Pairing: 2x1
Rating: NC-17
Warning: graphic m/m sex, mild angst

Running in Circles
by Mookie

His figure was like a sculpted god's, lean, muscular, and nearly hairless. His skin shimmered, the spray reflecting prisms of light over the slightly sun-kissed tone.

The curve of his spine, the slope of his shoulders, the nape of his neck, all beckoned the observer.

The pounding of the surf was soothing, but the man on the shore felt tense, as if he needed to be somewhere else. Despite the siren call of the figure in the water, it continued to pull at the edges of his consciousness.

He reached out his hand, curling his fingers into an angry fist, which he slammed down ruthlessly.

The alarm ceased its beeping at once.

Duo Maxwell sat up in bed and rubbed his face with both hands.

Three years.

It had been three years, and not one night had gone by without his dreaming of the mysterious man in the water.

He hoped like hell his partner didn't ask him again. He was tired of lying.

It seemed wrong, somehow.

"Morning, Duo," Hilde said cheerily, making her way back to her desk with a steaming cup of coffee. Duo looked at it hopefully, but she shook her head.

"Your legs aren't broken," she said, pointing in the direction of the coffeepot.

He gave her the best attempt at a glare he could summon this early in the morning and trudged over to pour himself a cup. He reached for the creamer and then changed his mind. He was only drinking it for the caffeine, after all.

He brought his coffee back to his desk and turned on his computer, the steam from his cup twirling around his head.

Hilde couldn't resist snickering. "You look like you're in a steam bath or a sauna."

"Ha ha," Duo said, waiting impatiently for the computer to go through all its system checks before prompting him for a password.

"Maybe one of those hot springs," she continued, not deterred by the fact that her humor was unappreciated.

Duo, who was in the middle of blowing on his coffee, managed to avoid spilling it on himself. A quick glance at Hilde showed that she was done tormenting him and was busy downloading information from her handheld computer to the desktop.

He'd made the mistake of telling her about the dreams when they started to become regular occurrences. Back then, the stranger in the water had been shrouded in mist. Over time, details started to evolve, but never enough.

They'd begun several months after the accident.

When he'd woken up in the hospital, his memory gone and his head swathed in bandages, he'd panicked. He was disoriented and lost, and frustrated at the fact that he couldn't remember who he wanted to contact, to let them know he was OK.

That's when he realized he didn't know who he was, either.

Hilde had shown up later that day, and had clasped his hand in both of hers, her eyes red and puffy.

He'd recognized her, but couldn't place her name. When she uttered his, he'd recognized that, as well.

He'd asked what happened, and she'd gone quiet for a moment. For some reason that had seemed suspicious to Duo.

There had been an accident, she'd said.

Details hadn't been provided, and he'd not asked. He'd merely nodded, and acted as if he'd remembered.

His entire life was a lie from that moment on.

He could remember how to do things, but there were gaps in his memory. He'd sometimes get up in the morning and, while puttering in the kitchen, turn to say something, as if there were someone there to listen.

He'd go to work depressed, and Hilde would ask about his health, and he'd say he was tired.

The dance was the same, day after day.

He still didn't know why he'd mentioned the dream. She'd dropped her coffee that morning, the cup shattering.

Duo thought he was on the verge of an epiphany, watching the cup explode, shards flying everywhere. He felt like he could reach out and touch a memory, and then it was gone, and there was nothing left but a puddle of red liquid and jagged white pieces of ceramic.

He'd blinked a few times, and realized the coffee was brown, not red.

Hilde had asked him again if he was all right, and he'd laughed nervously.

He had no intention of telling her he'd have sworn that was blood.

It was that night that he saw more of the man in the water. The same firm backside, the same lean, muscular arms, the same powerful legs.

This time the vision revealed the back of the head, dark hair brushing the nape of the man's neck.

Duo could imagine the way that hair would feel beneath his fingers. Lush and soft came to mind.

He woke with a hard-on.

That disturbed him only slightly. He'd been celibate since the accident, not trusting himself to get involved with anyone, not having a desire to let anyone close.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was clearly homosexual.

It wasn't just the dream. He knew.

The worst part is that he knew that the very reason he was so sure of that was just beyond his reach, like trying to touch the mist that surrounded the mystery man in his dreams.

Who the hell was he?

He wasn't sure if he meant the phantasm or himself.

After being discharged from the hospital, after returning to work with Hilde, where his desk looked vaguely familiar, he'd once sat down at his computer, determined to find anything he could on Duo Maxwell.

He got as far as seeing an old wanted poster with his image on it, one several years old, before he'd felt the beginnings of a headache. His lungs burned, and he'd hit the power button on the computer, desperate to shut off the image and the burning pain in his chest.

Hilde had tiptoed around the circumstances of the accident, but that was Duo's fault. He'd not wanted the information force fed to him. He'd wanted to remember on his own.

He had a feeling he would not handle the information well otherwise.

Duo sighed. Maybe he was just making excuses, hiding from the truth. He knew there was more to the story.

He put a hand at the back of his neck and rubbed briskly, ruffling the hair at his nape. It had grown back fairly quickly after the accident. The wanted poster had shown him with much longer hair, but he was just happy to have grown past the buzz cut stage. It had not been a good look for him at all.

Duo ran his hand over the bare back, his fingers making their way to the slender hips. His thumbs dug into smooth flesh as he got into position. With one hand, he guided his cock into his lover.

His lover.

He closed his eyes. He'd waited a long time for this. To be this man's "lover."

It wasn't just sex, he realized too late. He'd been sincere, or so he'd thought, when he'd been flippant about the whole thing.

Sliding into his partner now, feeling the welcoming warmth of the body as it opened to him -- it was as close to an epiphany as he'd had in a very long while.

Sex was good. Undeniably good. His hesitation at being the one on the bottom hadn't gone unnoticed. He'd expected to grin and bear it, but next thing he knew, he found himself faced with a question he'd as soon have avoided.

Do you want to make love to me, then?

Duo had laughed, a nervous reaction. Sure, he'd said. I'll fuck you.

He could remember a flicker of hurt, although he couldn't picture it in his mind.

Perhaps there was a way to do both, he thought, slamming into the inviting ass again and again, fingers digging into slender hips, pulling them towards him as he surged forward.

Fuck...me...

Duo swore the words were in his mind, as there was no voice to go with them.

The words inflamed his passion, made him eager to continue doing just that, but at the same time, caused an ache in his chest.

He'd gotten what he wanted.

Sex.

Be careful what you wish for.

Fucking.

It sounded so hot, the crude language coming in between grunts -- sounds of surprise, pain, pleasure?

All of the above?

Duo fucked him; fucked him for all he was worth.

At the moment of climax, other words spilled forth. It was an unfortunate response to the intensity of orgasm.

Words that meant the world to Duo, even if afterwards they'd both pretended they'd never been uttered.

Duo woke in a cold sweat, his limp dick held loosely in his semen-covered hand. He snatched his hand away quickly.

It'll make you go blind.

He felt dirty, but worse than that, was the fact that he felt more lost than he imagined he would, even without the benefit of sight.

In the shower, with the steam rising around him, he knew.

The man he'd fucked in his dream was the same man he'd dreamed about night after night.

He'd seen the scar.

The sight of the healed bullet wound, for he knew that's what it was, seemed important.

He was no longer the man in Duo's dream, for it wasn't a dream.

No, not a dream at all.

A memory.

The flames were everywhere, and he could hear crying.

Death.

It wasn't the first time he'd been close to death, but this time it was different.

Were they crying because they were afraid -- or because of what they'd lost?

He made his way around collapsed support columns, intent on making it out alive, with or without help.

The other tenants were in good hands; professional firefighters were there to do a job, and anything he might have done would have been either redundant or worse, an interference.

He knew that -- but he still found himself attempting to make his way further into the building, not out of it.

The heat was all encompassing as he trudged down the hallway towards the apartment. That's when all hell broke loose.

He remembered little of it. There had been a bit of a struggle; he'd not wanted to leave until he was sure. The same argument he'd had with himself earlier was voiced by the fireman on his right flank.

All he could remember was seeing the long braid of hair, sticking out from under the rubble.

And the flames licking at it, fusing the strands together.

He had a vague memory of standing outside the complex, a blanket thrown over his shoulders, watching as the paramedics went from one to the next, determining which were capable of being saved.

None of them were Duo.

The crying became louder behind him and all around him. Bits and pieces of conversation permeated his consciousness.

Unrecognizable.

Many of the bodies were charred to the point where identification was near impossible.

He needed some time to think. He walked away, not sure when the blanket had slipped off his shoulders and fallen to the ground.

He'd been walking ever since.

Heero Yuy woke up with a headache and a runny nose. As he wiped the back of his hand over his upper lip, he noticed tears as well.

Only at night, did he cry.

He was a coward, afraid of the truth. Not finding out if Duo was actually dead was unforgivable.

He'd been cold inside, watching the familiar plait transform into something grotesque. He could still smell the hair as it burned.

Odin was wrong, he reminded himself. Dekim had been right, and Odin Lowe knew nothing. He'd gotten himself killed, hadn't he?

Emotions were a liability, he told himself fiercely, rubbing at the tears that were still falling.

Death was inevitable. Everyone died. Life was cheap.

He shook his head, tempted to pull at his hair.

He hadn't cut it since that night.

It brushed his shoulders now, and he tucked it behind his ears before rolling out of bed and making his way to the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth to remove the taste of bitterness, despair, and self-loathing. As he did so, the hair fell forward, brushing his cheeks. He'd managed to spit toothpaste onto one section of it.

The toothbrush clattered in the sink, and he leaned forward, his hands on either side of the chipped basin.

I've been lost since the day I was born.

The words echoed in his head, and he knew them for a convenient excuse, a cover-up for his own inability to find himself.

I've been lost since the day Duo died.

His fingers gripped the edge of the sink hard enough to cause some of the porcelain to crumble and fall to the tiled floor.

Duo died...Duo died...

Heero straightened and looked himself in the eye through the distorted reflection.

It was time to stop running and face his grief. Failing to wait around to identify Duo's corpse, if there was enough left to make such a thing possible, wasn't going to change the fact that he was gone.

He'd been deluding himself, acting as if he'd not lost his heart and soul that day. Duo would be disgusted with him for falling apart like this, for pretending that if he stayed away, it would change the fact that there was no one left to go home to.

It was time to start living again.

First, however, he needed to say good-bye to Duo.

Which meant coming out of hiding.

He hoped Hilde Schbeiker was up for a surprise visitor.

"L2 to Duo," Hilde said, snapping her fingers in front of her partner's face. "You all right, Duo?"

The concern was evident on her face, despite her light-hearted tone.

He waved his empty coffee cup at her, waggling his eyebrows and smiling.

When she took the mug from his hand and walked to the coffeepot, he closed his eyes and leaned back.

Shit. She was really worried if she was getting him coffee.

It hadn't been fair of him, making her keep all she knew of his past to herself, but she'd been willing to accept his decision to wait until his memory returned on its own.

The fact that she looked so pained at times, especially when she'd catch him looking out the window thoughtfully, made him wonder if he was going about it the wrong way.

He knew she didn't think he could see her reflection, and he was sure he'd missed the same pensive expression on her face on those occasions when he was lost in thought.

There were habits of his that he knew made her look away quickly. His tendency to grip his pencil at his side and press his thumb against it when he was frustrated. The way he'd rub the back of his head at times as if it itched.

His compulsive pen clicking whenever he had a bad day, and his tendency to check his pockets almost obsessively throughout the day.

When she sat the mug on his desk, his hand stilled on his chest, where his fingers were plucking at the fabric of his shirt uselessly.

Her sharp intake of breath snapped him out of his reverie, and he picked up the mug and took a large swallow. Hilde made a small sound of dismay, and the scalding liquid made his eyes water.

He practically slammed his cup on the desk, his vision swimming slightly, and looked out the window again.

Hilde was distracted. He could tell by the rhythm of her typing. She was much slower than usual.

Duo glanced over his shoulder at Hilde, the way her bangs brushed her forehead, and blinked.

Her hair was the wrong color, too.

He turned around quickly and looked at the window. The clicking sound of Hilde's keyboard hadn't faltered once; in fact, it was as steady as it had ever been.

His memory was failing him.

He leaned his forehead against the glass. Was this post-traumatic amnesia? He had no trouble with remembering things. He knew his system password, could find his apartment easily, had no trouble recalling the names of the parts in their inventory.

So why was he slowly losing his memories of the present?

His fingertips rubbed at his scalp, massaging gently. It felt as if the hair was being pulled, even though it wasn't long enough to get a good fistful of.

His eyes finally focused on the activity down below.

Their office building was only two stories high, so the employees on the ground were easily recognizable, although with them all dressed the same, in hard hats and coveralls, it was more their gaits and mannerisms that identified them.

Except for the group that was out of uniform.

"Hilde, did we hire a bunch of new recruits?"

"Yeah, last week, rememb--" she bit off that last word, but not fast enough.

"Right," he laughed softly, without turning around. "The temporary staff for the mobile suit parts."

Hilde's sigh of relief was audible.

The antique intercom on Hilde's desk wheezed, and she answered it briskly.

"Hilde," the voice crackled. "There's someone here to see you."

"I'll be right down," she replied.

Duo laughed at her pained expression. "That's what you get for being the nice one. All the foremen prefer having you bring the newbies around."

"It's because I can get it done in half the time," she shot back. "You tend to jibber-jabber the whole while."

He waggled a finger at her, and she snorted. In truth, it was the other way around. Duo tended to be abrupt and to the point, where Hilde preferred to give the history of the salvage yard and the expectations of the company as it headed toward the future.

"Don't forget to tell them where the bathrooms are," he called after her.

Duo turned back to the window. He'd been practically useless all day.

He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring out the window, but he felt the familiar presence in the doorway.

"Hilde --" he began, startled when the name was said in unison with another voice.

He whirled around in his chair and looked into the face of the man in his dreams.

"Heero..."

The pain was blinding. Duo leaned forward, his head in his hands, resisting the urge to scream.

The waves of agony were overwhelming, and his eyes were screwed up tight. He'd have sworn hours passed, but when he finally sat up and looked at the figure in the doorway, expecting to see no one there, there stood Heero.

Heero looked like he'd seen a ghost, and he was leaning against the doorjamb for support. His mouth had dropped open, and his complexion was the worst Duo had ever seen, even after he'd fallen from the medical building, even after using the Zero system.

His hands went to his scalp, feeling a sense of panic at the haunted look in Heero's eyes. He was relieved to find his hair wasn't still pinned under the crumbled wall. He shivered as he saw the ghost of a memory, the blade coming down to sever the braid from his head, freeing him from certain death.

It had been a damn close call.

Heero's gaze followed Duo's fingertips, and he kept shaking his head.

"I came to say good-bye," he said hoarsely, sounding nothing like Duo remembered. The next time Heero spoke, Duo heard his voice crack.

"Duo...I'm so sorry, Duo..." he took a deep shuddering breath. "I should have stayed."

"You left me?"

Heero's eyes grew wider, and his eyebrows drew together quizzically. Before Duo could repeat his question, Heero dropped to his knees and started to shiver.

"Zero...you were destroyed, Zero..."

Heero was bent in half, mumbling to himself. Duo heard his own name a few times, along with references to their Gundams.

He was crouched next to Heero and reached a hand tentatively to touch the trembling shoulder.

Heero's hand shot out and clenched his fingers almost painfully. His hand slid along Duo's before he lifted his head.

He stared at Duo, at their laced fingers, and back again. His free hand reached up and stroked the back of Duo's head, a look of awe on his face.

He pulled Duo's head to his shoulder and kept running his fingers through the shorter strands.

"Duo," he said. "Duo."

He chanted it over and over, like a mantra, the words coming between shuddering breaths.

By the time Hilde returned, they were still huddled together on the floor, rocking back and forth, and at least one of them was crying.

She felt the stinging of tears behind her own eyes, and stood there wondering if she should leave them alone.

When one of them sniffled and Duo turned to peer up at her, she swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her voice as calm as possible.

"Get the hell out of here."

Duo nodded, his eyes shining with appreciation, and he stood slowly, helping Heero to his feet and pulling Heero's arm behind his neck. His own arm slipped behind Heero's back and they made their way down the hall, moving almost drunkenly.

She wondered who was supporting whom.

Blinking rapidly, she returned to her desk, and attempted to concentrate on her spreadsheet.

The droplets falling on her knuckles indicated her failure to remain composed, and she covered her face with her hands and wept.

Duo fought with his keys, refusing to remove his arm from Heero's waist to free them from his pocket. He shook them to find the correct key, then jammed it in the lock impatiently.

Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind them and led Heero to the couch, where they both collapsed. Both of Heero's arms came around him and he buried his face against Duo's neck.

It was an almost painful embrace, but one that Duo welcomed.

He had questions, the first being the part where Heero left him, but then the head lifted off his shoulder and Heero slid his hands up Duo's back, to his neck, then held his face in both hands.

Heero's eyes were searching, and then he slammed his lips against Duo's.

It wasn't the right time, part of him argued.

The other part promptly told him to shut up and he thrust his tongue into Heero's mouth, burying his fingers in Heero's hair.

All the forgotten memories warred in his head, but first and foremost was the first time he'd seen Heero, bathing in the stream after they'd hit one of the Oz installations, followed by their first time.

Duo's hands pulled at Heero's clothes, and he devoured Heero's mouth with a mixture of pain, anger, and pent-up desire.

Heero awkwardly pulled his arm free of one sleeve. Duo's lips roamed the exposed chest, and his mouth closed over one nipple, biting it. Heero squirmed under him, wrestling with the rest of his shirt. When it was hanging from his wrist, he threw his arm overhead and let it dangle, allowing Duo's mouth and hands to explore his body until it fell to the floor in a silent heap.

The pants were next to go, and Heero was pinned under Duo, naked and exposed, while Duo remained fully clothed.

"You left me," Duo said, biting Heero's earlobe softly. "I might have remembered sooner if you'd stayed."

Heero groaned, then opened his mouth to say something. Duo cut off his words with his lips against Heero's.

Duo's fingers tightened in the shoulder length hair, and he pulled it until Heero's lips were forcefully removed from his own.

"You owe me, Yuy," he said gruffly.

Heero nodded. The lust in his eyes was at war with regret, overlaid with a good portion of disbelief.

Duo glanced around quickly, hoping to find a suitable lubricant, and found it in the free sample of hand lotion that had arrived in the mail. He unfastened his pants, poured the thick creamy moisturizer into his palm, and reached between Heero's legs.

It was cool to the touch, but warmed quickly as his finger penetrated Heero. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue over the tip of Heero's erection, then took the entire length in his mouth.

Heero bucked his hips once, then forced himself to stay still as Duo's tongue teased him. A second finger was added, and then Duo's mouth slid off, a slight scraping of teeth indicating his progress.

Duo fumbled with the lotion bottle again. It fell on its side on the coffee table, some of it dripping onto the worn surface. He pulled himself free of his pants and stroked himself.

Watching with heavy lidded eyes, Heero licked his lips. "Fuck me."

Duo shook his head and lifted Heero's legs in the air. He entered Heero more roughly than he'd intended, but Heero didn't show any indication of discomfort.

In fact, his eyes were pleading for more.

"No, Heero," Duo said, drawing back slightly before slamming his hips forward again. His hand encircled Heero's arousal and he slid it up and down.

"No," he repeated. His hips undulated, and he jerked Heero off in time with each thrust.

He could not keep his eyes open, and his hand fell away from Heero's member before he grabbed him and lifted his ass entirely off the couch.

Heero's ankles locked behind him and Duo's hands slid up Heero's back, cradling the other man as his hips moved of their own accord.

Their lips met, and Duo felt something shatter inside, his body joined with Heero's from lips to groin.

He thought he'd lost Heero forever.

They were both casualties of the fire, but Heero had proven several times that, if one was strong enough, he could survive insurmountable odds and a host of injuries.

Some would take longer to heal than others, and he wasn't sure he was ready to forgive Heero just yet.

However, he had no plans of losing Heero a second time.

He threw his head back and came, feeling a sense of triumph and vitality.

Of life.

He placed a kiss on Heero's sweaty brow.

"This doesn't let you off the hook," he said. "You'd better plan on spending your whole life making this up to me."

Heero's eyes shone brightly, and he nodded.

"I do."

No, Duo wasn't going to lose him a second time.

Not Heero.

Heero, the asshole who had left him for dead.

He closed his eyes and let himself collapse onto Heero. The tension in Duo's body wasn't gone, but was lessened.

Heero, the man he loved.