DISCLAIMER: Sadly, they don't belong to me. *pause* Or, should that be so sad?...
PAIRINGS: 1+2, 3+4
WARNING: Angst moods, mental grievances, Duo-torture, that annoying little inner voice almost everyone has... Duo's a bit TOO flippant for my liking...
STATUS: First installment to an already `second' installment of "Daddy's Trilogy". Dated right after the end of the A.C. 195 war, than jumps about six months later.


Daddy's Love


Come on step inside
And you'll realize
Tell me what you need
Tell me what to be
What's your vision you see
What do you expect of me
I can't live that lie

Hate I sing in my words
I forget dealing with your life
Dead bodies everywhere
You really want me to be a good son
Why? You make me feel like no one



He did it. That son-of-a-bitch actually did it! If I ever doubted the existence of a Higher Being, let it be known that I no longer questioned anything of the sort.

Perhaps it's admiration you feel coming from my words. To tell you the truth, it's a little more than that. My partner/friend/lover had just saved the Earth from that fragment of the Libra, preventing the ever-lasting winter that was sure to follow. He saved the lives of approximately eight billion men, women, and children with a little help from the rest of us. Compared to the many we've slain, that has to atone at least some of our sins in the eyes of Father Maxwell's Almighty One.

He did it. And he was alive to tell the tale. I couldn't have been happier. My ally, my best friend, my lover-in-arms (literally) had saved the day, and he was around for me to cuddle and coo over for as long as I damn well pleased.

I'm not saying that Heero single-handedly saved the Earth. If it wasn't for me and the guys, that chunk of Libra would have been a little too big for even Heero to chew on (and that boy can chew nails!). Yet, he was the one to destroy most of it before the smaller fragment almost fell to Earth, due to the destruction of the core.

Wait. Perhaps from what Heero told me, that credit should go to Zechs, or Milliardo, or whatever he wanted to call himself. Though I rarely ever give credit to a man I tried to kill in battle (or wished the death for), I had to hand Bird Man some credit. Not much, but just enough to get him off my shit-list should he have survived.

During the quickly thrown together celebration on Peace Million, I couldn't help to ponder. Pondering, as you know, was never one of my better qualities. Usually because it got me into such a nasty mood that I'd think of the most abhorrent practical jokes to play on some random (usually innocent and unsuspecting) victim. Or I'd think of more annoying nicknames and cracks to counter Fei with. I guess you could say that it was my defense mechanism; whenever my mind wondering onto a taboo part of my life, I'd immediately think of something along the lines of replacing Quatre's shampoo with lime green hair dye and honey.

Trowa, sad to say, was not amused. Rashid was another story entirely, but I'm not supposed to let anyone know what great mirth the Arab got out of the situation.

In any case, I was left alone. Yes, I know. Big surprise for someone like me, who has to be the life of the party to hide my depressive side. If I were asked, I would steadily admit that I'm not an idiot. If asked, I would also admit that I could very well possibly be–-maybe just a little–-crazy. Just a tad. All the same, I'm not asked. No questions, no answers. No answers, no one has a problem but me. Works out real good, dun it?

Pondering. I was doing that excessively well around that time. I had no drive since the war was over. I couldn't emerge myself into a battle so deeply that I'd only snap out of it when there was no one left to kill. I wouldn't have the excuse to hang around the others to keep me company, because frankly Heero doesn't talk a lot. No talking means loneliness. Loneliness usually equals thinking. Thinking customarily corresponds with past memories, and those nasty little buggers ordinarily put me in a seriously cramped and crappy mood. No one likes an unhappy Duo. Unhappy Duo normally meant angry pilots crying for justice because of some harmless whipped cream.

Really! How was I supposed to know it doesn't wash?!

Alas, I once more am off subject. Not that I minded. What my ponders brought up that time was something cruel and sick; something I never even wanted to think of again.

My family. Or should I say, that bastard who fathered me and that blind woman who provided the eggs.

I don't like to think about them. Sure, I miss Mother. Who wouldn't? She didn't really do anything wrong, per se, she just blinded herself to the truth. Any mother faced with the thought of her husband abusing her son behind her back would most likely react the same way. In denial. Sometimes I get on Heero's spiffy little laptop and do all I can to find out how she's been without having to run across much information about him. A lot of times it works out. Sometimes, well... Heaven doesn't last.

Sometimes I did things just to spite. Little spats of anger would consume me, and I'd do a little hack job and put a few discouraging words here or there just to make him suffer. I once bombed his whole campaign–-he was running for state legislature or something equally inane and unimportant to me–-just by spreading rumors about him having a secret `forgotten' son who ran away to become a prostitute to the highest bidder. He had to drop from the race when a few reporters got a little too close to finding the truth.

I was walking on cloud nine for weeks afterwards. Childish, yes, but very effective.

Some of you might think I haven't been taking this serious enough. Okay, whatever you say. To tell you the truth, I don't know how to treat a situation like a normal teenager would. My uppity personality thrives on jokes and flippant remarks in the direst of positions. Were I to suddenly stop and treat it as I would guess any other teenage assassin would... I probably would have committed mass murder followed by a quick press of the self-destruct button a long time ago. I believe I'm beginning to call this term "going Quacky Quatre after a ZERO overdose". Cruel, but if any of you are familiar with Q-bean's experience with that monstrosity, you'd realize the term would describe it to a T.


The war was over. What was I supposed to do? I'd only been trained in the art of murder and piloting, building mobile suits and destroying, thievery and breaking-and-entering, assassinations... Tell me I can put this on any LEGAL résumé and I'd have to take you out back to put you out of your misery.

... You think I'm joking. Hah. Joke's on you...

I had Heero. He was all I needed (besides decent shampoo, conditioner, and lots of lubrication. I could forgo the bed anytime). It wouldn't, however, solve any of my personal problems. I needed to... I needed to...

//"Daddy loves you, sport."//

I ran my callous hand along the smooth surface of Shinigami, unreasonable humiliation and fear shooting up my spine as his voice echoed throughout my mind. With soft words I whispered my utterances to my partner, not at all feeling like a moron talking to a big, inanimate object. It kept me busy, and my mind was focused on talking. No big deal, no big fuss.

//"Daddy loves you, sport."//

I shut up quickly and effectively as panic shot up my spine. Usually after I began talking like so, the voice of the damned went away until I was left to ponder again. Yet there his voice called out, a whisper turning into a roar in my frozen mind. I loathed his voice; it was so smooth and reassuring, even when he was drunk, like he actually knew what he was doing to me and thought I was strong enough to ignore the tearing pain that never went away.

I began to ramble, then. Rambling was an art form only selected few had full, functioning control of. I used to bug the hell out of Wu-babe, chatter ceaselessly at Heero's turned back, ect., ect...

//"Daddy loves you, sport."//

It didn't work. Terrified, confused, and thrice damned, I hurried out of the hangar and went to my room. I needed to lie down. A nice nap would cure anything! I'd be up to my old tricks by the time I woke, mark my–-

Stop. Breath...

I would not think about it. I wouldn't. Not on such a prodigious, special day such as that day. The day of the end of that long, bloodied war. The day that I and my four companions could sleep well for the first time in years without the guilt of killing or the worry of more missions the next day.

Christmas day. I was very sure I was just about the only person on the ship who knew full well that December 25, A.C. 195 was NOT just the end of the war. Perhaps it was a sign of better beginnings, or that it was possible that a higher being someplace. Who knew? Things were always obscure to the mind of people.

Tomorrow would be a better day filled with cheer, food, and hopefully lots of alcohol.


Six months later...

"Good morning, GO~od MOR~ning,
We hope y~o~u're feeling swell!
Good morning, GO~od MOR~ning,
Ya look like Hell!"

"Shut UP, Maxwell!"

Okay, so they didn't appreciate uppity greeting songs just before the break of dawn. `S all good. Didn't hurt me in the least that even Quatre was giving me that winning ZERO Death Glare–-

Okay, that was a lie. Ouch... I mentally warded off that total PMS-in-males look, but outwardly I pretended to look over it with a charming grin and a mirthful giggle.

"Ooh, stereo," I commented in my chipper way, immediately heading for the coffee pot in the corner of the office. Truth be told, I was not a very cool person to be around without my daily dose of nice, bitter caffeine. Heero has come to terms with this; he has never again, to this date, EVER forgotten the coffee filters like the first time he went to venture in shopping alone. Heero learns quickly, indeed.

The fact I'm rotten without coffee and I had a serious migraine... Paired, I felt like having a wrestle with the ZERO system myself. I'd go totally Quacky Quatre if I didn't get any more coffee in me soon.

Those two pots at home seem to be wearing thin already. The day hadn't even started, and I could already tell it would be a very long one indeed.

"How could you possibly be so cheerful this morning?" Wu-chan grumbled from his desk, his tie half-done and his hair loose around his golden face. "You drank twice as much as any of us."

I held up a victory sign. "It's all a front. I feel like I can kill you all without remorse or hesitation if ANY of you step on my toes today. I figure the feeling will fade if the coffee is kept coming at a steady pace."

"That won't be happening," came a dry voice that I recognized well. The woman was older than me by quite a few years, but young enough to be admired by many half her age and older. She had very pale skin, not sickly but more like porcelain. Beautiful blonde curls adorned her almost childish face, with wide lips, a small, pert nose, and big baby brown eyes the color of roasted almonds.

Not my type, but very pretty indeed. "Oi, Chibi-Chels!" I almost whined, inwardly grinning when she winced at my personal nickname for her. The woman was easily a foot taller than me, but she had the face of a cherub angel. "What's that mean?"

"You forgot to get the filters three days ago, remember?" Chelsea smiled sympathetically when she noted my abashed statement. "We're ALL out of filters."

My world had come to an end. Everyone in the room would be dead by the day's end, I knew. "Noooooo..." My head hit the wall repeatedly, though not helping my headache much at all. The sad thing was, I could only blame myself and my stupid libido for that mess. I wanted to get home as soon as I could so I could wine and dine and sixty-nine Hee-chan on our eight month anniversary...

Heero had noticeable paled to the horror of the other three pilots. With a quick, jerky nod to the other three and me, he began to hurry out muttering something about getting coffee filters from the market on the corner. "Duo, use the aspirin in the drawer in the meantime. They'll help a little."

I jerked said drawer open. Horror stricken, I could only stare stupidly at the drawer before slamming the damn thing shut.

"Tylenol for women is NOT gonna help me!" I wailed, lifting the bottle for everyone to see. Noin brightened suddenly (she had been standing in the corner with a dark look on her face, a sure sign the cause was one of those womanly things that I'm not supposed to understand) and snagged the bottle suddenly from my hand, popped the top, and downed two before anyone could say anything else.

"Thanks, Duo," she said with feeling, slapping the bottle back in my hand and walking off. I blinked, taken aback by the display. I never expected THAT, of all things...

"Oh, hey, I forgot," Chelsea snapped her fingers. I picked up my empty, personalized coffee mug and looked mournfully at the empty, stained bottom before turning my attention back on her. "Duo, would you mind taking a few of my more important files today? Lady Une told me in advance that I could take the day off, but I'm behind on work and I'm afraid I'll never make it back home for the holiday."

I sighed. Not only was I without coffee, proper aspirin, and with a major hangover as a result to too much drinking, I was loaded with extra paperwork. My day was just getting better and better. Unable to refuse, I said, "Sure. What's the special occasion?"

"You're kiddin'," she snickered. "You don't know?"

"Some of us didn't enjoy the simple pleasures of certain times, Ms. Davins," Wu-chan informed her stiffly, giving me the idea that he knew exactly what the occasion was and gave me the feeling that I really didn't want to know. But some curious cat-killer part of me wanted to know and damn it, I was gonna find out!

"Oh..." She turned those round, regretful brown eyes on me. "Sorry, Duo. I didn't realize..."

Didn't realize what? "Umm. Okay. So what's up?"

"Well... I was going home to visit my family, you know, especially since tomorrow is Father's Day and all–-"

My favorite forest green mug rimmed with real gold (Hee-chan gave it to me for my birthday) went crashing to the floor. Everyone froze in their action to watch me as humiliation, depression, and rage swept through me like a tornado through Kansas. Finally, there was nothing but a cold center and icy aloofness.

"Oh." That was all. A detached `oh' and nothing more. No bat of the eye, no frown, no friendly smile, no nothing. I didn't even glance at the mug in dismay, having my precious, expensive birthday present from my loving koibito shattered in thousands of tiny slivers on the floor. Only the thin, gold rim remained together, I knew.

"Oh?" prodded the suddenly nosy Wufei, trying to sound disinterested in the whole matter. I could see, however, the deep concern behind those onyx eyes...

"Is that all?" I asked airily, making the situation as light as possible. Yet it was too late. They already knew that the holiday mentioned bugged me to no end, and I held great, cold contempt of it. A day when all fathers were honored.

It made me sick.

"Duo..." Quatre decided to butt in gently, standing from his desk to get a better look at me. I turned away and grabbed the pen from my desk, playing with it by threading two of my fingers over and over in a pattern. "Is there something wrong?"

He knew there was. He knew I wouldn't lie. Gritting my teeth, I replied, "Yeah, actually, there is. But it's nothing I can't handle."

"It can't be the fact you never knew your parents." Trowa, blunt as ever. It was the first thing I had heard of him besides `shut up, Maxwell' and I believe everyone decided to chime in on that one.

"That's a stupid reason," I claimed ruefully, feeling the walls build up to protect me. Stiffly, I grounded out, "I don't want to talk about it, Barton. Leave it alone." I turned my back on them swiftly, facing the counter and placing my palms on the firm surface. Behind me I heard Chelsea say something about seeing that I wasn't in the mood for extra work, would Quatre mind it? No, not at all. I didn't bother to stop the exchange. There was something I too, needed to do.


"Mind telling me why you decided to tell me you needed time off?" Lady Une frowned on someone ignoring protocol, i.e. giving her a ten day warning before deciding to take off on a certain day. As an example of dire consequences, I nodded in agreement.

"It's come to my attention that it's... Father's Day," I forced out, feeling odd emotions stirring in my gut over that little fact. I loathed the holiday...

Lady Une frowned. Obviously she had come to the same conclusion as the other's outside. "Yes, I know. Everyone is getting off early for the holiday. Why are you requesting the two weeks?"

"My father is dying, Lady." It wasn't a lie. I don't like to lie, and I never, ever lie. He really was gonna die. Lady Une lost her cool as her face contorted into an statement of shock.

"Duo! I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly, sympathetically. I smiled sadly, not bothering to tell her that I wasn't that sorry about it myself anyway. "Why didn't you ask me before? I would have been happy to give you the time off to grieve with your family."

//I won't be grieving anything soon enough.// "It hasn't come to my attention as of late," I told her, also very much the truth. "My father and me didn't part on well terms. It took me everything I have to decide to see him one last time..." //In order to kill that sonuvabitch, I'll have to look at his sorry face...//

Lady Une nodded, concern over her face as she made the quick, last minute arrangements for my time off. Outside I made out as a mourning, sad young man with a mission to fulfill. On the inside, however...

On the inside, I planned and waited.

Let me strip the plain
Let me not give in
Free me of your lies
Inside my heart dies
Your dreams never achieved
Don't lay that shit on me
Let me live my life

I sing in my words
I forget dealing with your life
Dead bodies everywhere
You really want me to be a good son
Why? You make me feel like no one
Dead bodies everywhere
–-"Dead Bodies Everywhere"


OWARI Daddy's Love