Part of him, though he hated it, couldn’t wait for the army to leave. He could always hear, even when his mind was somewhere else, the constant unrelenting mutter in the background -- louder, now, with so much tension and anticipation in the air. Hearing them, always hearing them, he couldn’t fool himself with the illusion of solitude. He could not stand to have anyone’s eyes on him, not even for an instant, and the endless hum of voices was a ceaseless reminder of their pitiless gazes. It didn’t bother him when Heero was around -- Heero made him safe -- and Quatre or even Trowa’s presence could block it out. But he spent all too much time alone now, and sometimes the voices just got louder and louder until his mind whited out from their presence, and he would shake helplessly in the grip of a terror he couldn’t even put words to.
So part of him felt a vast relief that today was the last afternoon of the last day, and the troops would be moving out tomorrow. But the easing of the wordless panic only cleared the way for other fears, a little more abstract, but no less crushing for all that. Because Heero left tomorrow. He was going to meet them. And... and he had been very careful, to keep his words encouraging and his tone hopeful, but Duo was not stupid.
He might not come back.
Gods... Gods, what will I do if he doesn’t come back?
He hadn’t gone to Quatre’s today. There was at least a little of Heero’s presence that still hung about his tent, and Duo needed that right now. Besides which, walking through the camp, feeling all the eyes on him, was a torture he couldn’t endure right now. Not with the fear, the very real fear of losing Heero looming over his head.
Most of all, he hated feeling helpless. It was a sensation to which he was well accustomed, but it didn’t make this waiting any easier. If only there was something I could do... something I could do to help! But he was in no condition to fight; still on the crutches, he wasn’t even any use in the building and constructing and the preparations that included almost every other body in the encampment.
He blew out a breath in frustration, and then his eye fell on Heero’s desk. He smiled in spite of himself; Heero spent so much time in that chair, poring over the charts and maps and making the plans that would direct the fate of the thousands of soldiers under his care.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks and openings in the canvas roof, lighting the desktop -- the chair was positioned to take the best advantage of that light. It illuminated the parchment sheaf lying on the tabletop, loosely tied together with a piece of twine. The final draft, Duo knew. The plans that Heero had drawn up for the confrontation at Kinekell. His life would rest on how well formed they were.
Something I can do...
Duo pushed up from the bed, and carefully limped over to the desk, hesitating a moment before seating himself in the chair. Adjusting his seat minutely to take better advantage of the light, Duo pulled off the twine and shook the papers out over the flat surface. He bent his head over them intently, the low murmur of voices from beyond the walls momentarily forgotten.
Re: Spoil of War, book 2
Date: 2006-02-28 01:32 am (UTC)Part of him, though he hated it, couldn’t wait for the army to leave. He could always hear, even when his mind was somewhere else, the constant unrelenting mutter in the background -- louder, now, with so much tension and anticipation in the air. Hearing them, always hearing them, he couldn’t fool himself with the illusion of solitude. He could not stand to have anyone’s eyes on him, not even for an instant, and the endless hum of voices was a ceaseless reminder of their pitiless gazes. It didn’t bother him when Heero was around -- Heero made him safe -- and Quatre or even Trowa’s presence could block it out. But he spent all too much time alone now, and sometimes the voices just got louder and louder until his mind whited out from their presence, and he would shake helplessly in the grip of a terror he couldn’t even put words to.
So part of him felt a vast relief that today was the last afternoon of the last day, and the troops would be moving out tomorrow. But the easing of the wordless panic only cleared the way for other fears, a little more abstract, but no less crushing for all that. Because Heero left tomorrow. He was going to meet them. And... and he had been very careful, to keep his words encouraging and his tone hopeful, but Duo was not stupid.
He might not come back.
Gods... Gods, what will I do if he doesn’t come back?
He hadn’t gone to Quatre’s today. There was at least a little of Heero’s presence that still hung about his tent, and Duo needed that right now. Besides which, walking through the camp, feeling all the eyes on him, was a torture he couldn’t endure right now. Not with the fear, the very real fear of losing Heero looming over his head.
Most of all, he hated feeling helpless. It was a sensation to which he was well accustomed, but it didn’t make this waiting any easier. If only there was something I could do... something I could do to help! But he was in no condition to fight; still on the crutches, he wasn’t even any use in the building and constructing and the preparations that included almost every other body in the encampment.
He blew out a breath in frustration, and then his eye fell on Heero’s desk. He smiled in spite of himself; Heero spent so much time in that chair, poring over the charts and maps and making the plans that would direct the fate of the thousands of soldiers under his care.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks and openings in the canvas roof, lighting the desktop -- the chair was positioned to take the best advantage of that light. It illuminated the parchment sheaf lying on the tabletop, loosely tied together with a piece of twine. The final draft, Duo knew. The plans that Heero had drawn up for the confrontation at Kinekell. His life would rest on how well formed they were.
Something I can do...
Duo pushed up from the bed, and carefully limped over to the desk, hesitating a moment before seating himself in the chair. Adjusting his seat minutely to take better advantage of the light, Duo pulled off the twine and shook the papers out over the flat surface. He bent his head over them intently, the low murmur of voices from beyond the walls momentarily forgotten.