Warnings: Graphic violence, strong language, mild sexual undertones, AU (ish)
Notes: Thanks to Startirs for beta-ing. Standard disclaimer applies.

Chasing Wings
by Impish Inkling

It began when the boy woke with a pain in his chest.

His bleary eyes opened slowly, unsurely. Everything was dark, save for small, flickering lights that snapped in and out like anemic fireflies. His fingers twitched.

He was cold, wet, on the bare metal floor, limbs numb. There was the smell of blood -- a great deal of blood -- and burning. It was smoldering metal along with the nasty chemical odor of something that wasn't meant to be burned. The boy shifted, tried to sit up, but his body wasn't responding the way it was supposed to, as though everything were on delay. With great effort, he propped himself up against the base of a large cylindrical tank behind him, broken glass crunching as he moved. Glass creaked ominously behind and above, tinkling like bells as it sporadically showered to the floor.

There had been screaming before, but now there was nothing.

He lifted his head, slowly. It pounded in an unfamiliar way, and his vision was blurred. His eyesight adjusted gradually until he could see that the dark, shadowy lumps all around him were bodies in white coats, littered with bullet holes, soaked in red. The blood was everywhere, in dark, inky pools and frantic smears. Blast marks were scorched into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Equipment sputtered sparks that fell like scattered rain.

Catching his own gaze in a large panel of shattered glass, the boy noticed with some detachment that his eyes were vacant.

He knew he was in the compound laboratory. He didn't know what that signified and he didn't recognize this place, but he knew it. Knew this building was all he knew, somehow. He couldn't remember why. Couldn't remember anything. With empty eyes, he looked down at his chest.

There was a knife in it.

A knife.

In his chest.

The boy stared. Such a thing seemed quite abnormal.

It was sunk in deep, to the hilt. He wrapped a hand around the grip, slowly drawing it out.

As it came loose, he gasped in a lungful of air. Everything was instantly brighter. Shaking, his hand dropped to his side, still clutching the weapon. He collapsed back against the base of the tank, the pool of heavy liquid he sat in swirling with blood. Pickling off electrodes stuck to his skin, he noticed feeling beginning to return to his extremities.

He sat up, dropping the knife with a cold clatter. Weakly, queasily, he got to his feet, the floor seeming to twist beneath him as he did. A few, long lungfuls of air were taken before, eventually, he was able to take one step, then another. It took concentration to uncurl his feet and make sure his limbs didn't bend out from beneath him as the muscles jolted. Avoiding the vast pools of blood, he wandered through what was left of the lab. There was nothing but steaming, broken machinery and hanging cables. He was alone.

It was then the boy heard a soft chime from one of the computers. It was stained black with smoke, but after a brief study, didn't appear to have taken serious damage. He reached out, touched one of the keys, lighting the screen up in a soft blue. Bracing with his forearms, he sank down in front of it, the broken chair wobbling sharply as he sat.

As suddenly as an apparition, the image of an old man filled the screen. It was washed out, the light blurred, as though he, too, had sat here, illuminated only by this screen. The old man had a square, wizened face, odd, prosthetic goggles, and a metal claw where his arm should have been. The claw clicked its prongs together intermittently, involuntarily.

"Doctor J," whispered the boy. He didn't know where he'd gotten the name.

"Attention, Boy, I've not much time. They're coming." The claw clicked, one, two, three times, as the man bared his teeth in a distorted grin. "They'll think they've killed us all, but they don't know the work we've put into you, now do they?" He chuckled, slow and dark. "You have a destiny, my boy, and now is the time."

The boy sat straight and attentive, the muscles in his face remaining lax, as though he hadn't learned to use them yet.

"Go -- learn your purpose. If you can find your wings, you will fly. Use the name Heero Yuy, if you have the need, and utilize all the tools I've given you when the time is right. The rest is up to you. Fulfill your destiny." A sudden, terrible rattle of high velocity rounds burst over the speakers. The screen flooded with static, then went dark.

The boy looked down at the nearest body. A metal claw was sticking out of its lab coat, twisted and broken. He reached down and pulled the matted curtain of grey hair away from the corpse's still face, the boy's impassive eyes identifying the old man -- Doctor J -- with a cursory glance. Gathering himself, he stood.

"Accepted," said the boy.

He stood at the doors to the outside, staring at the security screen. The boy placed his hand over the scanner, and it blinked in authorization. A light tingling sensation washed over him, a brief numbness that left him feeling odd, if only for a moment.

"Open doors," ordered the boy.

"The system is on Lockdown. Are you sure you want the system deactivated?" asked the automatic voice. "All security measures will be cancelled."

"Cancel Lockdown."

"Affirmative," confirmed the disembodied voice, and with that, the locks whirred, depressurizing, and the doors clicked open. He crossed the threshold into the dawning light.

It was loud. Dirty. Confusing. Wet. Very wet.

He'd covered his blood-soaked clothing with a long, dark coat he'd taken off a body in the corridor. The coat only had one or two holes, but wasn't doing well against the rain. The boots he'd taken were just slightly too large.

The outside world was a labyrinth of streets and buildings, people and markings. The rain was so heavy it was hard to see. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, foggy-headed, his mind under a similar deluge. Along with the din of new sights, sounds, and smells, information was flooding into his head: Man, dog, gutter, street, dome, grocer, window, bars, glass, pear, teeth, beard, hat, monocle, ledge, balcony, Alliance, soldier, civilian, woman, child, and on and on and on.

The sound of the pounding rain, the water flushing through gutters, early morning bells, and the throngs of people added to the deluge. There was too much information to accurately process. The chaos clouded his mind, overwhelmed him in a buzzing, busy shroud. The boy staggered. He needed it to stop.

Instinct guided him away from the busy streets. He retreated into a dark, narrow alleyway and collapsed against a brick wall. He panted, not from exertion, but from the thrumming pressure that had built inside him. His muscles shook from their new use.

Something as calm and disembodied as the compound's security system informed him that, owing to the amount of time he'd been out in this weather and how completely soaked through his clothes were, he was in an optimal environment for contracting a cold, or pneumonia. Given this information, he required shelter, warmth, and, because of his progressing weakness, most likely sustenance as well.

Using the grimy wall for support, he folded down into a sitting position, knees drawn up, and waited for the crushing din of information to fade into something manageable. His head pulsed, but didn't ache. Focusing there in that center of his mind seemed to help. As the surge of data let up, his breathing evened out.

After a while, he heard a noise -- something real and present -- that came from behind a green door painted with a large, blue "X" and set into the curved side of the building in front of where he rested. A friendly voice followed, saying, "Yeah, no problem. Don't worry; I'll be outta here by then."

A boy stepped out of the building, backward, grinning at whomever he'd spoken to. Closing the door behind him, he looked up at the artificial sky, still pouring rain, and muttered, "Goddamned sentimental freaks."

In the darkest shades of grey and black, he was dressed as a laborer, in cargo-cut pants of a heavy canvas material, tucked into tanker's boots with straps that wrapped around the ankle in place of laces. Slung around his trim waist and hips were layers of wide, handcrafted utility belts of raw, reinforced leather with sewn in pressure gauges. Bulky welder's gloves, the broad cuffs coming halfway up to his elbows, along with a tight-fitting undershirt, sharply emphasized the slender cut of sleekly muscled arms, smeared with soot and grease. Aviation-style goggles hung loosely around his neck, a long, thick rope of hair hanging down his back in a braid. His only shield against the rain was a frayed ball cap that shaded somewhat elfin features. There was something about him in both appearance and attitude that suggested the sort of elusive creature of fable that was always ready to disappear in an instant.

"Fuck!" yelped the braided boy, who jumped back a step, hand hovering over heart, muscles tightening reflexively.

Fuck, supplied the boy's mind, was a vulgar slang term that, in its most literal context, meant to have intercourse. It had, however, a plethora of meanings depending on context, part of speech, and could replace other words with no similar definition.

"Shit, I almost stabbed you in the face. You scared the hell out of me." The other boy's eyes grew wide. "Holy -- are you okay? That's a lot of blood under there. Jesus. You need -- you need some help?"

The two boys stared at each other. The other's eyes were an unusual shade of blue, the pigment so intense it seemed almost a different color. The boy only noticed because they were so out of place; they were brighter than the world around him.

"You really don't look right, dude." The newcomer sized the boy up. When there was no response, he tried again, "Do. You. Need. Help? Nececitas ayuda? Est-ce que je--?"

"Stop talking."

The other boy snorted. "You do speak. Don't need to be so rude." He didn't look at all insulted. In fact, he looked intrigued. Or devious. It was difficult to tell.

Rain dripped off the brim of his cap as he knelt down, mimicking the boy's position by wrapping his arms around his legs. "Okay, man, what's your name? I'm Duo, Duo Maxwell. You're not planning to camp out here are you? You should know better; this sector gets patrolled."

The boy studied the-boy-named-Duo's eyes. They were dizzying. "I don't know."

"You don't know where you're camping out?"

"I don't know my name."

Duo's eyebrows lifted. "Huh." Water was seeping through his dark clothes, suctioning them to his skin, but he didn't seem to mind. "You on something? Your eyes are all blank and scary."

"I don't know."

Duo wrinkled his nose. "Well, were you in an accident? Get jumped? What happened?"

"I don't know."

A troubled look he couldn't place flashed over Duo's face like a shooting star before it was gone. Duo rubbed at the back of his neck. "Do you know anything?" asked Duo, edging a bit closer, peering intensely from under his dripping cap.

The boy found this question somewhat confusing. He had a profusion of knowledge. He knew the orbital rotation of the Earth, twenty-two different ways to make a remote-detonated explosive, the intricacies of L4's economic system, how to disassemble and reassemble a ray gun in under a minute, and a recipe for gnocchi. He just didn't know his name, which was entirely inconsequential in the face of all that.

"Y'know what I know?" said Duo. "A doctor. And you look like you could really use --"

"Unnecessary. I'm unhurt."

Duo tried to hold back a smirk. "Oh, you got definite damage, man."

Heero brushed away a feeling -- irritation, his mind supplied -- and said, "I need to find my wings."

"What? Your wings? You mental?" Duo paused, backtracked. "Stupid question... of course you are."

"My wings," repeated the boy, clarifying, "Myself, my destiny. My purpose."

"O-kay... I don't know about any of that, but I don't think sitting here in the rain's gonna get you any closer to finding... your wings." He looked down the alley toward the street, like he expected something to appear there at any time. "Shit," he muttered, seeming to come to a decision. "Look, whatever. But we can't hang around here too much longer. Patrols, know what I'm saying?"

He didn't, but this person seemed to think remaining here was dangerous, and he couldn't afford to be compromised at this early stage. "...Acceptable," decided the boy.

Duo reached out and gave the boy a double pat on the head, grinning at him like he'd gotten a new toy. "All right then. C'mon, Mental. You okay to walk?" asked Duo, receiving another blank look in answer. "Well, keep close. Like I been saying, this ain't exactly a friendly patch of colony."

The boy didn't respond, but followed Duo out onto the main street. Eventually, the rain began to let up, softening into a drizzle. The information that had been streaming into his brain had lightened to a silent, continuous download, which stored itself away neatly in the appropriate places, instead of flooding every available scrap of consciousness.

Now that the view had cleared, the uniqueness of the architecture around them became much more noticeable. The streets were laid with worn cobblestone, the houses and buildings rounded and squat but piled high, like stacks of smooth, creek-bed stones. Curiously haphazard, almost quilted, they were scrapped together from metals that were alternately polished and rusted. Huge, clunky bolts were visible along thickly welded seams. Pipes of copper and brass snaked around them while stunted arch bridges linked upper stories. Elevated railroad tracks spiraled and twisted through the piled-up buildings as steam poured from vents and manholes, rising from hundreds of piped chimneys to disappear into the dark, soot-stained colony dome.

"Guess you don't know where you are," said Duo, taking notice of the way the boy studied their surroundings. "We're in the L1 cluster, if that means anything to you, it's --"

"One of the V6000s," interrupted the boy. "Often termed 'steam colonies,' due to their heavy reliance on steam power, which is fueled by heat from external solar panels and furnaces in the colony core. It is largely thought that the people who settle on steam colonies have a strong sense of nostalgia for their roots on Earth, thus incorporating methods of energy production as well as design aesthetic from Pre-colony periods into most aspects of colony life."

"Yeah, it's fuckin' weird, isn't it? Kinda cool, but weird. I mean, most people who live in space like the ultra-modern technology-dependent thing, but these guys go out of their way to make everything --" Duo blinked. "Wait, how the hell did you know all that?"

Heero shrugged.

"You don't know your name, but you know all about steam colonies? Dude, someone fucked your shit up big time." Something dark flashed over Duo's face at the thought, but only for a moment before a cheerful smile took its place. Rubbing absently at the back of his neck, he continued on, mostly to himself, "That reminds me; you need a name. I like Mental. It's a good nickname. Catchy, y'know?"

"Call me Heero Yuy," said the boy as they passed beneath a bridge that appeared to be made from the still-working, overlarge gears of a timepiece.

"Heero Yuy? Like the dead guy Heero Yuy? Wow, okay. Creepy." Duo paused. "I thought you didn't know your name?"

"I don't."

"Right. Of course. Anyway, I can't call you that. It's like, bad hoodoo or something."

"I'm supposed to use Heero Yuy."

"Supposed to --?" wondered Duo, but was cut off when a man bumped between them.

"Where d'you think you're going?" snapped the man, who was short, round, and pale in his dapper velvet coat, like an angry little powder-puff quaking with indignation.

"To find my wings," replied Heero to the man, who stepped in close, eyes narrowed.

"You giving me cheek, boy?" said the man, voice cold with hostility.

"Whoa, ease off," cut in Duo, shoving himself in between them with an elbow, lightning-fast, and grabbing Heero's arm to pull him away.

"Wanker!" grumbled the man before stalking off, directly in the path of a young woman in a high-necked, tight-waisted jacket with full gigot sleeves. She stumbled to the curb, but the man took no notice, hurrying away into the roving crowd.

"Hey, you okay? Duo asked, helping her to her feet as she hissed Russian curses. Duo took in the shaggy, chin-length hair, the dusty makeup, and gave her a wink. "Careful, Lolita-girl, patrol's coming 'round soon."

She straightened her striped stockings over her skinny, bruised knees. "Whatever."

"Here," said Duo, slipping her the money clip he'd lifted off the man who'd knocked her down. "He owes you." Dragging Heero on, he left the girl staring at the offering with incredulity.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Duo, glaring at Heero. "No more talking to strangers."

Duo frowned briefly, holding a hand over Heero's chest in a silent command to stay back, because the door to the doctor's home -- a door that should have been shut, should have been locked, bolted and barred -- was ajar.

Duo pushed it open with the back of his hand, his other hovering at the small of his back, presumably prepared to retrieve a weapon hidden there. The creak of the door opening cut through the otherwise silent room as they entered. There had been a struggle there. A chair was overturned, spilt coffee and the remains of someone's breakfast were strewn across the floor.

While Heero stood indifferently in the middle, Duo strode around the space, eyes shifting from point to point, sucking up every detail. He didn't touch anything, finally coming to stand next to Heero when he'd examined every corner. Crossing his arms behind his head, Duo cocked a hip out, studying the scene from the middle. "Chu," was all he said, like a small creature huffing.

"That you in there, young Maxwell?" called a growling, weathered voice from the doorway, where an old couple appeared. There was something about the way they stood, shoulders slumped with age, hands clasped together, along with their tapered, stubborn chins and wide-set, dark eyes that made them resemble a pair of upright otters.

"Who's this?" the old woman asked, spotting Heero. "Something wrong with the lad? Something's spilled on his shirt, and he's got as much life in 'im as a dressmaker's dummy."

Duo chuckled, relaxed. "Him? Don't worry about him. He's harmless. Thinks he's Heero Yuy."

The old man peered up at Heero through small, round glasses. "Harmless? Not the word I would use. A bit unsound, at the moment, but not harmless. Are you, lad?" There was something knowing in his eyes. Heero looked back at him without interest.

"You should get out of them clothes," fussed the old woman, poking at Heero's coat arm with a bony finger. "There's enough to catch your death from without gabbling about in the wet like a loon."

"Where's Doc? What happened?" asked Duo, voice indicating he already knew the answer.

"Same thing happens to anyone who's ever tried t'do any good 'round here, a' course," grumbled the old woman, her small, gathered hands patting and smoothing down her faded blue apron. "Soldiers hauled him off couple hours ago."

"Is he on the schedule?" asked Duo.

"Don't know. If he's not, he will be soon. You know how they work; pretend to've had a trial and shoot 'em out back before the kin know they're missing," rasped the old man.

"Yeah, I know," said Duo, and for a moment, an almost visible darkness seemed to hover around him, but then he was smiling at the elderly couple. "You two lock yourselves down, all right? I'll take care of Doc."

"Don't tell us what to do, boy. We know how to lay low, which is more than I can say for yourself. I'd tell ya not to do anything stupid, but stupid seems to work for you, don't it?"

"Well, you're obviously confusing 'stupid' with 'hardcore,' but I'll chock that up to age," said Duo blithely as he went past them to go outside.

Heero moved to follow, but the old man caught his arm, his gnarled hand a sudden vice. His ancient stare was unrelenting.

"Duo will help you, Heero," said the old man.

"Help you find what you're looking for," insisted the old woman, grabbing the hem of his stained shirt, pressing close to whisper, "You can only keep your heart if you unlock time."

"You must lose your heart to save it," added the old man.

"Oy, Mental!" called Duo's voice from the outside. "Heero! Get out here, we're burning daylight."

Heero looked up at the sound of his voice. When he did, he felt the hands slip away, but, upon looking back, found the couple had gone.

Again, Duo led Heero through the cobbled streets, this time with an impatient hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Not that I can tell if you're wondering," said Duo as he dragged Heero behind him, "But we're going to my place, where you're just going to have to chill until I get Doc sorted." At this, Heero stopped moving, his suddenly-dead weight jerking Duo to a halt.

"Hey, what the f--"

"No."

"You don't --"

"I am not like the doctor," informed Heero, flatly. "I am not like you. I have a purpose. My existence has meaning."

"Wow, that is so not the way to get --"

"I have to find it," insisted Heero, with surprising intensity for someone who had yet to learn to use his facial muscles.

"Alright! Alright, already! Purpose, prophecy, whatever. I get it. You need to find your fucking magic destiny wings. But the wings are going to have to wait, because --"

"Hello, hello, what have we here?" cut in a new voice from behind Duo, who tensed.

"Motherfucking fuck," growled Duo. "I so don't have time to play this game." He turned around, snarling, "Fuck off. I am not in the mood."

"Don't be like that, Maxie boy," said the owner of the voice, a lolling, deranged grin on his angular face. A scruffy shock of hair hung over one eye, the other glinting an eerie yellow-gold. Four more brutes stood in his shadow, all of them large and hulking, with huge, hunched shoulders and narrowed hips, all of them chuckling humorlessly under their breaths, eyes wide and manic. "You ain't gonna introduce us to your little friend? He's a pretty fine mess, isn't he. How much for the night, eh?"

"How much would you give me if I cut off your dick and held it hostage?" snapped Duo, yanking Heero behind him. Heero, not interested in the exchange, tugged at Duo's arm with impatience.

"Aw, he doesn't want to play. You know I'm joshing, don't you, Maxie. Just a little joke." The grin stretched obscenely. "Boys aren't my thing, you know that."

"I don't give a blind blow what your 'thing' is, Chim. Now screw off; I've business to see to."

"Y'know," continued Chim, "Kal's a bit ticked with you. Something of his got nicked. Seems to think you've something to do with it. But I told him, 'Surely not! My old friend Maxie would never do such a thing.'" He placed an affronted hand over his heart, looking back at the others. "Di'n I, my boys?"

They tittered louder, unevenly, edging forward. One obliged, "That's what he said, he did."

A second joined in, "Never do such a thing," and then hiccupped another laugh.

"So then I says, 'Y'know what, Kal? How 'bout I look up old Maxie for ya and straighten the whole bit out?' What a good friend I am."

"Yeah, you're a real peach," drawled Duo, eyes narrowed.

"So what I want to know is..." Chim's teeth dragged over his lower lip. His boys crept closer, shoulders swinging with each, deliberate step, flanks heaving with panted laughs. "...How'd you nick it, Maxie?

"Oh, for Christ's sake," muttered Duo in the heavy voice of one well acquainted with the direction this was headed. Shoving Heero away into a corner by a dumpster, he told him, "Don't move, Mental, I'll be with you in a minute."

"I'm real curious, Maxwell, because that piece was supposed to be real difficult to get to. It don't look good, Maxie. No, it don't look good for any of us, do it?" Chim paused, cocking his head. "No? Nothing? Not even a weensy syl?" A sigh, then another pause. "Right then, boys. Why don't you try askin' him."

As though they'd been straining against invisible chains now cut, the four powered forward as a pack, hungry for a kill. For misshapen, raw-boned hulks, they were surprisingly fast. The devastating power was not so unexpected.

But Duo was quick. Quick and fluid, as he grinned viciously and drew two short, wicked knives from hiding, slicing instinctively into an effortless, brutal attack. His movements were clearly uneducated, obviously developed out of necessity, but strangely effective. Everything was wrong, which made him unpredictable, which made everything work. His limbs moved in and out, from tucked in close to striking with quicksilver speed in an instant. He wielded his knives as though they were too heavy for him, so his arms moved like weighted pendulums, relying on momentum. It gave him an odd sort of timing that was impossible to predict. Add that to the way he switched up his movements, dodging, weaving, blocking with his forearms, striking backwards and swapping out his grip, and he was a nightmare.

What hampered this style was that Duo wasn't aiming to kill, only incapacitate, and his opponents didn't have the brains to back off, even when one had his eyelid slashed through. Not only did they outnumber Duo, pressing in on every side, but his blows and slashes -- effectual as they should have been -- seemed only glancing against their dense walls of muscle. Every jab was received with a soft grunt and subsequently paid as much consideration as one would give a slight nudge. And then they hit back, with fists like weighted pistons. Only Duo's speed and off-timing keeping the blows from inflicting too much damage.

Narcotics, supplied Heero's mind. They did have a glazed look to their eyes, he thought absently.

They were pushing Duo back, slowly, but Heero was less than interested. The skirmish grew closer, but he stared edgily beyond the scene, barely seeming to notice when a stray elbow caught his cheek, snapping his face to the side and sending him stumbling to his knees in broken glass. Expression unaltered, he got slowly back to his feet, shards jutting out from bleeding cuts, making no further move to get out of the way.

Duo shoved him away from the brawl again hastily, and returning to it, began throwing in quick, viper-like strikes to vulnerable areas. With a hard jab from the hilt of one of Duo's knives to his solar plexus at just the right angle, one opponent finally fell, giving Duo more space to maneuver and steer the fight away from Heero. Leaping up and back, Duo's hands grasped the edge of the dumpster and he kicked out with both feet, planting them firmly in a second's face. That one joined the first on the ground, landing hard, nose completely crushed and jaw wrecked. Moments later, a third stumbled, the remains of his ruined eye dripping from its socket. The leader stepped in.

"Enough," said Chim, drawing a pressurized pistol. There was a flurry as the pack scrambled disjointedly to get out of range, leaving Duo panting alone in front of Chim, a thin line of blood trickling from his mouth.

"Aw," breathed Duo, unafraid, voice daring Chim to pull the trigger and just see what would happen. "Now who doesn't wanna play?"

"How'd you do it?" repeated Chim, taking off the safety with a warning click.

The sound echoed in Heero's head like a gunshot in a canyon, and his mind was suddenly in vertigo. For the smallest, longest of moments, everything inverted, and he wasn't sure if he was breathing out or in. It was as if he could feel a star's birth and death in the same instant, while everything he knew and didn't know skittered around his head like marbles on a hardwood floor. Then, just as suddenly, it all clicked into place, locked down, and set something new free.

Duo had been fast; Heero was the mere suggestion of a blur as he moved. Chim howled, and no one could see what had happened, but suddenly, Chim's hand dangled from the arm, both bones snapped through. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing. Unaffected, Heero ejected the gun's clip and crushed the remaining metal into a lump, tossing it aside.

In the next instant, the man nearest Chim got the hard, outside edge of Heero's hand to his windpipe, before going down with a sickly wheezing noise. Another, still reeling from Duo's attack, had his knee shattered, ribs collapsed, and jaw displaced in three devastating blows. The whole thing was systematic, efficient. With what seemed like a whoosh and a few grunts, there was no one left standing but the two boys.

Duo was frozen in place, stunned, blood trailing down and dribbling from his chin. He stared at the five disposed bodies, all moaning feebly. Then he looked at Heero, who still stood, his every fiber tense and primed, eyes obscured in shadow.

"Holy fuck."

Part II

"This is it," said Duo, leaning down to disable a booby trap. He straightened, grinning brightly. "Can't be too careful, y'know," he added, stepping deliberately over a trip wire.

The room was on the top floor of some abandoned tenement housing. It was mostly bare, dull metal rusted through, but there had been some domestic efforts made, which included a newspaper tablecloth covering a milk crate, and a sad flower in a glass soda bottle.

"I never plan on ever staying in one place very long, but that's no reason to let things go," Duo informed Heero. Entirely unsure of the level of sarcasm in the comment, Heero decided against letting Duo know his flower was actually a weed.

"Come on, we'd better get you cleaned up and dry." Duo absentmindedly attempted to wipe some of the blood on his face away with his arm, but it had dried enough that it only smeared across his cheek. Swiping off his cap, he ran his fingers through his sweaty bangs and studied Heero, who was splattered in blood from head to toe.

"Christ, it's something we only caught one patrol's attention when we got out of there, you running around like that. I hope none of them got too good a look at your face. With any luck they were distracted by the hardened gangers crying like babies on the ground as we got out of there." Duo frowned, eyes flicking back and forth between Heero and what he was doing as he pulled out a toolbox and set about cleaning instruments.

Heero watched silently as Duo lined up everything in front of him, spreading an old newspaper and pulling a box up to sit on while he tended to the cuts on Heero's legs. With a pair of pliers functioning as tweezers, he began pulling out splinters of glass and dropping them on the newspaper.

"An Alliance patrol shouldn't have been in Chiu territory, anyway, even so close to B sector. Doc's gone, now this? Something's up," said Duo. He looked up at Heero's face, almost making him drop the instrument, because Heero's eyes were no longer flat and dull. There was a depth, a life, there that hadn't been before. Something that had only come forth when the violence had.

"Shit," breathed Duo, and for an instant, he was frozen in that look. "What the hell's going on?"

Heero stared back at him; the voice told him that Duo seemed to need some sort of answer, reassurance. He was prompted to say, "I won't hurt you," realizing only then that he wouldn't.

The grin that leapt to Duo's face was sharp, brittle. "You could try." He snorted. "Not what I meant, anyway. You attract trouble worse than I do, which really says something. I'd just feel better knowing where that trouble's coming from and why."

Duo went back to his work, now cleaning out the cuts. "You sure you can't remember anything? Because someone should really be held responsible for making you wear these black bike shorts."

"No. I don't remember. But I seem to be operating at a higher capacity."

"I'll say," grumbled Duo, but then he blinked, tilting his head, studying Heero's face. "Hey, you're frowning! That's, like, an actual expression." He beamed. "Congratulations! You've joined the human race. Welcome to the misery."

Heero's brow furrowed.

"So what changed, then?"

"I don't know," replied Heero, "but it felt like waking up."

"Huh. That's the last of it," Duo told Heero, then looked quizzically at the cuts he'd just cleaned. "I could've sworn there were more of those a second ago." He shook his head. "Well, get stripping -- what you've got on is worthless with holes, even if I had any idea how to get the bloodstains out. Hold on while I try to find you something else."

Duo went to a canvas duffle bag by the door, turning his back to Heero's while he let the long coat and tank top fall to the floor.

"Sorry, I don't have a lot around," said Duo apologetically as he rummaged. He sniffed an undershirt similar to the one he had on, but rejected it when he spotted a tear in the seam. He dug around for something else. Duo turned around to toss Heero the cargos and long-sleeved shirt he'd come up with. "Good thing you -- Jesus!"

Heero turned, sharply, but didn't see anything amiss beyond Duo's transfixed expression. Wide-eyed, Duo went around Heero, hand reaching out as if to touch. "Dude, that's some serious ink."

Heero twisted his head, trying to look over his own shoulder. Duo's finger traced over the tattoo, from between his shoulder blades, up and around, then down to the middle of his back.

"These... this is the best body art I've ever seen," said Duo, awed -- because Heero had angel wings.

They were beautiful, detailed so finely and with such dimension that, at a glance, they appeared real. Duo continued to trace them, as though he could almost feel the texture of the feathers beneath his fingertips. Heero's muscles drew tight at the touch, feathers rippling with the movement. Duo's hand smoothed lower, to the small of Heero's back.

"I can't believe this. You actually have fucking wings... There're guns back here, too. Crossed. Jesus, they look real." Duo swept his thumb over the designs, continuing, "If you weren't so obviously unhinged, these'd be kinda hot."

Heero twisted, again trying to see, but Duo caught his arm, turning him. "Damn, how many are there?"

There were twin knives decorating the outside line of his forearms, painted over the grooves of deeply defined muscles and tendons. They were so detailed the leather grip on the handles looked oiled, the blades viciously sharp. When Heero looked down, he could see another design on his chest, over his heart, next to a smooth, pink scar over his breastbone -- all that was left of the wound where the knife had been that morning. The tattoo was the size of his palm, round and gold, with delicate filigree detailing, like an old-fashioned compass or pocket watch.

"They don't happen to jog your memory, do they?" asked Duo, hands now on Heero's wrist and elbow as he inspected one of the knives. His bright eyes were lit up with fascination.

Heero studied the colors and lines, but the shapes brought nothing forth more than the feeling that these were important. He shook his head.

Duo searched his eyes. "You can't try? Just try. Try to think of what happened before the first thing you can remember. Try to think of getting these made."

Heero stared at the knife, hard. His brow furrowed as he sought to remember, but there was only cold, wet, nothing. Just nothing. Like there was a cotton-wrapped numbness in the center of his consciousness.

Closing his eyes, a small ache began to grow in his head. He focused, trying to recall something, anything, from before. The ache grew, stabbing, radiating out, streaking throughout his entire body, down his arms to his fingertips, until it was piercing between his ears with the same sharpness of a strident noise, and he had to stop. There was ringing in his ears, and for a moment, all he could see was an electric, liquid blue. He shook his head again, making a noise of disagreement and pain.

"Hey... hey!" Duo's eyes widened. He touched Heero's face, soothing. "Shit, shit. Okay, don't. Just stop, it's okay." Duo's voice had grown slightly panicked.

Breathing labored, Heero opened his eyes. Duo looked into them, able to see the confusion there.

"What is it?" asked Duo, studying his face.

"Pain," responded Heero.

"Pain?" worried Duo.

"It's the only feeling I've recognized."

Duo made an unhappy noise, looking like he didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat, taking a step back. "Are you sure you're not hurt, really?"

"I'm sure." His body read at 98.5% and the pain in his head had already begun to recede.

"Look, here's the deal." Duo heaved a sigh, rubbing at his brow. "I've known you for like, five minutes. You're obviously trouble, can't remember your own goddamn name and insist on going by one that has some seriously sketchy subtext. Also, you're some sort of psycho who can crush metal with his bare hands, which should worry me, because my larynx is far easier to crush than a pistol." He huffed, looking at Heero through his lashes. "I was going to dump you on Doc, but that's not really an option anymore.

"...Still, I'm pretty sure you'd destroy the colony if left on your own. So I'm going to help you. Got it? You don't crush my larynx or anything, and I help with your wings or whatever."

Heero frowned. "I said I wouldn't harm you."

"Gravy. Anyway, someone has to remember these tats; they're unreal. I know a chick who slings ink... We can go to her first. She knows all the artist's work -- if she didn't do 'em for you, she can tell us who did, okay? Okay, then. Just put on some damn clothes and sit down for a bit while I get cleaned up."

"I don't need your help."

"Sure you do. Who else have you got?" Duo waved Heero off. He began digging around again, coming up with a couple of military rations and tossing a pack to Heero, then tugging back the metal tab on another with his teeth for himself. With a fleeting grin, he went back to the medical supplies. It took him less time to tend to himself, seeing to his own scrapes in a haphazard rush.

Duo could be useful, decided Heero. The tattoo idea made sense, and Duo obviously had connections.

"Look, man, I said I'd help you -- and I will -- but I really do have to get Doc first," Duo told him, his mouth full. "Alliance doesn't keep prisoners around too long, especially the way he was taken, and they sure as hell don't just let them go, even if they ever figure out they're not actually helping rebels. So I need you to stay put, just for a little while, okay?

"I'm going with you," said Heero, distrustful. He didn't see the purpose of finding this doctor. It would only delay his search.

Duo did not look convinced. "No way man. Leaving you to your own devices isn't exactly ideal, but this is a one-man sort of operation. Besides, last time it was like a switch flipped that made you a badass. What happens if that switch gets flicked off and you go all catatonic again? I can't be worrying about your ass while I'm trying to get Doc outta there."

"Your fighting style is suited to skirmishes and hit-and-run operations," reported Heero as the information suddenly occurred to him.

Duo blinked at the non sequitur. "If you say so. That's kind of what I'm going to be doing, so --"

"It's best employed by attacking aggressively, usually with the element of surprise, and followed by a strategic retreat," continued Heero. "But before, you were not as aggressive as the situation warranted, nor did you retreat when you had the advantage. Your style of combat also suggests that you are well aware of your strengths and weaknesses. Why, then, did you make those two errors?"

Duo lifted an eyebrow, amused. "You can't just go around killing people, Mental, even people who deserve it. Shit escalates, and there're consequences. There's a time and place and I'll sort them when I've got it planned up right."

Heero thought about this, nodding shortly. "I understand. There's an ingrained structural balance between the authorities and street gangs, and disrupting it could cause a power vacuum or social disorder, with the additional probability of personal retribution."

Duo picked at the hem of his fresh shirt, fingers smoothing over the back of his neck. "Sure, yeah. That."

"But why didn't you retreat?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Because I couldn't leave you behind, dipshit."

Heero's brow furrowed; he did not understand this at all. Even so, deep in his chest, something moved.

The gold apparatus's inner workings whirred, wound, and began to turn.

Duo went to do what he could for Doc, leaving Heero with strict instructions to sit tight and wait, which Heero at least attempted to follow.

He sat on an upended milk crate, knees pulled up to his chin, thinking. His mind seemed to be working out a distorted cycle as it was slowly straightening out kinks, but for whatever reason, his thought process had cleared substantially since the fight with Chim.

Heero held his arms out in front of him. He liked the tattoos. They belonged to him. He didn't have a name, or a past, but he had these. It was a new feeling, fondness. Being emotionally attached to something. Tracing one finger along the edge of one of the knives, he could almost feel its sharpness.

He did not like waiting; every fiber of him itched to follow the order he'd been given, to find what his wings were meant for. What he was meant for. Still, he waited, because he wouldn't know where to go without Duo.

Duo's suggestion of uncovering Heero's origin to discern the exact nature of his quest seemed a solid initial stage. The tattoos were his most distinguishing marks, and could prove valuable if someone knew why he had them, or at the very least, remembered seeing them.

Even so, it was highly probable someone meant him harm. Markings so distinctive could also be detrimental if noticed by the wrong person. Heero rubbed at his chest where the knife had been.

Duo, something in his head pointed out. It was suspicious for a stranger to be so helpful. Dangerous to trust him.

Heero wanted to dismiss the thought. Their first meeting had seemed innocuous enough even if he hadn't been very attentive to detail at the moment.

But Duo's reasoning to go so out of his way didn't seem equal to the effort he was putting in, especially considering the apparent troubles Duo faced already.

Heero's lips tightened. Did Duo's motivations really matter? So long as it got him the results he wanted, they wouldn't. And if Duo were for some reason looking to subvert him, he would simply have to prepare for that possibility and keep a vigilant eye on him. After all, Duo had been right about one thing; he didn't have anyone else. Heero didn't intend to rely on another person, but there were certain gaps in his knowledge, and a guide was a tool he could use. Duo would have to do.

Suddenly, Heero lifted his head, utterly alert. Something was not right.

Everything seemed still but a deep instinct told him otherwise. He felt an uneasy, agitating sensation, like someone blowing gently against the back of his neck. Quietly, he moved to the partially sealed-up window to look outside, but caught only a flurry of movement as someone entered the building. His muscles tensed as adrenaline built up in his system, ready to take action. He wasn't sure what the situation was, yet, but his body knew what to do.

Move.

He went carefully to the hallway, sure to avoid Duo's traps and alarms. Stopping there, he listened for signs of the intruder. From the sound of it, there were several, and they were moving up the stairs; they didn't want to be noticed.

Heero looked back at Duo's provisions. Quickly, meticulously, he ordered everything away so that there was no trace anyone had ever been there. Waiting here was no longer an option.

"Well," said Duo when he'd returned, "You gave it the old school try. I guess."

They studied the building from a discreet distance. What was left of the building, in any case. The entire top corner was caved in like a smashed egg, smoke wafting into the colony dome as firefighters did their best to put out the blaze.

"You tripped my wire?" guessed Duo, one hip cocked, arms crossed.

"I had to," responded Heero.

"You tripped my wire on purpose?"

"It was the most effective way to handle the intruders. An explosion created a sufficient diversion, giving me time to escape and hide, as well as destroying any evidence of who had been there or where we might have gone."

"Yeah, well done, Sparky." Duo patted Heero roughly on the back. He heaved a sigh. "Wow. This day really, really could not be going worse."

"I was able to extract your supplies," reminded Heero, unfazed by the treatment.

Duo didn't seem to hear him. He continued to talk, apparently to himself, "I swear to God, it's like having a new puppy that gets into everything and wanders off when you're not paying attention. Only, you don't just chew through my phone cord and pee on the carpet, you blow up the goddamn building."

Heero did not look particularly remorseful.

"Well, somebody figured out where we were crashing. I just wanna know which one of us they were looking for," went on Duo, clasping his hands behind his head.

"They weren't in uniform," informed Heero.

"I really can't even tell if that's helpful at this point. How does something made mostly out of metal burn that much anyway?" Duo's eyes were fixed on the building, crawling over with authorities. "Come on, we'd better split before they start searching the area. Doc can't wait too long; I got him transport off-Colony in a couple hours."

"I told you, I don't need a doctor."

Duo shrugged. "You blew up my pad. Humor me."

Duo seemed more careful as they moved through the Colony streets, taking as many shortcuts as possible. Even though he approved of this quickened pace, Heero couldn't help jerking to a stop when he noticed a giant projection high above, an evening announcement flickering against the soot-stained screen. The image in the corner above the figure speaking was a familiar one.

"Hey, we don't have time..." Duo tried, but Heero's eyes would not be moved. "It's just Alliance bullshit, Heero, like it always is. Alliance blames their cock-ups on the gangs; the gangs blame their own existence on the Alliance. No one believes any of it."

"During the night," the anchor reported gravely, "An underground laboratory that Alliance officials believe was being used to manufacture illegal narcotics was destroyed, and all those inside gunned down, in what has been confirmed to have been a gang-related incident. Investigators believe a rival gang --"

"See?" said Duo, but got no response. Shrugging, Duo looked at the projection. "At least we know why there were extra patrols out today."

"It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics," said Heero still staring at the image of the compound's opening, non-descript but leading, as he knew, to inner chambers hidden from any Colony blueprint.

"What? Hey, you remember something?"

"No. That's where I woke up. In the compound. It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics, it was..." he trailed off, unable to recall what it had actually been used for. "It wasn't used to manufacture narcotics. But everyone was killed by gunfire."

"You woke up in a lab?" asked Duo, voice lowered, grabbing Heero's arm to pull him away. He looked around, but the street was nearly empty, with no one in hearing distance.

"Yes," answered Heero. "With a knife in my chest."

"What? A knife?"

"Yes, in my chest," said Heero. "It felt much better when I pulled it out."

"What?" Duo blinked. "Let me get this straight. You woke up with no identity in a lab someone -- probably the Alliance -- wanted shut down in the worst way, with a knife in your chest, and not only did you survive just fine, but you can crush metal with your bare hands. Are we sure you're really human? I mean, a genetic experiment or cyborg theory's looking pretty hot right now."

"I'm human," Heero told him. He might have even been affronted.

Duo snorted. "Sure. Bleeding is believing."

Before Duo registered the movement, Heero had grabbed Duo's switchblade from his back pocket. Heero flicked it open with one, hard motion. Then he lifted it to the palm of his hand and sliced a neat cut open. He held out the bloody knife for Duo to see.

"...Okay. So you bleed," conceded Duo, obviously deeply regretful he'd spoken. "But I don't think that really did much to prove you're human, especially 'cause I can see it starting to heal already." Sighing heavily, he reached tentatively to take the knife back, snatching it from Heero's grip. "I know it's a lot to ask, but how 'bout we try to keep the weirdness to a minimum until we get there, yeah? We gotta take the Underground and the less fuss down there, the better."

The Underground, it turned out, was a labyrinth of tunnels and inner passageways walled in by massive pipes and lines, all nestled beneath the colony streets and between the walls and outer shell. Exclusively the domain of those who labored there to keep the colony running, working any various aspects of maintenance or in the boiler chambers, the tunnels were strictly off-limits to anyone not properly outfitted and especially outsiders, due to the delicacy of most of the lines and machinery, and the volatility of the rest of the equipment. Not even the gangs or Alliance had access here.

Duo, apparently, had a pass.

He'd pulled on his goggles, having found a spare set he insisted Heero wear, and lent him a set of gloves as well.

"We should be okay just walking through, if we're careful, but stay clear of... well, everything. Especially anything that sparks. Even a small splash of almost anything down here will burn straight through you," warned Duo. "And don't piss off the Gnomes."

"Doz!" called a broad-shouldered man from further down. "How's ticks, mate?"

Another, stouter worker was with him, both of them dressed in a similar fashion, with thick gloves, half-aprons, and crude spats over their heavy boots. Despite the protective gear, their arms were, like Duo's, bare, most likely due to the enormous heat emanating from the furnaces. It even smelled hot.

"Still tockin', Rocco," greeted Duo. "Hey, Prest."

"Who's he?" asked the shorter man gruffly, raising a beefy arm to lift his welder's mask.

"I'm looking out for him, don't worry," assured Duo.

"You better be," warned the man with unease.

"Aw, bugger off, Prest. It's Doz, he's got the eye out," said the taller of the two, Rocco, who had welder's goggles instead of a mask. "You gonna work on the doxycarborator? Even Erv can't get her up this time."

"Yeah, I'll take a look, but I've got some shit to take care of, first. I'll get around to it before tomorrow night, though."

"Thanks. You're the only one who can keep that heap running properly. The iron gilder's been wonky as all hell, so we've had our hands full," said Rocco.

"Oh, hey, is it cool if we crash in the Break tonight? That way I can get to work a lot quicker."

"Yeah, all right," agreed Prest. "Though Doc's not staying as well, is he?"

"No, he'll be out of your hair within the hour, promise."

"As long as that doxy's fixed," stipulated Prest, already walking away.

Doc had a wide, heavy-boned face framed in by a short beard of thick, corkscrew curls. His eyes were deep-set, flashing streaks, but worried, slanted down in the outside corners. Everything about him was pale to the point of whiteness, his skin, his hair, his clothes, as though he were a statue come to life.

Heero submitted to the examination, albeit reluctantly. He still saw no purpose in this exercise, but humoring Duo seemed essential to moving to the next stage of his search.

"How's your vision?" asked Doc near the end.

"Exemplary."

Duo rolled his eyes from across the room where he sat on a worktable and Doc chuckled.

"Well, you seem perfectly healthy, even if I haven't the best equipment," said Doc, ruefully.

"Is he human?" asked Duo, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Yes, yes. Quite human." Doc's long, dark eyes curved with amusement. "Whatever caused the memory loss, I don't think it was an injury. Perhaps psychological trauma?"

Duo cocked his head. "That would actually make sense."

Doc nodded, but he didn't ask for further explanation. "If that's true, I don't think you can do anything but wait. It will come back in its own time, when he's ready."

"Huh." Duo hopped off the table. "Well, Sweepers don't come by here till day after tomorrow, but I got you alternate transport in..." Duo checked the time. "...half an hour, so you'd better get a move on. The message went out to your niece; she should be waiting for you when you get there."

Doc tried not to look concerned, but it was far too entrenched in his features for him to be successful. "I hope you'll be careful," he told them.

"Hmm." Duo closed his eyes, and Heero wondered how it was possible to smile that brightly and look enigmatic at the same time. "Always."

Heero was beginning to feel like they'd turned down every side street on the colony when Duo suddenly went down another. Duo wasn't looking back, but his attention was definitely behind them.

Heero zeroed in on the problem like a target. "Two. Green coat. Brown hat."

"That would be them," agreed Duo blithely, hands deep in his coat pockets.

Heero took stock of their surroundings. The detour Duo had used to ascertain if they were being followed had taken them into a deserted area. It was plain in the night lighting that windows all around were dark, the buildings abandoned. He stopped walking.

Duo stopped with him. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Yeah, I get it. Confrontation inevitable, we might as well see what they want."

They could hear the footsteps behind them pause. A decision was being made. The footsteps resumed, echoing solemnly in the canyon of empty buildings. Duo and Heero waited, but did not turn. There was a rustle of fabric, the soft swish of metal against cloth as a knife was drawn. Duo sighed; Heero said nothing.

Heero could feel the knife's presence, pressed expertly at his back, the flick of a wrist away from severing his spinal cord. Good.

"Come with us," commanded a voice.

"Why?" asked Heero, flatly.

"Because I'm holding a knife to your back." The voice was somewhere between amused and triumphant.

"You'll need a better reason than that," said Heero.

"Your friend has one at his throat."

Heero made a noise of consideration. Promptly calculating the amount of time he would need to act, adding Duo as a variable, he said, "Still not good enough."

Heero felt the blade press into his shirt as the man holding it clenched his fist. Duo did his best to look offended at Heero's comment, but ended up just rolling his eyes.

"You don't have a ch--" The voice was cut off when the bony heel of Heero's palm smashed into his larynx. The knife that had been in his hand was then in Heero's, but only for an instant, before it was embedded in his partner's neck. The partner went down with a weak gurgle, hands pawing uselessly at the protruding weapon for a few moments before twitching into stillness.

"Aw, fuck, Heero," said Duo, squatting down to inspect the body. "We talked about this."

With a dismissive shove, Heero knocked the other man to the wet ground. He leaned over him, pressing a knife to the man's throat.

"What do you want with me?" asked Heero, but the man could hardly breathe, let alone answer. He shook his head desperately. Heero looked at Duo.

Duo shook his head. "We don't have time, someone might come down this way, and there's a body to explain if we wanna hang around."

Hastily, the man tapped at his coat pocket. Heero searched it, coming up with a slip of paper with a time and docking number in plain type.

"All I know... swear," wheezed the man.

Tucking the note away, Heero studied the man, trying to decide if it was too dangerous to keep him alive. With a small frown, Heero applied pressure to a nerve at the back of the man's neck until he went unconscious. He set his weapon down and began searching through the rest of the man's clothes for anything useful.

"Whoa," said Duo, eyes wide. Carefully, he asked, "Heero... where did you get another knife?"

Thrown, Heero looked down at the weapon he'd just put down, then over at the one still in the unmoving man's throat.

Duo crawled closer and reached over to yank up Heero's sleeves, first one, and then the other.

There was no tattoo on his left arm.

They both looked at the knife by Heero, identical to the missing design, but completely real and three-dimensional.

Duo sucked in a breath.

"What the fuck."

Part III

"No, really," demanded Duo. "What the fuck?"

"I don't know," said Heero, his focus elsewhere. He lifted the blade, scrutinizing its every line, every ridge. There wasn't a detail that didn't match. He put the blade against his hand, testing its edge, so sharp he hardly felt it part the skin. Putting the slender wound to his mouth to stem the bleeding, he took the dead man's hand, laid it flat against the cobblestones, and with one neat, easy slice, separated wrist from arm.

"Oh, that's so not cool." Duo grimaced. "I mean, Chiu have been known to take body parts so maybe a good call, but still. Fuckin' wrong."

"Steel can't slice through bone that easily," said Heero, mind tracing the implications. "It's Gundanium."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Because that's the weird part of this scenario," said Duo. "You have a tattoo that you can pull off your flesh into a real knife, and you're hung up on the part where it's made out of Gundanium."

"It's important. Gundanium is extremely rare."

"Well forgive me for being a step behind, but again: you have a tattoo that you can pull off your flesh into a real knife!"

Duo tucked back in on himself, crouching down. Inching closer to the body, he scrutinized the edge of the wound with round eyes. He poked at the severed hand.

"Okay, so maybe it's kind of awesome," relented Duo. "I wonder if you can do it with the others. Oh, man, that's so fucking heavy if you can."

"It's too exposed here. We need to leave."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Let's wipe this down and get to the shop; it's safe enough there."

The tinkling of bells could be heard as they entered the shop, which appeared more like the sort of place one would have a tarot card reading than have something permanently etched on one's body.

As they waited just inside the doorway, they caught the light scent of peppermint and lavender. There was an area in front, by the heavily curtained windows, which seemed designated a waiting area if the large, overstuffed sofas covered in loose fabric were any clue. The theme extended to the entire room, which was swathed in layers of colorful textiles and scarves, extending down from the ceiling in some areas as partitions. Almost hidden beyond were chairs, ink, pens and equipment.

A white cat dropped -- seemingly from nowhere -- to land on one of several bookshelves, filled with dusty tomes which all appeared to have been written in dead languages. The cat lifted a snowy paw to its cheek, and then looked down imperiously at Duo and Heero, staring at them with large, disdainful eyes. Heero stared back. His nose twitched.

"Oh..." came a voice from the back. "Don't mind Gwenda. She is a very sanitary cat. I'll only be a moment, Duo," continued the voice, smoky and cultured, like well-varnished oak. Soon after, a young woman drew back the edge of a curtain, ducking out to meet them, but if her voice was an oak, steeped in age, then her form was a poplar, lithe and spry. Long, silver-blond hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back like shining spider's silk.

Pulling off his gloves and stuffing them through one of his belts, Duo smiled a slow, half-grin. "Expecting us, Cass?"

"I was," said the delicate young woman. "Why else would a tattoo parlor be empty at this hour? Please, do sit down, and have some tea." She gestured with one small, porcelain hand to the coffee table, where there was a tea tray Heero had not noticed before.

"Sure," said Duo as they sat, Heero stiffly, and Duo with much less decorum, though he did restrain himself from propping his feet up on the coffee table.

The tattoo artist's eyes were finely tilted, dark and watchful, almost as though they'd been lined with a felt-tip pen. They gazed at Heero and Duo unblinkingly from behind thin, wire-framed glasses. She wore a pentagram on a silver chain around her neck, and was draped in billowing azure blue cloth, though what Heero had originally taken to be intricately detailed black sleeves, were actually bare arms heavily illustrated in ink. Upon closer inspection, the detailing was actually made up of tiny, interlocking symbols that came together like delicately netted lace.

"Well, then," began the artist peering with intensity at Heero. "I am Cassandra, and who are you?"

"I don't know," replied Heero, but when Duo elbowed him sharply in the side, he amended sulkily, "Heero."

Cassandra smiled knowingly, the grip of her eyes maintaining its hold on his. "I'm quite partial to honesty. What is it you seek, Heero?"

"To understand what my wings are for."

"Ah," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and poured tea for each of them. "And when you do? What will you do then?"

"Fulfill my destiny," answered Heero as Duo buried his face in his palm.

Cassandra studied him, the weight of her eyes determining that of his soul. With a deep, measured breath, she closed her eyes and lifted her cup to her mouth, blowing gently. "You have an honest heart. I find that quite rare." Speaking to them both, she added, "What is it you think a tattoo artist can do to help you?"

Duo lifted his cup in both hands, warming his splayed fingers. "His tattoos. He has tattoos that might help us with something, and they're kind of... well, we're not really sure. But they're definitely up your alley. And it's complicated, but what it comes down to is we don't know who made them or why and we were kind of hoping you did."

"How intriguingly phrased." She gestured to Heero. "If you would?"

Heero pulled up one of his sleeves, muscles flexing as he bared the knife on his right arm. Cassandra took it gently in her hands, examining the art with great care. As she did, Heero could see seals tattooed on her palms and arrows on the undersides of her fingers, the head of each at the fingertip.

"Are there others?" asked Cassandra, reserving her opinion, looking at him over the rim of her glasses.

He stood, lifting his shirt at the back and pulling it just over his shoulders so that it slid up enough to expose the tattoos on his back as he turned. He stood still, awaiting her judgment, and wondering why Duo was staring at his stomach and had that odd expression on his face.

She set down her tea and stood, coming close to have a better look. One hand lifted, almost involuntarily, as though the design begged to be touched, but restrained herself, fingers hovering centimeters from his skin.

"Well," she said, with a loving sigh, withdrawing her hand. "These are heavenly." She rested her chin on a crooked finger, studiously. "I've seen angel wings before, of course. They're repetitively requested. But I've never seen any as lovely as these. The detail alone..."

"That's not even the best part," said Duo with barely-contained excitement. He reached up to put a hand on Heero's wrist, the lightest of touches. "Show her?"

Heero wasn't sure how he'd drawn the knife from his skin the first time; just that it had suddenly been there in answer to his need for a weapon. For a moment nothing happened. But then he focused on that need, replicated it until he felt something stirring under his skin. The muscles in his back contracted. The guns crossed at the small of his back rose up from his flesh, pulling and tugging at his skin as they did. Reaching back, he drew them out completely. They were as real and deadly as the knife had been.

Heero turned to face Cassandra and let her see. She leaned in, her finger at her chin seeming to serve to keep her jaw from dropping. "Oh my."

"Way better than BioInk, right?" said Duo.

"I've never..." She looked up at Heero, clasping her hands behind her back. "Can you do the same with the others?"

"I can with the knives. I hadn't tried with the others," said Heero.

In a voice heavy with interest, she asked, "Would you like to?"

The only answer to that, of course, was to remove his shirt, close his eyes and try. Pressure built under his skin, and then he felt the tips of the wings breach the surface. They burst free so quickly, Duo had to jump aside to avoid them. Gwenda -- the cat -- made a hasty disappearance, stray feathers drifting all around.

"...Shit," muttered Duo. Cassandra seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

The wings filled the corner of the room where they stood. Intrigued, Heero tried moving them, flexing them first, and then spreading the feathers to their widest extent. With one, experimental flap, the wings rippled gracefully from their root to the longest feathers at their end. The resulting draft of air blew out several candles.

"Oh... I..." said Cassandra in wonderment.

"Yeah," echoed Duo. He picked up one of the fallen feathers. It was tiny, downy and tufted, resting in the palm of his hand. Stroking it gently with two fingers, he marveled at its softness. When he looked up at Heero, the eye contact felt like lightning. "Heero..."

Duo was smiling at him, unguarded and open. Happiness that bright had to have been infectious, Heero thought or he wouldn't be feeling this curious, entirely new warmth under his skin. It enveloped him as his wings did, the supple softness of happiness, the sweeping force of awe. Distantly, he felt himself smile in return.

Not breaking eye contact, Duo reached out to run light fingers down the curve of one wing, mirroring the path he'd taken when the great, dimensional form before him had just been ink on skin.

"Ouch," said Duo, surprised. He looked at his hand, which was now streaked red across his fingers. "Hey, the long ones are sharp." Touching again, cautiously this time, he said, "Like knives. They feel like they're made out of steel." His eyes flicked to Heero's. "Or something stronger."

Curling one wing around where he could reach it, Heero felt for himself. It was odd, using muscles that had never existed previously. The smaller feathers were fluffy and soft, but when he tentatively drew a finger down one of the long, primary feathers, a thin strip of blood appeared, along with the sweet sting of a cut. Testing further, he found it indeed as unyielding as steel. Or Gundanium.

"It can't be BioInk," said Cassandra. "Not even the most advanced formula could do something like this. You said you'd like to know who made them?"

"That'd be nice," said Duo.

Cassandra sighed. "I do hate to disappoint, but I'm afraid I have no idea. Even as simple tattoos, the skill level is well-beyond any artisan I've ever known. Add to that their... unique capability... well." She shrugged contritely.

"So what is it? Some sort of crazy-advanced Cyberware technology? Or something else?"

She scoffed delicately, one pale eyebrow raised with amusement. "Something else? What else could they possibly be?"

"Well, you seen anything like this before?" questioned Duo, sitting back down with both his arms draped across the back of the couch.

Cassandra hesitated. "I can't even fathom the tools that could make something like these. I'm fairly certain at least the surface design is Bioskin, but how someone managed to use a Gundanium weave, I've no idea."

Heero's wings folded, tightening smaller and smaller until he could lay them flat against his back. They sank back into his skin, melting into shades and lines. The guns followed as he pressed them to the small of his back. Ignoring the renewed stares, he pulled his shirt back down.

He sat back down next to Duo, while Cassandra took her seat as well, picking up her tea as though nothing unusual had just occurred.

"Though I can't tell you much more about the origin of your tattoos, I can tell you this: whatever you do, stay far away from the Alliance," warned Cassandra. "Several groups of rebels have started using more precise skirmish and hit-and-run tactics. They've begun to move too fast to stamp out with mobile suits, so an elite branch of the Alliance is deviating away from large machinery and explosives, trying to adapt with smaller, lighter, high-tech weaponry. What you have in your possession is exactly what they're looking for. If they find your secret, there's no telling what they'll do with it. Or you."

"You aren't just attracting trouble, Mental, I think trouble may be stalking you," said Duo to Heero. His fingers absently toyed with the small feather he'd first collected. "We should look into a restraining order."

Cassandra looked at Heero, that measuring look she had given him before. "You hold neither censure nor forgiveness, only resolution, don't you? There's something shockingly pure about you, something free of the desperation that lives in everyone else. Such determination is nearly desire, and wearing such a look -- well, it can't make one help but desire as well..."

"Cass," said Duo sharply, as Cassandra's eyes had gone very far away, her voice fading like a dirge on the wind. She was as present as a ghost. Snapping his fingers, Duo tried again, "Cass!"

"Hm?" Cassandra's gaze jolted awake and she turned her head toward him. "What? Oh, dear. I've escaped myself again, haven't I?"

"Yeah."

"Terribly sorry. It does happen every so often, you know."

"S'okay. Back to the magic cyber wings?"

"Oh. Yes. Well, you know who knows about cyberware... and everything else," reflected Cassandra, giving Duo a sleek, sideways glance.

An almost hungry smile of delight slowly crawled to his lips. "You don't mean...?"

"He does have quite a reputation, even if he's difficult to gain access to. That shouldn't be too challenging for you though; I've heard he's quite fond of you."

"I'm sure you have," said Duo drolly.

Cassandra lifted an artful brow. "And is he?"

"Only 'cause I tell him 'no' a lot."

"Hmm. You might need a 'yes' for the answers you seek," said Cassandra, sipping at her tea.

Duo laughed with a savage fondness. "I don't think so. That'd ruin the appeal, you see. He deals in intangibles and only likes what he can't figure out."

"That would explain his liking you," said Cassandra. "Well, I do have flyers if you're decided on looking for him."

"Definitely," said Duo. "Hope you're good at riddles, Mental."

Heero didn't think he was, having lost the thread of the conversation a good while back.

"But Duo," said Cassandra, suddenly grave. "Kal's looking for you. Stay out of Chiu Territory."

Duo's lips twisted in a way that made it impossible to tell if he were holding back a grin or a growl. "As much as I can help it," was all he said.

"In that case... keep it secret, keep it safe," bid the artist with a final, inscrutable slip of a smile.

"K, so that wasn't a total bust. The guy Cass was talking about might know something. Or know someone who knows something, at least," said Duo, reading over the flyer Cassandra had given them. It was completely dark out now, but hundreds of gaslight lanterns hung from every building, railway and bridge. The cobbled streets, still wet from the morning downpour, glittered from their flickering light. Everything smelled of rain.

"How are a mass of random phrases and a picture of what appears to be the demented offspring of an owl and a cat supposed to be helpful?" asked Heero, walking beside him.

"They're clues," Duo told him, flicking the paper for emphasis. "That's how we find him. He's always at the party of the moment, and to get into the party, you gotta follow the clues."

"How?" asked Heero.

"Okay, check this out. 'From the beginning of eternity to the end of time and space I am in every place.' I've heard that one before. It's the letter E," explained Duo. "The next one is 'Man walks over, man walks under, in times of war he burns asunder.' Any ideas?"

"A bridge," said Heero automatically as his mind flashed over historic battles and strategies involving their destruction.

Duo grinned. "Now you've got it. E bridge. That's gotta be East Bridge Square."

"And?"

"And we go there for the next clue."

The clock tower in East Bridge Square loomed high overhead, a latticework of scaffolding and industrial steel. The pale face glared down at them as they approached.

"You see it?" asked Duo, nodding to the base of the tower.

"The picture from the flyer," said Heero, studying the cattish-owl creature defacing the dark metal. "We're in the right place? What now?"

"Yeah, we're on track," said Duo, kneeling to get a better look at the graffiti. "There're differences between this one and the flyer. See?" Duo touched the splayed feathers at the end of the creature's outspread wing.

"The feathers on the flyer are all closed. What does that mean?" Heero had to speak up over the sound of the clock gears turning, which could easily be seen through the layers of solid scaffolding, along with sliding ladders and spinning wheels.

"Four feathers mean four blocks down. The other wing has three, so that's three blocks over in the direction it's pointing. C'mon."

Giant, seesawing pumps that looked like crickets lined the way as they walked, eventually coming to the destined corner.

"Hey," said Duo, reaching up to pull a flyer from the wall of a building. To Heero, it looked like just one of many plastered there in a tattered, faded mosaic, but Duo seemed to think it the next clue.

"The more you take, the more you leave behind," read Duo. "Huh."

Heero was watching the trains up above, racing through stacks of steam and smoke. A small airship drifted through the arch of a bridge, slow and lazy, like a flounder fish, its propellers gently turning.

"Maybe...? No..." muttered Duo.

Along with the rattling train were the sounds of faint hammering and pounding, the rumbling click of gears and cogs. In the distance, something whistled high and loud.

Heero turned back to Duo, still puzzling over the clue, and said, "Footsteps."

Duo blinked. "Hey, that actually works. There's a place down near Blackgate called Footsteps. Good work, Mental, we're almost there."

More graffiti on a dumpster out back of Footsteps led them to a large, empty district filled with what looked to be warehouses. There, Heero followed Duo down the stairs outside a building to a basement door. The music from within was so loud he could feel the bass in his feet as they stood outside. There was a faded sticker of another creature, this one the exact replica of the one on the flyer, marking the destination of their hunt. Duo rapped three times on the door, then grinned at Heero as they were let in.

The room was bare concrete, pipes overhead and running along the walls. A naked bulb was the only illumination. Music vibrated through the walls. A giant of a man, with blacksmith's shoulders and the features of a Viking guarded the final entryway. Wordlessly, he pointed at a handwritten sign. It read:

What does man love more than life
Fear more than death or mortal strife
What the poor have, the rich require,
and what contented men desire,
What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves
And all men carry to their graves?

Bouncing on his heels, Duo cocked his head. "Hmm... nothing."

The Viking-man stared him down with menacing eyes, looming, testing, but Duo grinned up at him. Finally, he stood aside to let them enter, and the door opened. They had scarcely walked inside before it closed behind them, sealing them in with something like finality.

The mottled walls were lit up in green lights, and it gave the place an inverted appearance, like light and shadow had reversed. The effect was seductive and lush, yet permeated by a bilious sweat. It made Heero's head sick.

"C'mon," beckoned Duo, and they went further in.

The space felt confined, but tall, as though dizziness climbed up the walls into infinity. Heero felt both small and over-large in this place, with its sticky floor and gummy walls.

Duo didn't seem to mind it, adapting as easily here as he did everywhere else. His eyes became hooded, heavy, and contented, as if even the air in this place was a narcotic and he was instantly intoxicated on whatever feeling these people were recklessly chasing.

In the confusion left when light and dark couldn't decide which they wanted to be, each person seemed to blend into the next to form a single body. Away from the walls, between flashes from strobes, there were moments where the crowd seemed a massive, pitch-dark shadow that flowed as a great wave, spilling and writhing with the echoing beats like living water, where neon glow sticks floated like driftwood. As Heero's eyes adjusted, they seemed more and more to be drowning in a sea of their own making.

Duo cut through easily, like a powerful current flowing opposite the masses, and Heero followed, doing his best not to be touched.

"Stay here!" yelled Duo above the din. "I'm going to try to find him. Try not to blow anything up while I'm gone. And don't kill anything!"

With a squeeze to Heero's shoulder, Duo left him there against a wall. Heero stayed, listening to the heavy throb of electronic sounds captured and bound together in something called music that pulsated like a distressed, disrupted heartbeat. Cigarettes and body odor, masked under perfume and body spray, swam at the back of his throat.

Unsettled by every sickly fiber of this place, he surveyed the mass of young, sweaty, dirty debauchery. The shocking static lights froze everything for snapshots of time. It was all a mess of dirty hair, smudged mascara and smeared lipstick. There was a girl puking in the corner, a guy with a hand on her back and another up her shredded skirt. Small tabs of unknown substances passed from tongue to tongue. People walked up to strangers and kissed them as if it would save them. There was no seduction, only desperation. They were fucked up and he was utterly disconnected.

It seemed a frozen moment of forever, an endless loop of wantonness, before Duo was back and standing next to him, watching him watch. It would be so easy for one to be lost in here.

"They're all so empty," said Heero. "Do they know how empty they are?"

Duo smiled, an enigmatic curl of the mouth. "Why do you think they're here?"

There was a girl apart from the crowd, watching them. Her eyes were like living shadows; they reminded Heero of the cat in the tattoo shop. She wore a short, high-collared dress with ripped tights to match, and he was sure he'd seen her somewhere before. After a while, she approached, speaking to Duo in a voice soaked in smoke and vodka.

"You were the one from this morning," she said, her accent clouding her vowels and R's, adding K's where they didn't belong. "The gentleman."

"The Lolita-girl," said Duo, recognizing her as the girl who'd been run down. She'd been an alley cat that morning, caught in the rain, but in here, her hair sleek and lips knowing, she was a goddess in her temple.

"Call me Kitty," said the girl, offering a demur hand, which Duo took, briefly. "You seem to be looking for someone. Perhaps I can help you?"

"Kitty, huh?" appraised Duo. He grinned at her. "Yeah, alright. He always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, and has a mouth but never eats...?"

She smirked, slowly. "You're looking for River. Come with me." With a beguiling glance back at them over her shoulder, she led off.

They followed her through the bowels of the building to a metal staircase set precariously into the wall. She flashed the man at the bottom an imperial glance, and he lifted the chain for them. They could barely hear the hollow bang of footsteps on metal under the weight of the music as they ascended to the loft above. There was another crowd up here, more mellow, more muted but no less lascivious than the one below. They reclined on couches and against walls, moving slowly against each other, pressing into the dark.

Kitty went to one of the sofas, dropping down to kneel on the cushions beside a man who sat there alone. He was somewhat androgynous in appearance, his lean body all sinuous lines and carved muscle. His smooth, flawless features looked like they'd been sculpted from sand, and his long, dark eyes were emphasized by thick, Egyptian eyeliner. Rich, gold-brown skin looked like it had been painted in linseed oil.

Looping her pale arms around his neck, Kitty pressed her nose against his ear to whisper something in it. The man, who had been looking inconsolably bored, smiled hedonically at whatever she'd said. Giving his cheek a quick lick, she stood and threw Duo and Heero a smirk so hot it steamed before she disappeared amongst the people in the shadows.

Duo walked forward, stopping just before the man, who grinned languidly up at him. Heero followed like a shadow, unnoticed in the dark.

"Hello, Doz. You were looking for me?" asked the man, rolling the drink in his hand, ice clinking lazily. His voice was like his drink, as rich and smooth as amber.

Duo grinned back. He sat down next to him, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "Yeah, maybe." Duo looked at him sideways, eyes artful and teasing. "You gonna help me out, River?"

River hummed, sinking back. "Well that depends. Is it an interesting problem you've got?"

Duo's grin grew. "Oh yeah." Turning his face to River's, he whispered in his ear, the words lost to the throb of music from below.

"Really..." murmured River, after a moment. Duo continued to whisper, until River pulled back abruptly, looking at Heero for the first time. "Really?"

"So, what do you know?" asked Duo, sitting back, stretching an arm over the cushions. He gestured with his head for Heero to sit next to him. Heero did, still wary and watchful.

River ran a finger along his lips, looking away in thought. His eyes flicked back to Duo. "Cybernetic technology's the new big thing, yeah, but everything's prototypes. Best I've seen thus far -- outside your standard high quality prosthetic -- is a heat-sensing cybernetic eye and some neuro-thought digitizers, but those have some serious kinks. That Alliance branch, the Specials, is looking into Bioskin blast armor, though again, that's still in the earliest stages. What you're talking about is ludicrously better than anything else out there." His voice had an almost trancelike depth, a quality that obscured his speech from anyone hoping to listen in. Though his words were perfectly clear, they did not carry. "You know the rumors."

"Tell him," urged Duo, nodding to Heero.

"It's all to do with the Alliance and the Specials," explained River. "There're Alliance officials that want to stay with Mobile Suits. Of course, the Specials are pushing hard the other way. There's a lot of in fighting right now, not amongst the men on the ground, but between those seeking political security and advancement. Now, some Alliance officers stand to lose a lot of power if Mobile Suits become obsolete. They're doing everything they can to snuff out growth in cybernetics." He looked around discreetly, sharing a secret smirk with Duo. "My guess? That's what that lab mess this morning was about."

"How's that?"

"Well, we all know it wasn't a fucking gang-related incident, don't we. I've got a good idea they were doing modification in there, of the cybernetic kind. No word on who they were for sure, but best guess says it was Specials, cooking up hardware on the sly, and some Alliance wanker wanted to make sure it never saw the light of day."

"You don't think it was rebels?" said Duo.

"It's a possibility, but they don't have the funds, now do they?"

Duo shrugged. "Not usually. How do you know what they were up to in there?"

"It's no secret this colony's a bit screwy, technology-wise. I mean, Alliance thinks it's antiquated and not to be bothered with, but those in the know get that it's a hotbed for unique thinking, yeah? This is where engineers come if they want to really stretch the bounds. It's the perfect place to set up an off-the-grid cyberlab." Here, River hesitated, but leaned in again. "I trust you like family and you've given me gold before, so I'll give this to you free, but it's not to be passed on, got it?" Duo quickly nodded, and he continued, "Girl I know's got a boyfriend who's got himself in a nasty scrape. Today she was trying to unload some blueprints and drafts, trying to make some quick dosh to get them safe off colony. Those drafts were the closest thing I've seen to what your boy has."

Heero's breath froze in his lungs. Someone else had escaped the lab? Alive?

"You think the boyfriend was actually in the lab while it went down, managed to get out alive, managed to take some stuff with him," said Duo.

"Exactly," confirmed River.

"How do we talk to this guy?" asked Duo.

"I prefer to stick with dealing info, and the business they were into was too rich for my blood. The only thing the middleman's getting is a second smile." River drew a finger across his throat from ear to ear. "What I mean to say is they can't sell -- not to me or anyone else, so they're down to their last resort. The only way to get enough money right off is in the cage."

"Fuck," cursed Duo, expression darkening. "That's Chiu territory. And if this boyfriend's fighting, he'll be dead before we can talk to him, 'less he's a serious bruiser."

"He's bound to be something, if he got out of that bloodbath. But getting out of the cage alive is another thing altogether. See if you can't catch them before. If you've got something that can help them, you might be able to get the information you're looking for," suggested River as he poured more of his drink and took a long sip. "The girl's called Flora Bellez. Should be on shift at Dabby's tomorrow night."

"Bellez, like Rocco Bellez?" wondered Duo.

"His half-sister."

"They get on?"

"As far as I know."

"Should help, but fuck." Duo rubbed furiously between his brows. "We better not have to go to fucking purgatory."

River looked him over with a lazy curiosity. "What in space did you do to get Kal so fucking hacked at you, anyway?"

"Hell if I know. He seems to think I had something to do with whatever it was that went missing."

"Fuck off," scoffed River, but he offered his drink to Duo. "Everyone knows that had to've been VK."

"I know!" Duo took a quick gulp. "But I ran into Chim, and you know how that goes. Now they're probably all gunning for me." He paused in thought, and then looked at River. "Are they all gunning for me?"

River's smile was smug. "Of course."

"Fantastic. Really, just... terrific." Duo took another drink and set the glass down. "Anyway, thanks. I'd say I owe you one, but..." Duo shrugged.

"...But I just owe you one less," River finished for him, with an idle snort.

"Yeah. Hey, man, I know it's no good for business, but... I hope you'll give me what can only be kept when it's been given, and not pass any of this on."

At the use of the riddle, River's lips softened to a smile. "You can expect what's broken every time it's spoken," he promised as Duo stood. "I'm always blue for you, mate."

Duo grinned and leaned over him, so close their noses grazed, hands planted on either side of River's shoulders. "Don't worry; it's not the only thing I like about you."

Quickly he leaned in and kissed River in parting, with brief, deep tongue. Despite Cassandra's intimations, Heero knew it was just part of the scene; an empty connection, meaningless. The kiss was dirty, like everything around them.

What confused him was that he found dirty appealing when it was Duo.

Duo walked away from River, throwing Heero a wink as he passed.

"You know," said Duo once they'd gone outside. There was something both wistful and resigned in his eyes when he looked at Heero. "You've really only existed since this morning, and already I --" Cutting himself off with a sigh, he kicked absently at the pavement. He smiled brightly, the strength of the grin closing his eyes. "C'mon, Mental, let's bolt down for the night."

Part IV

Heero dreamed of the tank in the laboratory.

His world was suspended inside, where there was neither breath nor movement. What was outside, he could not see through the film of blue, the distortion of the cylindrical shape, the thick glass. He felt cool, liquid gel on his skin. He felt vibrations through the glass.

He felt pain.

Duo spent the next day tinkering around under a very heavy-looking hunk of metal he called a doxycarburetor, alternately humming, cursing, and talking to Heero without seeming to care whether Heero was actually there to listen or not. By evening, though, he seemed to have fixed whatever the problem was without half the parts he should have needed and a few he probably shouldn't have.

"Where are we going?" asked Heero when they were on their way.

"Laughing Dabby's."

Heero frowned. The term did not compute. "What is a Laughing Dabby?"

Duo snickered. "A pub."

"And we can get the information we need there?"

"Well, it is a pub. And it is where Flora works nights, so yeah, I hope so," drawled Duo as he shouldered the door open.

The inside felt like the hull of an antique naval vessel, with concave walls and ribbed supports. Etchings of airships and propellers decorated the walls. It was quite full, due to the rush of workers getting off shift and stopping by for a few rounds before heading home. There were several serving girls flitting from bar to tables and back, who, in their short, full skirts with bustle and petticoats, and whale-bone, under bust corsets, resembled a set of dancing flowers in the midst of their waltz.

Heero trailed quietly behind Duo as they cut through to the bar. Duo must have had the favor of some alcohol-minded deity, because he caught the attention of the bartender right away, much to the consternation of the five men who'd obviously been attempting to do the same to no effect.

"I need to talk to Flora."

"Who's askin' for her?"

"A friend of her brother. Name's Duo Maxwell."

The barkeep stared him down for a moment, and then set down a tumbler on the counter. Not breaking eye contact, he poured it full of thick, near-black liquid from a jug with no label.

"Look, I'm not gonna cause trouble for her or anything," Duo told him.

Without a word, the bartender struck a match and lit the drink on fire. He nodded to Duo, just slightly to the side. A challenge.

"Fuck," muttered Duo under his breath. He lifted the drink, took a deep breath, and slammed it back. A slight wince showed his opinion of its strength.

Satisfied, the barkeep pointed to one of the serving girls dropping off drinks at a far booth, and Duo tapped the bar twice, nodding his thanks.

The girl was a freckled strawberry blonde, hair pinned up but coming loose in messy ringlets. She was built like a trumpet, with long, reed-thin legs, no hips to speak of, and a full bosom that overflowed from her chemise. Like the Underground workers, she had on chunky mid-calf brown boots and leather spats.

"Hey, Flora, right? I'm Duo, I'm a friend of Rocco's. You got a minute?"

"Sorry, we've a rush on, and I really can't afford to lose out on tips..." began the girl, big, honey-brown eyes anxious and apologetic, but Duo cut in.

"Yeah, I know... it's sort of why we're here," said Duo. "Promise it's worth it."

She looked between them, a faint trace of worry and desperation in her face, countered by a certain guardedness in her stance. "Yeah, alright. Pila?" she called to another serving girl. "You think you can cover me for a bit?"

"Got it, love," chirped back the other girl, spinning by in a flurry of crinoline and lace.

Flora led the way to a curtained booth obscured in the back. Setting her tray down, she offered them the frothy mugs of ale she'd just picked up. Duo took one and set another in front of Heero.

"Duo, as in Doz? Mechanic, yeah?" began Flora, taking a sip from a third tankard. "Rocco speaks of you; says you're right good."

Duo smiled, and it was almost shy. "They're a good bunch of guys, down there. Don't mind my buddy here; he doesn't talk much... Look, I know you're in a hurry, so I'll get to it. We heard about you and your boyfriend being in some trouble, needing to get off-colony quick-like."

"And you think you can help?" she asked, her once-friendly voice small but wanting to sound big. "How? Why?"

"Well, two Sweeper ships dock in the next few days, and I can get you on one without having to put money down. You're Rocco's sister so I want to help you out, but, honestly, we only heard about your situation because we've been looking for information about that compound thing yesterday, and we heard your boyfriend might know something about it."

She went slightly pale, her splashes of freckles standing out starkly on her skin. "How'd you hear that?" she asked faintly. Her fingers clutched tightly at the mug.

"River," replied Duo honestly.

"River trusts you like that?" she asked, half-incredulous, half-wary.

"Yeah. He really didn't have to say much. I guessed most of it."

"What is it you think Danny knows?" Her suspicion spilled over into desperation as she went on, voice hitching, "Because he doesn't know anything! He just worked in the boiler room, he didn't know about anything going on in there!"

"Hey, look, we just want to talk to him. We're not accusing him of anything, and we really don't want him in trouble, okay? So calm down, we want to help. I bet you didn't even tell Rocco, did you?"

"No. Not yet." She looked down, her hands releasing their grip on the drink to worry in front of her. Her eyes flicked up, piercing with their naked hope. "Can you really get us out of here? Because I love him, I mean, really love him, and I'd just die if he..." she hiccupped, trying to keep the emotion in. "Nothing can happen to him."

"Yeah. I can really get you out of here," said Duo, voice soft. "I even can get you papers, too, so you can settle down wherever you get to."

The hope in her eyes collapsed, her whole body following as she curled in on herself, burying her face in her palms. "But it's too late. Oh, God... We couldn't see any way. We just didn't have the money. And Danny..." Her eyes were red. "Danny's already on slot... as a Challenger."

"...Fuck," said Duo, dumbly. He attempted to regroup. "Okay, he's fighting tonight?" At Flora's nod he continued, "We're just going to have to go to Chiu then, and talk Kal into letting him out of his contract."

"But Kal doesn't let people out of their contracts," said Flora faintly.

Heero spoke up. "Isn't that in the place we're not supposed to go? And doesn't he want to kill you?"

Duo sighed. "You're so negative."

Kal was... cute.

He looked young, with short, downy, dusty-brown hair stuffed under a newsboy cap. His wide-set eyes were very dark and very round, his cheeks full, plump, and rosy. His mouth was small and low beneath his little, blunt nose. He might have looked like a child's stuffed rabbit, should that rabbit happen to have been Raggedy Anne's pimp daddy.

He sat at a small chess table across from a man in a worn bowler hat and a monocle over one eye. A gaslight lamp hung above, illuminating their game, which might have claimed ancestors in chess and cards. The pieces on the checked board looked like bits of scrap.

"You... want a favor," said Kal, tone caught between dubious and amused. "You."

"Yup. Pretty much," said Duo, trying for flippancy. The man in the bowler hat lifted his brows, but wisely said nothing and moved a piece instead.

"You stole something from me. I don't like it when people take what's mine."

"I didn't --"

"Yes, you did. Don't be silly and don't be stupid Duo. We both know you did." Kal crossly flipped a card and made a move accordingly, the piece -- a screw -- tapping loudly against the board. "I don't like it when clever people act stupid. It's tedious."

"What makes you think --"

"Duo. Don't be tedious." To the man he was playing, he said, "Checks. You lose. Leave the key and we're square."

"But it's worth far more than I owe --" tried the man.

"Leave it and get the fuck out."

It was notably quiet as the man pulled the brim of his hat down and reluctantly set down a key that looked like an antique replica. Quickly gathering his coat, he skittered from their sight.

"Stupid fucking tits," sneered Kal, picking up the small key and studying it. "'S a game of strategy and skill, of fucking intellect. Where's the bloody challenge when it's not even two layers in and they're done already." He palmed the key, pointing emphatically at Duo. "You'll play me for it."

"What, for the favor?" said Duo, wary.

"You want this guy, the Challenger, out of his contract? Fine. Beat me and it's done, but I win, and you give me back what's mine."

"Right. Where's the catch?"

"I don't lose. Is that a catch?" At Duo's raised eyebrow, Kal shrugged. "Well, you can't just leave me a Challenge without a Challenger. I've need of a body to take his place." At Duo's guarded look, Kal said preemptively, "Not you." His eyes flickered over to Heero, whose cold stare had been chilling the room by several degrees from behind Duo's shoulder. "...He'll do."

"No way," said Duo, bristling, at the same time that Heero said, "Done."

Kal allowed his smirk to grow, feeling that the return of the item he sought was very close indeed. "Yes, I think he'll do quite nicely," said Kal with the knowledge that, even if for some unearthly reason he were to lose, he'd rid himself of a sub-par fighter and gained a hostage against Duo, as well as a favor owed from him, all in a single move.

"Excuse us," snapped Duo, pulling Heero roughly aside. Voice dropping, he said, "What are you doing? You don't know what you're getting into."

"You would have done it," pointed out Heero, unconcerned. "You'll explain later."

"It's that or nothing," said Kal from behind them, replacing pieces on the board until one covered every space -- copper metals on the red squares, iron on the black -- save one of each in the center.

Duo's jaw clenched and he glared at them both, caught without any other choice. "Fine." Flipping the vacant chair around, he sat down, tipping it forward on two legs and leaning in on his crossed arms. "What's the set?"

"Five and two," said Kal, expertly shuffling cards. "Black or red?"

"Black."

"Excellent. Deal."

"No, you deal. I'm not going to get accused of cheating if this doesn't go your way."

"Don't think you know all the tricks, Doz," said Kal, a steely smile on his face as he laid out seven cards, faces down, one row for each of them, "or you'll find you've missed something."

"Are we talking about me, Kal," wondered Duo, turning the first card in line, then sliding the first piece -- a rivet -- into the empty black square, "or you?"

"Not playing dumb anymore, are we?"

"I always play smart."

"So you think," said Kal, moving a broken chain link. "Or you wouldn't have left something of yours behind when you took my data."

"I didn't," said Duo, unfazed, as he flipped a card and swapped a nut for a pin, "because I wasn't there."

"Maybe you didn't," admitted Kal, equally unfazed, as he made a move in return, "but you were there. Maybe nothing showed up on the cameras, maybe no alarms were triggered, but you were there."

"Sounds like an inside job to me."

"None of the useless sods would know what it was or what to do with it. But it's common knowledge that Duo Maxwell is quite interested in cybernetics."

"Oh, is that what's missing?" was the blase reply as Duo took his turn.

"Cute," remarked Kal as they continued to play, flipping a card before each move. When they had all been turned, Kal dealt again.

"Second layer," noted Kal, beginning the next stage of the game. "You know what's interesting? VK appearing, messing about in other people's business... didn't happen 'till you turned up here, then did it?"

"Your timeline's screwed. I'd been around for months before VK."

"You mean before people started calling him VK. Alliance soldiers had three incidents before that matched his style, and it sure as shit weren't one of mine. I'd know who did it, and I don't -- which makes my timeline dead on."

"You're reaching."

"Am I? Because I happen to know where you get the name Maxwell."

Duo went very still, hand poised over the board mid-move. The air seemed to dry up around him. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet Kal's. He said nothing.

"You know, you and VK have a lot in common, Maxie," went on Kal as he moved a piece of his own. "You both use names that aren't really yours. VK seems to have something against the Alliance, and given your history, you fucking should as well --"

"Stop," warned Duo, voice low, but Kal kept on.

"-- not to mention your little obsession --"

"Stop."

"-- and given the latest item to mysteriously disappear --"

"Enough!" Duo pushed back abruptly, standing with his fists clenched, the muscles in his forearms defined with tension. The chair clattered as it settled back on all four legs. More quietly, he said again, "Enough."

"Was that all it took? Don't disappoint, Doz, I thought you'd put up a bit more fight. Especially since you can't even --"

"Fine," growled Duo, anger buzzing beneath his calm. He opened a flap on one of his utility belts, pulling out a skeleton key and tossing it on the table with resignation. The key, engraved with an I, as well as being larger and more embellished than the one the man in the bowler hat had left, spun in place between Kal's hands. "You want to use that shit against me? You just can't wait? Fine, have it back. It's useless, anyway."

With one finger, Kal drew the key towards him. "Sit down, Duo," said Kal, smirking openly. "We've not finished."

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" said Duo, and, suddenly, the undertone of anger was gone as though it had never been there. He tapped the last card with one finger, slid his rivet forward, which knocked a piece of copper from the board, bouncing it into Kal's lap. "Checks."

"...What?" Face snapping down, Kal looked at the board in confusion. He mentally retraced the last few moves, lips moving as he tried to figure out how that piece could have possibly moved there. "...How?"

"Your end?" reminded Duo.

"Yes, right... your boy's the new Challenger, the other one's out," muttered Kal, distracted. "But how did...?"

Duo took a piece and repeated the route it had taken.

"That -- that's..." sputtered Kal, watching how the piece had snuck through his defenses and strategies with the expression of one witnessing the crumbling of mountains. The realization hit him in a near-physical blow, that Duo's every move, every lost piece, and every maneuver of Kal's own in return, had been made to construct that last play, to let that one piece through. It was brilliant.

"Not so tedious now, is it?" said Duo as he turned, taking Heero with him. For the first time, Heero regretted not having memories. It seemed unfair that Duo should have so many identities, he thought, when he didn't really even have one.

It was dark here, in what was known to any colonist as the Zone: an empty buffer between the colony and its outer shell; the last protective layer against the ravages of Space. It was the largest uninterrupted space in any colony. Small blue lights dotted the vast walls that bracketed what seemed an endless ravine of darkness.

There, in all unlikelihood, hung a cage in the center of nothing; an octagonal cube of banded black iron. It was circled by a broad, scrapped-together catwalk that linked back to the colony wall. People already lined the catwalk, milling about in hungry anticipation.

"So all I have to do is take this person's place and fight opponents in one-on-one combat?" asked Heero as he studied the cage.

"No, that's not fucking all. You don't know what weapons you'll get in the draw, the cage isn't stable ground, not to mention the fucking -- look, I need you to understand how dangerous it is," said Duo. He grabbed Heero's chin to force eye contact.

Heero took hold of Duo's wrist with a grip stronger than steel, eyes intent on Duo's. "I understand."

Duo actually growled. "I really don't think you do. You see that red line on the catwalk? That's a goddamn splash zone. An actual zone where you can actually expect to be splashed with blood, teeth and stray body parts. These guys, they don't fuck around. They're knives, they're sharp, and they'll stab you just to see if you're strong enough to heal. Blood doesn't spill in there; it sprays. I won't be able to help you."

"You won't need to."

Roughly, Duo let go of Heero's chin. "Heero, you're going to be a Challenger. No Challenger has ever come out of there with all his pieces because being a Challenger means you fight anyone who wants a shot at you. If they beat you, they automatically win the whole thing and good percentage of the prize money, but you have to beat everyone, one after another, until no one's willing to take you on. They can just keep throwing people at you for days, until you're so exhausted a baby could take you out. And don't put it past Kal to do something nasty, because he's gonna be pissed when he can't find that key I gave him."

At this, Heero paused. "...What?"

Duo opened his palm to show the skeleton key, along with the other, plainer key. He looked a little sheepish about the second. "He put them in the same pocket," he explained.

Duo was still angry, but he wrapped Heero's hands for him, and told him all about Dread, reigning champion and unbeaten legend. Then Duo told Heero what he had to do to win.

"Why are they so desperate?" Heero asked, his eyes on the crowd that simmered and stirred, ready to boil over into savagery.

"You remember what River said, about how steam colonies are hotbeds for alternative technology? Well, Alliance didn't catch on to that for a while, and now that they have, they don't like it much. They don't like anything that's different from what they want. So they're trying to shut it all down. They've already started converting two colonies like this one to conventional energy sources. None of the workers knows how to do anything but steam and spring, so it's Alliance people who get the new jobs, both construction and making the colony run smooth on the new system. That's the choice; lose your job or go Alliance and get trained to do things their way. It's a pretty sneaky way of getting colony folk to fall in line, and people here are feeling the pressure real tight, because they're talking about trying it on this one, too."

"But why are they fighting each other like this, and why are they entertained by it? It's not a logical way to solve the problem. Shouldn't they be fighting the Alliance?"

"Some people do. They don't bend over for Alliance or gangs. But most just don't know what to do, and the rest are trying to find a way out before they're forced out. Thus the challenges. Gangers like Kal found out a good way to make a lot of money is to offer some poor sucker a chance to get out with start-up cash. The guy never wins, so they keep most of their money and make a lot more on the betting, because that's what hard-working guys like to do when they feel stressed and vulnerable: they gamble and watch people beat the crap out of each other."

"So... I'm the poor sucker, correct?"

"In this case, yes." Duo patted his wrapped hand. "Try not to get killed, Mental. You're kind of growing on me. Like moss. Scowly, obsessive, moss. It would be a shame to lose you."

There was no ceremony when the participants drew lots for weapons, just one hard-muscled opponent after another. Heero watched them from inside the cage, leaning back against its side with his arms crossed. The crowd on the catwalk was loud, casting bets and taunting each other's choices. Duo had moved there among them, hands braced on the rail, watching Heero with his trickster eyes. There was something comfortable about seeing him there, and for some reason, Heero didn't think he would like it very much if Duo were out of sight. It was similar to the feeling he had studying his tattoos, to that fondness. But this feeling was stronger. There was an immediate response to the thought, a mental hiss at the idea. Whatever was in his head did not like the emotion, not at all.

"Shut up and listen, you stupid cunts!" yelled a tall, beefy man from a raised platform. "Since the dawn of time, men have gathered to test their mettle against each other. Tonight, we put them to shame. Here, we seek blood." He pointed at Heero. "The Challenger!" He pointed to the line of participants, and over the crowd he roared, "His worthy opponents! Begin!"

With that, the first opponent was locked in. Heero's weapons were a pair of cestuses -- battle gloves that went all the way up his forearms made of heavy metal plating that went down to the second knuckle of each finger. The opponent charged him headlong with a rusted, flat blade, which Heero didn't bother avoiding, just caught between his metal-plated fists. The blade made a shrieking noise and then crumpled between his knuckles, irreparably warped. Heero let it clatter to the cage floor, then fall through to the abyss below. Without a beat he slammed the opponent square in the nose, not bothering to put any weight behind his fist.

Still, the man flew back, catching his arm through the bars when he landed. His opponent trapped, Heero put a boot to the man's throat.

"Yield!" sputtered the man immediately, blood spewing from his nose. The noise from the crowd exploded and Heero glanced over, catching Duo's eye.

Don't overdo it! mouthed Duo, but Heero only shrugged and waited for the next fighter.

The next three opponents came at him with a pair of crude butterfly swords, a welding torch, and a rough-hewn bracer and cut-off bar of pipe. Deciding Duo's advice meant he should find a medium between exhausting himself and risking the wrath of the crowd for ending the contests too quickly, Heero slowed down, taking several near-hits and using the full realm of the cage to work with. Those first few left with their dignity but the fourth was not so fair-minded. Or fortuitous. He had drawn nothing but a small welding hammer and, after wasting it on a futile throw that Heero dodged easily, the man pulled an illegal knife from his boot. Only then did Heero oblige those in the splash zone with their thirst for blood and stray teeth.

After that the opponents became steadily more difficult, the bouts prolonged. Duo had been right about the environment. The cage swiveled and dipped with every movement, making footing precarious. There were also flame-shooters hidden in three different corners, timed to go off sporadically. Both elements diverted his attention from his opponents, all of whom had obviously fought there before and had acclimated themselves to the conditions.

It was one after another after another, until an awkward movement to avoid a burst of fire and the opponent at the same time took Heero off balance enough that the other fighter was able to land a solid hit to his ribs. The next match, the sharp pain there led to the next fighter managing to corner him too close to a flame machine; the subsequent burn on his arm led to a slice across his chest that sprayed dramatically, leaving the cage floor slick with his own blood as well as his opponent's. They seemed to get steadily better as his energy steadily depleted, and it wasn't hard to fake the effort it took to bring them down anymore as he racked up injuries like trading cards.

It felt like days and a hundred men later that Heero stumbled to the side of the cage. Panting heavily, he slumped back against the banded wall as yet another fighter was dragged away unconscious. He wouldn't have more than a minute's rest before the next one came in, fresh and primed. He spared a glance at the crowd, half of whom hadn't been there when the fighting had first begun. His eyes flicked to Duo, who flashed all ten fingers, letting him know he'd been fighting for ten straight hours. He could feel every minute in every aching, bruised, trembling muscle, in the lightness of his head and in the heaviness of his limbs. With no chance to rehydrate or rest, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.

There was a sudden stirring from the crowd, and from the reaction, Heero knew the next fighter had to be the one they called Dread. The man entering the cage had broad, sculpted cheekbones and skin the color of creamed mocha. He wore his hair in dreadlocks, infused with feathers and wrapped in thread and thin copper wire, bound back out of his face. Lean and cut, he moved with the controlled grace of a predator, sweeping into position with the chain whip he'd drawn. His dark, exotically slanted eyes seemed to recognize something in Heero -- skill worthy to match his own.

There was an intense hush, in which the entire crowd seemed to hold their collective breath. Heero could hear his own heartbeat, his labored breath, the creak of the cage as it shifted, and then, suddenly, they were locked together in the center of the cage, one of Heero's fists caught in the chain, the other gripped around Dread's fist. They were still for a moment, tense, both looking for an opening. Heero's muscles, stiff and shaking, strained to gain an upper hand.

They moved again. Heero twisted around, freeing himself, and Dread used the movement to loosen Heero's grip on his fist. Heero dropped, striking out with both feet, but Dread had moved already, leaping high to grab hold of the top of the cage. A flame shot between them; Dread lunged back down, chain flashing. Heero dodged, aimed with two hard knuckles at a pressure point; Dread twisted away, the chain snaking back around towards Heero, who grabbed it and pulled. Rolling with the motion, Dread used the momentum to pull Heero further in that direction, forcing him to let go to regain his balance on the slick, unstable floor. Heero's bruised ribs screamed at the abuse.

As Heero straightened, a pained grunt forced its way from his lips. Bracing himself, he moved back in. Dread dodged, leapt high and to the side, rebounding down off the wall to aim the curved blade at the end of the chain whip at the back of Heero's neck at an angle. The cage spun as Heero dropped to avoid the blade, managing to land a hit to the back of Dread's knee as the fighter landed. Dread folded down into a kneel, spinning with the cage and striking out with a kick Heero only barely avoided by flipping himself backward. He landed gracelessly, the cage rocking suddenly when Dread jumped high to pull down a corner, upsetting the balance deliberately. Again, Heero rushed him, blocking the attempt to duck and dodge and locking onto a pressure point in Dread's wrist, making him drop the chain from that hand. Heero used his other forearm to brace against Dread's throat, but a flame shot out, forcing him to lose his hold and advantage.

They continued to trade passes, each move flowing into the other's, flowing into the next. Hits were solid, each managing to mark the other; the curved blade at the end of the chain whip left thin slices in its wake, as did the sharp edges of the plates making up Heero's cestuses. At each show of blood, the crowd dissolved into frenzy.

Though exhausted and, for the first time, vulnerable, Heero did not falter. He doubled his tempo, caught Dread off-guard, got two strikes in, breaking a rib, and then spun a roundhouse to the back of his head. Dread stumbled forward, rolling into a crouch to protect his side. The chain struck out, but Heero leaned out of its way, though his body protested every movement. The chain came back around, this time aimed at his legs. Again, Heero moved smoothly out of its reach, but had given Dread enough space to regroup and strike.

Two of the flame machines shot out at once, one of them close enough to singe Heero's hair. The short burst of intense heat blurred the air. Suddenly, Dread was there, right in front of him. The chain was tight around Heero's neck and Dread had the advantage. Heero's body was wrecked, trembling and weak, but this was the moment he had been waiting for.

His fingers managed to wedge between the chain and his neck, and then, the chain firmly in his grip, muscles of his neck taut against it, he pulled. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he had enough strength left; he felt like a kitten trying to squirm from the grasp of a python. But then his effort redoubled just long enough for the chain links to snap spectacularly; they seemed to hang for a moment before flying everywhere, bouncing off the bands of the floor and walls.

The crowd gasped as Dread's favored weapon broke to pieces and Dread staggered back at the unexpected loss of tension. Heero snapped a kick to the inside of the same knee he'd struck earlier, then kneeing up as Dread went down, catching his chin and snapping his head back. Taking a low stance, Heero added two solid hits, one to the center of Dread's chest and the other to his vulnerable side, sending him down in a broken roll, vision spinning, muscles seized, and ribs broken. Hand around Dread's throat, the grip tight enough to let him feel the strength of it, but not tight enough to crush down, Heero waited. Now the crowd was silent, as they waited, too.

"Give them all a good fight," Duo had told him, "let them see you can go toe-to-toe with Dread, and then beat him. Beat him so hard no one else will want to fight the guy that was able to take down Dread like that."

Head lolling, Dread tapped out.

Later, back in the Underground break, Duo tenderly pressed an ice pack to Heero's side, which was already dappling darkly with bruises. Duo's hands were warm against his skin, which was cold and clammy from the ice.

"Shit," muttered Duo. He hissed at the burns, bruises and cuts. "I shouldn't have let you even go in there, even if you do heal freakishly fast."

"It's fine," said Heero, softly. It could have been either the injury or the way Duo knelt so close that made his breath hard to retrieve.

Duo looked up at Heero through his lashes, fierce heat in his eyes. "It's really not," he said, and went back to what he was doing.

The air around them seemed changed as Heero looked down at Duo, whose hands were so sure and firm. Duo glanced up again; their gazes caught and slid away just as quickly.

"Good show," said River, from behind Duo, surprising them both.

"The fuck, man. Who the hell let you down here?"

"Took credit on getting Flora out of her mess. Rocco likes me quite a bit right now."

"And you came to let me know because...?"

"Came up on something you need to hear," said River, sobering. "Acquaintance picked it off Alliance." He showed Duo a brass recording device and clicked a button.

"What part of stab him in his heart did you not understand?!"

"I did, sir! I swear! The knife went dead into his breastbone!"

"It was supposed to go IN THE TATTOO!"

River clicked the button again. "Now, I don't know what they're on about, and for you, I don't care. But if they are talking about your boy here, you're sure to have serious problems."

"Shit," said Duo, half-heartedly.

"Fucking right, shit," said River, tossing the device over. "Apparently whatever happened at that lab has them tearing the colony apart, strip by strip to find him. Just as well you were Underground all today."

"Shit," said Duo, with more feeling.

"It gets worse. The Specials seem to have caught on; they've people on the way here right now, all the way from Earth. If I were you, I'd skip colony right sharpish."

"...Fuck."

Part V

"So it's two this time?"

The man resembled a sort of humanoid gremlin that enjoyed touristing in warm, beachy climates, but Duo called him Howard. Howard's shirt alone may have been the most confusing thing Heero had ever encountered.

"Four, actually," corrected Duo, gesturing to Heero. "We're coming with. If that's cool."

There was a pause. "You got a bad case of ethics, kid."

Subject closed, Howard showed them onto the ship. Enormous, it seemed to hold hundreds of low, cramped corridors, the hatches and doorways low enough that Flora's boyfriend, Danny -- who looked like he could have ripped animal hides from ferocious beasts barehanded to wear as a loincloth -- had to duck to avoid hitting his head. The cargo bays, of which there were several, were huge -- cavernous and open, with catwalks and walkways overlapping in every direction. The gravity fields were split, explained Howard, to better fit cargo into every available space, which was why people appeared to be walking upside-down and sideways from those walkways with as little trouble as a living Escher drawing.

The four were shown how to hide from the checkpoint sensors, where the metal plating was thickest, how the contents of certain crates would mask a human form, if one stayed quiet and still.

No one spoke, not from the moment the ship hummed into life, engines, thrusters, and pumps all cumulating in a great vibration. They could hear the shouts of the crew, both banter and orders as they prepared to debark. The small, cramped nook in which they hid was at almost pitch darkness, but Heero's night vision was good enough that he could see the way Flora's hand was clutched in Danny's as they both held tightly to each other. Flora's eyes were squeezed shut, breath held tight as though his hand in hers replaced her need for oxygen.

It made him want to know, for the first time, what it would be like when he reached the end of this journey. What he would do when he had to leave Duo behind. What it would feel like. He would be alone, like the dream with the tank and the pain.

A horrible coldness held his lungs. He reached out without looking, his hand wrapping around the firm, warm skin above Duo's wrist. He could feel Duo's curious eyes on him, their surprise, but Duo didn't move away, only turned his hand, let Heero's slide down, and threaded their fingers together in the dark.

"I wanted to save up. You know, so Flora and I could get married, get started on our own," explained Danny, looking down at his large, rough hands, his thumb of one hand rubbing over the forefinger of the other.

When they had been clear to move freely about the ship, Duo had taken them to an unused bay with a huge, round viewport that extended out from the ship at an angle. It felt like the inside of a diving bell, the unending blackness of space like an ocean beyond.

"Pay was under the table," went on Danny, voice echoing softly, "which suited, and had nothing to do with gangers, which was even better. They couldn't connect to the main pipe systems, 'cause they couldn't chance popping up on Alliance radar. So they needed someone who knew how to work steam and gears -- none of them knew anything about it themselves. Not local, see. It went all right, no interruption, no fuss, 'till them Alliance bastards busted in."

Heero could feel it as Danny spoke. Could imagine the ways the doors would have been broken in, the strategy they would have used -- pure surprise and devastating power, held in sold ranks, filing in with expert efficiency, covering the escape routes and overwhelming the security measures with sheer force. It would have been over so quickly.

"I heard the claxon's go, but the boiler room's right out of the way, so by the time I got to the main lab, they'd already mowed most everyone down."

Heero hadn't heard the alarms, but felt the vibration through the glass. The rattle of gunfire had felt unsteady as it neared, before cracking the glass, which punctured, splintering like ice. The bullets had burst through, whizzing through the liquid, stirring his hair against his face, raising bubbles. Then his world had collapsed, the liquid rushing away in a great crash.

"They were distracted looking for something, but had sealed off the exits, so I snuck back past the back offices."

It would have been a desperate dash, expecting a bullet in his back at any second. And worse, hiding there, with no escape route, knowing that if he was caught, he was dead just as quickly.

"I just grabbed a box, hoped it was worth something since it was marked special-like, and hid out back in my boiler 'till they'd gone."

"So what was in it? Blueprints?" asked Duo.

"Yeah. Files, too. Couldn't make sense of most of it. Different sort of engineering than what I'm used to, plus loads of science I couldn't make out. I know I'm not much help -- not knowing what went on outside my own work 'n all -- but for all you've done to help us you're welcome to the lot."

"You've been more help than you'd know, really. I'm glad you got out okay."

"Doz," started Flora, who had wilted from exhaustion against Danny's side, "Thanks. For everything. Rocco was right, liking you." Her eyes flicked to Heero. "You, too. I can't believe you went through a Challenge for us. You can't know what it means."

Heero didn't understand her gratitude. He'd only fought for Danny so that he would be alive to give them the information they needed. Hadn't he? It couldn't have been that catch in Flora's voice, that echo of the desperation that had seemed to reverberate around the colony. Except that he'd been so quick to make sure he, not Duo, was the one to go in the cage. Why had he done that?

It felt wrong to even ask. The flow of information in his mind usually made sure he didn't have to ask questions. That he had to unbalanced him, felt like a malfunction. And any possible motivation had nothing to do with his mission at all.

"Hey, you okay?" asked Duo, concerned, touching Heero's arm lightly.

Heero pulled away. "Yes," he said, then mumbled something about operating effectively while his mind raced wildly, trying to recover information that would restore his equilibrium.

"He's tired. You guys look knocked off, too. You should get some rest. Need anything before you turn in?"

"No, we're all right, mate," said Danny. "Thanks again, I mean it."

When they'd gone, Duo looked at Heero, but didn't ask again if he was all right. Opening the box, Duo lifted several folders from it, handing them to Heero, and then taking more for himself. "Here," said Duo. "See if anything stands out to you."

Quietly, they went through the files, both setting aside anything of interest, and Heero used the new information to settle his mind. There was a partial list of names he folded, tucked away, and then his eyes were jumping from diagram to diagram, familiar words now in front of him. Bioskin weave, Gundanium blend, crosspatching patterns. The formulas were so delicate, so complex; it was a wonder that anyone had actually been able to accomplish the science, much less the art.

"So it really was rebels, not Oz, who set up that lab," said Duo, reading over his stack. His eyes were uncharacteristically neutral, but the quirk in his lip said some theory had just been confirmed. "Loaded motherfuckers called the Barton Foundation. They're a big name in the L3 cluster, but they're fucking insane. I think they had connections with Heero Yuy. The original one, that is, but it could be how you got the name. There's some stuff in here about a resource satellite just near X18999. Ship's going around that way, anyway, so it won't be too much trouble to get Howard to drop us off. Looks like there're some blueprints in here for that as well. Should be a help to sneak in past their security, which looks tough, by the way."

Heero glanced over, mind automatically processing the data. "That's a Stheno system."

"Fuck. You're right." Duo's frown twisted into a smirk. "I think we have something we can use to get past it."

"Get past a Stheno?" said Heero. "But the neutralizing capabilities --"

"Let's just say we really lucked out when I took that other key from Kal." More seriously, Duo said, "You know we could be walking into anything, right?"

"Yes," said Heero. "I know."

"Ok. Can't help but feel I'm about to jump out of an airship without knowing if I've got on a parachute or a backpack." Duo flipped the prints Heero had been reading about the tattoos around so he could look at them himself.

"Jesus. They did all this to you?" said Duo after a while, still reading. "No fucking wonder you can heal like you do; they must have fucked with your system just so you could heal enough to survive the tattooing process."

"Pain was all I could remember," said Heero, slowly understanding, "because that's all there was. I can't remember anything else because there's nothing else to remember."

"You were in a tank, getting fucked around with, your whole life," Duo caught on. "Jesus. These Barton guys really are some sick fucks. Maybe the Alliance did us a favor, for once. You know, except for the part where they stabbed you."

"Sometimes, I think I remember voices, shapes, outside the tank. Vibrations against the glass. But I don't think anyone ever touched me. You were the first person to touch me." Maybe that was it. Maybe it was because Duo had helped him, because Duo had been the first human he'd met. The first person to really touch him.

"Heero..."

"They programmed me to fight. I know about every statistic and fact there is, but you taught me how to..." he almost stopped. He looked at Duo, shrugged. "Feel. You taught me how to feel."

Duo's eyes were large, and Heero was suddenly tired of the war in his head. Of the voice that kept telling him no, that kept him supplied with answers without allowing him to ask questions like, why not?

Duo leaned forward, brushed the hair from Heero's eyes like he'd been aching to do it since the moment they'd met in the rain. Heero closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the brush of skin on skin, and he heard Duo's breath hold.

"Will you show me?" said Heero.

"Heero?" Duo shivered slightly. Heero's eyes were drawn to the lean curve of Duo's neck. Heart pounding, he wondered if it was unusual to want to lick up that strong line to his jaw. Duo met his eyes like they were magnetic, like Duo knew what Heero was thinking. Suddenly, Heero was very aware of how their breaths were synched.

"Show me."

"Heero," Duo breathed, resisting, looking down, "I don't think --"

"Show me."

Reluctant, Duo met Heero's eyes again, but Heero was looking at him a certain way, that way, the way that made Duo want to help him, love him, save him, touch him.

"Okay," said Duo, taking Heero's face in his hands and kissing his forehead. "Okay." The tip of his nose brushed down the bridge of Heero's, and Duo pressed their lips together in a soft, openmouthed kiss.

And he showed him.

"Why do you hate them?" asked Heero, knowing Duo would understand who he spoke of. "You hate them more than anyone else. That man, Kal, he knew why."

There was a long quiet, and Duo was very still. "I don't tell people why," he said finally. His eyes flicked up to Heero and he sighed. "I don't tell people why," he repeated. He was angry -- Heero could feel it in a slow simmer, just under his skin -- but he wasn't angry at Heero. Sighing again, Duo glanced at the stacks of files at the bedside. "You're not really people then are you?"

Duo's eyes were closed, shut tight against whatever he was thinking. With everything in him, Heero knew Duo didn't want to say it aloud, to release it from his mind and into the world. Heero said nothing, but reached out, fingers brushing the hair at the nape of Duo's neck.

Finally, Duo said, voice steady and cold, "They killed my family. The only family a fuck like me could have. So I killed 'em right back, all right? I fucking killed them all back."

At the word family, it made sense. With that connection, Duo's last name brought forth a stream of information about a Maxwell Massacre, the lone survivor, an L2 colony base and its mysterious destruction. The statistics and dry data came alive to him as he realized how Duo had known those people who'd died, the ones whose autopsy reports were burned in his mind.

Family. The word suddenly gained more power. What they must have been to him for Duo to do that in revenge. How Duo must have come to live there, why he wouldn't have left. The orphanage program on L2-V08744 hadn't kicked in until AC 187, so Duo would most likely have lived on the street before then, during the viral outbreak that killed a large portion of the lowest classes. The orphanage would have been the briefest period of stability.

Duo's every action since they'd met suddenly seemed a somewhat futile attempt at regaining even a sliver of what he'd lost: taking in strays as he was taken in, attempting to connect with the people around him, and trying to mimic, even in small, sad ways, the domestic environment of a loving home. Studying Duo's expression, Heero understood Duo was well aware that his attempts fell short, but that it wouldn't keep him from repeating these actions.

"Every time I find a home," said Duo, "the Alliance takes it away. So I fight back. Not just for the people I lost, not only for revenge, but so that no one's home will ever be taken from them again."

The rounded tunnel in the outer shell of the satellite echoed faintly with every step they took. It was nothing like the Underground tunnels; here both the oppressive heat and the pumping, clanging sounds of life were noticeably absent. Everything was bare and seamless, the air stale and thin despite the bulky suits they wore. They said nothing, as though the slightest noise could awaken ghosts from the darkness.

They hadn't gone far when they saw the first one -- a charred, ashy imprint on the wall that looked ominously like a human shadow branded into the steel. Duo and Heero's eyes met, grim and on guard.

Stheno.

Further along, there was a second imprint, then a third, then a dozen more, alone or in clusters as they went on. Each was the remainder of gruesome death, forever burned into the exoskeleton of the satellite in warning.

Despite the steady pulse of trepidation, there was the sense they were growing nearer. Eventually, the corridor twisted and tapered down into a dead end, where Duo found a latch in the wall. The heavy seal swung open and then... everything went sideways, opening into the dark abyss of the satellite Zone.

With strong pushes off the side, they floated across the empty Zone to the interior wall. Once safely inside an inner tunnel, they wasted no time unlatching the seals of their suits and pulling them off from over their clothes. Their movements were efficient, but hurried, as the suits had been equipped with jamming devices that temporarily withstood security probes. Now virtually naked to the Stheno's lethal eyes, they had to be quick to engage their defense against her.

"How does it work?" asked Heero when Duo pulled out the smaller key from one of his belt pockets.

"It's called a Hack Key. They're made of Microflex and they jumpstart certain high-tech instruments. This one might have enough Gundanium alloy blend to give me the kick start I need, but it won't last long."

"Might?" echoed Heero.

Duo smirked, the devil himself in the line of his grin. He put the key to the back of his neck, twisted as if he were putting it in a lock, and then there was a small, violent spark there in the near-darkness.

After a moment Heero asked, "Did it work?"

"Just wait for it," Duo told him, focused. Heero did, but with the threat of the Stheno hanging overhead, seconds stretched dangerously long as he tried to avoid looking at several more blackened shapes on the wall that just wouldn't leave his peripheral vision.

It was subtle, at first, but the air around Duo seemed to suspend itself, and he had an odd look in his eyes. It was ghostly, almost supernatural. His eyes were more than eerie and far away; they were glowing, lit up from within, as though an unholy light had been born inside him. Under his skin, a web of ultra-violet lines streamed down in a perfect grid, from face to feet to fingertips. Like someone had dimmed the lights on only him, his skin darkened, faded, chameleon-like, until it was as though the background had been projected over him, the detail focusing finer and finer until he had disappeared completely.

No wonder Duo had been able to avoid Kal's security, thought Heero, his breath stopped.

"Quick," urged Duo's disembodied voice. "Put on the shades; we don't have much time."

Heero pulled down the welder's goggles, coated in Gundanium, lenses blacked out completely to swallow his world in darkness. He felt Duo take his wrist in hand, and he stepped out blindly to follow.

Almost immediately, Heero felt the heat of an intense light bathe over them. They stilled, Duo's grip tight against his arm as the Stheno washed over them, searching for vulnerable eyes she could penetrate, burn in a flash from the inside out to leave behind only a charred flesh behind. Heero could feel Duo's harsh breath against his skin as Duo stood close. The hair on Heero's neck raised as they waited, both tense.

Unable to sense Duo at all, and with Heero's eyes completely sealed and protected, the light eventually faded, passing them over. Hearts still pounding with relief that the tactic had held up, Duo led Heero on, careful not to trip them up as they moved along their memorized route.

The deadly light searched over them several times more, but every time they were able to escape unscathed. Treacherously close to the end, Duo began to shimmer in and out of sight like a faulty projector.

"Shit," muttered Duo, inspecting the door that was the last barrier before they were safe from the Stheno. "Lock's been upgraded from the configs in the blueprints. I can't get it with what I brought." Duo's face flickered into view, then faded again. "Hurry," he said, uneasy eyes all that remained in sight.

Heero pulled the knife from his left arm to cut the lock and seals, the Gundanium blade slicing clean through. Duo was fading into visibility, an acid-washed version of himself. By the time Duo had solidified completely, Heero had the door busted open.

"Just in time," breathed Duo, rubbing at his arms. "God that feels weird. Tingly."

"Stay alert," reminded Heero, alert and scanning the corridor. "The Stheno most likely alerted security every time it passed over us."

They found the predicted security around the next corner, as a pair of guards that seemed to have responded to Stheno's alerts were patrolling the corridor. In a flash of movement, Heero knocked them out from behind as Duo shot out the security cameras. The guards made twin grunts as they fell, overlapping with the muffled sound of the suppressed gunshots.

Not wasting any time, they moved at an even run through the corridors, up and down stairs until they reached an open atrium, taking out another few guards and every security camera on the way. They came to a halt there, looking up at the dozens of floors above, all the windows floor to ceiling to be able to look down on the atrium below. When they brought their attention back down, they were surrounded by guards in every direction, with all guns sighted on them.

"Couldn't have been too easy," griped Duo.

They dropped in unison, Heero with a protective arm over Duo's shoulder, his wings bursting from the tattoo on his back, ripping through the cloth of his shirt and enveloping them both amidst a flurry of feathers and torn fabric as the guards opened fire. Bullets ricocheted from the Gundanium, sparks flying, shortly followed by pained cries as they rebounded back into soft flesh.

Heads pressed close together, Heero found himself staring into Duo's eyes, inches away from his. Duo was grinning with mischief, eyes lit with adrenaline. He felt a small smile on his own lips in return, which only made Duo's brighter.

The barrage continued until clips ran empty, a few final shells dropping to the ground with hollow clinking noises.

"What the hell?!"

"How did --?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

"Fucking move in!" commanded a voice of authority, and Heero could see several men move to obey. With a quick upward sweep of his wing, he sliced through two men -- one through his shoulder and torso, and the other at the neck -- the razor edges of the feathers cleanly severing muscle, sinew, and bone. Blood sprayed fresh and dark, showering wide over everything.

Duo hooked an arm around Heero's neck, leaning into him as Heero wrapped an anchoring arm around his waist and pushed off the ground, taking to the air untested. With a few, experimental flaps of his wings, they rose, the remaining men cursing below at the sight. Moving with more conviction, Heero lifted them high above, level with the thick, glassed windows. Without hesitation, Duo aimed his weapon with his free hand and fired three times into the glass, but the bullets did little but pockmark the pane.

"Shit," said Duo as the men below reloaded. "Another upgrade. Bulletproof."

Again, bullets began to whiz around them. Undaunted, Heero pulled one of the guns from his lower back and fired. This time the bullet passed clean through. The glass shattered, raining down on the guards below.

Duo laughed. "That's my boy."

Heero landed, boots crunching on glass as he let go of Duo and folded his wings back into his skin.

"This must be it," said Duo, tone edging on nervous, eyes on the solid oak double doors at the end of the darkly marbled hall. They looked at each other and went forward.

Duo held his gun at the ready, covering Heero as he tried the handle. It was unlocked. Warily, Heero opened the door with a soft click, quickly snapping his own weapon into position as it swung open. Duo and Heero's eyes searched the room for threats, but the room seemed vacant.

It was an office, modern with clean lines, centered around a large, sleek desk. The dark leather chair behind it was facing away from them.

"Ah, the boy," came a voice from the chair. Their guns clicked in unison, zeroing in on the chair, which slowly turned. They both recognized the man who sat there from the Barton Foundation files. "I've been expecting you, though I can't imagine why you'd still have the thief with you," continued Dekim Barton.

"Hey," protested Duo, aim unwavering.

"I understand you used him to navigate the Steam Colony," said Dekim to Heero. "Resourceful, I suppose."

"How did you know that?" asked Heero, gun trained.

"I have sources on most of the colonies, of course," responded Dekim. "You must have noticed the men I sent to retrieve you? You killed one of them, but I should have only expected that from you after all the money we put into conditioning you." Duo bristled, and Dekim's eyes slid to him. "A man named Kal was very helpful, given the proper compensation. He had some interesting things to say about you, Duo Maxwell. Or should I say VK? I'll be needing my key back. Pure Gundanium weave is terribly expensive."

"Your key?" said Duo.

"Yes. The skeleton key with the 'I' on it belongs to me. As does the weapon you call Heero Yuy."

"I don't think I like your boss very much, Mental," growled Duo.

"You won't be needed any longer," said Dekim, as though it was an order Heero was supposed to follow.

"He stays," said Heero.

Dekim's gaze snapped back to Heero. "He'll do as I say. And so will you."

"Why?" Heero wanted to know.

"Questions?" wondered Dekim with suspicion. "What has he done? Is there a malfunction?"

"There is no malfunction," said Heero. "I've been assigned a purpose. My orders are to find it."

"Ah. I see." Dekim relaxed slightly. "Clever J. He always did cling to his ambiguity. Well, Boy, this is it. This is the destiny you were created for. To free the colonies from the Alliance, to rid them of the Earth that has bound them in slavery for so very long."

The words felt right to Heero, made him feel complete. He thought about the Alliance, the way they'd destroyed the lab and everyone in it, about Doc, taken from his home and tortured, about Flora, whose love had been willing to trade his life for her safety, about the cages, the fighting, the secrecy and overwhelming desperation and how none of it should be like it was. He looked at Duo, who fought so hard to get back, even for a second, the memory of what he'd lost. And here was this man, the man who'd all but created him, telling Heero it was up to him to end the suffering the Alliance caused.

"Watch it, Heero," warned Duo in a low tone, edging closer. "There's always a catch."

"No," said Heero. "The Alliance is cruel and oppressive. It's unnecessary. If it's my purpose to destroy them, I will."

"Heero, remember why I didn't kill Chim and his guys?"

Heero paused. "The inveterate structural balance between the authorities and street gangs."

"And?"

"...And disrupting it could cause a power vacuum and social disorder, with the additional probability of personal retribution," said Heero. He faltered, lowered his gun slightly. "A power vacuum that large would be extremely detrimental without a new system to replace it."

"We already have that," snapped Dekim, impatient. "The Foundation is fully prepared to step in and lead the colonies to a better future, one without the shadow of Earth's oppressive rule."

"What, and we should trust you guys?" mocked Duo. "You kept a boy in a goddamn lab for most of his life, used experiments so deranged his memories had to be wiped so he couldn't remember the fucking pain you put him through."

"Heroes must always suffer for their cause, and pain is the greatest instructor a soldier has."

"No!" said Duo in anger. He turned, stepping in front of Heero, putting his hands on Heero's shoulders to look into his eyes. "You're not a weapon, Heero. It's not your destiny to be used. After all this, don't you get it? You make your own."

Heero hesitated. Duo was right, even if his mind screamed in every tongue that he had to follow the path J had set him on. But what path was that? He'd been created to liberate the colonies, but did that mean he had to follow Barton's orders? Or... was Duo right, and he was meant to choose?

"This is nonsense. What is he? Some petty vigilante? What does he know about honor, about devotion? Does he have a cause, a path? All he knows is cheap, fatuous revenge. What you're meant for isn't some childish scheme with no real objective or course of action. You're meant to change the world."

"You don't know who he is," said Heero. "Not at all. He's much more than you realize." It was far more true than Dekim knew.

Two cracking sounds rang out, horribly loud and unexpected. In the ringing silence, Duo's body snapped with the impact, dropping to the floor. The bullet had hit him dead center, smashed straight through his breastbone. For a few seconds, Heero's heart felt like it had been sucked from his chest as something dark and wet blossomed in the fabric of Duo's shirt, welling out with distressing speed. Heero hardly noticed the burn across his cheek, something warm sliding down his face. Then Duo wheezed, gasping for shallow breaths, hands twitching like he wanted to bring them to the wound, and Heero felt the return of his own heartbeat, loud and wild.

The gold disc over his heart stirred, clicked.

"Sir!" shouted the guard from the doorway, gun still raised. "Are you alright, Si--" The man dropped as another shot rang out, a perfect hole in the center of his forehead. Heero lowered his gun, not even looking back, entire being centered on Duo, the blood welling from the wound. Heero ripped Duo's shirt open, wadded it up and pressed it there in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding.

"That was quite unnecessary," said Dekim, referring to the dead man in the doorway. "And so is that. He won't last long."

Heero couldn't breathe, like all the air in the world had been replaced with ash. Duo was so pale, eyes so dull, the life fading from them so quickly. His skin had already tinged grey and waxy. In Heero's chest, the gold apparatus ticked away.

Duo was dying.

Heero had always known he would leave Duo in the end. He just hadn't thought it would be like this, with his hands drenched in Duo's blood. The clock was ticking down, and he still had a job to do. He had a decision to make.

"Heero," wheezed Duo, the name barely strong enough to pass his lips.

You have to lose your heart to save it.

Heero wavered, the blood pumping thick and fast from Duo's body. The shirt was so soaked with blood it squished between his fingers. The apparatus continued to tick. There wasn't any time.

Heroes must always suffer for their cause.

Roughly, his slick hands left the wound to tear at the flaps on Duo's belts. Fumbling, he came up with the skeleton key, the one Dekim claimed belonged to him.

"Heero? Heero... please." Duo's voice was weak, panicked, but Heero had to shut it out or he wouldn't be able to do this.

Dekim smiled at the sight of the key. "You're doing --" he froze. "What are you doing?"

"The right thing," whispered Heero.

With the same focus he used with the other tattoos, Heero pulled the gold disk from his chest, a chain heavy against his skin as he dragged it out. On the back of the gold piece was a keyhole. Heero slotted the key in the lock, turned it as Barton shouted for him to stop. He heard the tumbler click and the dial popped open.

There were four similar keys inside, each labeled with a roman numeral. The I in his hand, he took the next in line -- the II -- and gently moved Duo's braid from his neck. As he'd hoped, there, at the base, just over the knob of spine, was a silver patch of Bioskin in the shape of a keyhole.

"Every time I find a home," Duo had said, "the Alliance takes it away. So I fight back. Not just for the people I lost, not only for revenge, but so that no one's home will ever be taken from them again. They were doing it to the people on Steam Colonies. That's part of how I ended up there.

"After... L2... I stowed away on a Sweeper shuttle like this one, which is how I know Howard. Instead of dumping me on the nearest satellite, the guy in charge decided he liked my style. He wanted the same things I did, so he helped me learn to fight better. To hide even better. After a while, I had to split, and wound up on a Steam Colony looking for some technology to help me out taking Alliance apart, brick by brick."

"That's why you took Kal's key," realized Heero.

"Yeah. But it didn't work the way I hoped it would. Or at all, really. It didn't fit."

Heero pressed the key against the patch. It slotted in easily, and he turned it. There was a fizzle of electricity, a blue-violet spark that sizzled down Duo's spine, and Duo's entire body jerked.

"No!" raged Dekim, pulling a pistol from his desk drawer and aiming it at Duo's prone form.

He dropped, limbs jerking as Heero methodically shot a hole through every major artery. Barton bled out in seconds. Again, Heero paid the body no attention, focused only on Duo, whose body thrashed, ultraviolet light coursing under his skin, spreading like a web of lighting.

He was obviously in agony, the pain so great he couldn't even force out sound to express it. Veins swelled, body arching, and Heero could do nothing but hold Duo's body tight and hope he hadn't made a terrible mistake.

"Please," he whispered, throat tight. "Please."

Duo's mouth opened, screaming soundlessly, convulsing on his side. The skin on his back felt hot enough to combust and burn like a phoenix at its death. Then, as gradually as the change when Duo had disappeared, something dark curled under his skin by his shoulder blades, like trapped smoke. Like ink in water, it spread in lines and plumes across his back, arching down, solidifying. Solidifying into black wings.

Duo gasped for air, and his panting slowly became more steady as the pain passed. Only then did Heero notice the tattoo darkening in a straight line down Duo's side, the blade of a grim reaper's scythe curving across his lower back. The bullet hole in his chest had shrunk to nothing, an angry, dark scab in its place.

Heero pulled Duo to his chest, buried his nose in the crook of Duo's neck, a strange wetness on Heero's cheeks.

"Holy shit," gasped Duo. "That fucking hurt."

Heero stood next to Duo, back on the Sweeper ship again, in the open bay that looked out into space. The gold disc felt warm and secure over his heart.

It was gone. The incessant voice that ruled the back of Heero's mind, that had taught him everything he knew. It was gone. His mind was, for the first time, completely his. He was, for the first time, completely lost. Using the key hadn't been the choice, it had given him choice. Free will.

It was all over. They'd been through so much in such a short span of time; Heero could hardly believe it was finished.

That feeling of intense devotion to his quest, of really believing in it with every fiber of his being hadn't left. It was as a part of him as breathing. It had been the first action he'd taken in his life and something like that didn't just vanish. In the beginning, Heero hadn't even understood what other people were doing around him without a purpose like his. But he had come to realize that other people did have paths; they just weren't the same as his. And some of these, he had learned, were better traveled with company.

"How'd you know what to do?" asked Duo. His hand absently rubbed over his shirt, the bullet wound healed to a thick scar beneath.

Heero looked at him, gaze soft. "It made sense, with everything you said. I knew you had to have been part of a project like mine, even though Barton didn't realize you were a subject."

"The original died," admitted Duo. "Couldn't take the pain, and his heart gave out. I took his place, but the final phase was never completed."

Heero paused. "This could have ended very badly."

"Tell me about it." Duo nudged Heero's shoulder. "So what now? Got a destiny in mind?"

Now sure he wasn't meant to do someone else's bidding, but to find his own way, with Duo, Heero couldn't help but give the slightest of smiles. He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket, unfolded the list of names he'd taken from the files and smoothed it out to read.

Trowa Barton

Quatre Raberba Winner

Long Meiran

Heero looked out the viewport, where the Earth shone in the distance, a large, blue-white swirl. The colonies were all beyond, resting in the stars.

"Do you want to save the world with me?" asked Heero.

"Sure," replied Duo, grinning, because the two of them? They could do that.