing of gundanium flared out and the next thing Shinigami was inside his guard and the green blade lifting the man’s head off. The scythe came down putting the flamethrower in pieces. Shinigami put a big boot in the man’s chest and kicked him over because he didn’t seem to be falling fast enough.

The other man squeaked and started running before he’d fully turned around. Shinigami was on him before he’d gotten more than a step. It took all his effort but he planted the end of his scythe through the man’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

“Oh god! Let me go! I’ll bleed to death!”

A knee in his back, Shinigami leaned close and whispered, “OH yer not gonna bled to death. I promise.” Shinigami blew against his ear, deceptively sweet. “That woman you just barbequed, that was mah mom and I love her a lot. You and me, we gonna ‘talk’ fer a while.”


Popular posts from this blog

Dark Wolf 1-13/?

A Dark Wolf By  Max

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

Note: This is set way after the wars... like Duo’s 175.  Technology is advanced as I like to write it, but he’s not using it all in this one, he’s a little more nature bent this time around. There is a chance that Heero’s body may have been altered in ways that his handlers thing will lessen the chance of a union between Duo and Heero, if this turns out to be the case, it will be resolved by the end of the story. I actually know how this one ends and I think it’s going to be my Nanowrimo this year - well, what I get started after the 1st, anyway. Anyway, I hope I tell you a story you’ll find some pleasure in.
Rain darkened the little cabin, ran like little rivers off the green metal roof.  The clearing around it was just big enough for his truck, marked black and white, sheriff in large letters on both doors and the tailgate.  The steps leading up to the front door where thick and uneven, hand planed from found wood.  Inside the spa…

Some new poetry, or at least new layouts

fic: Blood on the Brain 2/?

Blood on the Brain 2/?
by Max
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

As a side note, my blog now has all 13 chapters of Dark Wolf in one post.

The current ‘safe house’ had been a shipping container at some point in its life. Now buried under a landfill like a hobbit hole with door that used to be a refrigerator it had made a fine home for several months. Power came from solar collectors as well as thermal from sensors sunk deep into the raging pile of trash. The floor was a mosaic of broken glass grouted with some strange gunk that Quatre had mixed up, which made it smooth and pebbly.
The table had the top of a boxy car from way before any of them were born, cut off and mounted in the floor so that it looked like the had just sunk into the floor. Duo and Quatre had been drunk when the table got made. It still generated snickers.
They had a washing machine made out of a large spent artillery casing and an engine from something that had…