He checked his weapons, noting that he had only one clip left for his handgun and a half-full submachine gun that weighed heavily in his injured hand. He had taken it from a young girl -- a new recruit to OZ, by the looks of her. Inexperienced and under-skilled, he had been forced to kill her like everyone else, crushing her like dried grass beneath his feet, then stealing her weapon. He felt sick. It seemed like forever had passed since he had entered the base, intent on its destruction.

It was a fairly complex mission this time; a lot of things had to happen before they could leave. Heero had been sent to download some information from the main computer banks, Trowa was covertly sent to kill a few key players in the OZ foundation and Quatre and Wufei were waiting outside for the signal to destroy the base. That left him as the decoy and distraction. And OZ? They had been distracted, all right. If a full out mobile suit brawl in the main hangar didn't count as a diversion, he didn't know what did.

Distant gunshots went off, coming closer every second, encroaching on the crates he was hiding behind. Silently, the hangar doors swished open and in hurried one Heero Yuy. Following him, a dozen soldiers poured into the room, filling it with the rhythmic sound of gunshots. The Japanese pilot ducked his way from shelter to shelter, sometimes behind mobile suits, sometimes behind ammunition crates, but always avoiding the rounds of gunfire that echoed off the hangar walls.

"Heero! Over here!" he hissed when his partner came into safe audio range.

"Duo." Heero acknowledged, veering off to run in the other direction. He shrugged. Heero knew what he was doing. Splitting apart was tactically sound. Still, he had hoped to plan something quickly to make their diversionary tactics a little more... spectacular.

The mad barrage stopped and the OZ soldiers took to hiding behind their own protective crates, moving to surround Heero in groups of two. They didn't know Duo was there, assuming the dead in the hangar to be Heero's work. Big mistake.

As stealthily as he could, he circled the parameter of the room, picking off groups with his handgun and shoving their assorted weapons into his deep pockets. His special equipment, namely the silencer on the muzzle of his pistol, allowed these little losses to go undetected by the enemy.

Heero didn't have a silencer, so when a shot rang off along with some Ozzies' cry of pain, his position was no longer a secret. More blind shots rang off in quick succession and the scurrying of feet gave away the approximate position of the remaining ambush parties.

Duo listened carefully. To his left, a distant click and the sickening crunch of broken necks reached his ears. Apparently, Heero had run out of ammo.

Sprinting to where he thought his partner was hiding, he automatically dodged the punch that flew towards his head. Heero's eyes took him in. Immediately, both of them turned their attention back to the OZ soldiers.

"Here." Duo whispered, passing two submachine guns to his partner. He got a nod in return and started to move out again. Circling the other way around, he caught sight of a hand grenade flying towards Heero's crouched figure.

With swiftness borne of desperation, Duo launched himself at Heero, flinging them both to the ground. Their momentum made them slide in a heap of tangled limbs across the floor. Behind them, a blast shook the hangar walls and dozens of ammunition crates toppled to the ground in a resounding crash. Splinters flew everywhere, propelled by the blast and wild gunshots ricocheted off every available surface in that area. Their former hiding place now resembled Swiss cheese.

They slid to a stop in an open area, even as several pieces of shrapnel dug into Duo's back. Heero dropped one machine gun and hauled him behind a mobile suit; not quickly enough. Pain blossomed in Duo's left leg. He clung to Heero, sinking to his knees. He had been shot again.

"DAMN!" he swore savagely. The Wing pilot gave him a once over as he twisted to sit up against the huge leg of the mecha. Peeking his head around it, he was almost killed as he jerked back. "Three on the left, two on the right behind Taurus 324." he said. Heero took his own look, adding "One at your left behind the spare parts." Shifting again, he sat so he could lean around the mobile suit and shoot. Heero stood above him, pressing his body against the metal leg for cover.

Their eyes met and both boys opened fire. This time, together, they made short work of the remaining Ozzies.

Just as the last man went down, Duo's watch flickered, signalling that Trowa was almost finished. "Time," he said.

"Hn." Heero replied. The Japanese boy looked down at him, assessing his injuries more thoroughly this time. "We'll bind those first," Heero insisted.

Blood had soaked through Duo's entire outfit, staining the white parts of his priest shirt a sooty crimson. Quickly, Heero took off his shirt and ripped the tank top into several wide strips, binding Duo's arm and back tightly. Sitting beside him, Heero lifted his braided partner into a loose embrace and carefully moved his leg so he could wrap the bullet wound in Duo's thigh. The braided boy hissed in pain, swallowing a whimper. Tying the makeshift bandage over Duo's thigh, Heero noticed his white face. To calm the Shinigami pilot, he began to stroke the boy's hair.

A faint whisper interrupted their impromptu first aid session and both boys froze. Instinctively, Heero tightened his hold on the other boy, keeping him close but causing Duo to wince as his movement jarred his wounds. Nearly silent footsteps made their way closer to their position and Heero pulled Duo closer to him, cradling Duo's body against his own. Heero gripped his machine gun more firmly in his free hand.

A sudden flush of heat spread through Duo's body as Heero's distinct musk permeated his senses. The solid feel of the Wing pilot's arms around him stirred some familiar feelings in his loins. His face flushed. Like a light switch flicking on, Heero's warmth and proximity touched him in a way he never noticed before. He had always admired the Wing pilot, always wanted his approval, but this was different. These feelings were definitely not platonic, but he couldn't resist.

Resting his head against Heero's naked chest, he felt the pressure of Heero's body against his, felt the strong pulsing of that perfect heart beneath his ear. The flood of heat spread even higher.

As the footsteps grew closer, Heero began to flex his muscles, making some minute stretches to prepare for his attack, focusing entirely on the sounds that the intruder made.

Duo couldn't focus at all. His body was inflamed with need. Those tiny shifts rubbed the soft material of Duo's clothes against his skin, making him shiver with the sensual feelings that flooded his body. The heat from Heero's form seemed to burn a line down Duo's side and he felt that heat go straight to his groin. His pants had become much too tight. Worse yet, the position he sat in had trapped his erection between his limbs and Heero's, his secreted weapons digging into sensitive spots, giving him delicious friction whenever the Wing pilot moved. On his cheek, he could feel the faint brushes of Heero's bare chest. The soft skin was flawless and firm. Everywhere Duo looked, the perfect planes of his Japanese partner's body met his eyes. Then, Heero shifted his gun, inadvertently brushing his arm across Duo's stiff nipple and in a wave, it hit.

Opening his mouth wide in a silent scream, the fire swept through Duo's body, giving him pleasure he'd never known. His muscles twitched and he lurched forwards, dropping his gun into his lap. His ecstasy coated his pants with white pearly fluid, unnoticeable amongst the bloodstains and his back arched, mixing pleasure with pain as his wounds protested. Tears began to leak down his face as the flush of heat passed, leaving him shaking and panting. He buried his face in Heero's shoulder, praying that Heero wouldn't ask, wouldn't notice.

Suddenly aware that his partner was shaking, Heero began to stroke Duo's hair anew. He looked down at his partner, taking in the braided boy's state. He took in Duo's flushed face, accelerated heartbeat and wide, fevered eyes...his own eyes widening when he figured out what had happened. Heero gaped at the top of Duo's head, expression suddenly venerable and tender.

The footsteps stopped on the other side of the mobile suit they were hiding behind, making no move to harm the two of them. The Japanese pilot lifted his partner's head, raising reluctant, teary eyes to meet his own. Looking into those violet pools, he mouthed, "Daijoubu desu ka?" When Duo nodded numbly, he leaned in a little, whispering, "Courage Duo," then kissed him. Their first kiss was soft and passionate, holding in it an important question.

A genuine, tremulous smile spread across Duo's heart-shaped face, answering the unspoken words and offer in those Prussian blue eyes. They kissed again to seal their promise and at that moment, despite the pain, despite the danger, Duo understood himself. In all his time as a Gundam pilot, it was not courage, redemption, food or shelter that Duo desired most; it was Heero Yuy. The look Duo directed at his friend and beloved made Heero weak in the knees, distracting him momentarily from his mission, from the unknown hazard that awaited them, not a foot away. He snapped back into focus. Duo's life was in danger.

Preparing to fire around the suit, a smooth voice pulled him up short, breaking the standstill, slicing through the oppressive, tense and tender situation like a knife. "Heero, Duo. Is that you?" a familiar voice whispered from the other side of their hiding place.

"Trowa." Heero replied, steadily. His posture relaxed somewhat.

"My com device is out." Trowa explained. "We're finished here. Move out."

"Ryoukai."

Looking down at Duo's flushed, shuddering form, Heero smirked and simply picked him up to carry him out. "Mine." he said.

Letting the tears of pain and pleasure slip from his eyes, Duo prayed that Heero would never let go.