4-16-2002

Person: *GASP* it's.... it's..Sony_Mouse...she came back...why? :P

SM: Because :)

 

Title: Another Me, Another You 1/?

Author: Sony_Mouse (*AHEM* remember me??????) Sony_Mouse@hotmail.com

Pairings: need you ask...1+2 :)

Warnings: Um TWT (Timeline...What Timeline?), a bit of AU (All will be explained, just give it a chance... please :)

Archive: www.gwaddiction.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, not yours

Dedicated: To all those writers out there (including me in the past) who ever thought that Duo and Heero Out of Character was a... good idea. (Consider this my apology for my OOC Heero and Duo in the past, this my revenge for the unwarned OOC Heero and Duo I must read now lol)

 

HUGE thanks to Shi-Chan (or whatever names she goes by now a day. Willow, or Eowyn, or whatever) for being the best beta ever :)

 

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The adrenalin that had built up so much in the last few hours was finally starting to wear off, and like all the other times before, the weight of his thoughts slowly gained control over the young man known as Duo Maxwell.

He forced a bit of air through his pursed lips as he gently landed his Gundam safely to the ground in the well-hidden hanger. He then carefully went through the usual procedure of shutting down his Gundam after a battle, trying to distract himself from the increasing lack of energy the adrenalin crash was causing him.

It was always this way after a mission... or any type of fight for that matter, endless amounts of energy surging through his body, then afterwards, endless amounts of exhaustion draining it, making him tired and... somewhat sad.

It wasn't that he was feeling guilty, or that he even had an ounce of remorse for the horrible acts he'd committed on a day-to-day basis; no... he was far too used to doing what he had to do to survive to really worry about that anymore. Killing and surviving had always been a part of his life, and to regret it would only end it quicker then it had most of those around him.

It was more a problem of him being tired...just very, very tired. And the more he fought, with his enemies, and with himself, the more it weighed on his already heavy heart.

Everything in his life just kept adding and adding to the already compressed emotions he kept bottled up inside, giving him a need to lose himself in battle. Very rarely did life ever just let him relieve those strong feelings of hatred, regret, loss or any other type of emotion he was feeling.

Already Duo didn't like where his thoughts were leading him. He didn't like thinking about what he was or was not feeling. So closing his dreary eyes, Duo tried to block the thoughts out by taking in a deep breath, and then exhaling it almost a second later, not really enjoying the feel of his hot breath as it washed over the sweat that made his dirty clothes cling to him in an uncomfortable manner.

 

Despite Duo's efforts, his mind once again wondered off to the touchy subject, the truth of the matter being summed up in one simple sentence:

`What goes up, must come down!'

 

Whatever the reason, it was now making him agitated, uncomfortable, and extremely displeased with his current surroundings, those being the stuffy and confining cockpit he was now seated in. Had Duo been a `weaker' type of person, he might have just gone off in search of some sort comfort from some friend who was close by, or from some bottle of liqueur that was close by. But such acts were out of the question for the man who was currently trying hard to unbuckle his safety harness without wasting any more energy then absolutely necessary. Besides, even if he COULD admit to just needing some sort of comfort, he wouldn't have allowed it.

Weaknesses like that were good for only one thing, getting people killed. He should know, he'd seen it happen about a million different times, to about a million different people.

Rule of the street #1: Only the strongest survived.

And Duo was the strongest. He didn't get to be that by coming `home' everyday and crying to everyone that he had a bad day.

Shaking his head once again to dislodge any path his thoughts were leading him down, Duo decided he was sick of breathing in the now stale air, and forced the hatch open with as much strength as he could muster. The sudden rush of cool air assailed his sweaty, overheated limbs and wracked his body with shivers.

After making sure his long thick braid wouldn't snag on anything, he jumped the great distance from his cockpit to the ground below. The impact only softened minutely by his landing technique, and very sore knees.

Picking himself up off the floor, the braided pilot took a good look around the deserted hanger. He was not surprised in the least to discover that his fellow pilot's Gundam was parked quietly in one corner of the otherwise empty hanger. The metal giant gleamed, it's battered hull having been recently repaired while Duo was out for his life.

The young pilot didn't even bother to turn on any of the lights as he made his way out of the hanger and into the adjoining house, opting to enjoying the sanctity and quiet that the darkness offered him instead.

The walk was slow and leisurely, completely opposite from the hectic pace of the fight. All too soon, Duo reached the stairs, his overworked muscles protesting the climb even though it would lead him to his bed.

He climbed them anyways; he was just damn tired while he did it.

Finally reaching the top of the long staircase, Duo trudged towards a room- not his own- that was currently emanating soft sounds of various guns being loaded, unloaded and going through different checking procedures over and over again. Without much thought, the tired pilot quickly realized that his comrade in arms, Heero Yuy, was most likely cleaning and checking over his many weapons.

Duo would probably end up doing the same thing for his own weapons tomorrow morning, if he got the chance.

Ignoring the voice in his mind that cried that he should go to bed, Duo walked up to the other man's door, feeling the weight in his limbs with each step. He then knocked as softly as he could manage, knowing that Heero would still be able to hear it.

Immediately, the room on the other side of the door went deathly silent and, unsurprised, Duo proceeded to enter without permission. All the while, trying to hide the look of exhaustion he felt in every pore of his being.

Within seconds, the nozzle of one of Heero's loaded guns met up with his soft flesh of his temple. He didn't even flinch; he just kept right on walking into the now silent room, allowing the gun and its owner to trace his movement.

The unnatural silence was broken by Duo's deep voice. "Just wanted to let you know I'm still alive and have decided to once again grace this house with my presence. Didn't want to get your hopes up too high, ya know." Duo's voice was filled with its typical sarcasm.

Heero didn't even bat an eye, and just continued to aim the gun at the longhaired man's head for a further two seconds before checking the sight on the weapon and placing it back with the others. The dark haired pilot then picked up a slightly bigger gun and pointed it once again at the young man who didn't seem to care at all what Heero did with the guns.

Silence soon reigned over the room once again, and Duo realized, much to his displeasure, that Heero had already acknowledged his existence... in his own way, and had now dismissed him, getting back to the more important matter of checking his weapons.

Annoyed, Duo cocked his head to the side, wondering what he should do next. Not giving Heero time to react, he grabbed one of the smaller pistols that was laid out before him, and aimed at the other man's head, much like Heero had done to him mere moments before.

But unlike Heero, Duo fired.

Despite the fact that he was a trained solider, his reaction time supposedly higher than Duo's, he was unprepared for the fast movements of the other man, and was unable to avoid the shot in time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to; the bullet whizzed past his left ear, splintering the wooden wall behind him with a loud crack.

The dark haired pilot just stared at his fellow, watching as the young man slowly nodded to himself, deep in thought.

"Thought so... the aim's still off on this one, Heero." He said while tossing the gun into the other man's free hand, ignoring the immense glare now directed towards him.

Turning away from angry soldier, Duo made his way out of Heero's bedroom, knowing that if he stayed a second more his life really would be at risk, but enjoying the reaction he'd caused from the stoic pilot nonetheless.

He enjoyed getting Heero all riled up, but sometimes wished he didn't have to go to such lengths just to get a reaction out of the stoic boy.

Weren't friends supposed to make each other tea or something when they came home from a bad day at work, and just be glad of the other's company? Duo was sure glad of Heero's company... well most of the time, tonight not being one of those times. But they were still friends... weren't they?

`Probably not', Duo thought to himself, `just wishful thinking my part.'

Realizing where his train of thought was leading him for the hundredth time that day, Duo quashed it as he slowly made his way over to his own separate room, situated just down the hallway.

Once he got there, he noticed absently mindedly that the dark still surrounded him, that the soft noises coming from Heero's room could still be heard, that he was still very tired and still just a little depressed, if only for the moment.

Reaching his much longed after bed, he lay quietly down on it, not wanting to bother with the arduous task of changing into something that didn't smell of fire, smoke and death. He didn't even bothering to crawl under the covers; he just lay on top of them.

It was then, and ONLY then, that Duo finally let those few forbidden thoughts and questions enter his very tired mind.

What if... what if he'd just grown up like every other damn kid in the world? Would he have turned out any different? Would Heero be any different? Would whatever the hell kind of friendship they shared be any different?

Duo was not so sure about the answer, but had to admit he was curious. Very deep in his mind, maybe too deep from him to fully recognize, he felt cheated. Felt like fate owned him something.

And it was time fate paid up.

It was these very thoughts that plagued his last conscious moments in the quiet dark of his room, and lead him into the unquiet dark of his dreams.

 

To be continued... (and I mean it this time)

 

 

WARNING: Lack of comments may result in lack of part two... (okay that's harsh, but this is my first fic in the longest time, and I'm feeling self-conscious, so I need to know if you guys even want a new fic from me).

Well that was it, my first fic in who knows HOW many months. This is just the beginning; I'm using this to get me back in the feel or writing (so that means I will be writing more of It's a Wonderful War, Asbury Personals, Dead Again, and Hers, Yours and Mine, and maybe others too).

REALLY hope you like this (be honest if you don't, I've hot more ideas where this came from). And I'll just be sitting here waiting for your replies.

 

Sony_Mouse@hotmail.com