Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters
Title: Wild Child
Author: Karen, The Huntress hickman@rockbridge.net
Category: Faclet
Rating: R
Warning: language, angst, lime.
Pairing: 1+2...2x1
Part: 1/1
Feedback: Always appreciated
Archive: http://www.kikotei.net/gw/dhml/ficarch/karen.html

Summary: Three periods of time define Duo's life.

Wild Child


A.C. 187


The Alliance soldier clutched his hand that bore bite marks deep enough to ooze blood. His patrol partner eased ahead two cautious steps and leveled his rifle at the spot where the gutter rat had disappeared into the darkness.

Various species of vermin were plentiful in the Lagrange point Colony L2 slums. The problematic pests inhabited, with equal density, the substandard housing units and abandoned buildings that were crammed together on one litter-strewn block after the other.

The scavengers scoured the streets, foraged through the alleys and subsisted on the dregs that society deemed unfit for anything but trash.

However not all the rats had four legs, bipedal residents also shared the squalor.

An oppressive colonial government that had broken its promise of protection had betrayed throngs of people. Destitute men, women and children eked out an existence in the gloomy shadows of despair and fought a daily battle with hunger and disease.

There was one breed acutely different from the general populace, the gutter rat...the orphaned wild child. These forgotten children roamed in packs led by the oldest member or the toughest person with the most "street smarts".

These human "rats" did what was necessary to stay alive, picked locks for shelter, stole food---many sold their bodies. They were cunning and stealthy and often dangerous as they engaged in the desperate war of survival, the deadly game of predator versus prey.

This night a grocer fell victim to the young warriors. Answering the merchant's cries for help, the Alliance enforcers arrived as a half dozen scruffy urchins ran away with as many pilfered products as they could carry.

Orders to halt were ignored. Shots fired made the thieves scurry in all directions. As the pair gave chase, one particularly agile child, presumably a girl with waist-length hair and long legs perfect for a speedy escape, darted down an alley.

Surprisingly when the pursuers charged into the narrow passage, the object of their hunt was defiantly standing her ground in a dim pool of light.

One soldier lowered his rifle in hopes of a submissive surrender. "All right, missy, behave and you won't get hurt."

Wide eyes that were an odd shade of blue, more akin to violet, focused on the soldier without a hint of fear. "I ain't a girl you stupid bastard." the male announced boldly.

The Alliance lackey cocked his head and, despite his irritation at the disparaging comment concerning his lineage, he had to give the boy credit for having the guts to make the remark.

"If you don't want trouble," the soldier warned, "you'll come with us."

"You'll find out what trouble is if you mess with me."

The rifle leveled at the rebellious youth. "Cheeky brat, you got a name?"


"Just Duo?"

"Yeah that's all the name I need."

The soldier grabbed Duo's arm and learned a painful lesson about messin' with a gutter rat.


A.C. 195

"Deathscythe pull back!"

The anxious voice struggled to be heard above static interference flooding the massive Gundam's cockpit.

Wing Zero pivoted and fired a Buster blast that turned three Taurus suits into fireballs. "02 that's an order!"

To the far left Deathscythe Hell, clad with the wings of a demon, ignored the command to retreat and charged a mob of Mobile Suits swarming like angry hornets.

The twin beam scythe arced upward then swept down with a fluid motion that would've made the Grim Reaper envious. Amputated arms and legs from the mock-human machines littered the ebony battlefield. Severed torsos entombed their pilots and floated soundlessly in the cold vacancy of space.

Eight years ago Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had adopted an orphaned gutter rat and yet again war's senseless destruction had ripped away the only family Duo had ever known. In honor of the only people who had given him unconditional love, he took the surname Maxwell.

Once more Duo Maxwell, the self-proclaimed God of Death, was fighting a war not of his own making but a conflict orchestrated by traitorous politicians and directed by military leaders whose thirst for power could only be quenched by the Colonies' absolute capitulation.

One final slice from the scythe, a decapitated Taurus spun in the weightless infinity where life may end but souls journey on forever.

Heero Yuy's grainy features flickered on Deathscythe's monitor screen. "Dammit 02, do you have a death wish?"

The image of the smoke-smudged face that appeared on Wing Zero's screen could have belonged to any young man but the long chestnut braid, first fashioned by Sister Helen, draped over a harnessed shoulder served as a constant reminder of love lost and lives ruined.

Violet eyes peering through sweat-damp bangs still mirrored a trace of innocence despite the feral instincts of a wild child.

Duo tilted his head and gave the same response he'd offered in the past when someone questioned his "charge into the fray" attitude. "It's just a fluke I've lasted this long, might as well go all the way."


A.C. 2000

"Damn Duo!" Heero growled as he twisted up handfuls of the tangled sheet.

Heero lay naked, on his back, legs flared, heels on Duo's shoulders and his groin ablaze with passion. Duo arched his spine, bared his teeth and drove deeper into his lover.

Guided by the blood knowledge used to survive the L2 streets and the inborn intuition he took into battle, Duo Maxwell shared his untamed spirit, piloted Heero to the edge of ecstasy and skillfully maneuvered him passed the point of no return.

Duo tunneled his hand around Heero's rigid manhood and stroked in time as he rocked his hips. "Now, lover, come for me." was whispered huskily.

One well-aimed thrust, Heero shivered. United in body, bonded in soul, two shooting stars set the heavens on fire.

Seeds surrendered--sated and satisfied--Duo and Heero entwined arms and legs to bathed in the afterglow.

When his breathing settled down enough to speak, Heero brushed back sweat-damp bangs from Duo's sleepy eyes and gazed into their violet depths. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're wild child?"



Wild Child--Karen Hickman--May 2005

Thank you for reading!!!