Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The wounded boy was clutching himself tightly now, rocking slightly back and forth; tears were beginning to squeeze past his control. “At first I didn’t understand what was happening, I was just hot, but it wasn’t like anything I had ever felt before. But he... he kept on touching me, m-making me touch him, and it started to feel... I tried to stop, I did! It didn’t -- didn’t matter what I did, because I wanted it.” The words were coming faster and faster, now, jumbled together almost incoherently in his frantic need to get them out. “I moved with his hand, I humped the ground like some damned dog! I c-couldn’t stop, not even when he went into me, not even when it hurt so fucking much, I thought I was going to die -- oh, Gods, I wish I’d died, just if I hadn’t let him. And then I... and then I...”

He stuttered to a halt, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks. Quatre felt his own tears threaten, but he fought them back; he couldn’t break down now. Duo needed him now, and damn it, it should be Heero here helping him, but if that couldn’t happen, then Quatre would just have to fill in for him. “Duo, it wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly.

“Yes it was!” Duo gasped; his eyes flew open, but stared unseeing. “I liked it, just like a slut, just like a good whore should, they were right -- damn it, they were right, they were right... maybe I wanted it, really, maybe I deserved it, everything, maybe I did, after all...”

Duo’s voice was going slurred, his limbs stiffening as though he were going into a trance. Desperate, Quatre grabbed hold of Duo’s shoulders, and forced him to turn until he was looking Quatre in the face. “Look at me, Duo!” he shouted. “Are you --look at me! Just listen to me, all right?”

Slowly, painfully, Duo managed to focus on Quatre. He gave a tiny, hiccuping sound, but nodded mutely. Satisfied that he had Duo’s attention, Quatre spoke firmly and clearly, with all the conviction his voice could hold. "You are not a slut, Duo. You are not a whore, and you are not a bad person. Something terrible happened to you, but it was in no way your fault, do you understand?”

Duo began to shake again, and would have crumpled if not for Quatre’s firm hands on his shoulders. “But I -- I came, Quatre. I liked it...”

“Listen to me!” Quatre gave his shoulders a little shake. “If you were to cut me, would I ask to feel the pain? Would I be able to choose whether to bleed or not?”

“Wh-what?” Confusion entered Duo’s voice.

At last, Quatre thought, an emotion besides guilt. Encouraged, he tried again. “Duo, if I’m cold, I shiver. That’s what the body does when it’s cold. I’ll shiver whether I want to or not, whether I like the cold or not. I don’t have any control over it. Understand this, Duo -- pleasure is no different. Do you hear me? When certain places on a man’s body are touched, then arousal is the reaction, no matter what the conscious mind thinks of it. Your body was stimulated and it reacted. You didn’t want it, Duo, and it’s not your fault that it happened.”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

As Quatre’s words began to sink in, Duo felt the paralysis of hope begin to creep over him. Was -- could -- Quatre possibly be right? If what he was saying was the truth, not just a convenient lie, then maybe, maybe... With a jolt, Duo realized what was going on. Quatre was holding him, talking to him, trying to comfort him -- and he wouldn’t, not if he were truly disgusted by Duo. “Is that true?” he asked shakily. Oh, Gods, please let it be true...!

“Of course it’s true,” Quatre said emphatically. “No matter what your body does, if you didn’t want it, then it was rape and it was wrong. And, Duo, don’t you ever say you deserved what happened. Never again! Nobody ever deserves that kind of horror, least of all the good, brave, kind person that I know you are.”

It was too much to hope for, too much to be believed ...but if he couldn’t trust Quatre, then who could he trust? He opened his mouth to speak again -- what to say, he never knew, because in that moment the last of his defenses broke down. Walls work both ways, no matter what they’re made of. He had tried so hard for so long to build himself walls to shut away the world; to lock the pain of the world outside him, and his secret shame inside. Those walls had begun to crumble from the first time he had locked eyes with Heero Yuy, and now they failed him at last; he had no control, none, none at all. And left -- all the way from the inside out -- vulnerable.

Warm arms surrounded him, rocked him gently. Quatre had a softness, a soothing that not even Heero could provide. He clung to it as he let himself go, to the harsh wracking sobs, and the uncontrollable flood of tears. And he was not ashamed that Quatre should see him like this, because he needed to let go; to leave himself open just for a little while, and have nothing bad come of it.

“Shhh, Duo, shhh... it’s all right,” the blond said soothingly. He, too, knew that this was something Duo needed -- for someone to tell him -- “It’s all right...”

“It hurt...” he whimpered, through his sobs. “It hurt, Quatre, it hurt so bad...”

“I know. I know.” He knew, better than anyone. He had set the breaks, stitched the cuts, felt the scars. The only wounds he could not see to heal were the ones on the inside. The ones made when a monster took a passionate, sensual young man whose body was just opening, and taught him irreparably that sex meant pain, that pleasure was to be feared, and that his body would always betray him. That took a different kind of healing, and this -- this catharsis -- maybe, was the start of it. “It’s all right, Duo. It’s over now.”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

As Quatre’s words began to sink in, Duo felt the paralysis of hope begin to creep over him. Was -- could -- Quatre possibly be right? If what he was saying was the truth, not just a convenient lie, then maybe, maybe... With a jolt, Duo realized what was going on. Quatre was holding him, talking to him, trying to comfort him -- and he wouldn’t, not if he were truly disgusted by Duo. “Is that true?” he asked shakily. Oh, Gods, please let it be true...!

“Of course it’s true,” Quatre said emphatically. “No matter what your body does, if you didn’t want it, then it was rape and it was wrong. And, Duo, don’t you ever say you deserved what happened. Never again! Nobody ever deserves that kind of horror, least of all the good, brave, kind person that I know you are.”

It was too much to hope for, too much to be believed ...but if he couldn’t trust Quatre, then who could he trust? He opened his mouth to speak again -- what to say, he never knew, because in that moment the last of his defenses broke down. Walls work both ways, no matter what they’re made of. He had tried so hard for so long to build himself walls to shut away the world; to lock the pain of the world outside him, and his secret shame inside. Those walls had begun to crumble from the first time he had locked eyes with Heero Yuy, and now they failed him at last; he had no control, none, none at all. And left -- all the way from the inside out -- vulnerable.

Warm arms surrounded him, rocked him gently. Quatre had a softness, a soothing that not even Heero could provide. He clung to it as he let himself go, to the harsh wracking sobs, and the uncontrollable flood of tears. And he was not ashamed that Quatre should see him like this, because he needed to let go; to leave himself open just for a little while, and have nothing bad come of it.

“Shhh, Duo, shhh... it’s all right,” the blond said soothingly. He, too, knew that this was something Duo needed -- for someone to tell him -- “It’s all right...”

“It hurt...” he whimpered, through his sobs. “It hurt, Quatre, it hurt so bad...”

“I know. I know.” He knew, better than anyone. He had set the breaks, stitched the cuts, felt the scars. The only wounds he could not see to heal were the ones on the inside. The ones made when a monster took a passionate, sensual young man whose body was just opening, and taught him irreparably that sex meant pain, that pleasure was to be feared, and that his body would always betray him. That took a different kind of healing, and this -- this catharsis -- maybe, was the start of it. “It’s all right, Duo. It’s over now.”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

This time he’d gone to all the trouble of actually making himself a perch, a little place where he could keep watch but not himself be watched. On the north side of the camp, along the made path that led off to ever-distant Kinekell. A stack of emptied crates, pushed into an arrangement that allowed him to climb to the top. The stack was piled against the side of the mess tent, and the canvas behind him kept him from being silhouetted against the sky. Duo smiled to himself. Hiding habits were hard to get rid of.

He looked down, at his little pile of sticks, and started over again; scrambling them into a pile, and then pulling them out to lay them in a row one by one. A singsong voice like a nursery rhyme played over and over in his head. One for the first day, the day that Heero went away. Two for... The voice got stuck in an endless loop. Nothing had happened the second day.

Moving on. Three for the third night, when I looked north and saw the light... He’d better not think on that too long. He was neither scholar nor prophet, and his nightmare had been nothing more than that.

Another stick joined the line. Quatre’s day was number four. He smiled in spite of himself. Quatre -- he hadn’t had a friend like Quatre in a long time. Not since Solo died. And even then... Solo was his foster brother, and eight years older. Solo loved his little brother very much, but they had never had time to become very close. Little Duo was raised and trained by all the men, and had been content to hero-worship Solo from afar.

But Quatre... Quatre was something special. He was knowledgeable, level-headed and kind -- all things that Duo had needed very badly, that day. Another night and one day more. Six was the last stick in his pile, and that was today. Six little sticks all in a row. Counting sticks and waiting for...

Heero. He missed Heero, so much that it ached; a dull persistence in his chest completely independent of the cold coiling fear in his gut that was his constant companion. But he wanted Heero, badly; wanted to see his eyes and touch his hair and feel his strength. In the days since Heero had left, Duo had come to terms with what had passed between them, on the night Heero had left. He would probably never be completely free from fears and uncertainties, but now he knew what he wanted, what he needed, and... it was Heero.

He sighed, and abandoned his little game. Surely they would be coming back soon. Heero said, It’s a day’s travel from here to Kinekell. Two days for infantry. He put two sticks on one side, and two on the other, and that left two in the middle. He stared at them, not knowing what that would mean. He’d never had experience in a battle with armies of such size, but surely it couldn’t last more than two full days!

Maybe they were moving more slowly on the way back. Duo refused to let himself think about why that might be. He resettled himself slightly in his perch, not wanting his bad leg to cramp up. He wanted to show Heero, how he was off the crutch, that he could walk freely with no more than a slight hitch in his step. Heero would be proud of him...

Resolutely, he turned his eyes northward. A flock of birds started up from a tree in his vision, and he started counting them. One for the first day, when Heero went away...

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

This time he’d gone to all the trouble of actually making himself a perch, a little place where he could keep watch but not himself be watched. On the north side of the camp, along the made path that led off to ever-distant Kinekell. A stack of emptied crates, pushed into an arrangement that allowed him to climb to the top. The stack was piled against the side of the mess tent, and the canvas behind him kept him from being silhouetted against the sky. Duo smiled to himself. Hiding habits were hard to get rid of.

He looked down, at his little pile of sticks, and started over again; scrambling them into a pile, and then pulling them out to lay them in a row one by one. A singsong voice like a nursery rhyme played over and over in his head. One for the first day, the day that Heero went away. Two for... The voice got stuck in an endless loop. Nothing had happened the second day.

Moving on. Three for the third night, when I looked north and saw the light... He’d better not think on that too long. He was neither scholar nor prophet, and his nightmare had been nothing more than that.

Another stick joined the line. Quatre’s day was number four. He smiled in spite of himself. Quatre -- he hadn’t had a friend like Quatre in a long time. Not since Solo died. And even then... Solo was his foster brother, and eight years older. Solo loved his little brother very much, but they had never had time to become very close. Little Duo was raised and trained by all the men, and had been content to hero-worship Solo from afar.

But Quatre... Quatre was something special. He was knowledgeable, level-headed and kind -- all things that Duo had needed very badly, that day. Another night and one day more. Six was the last stick in his pile, and that was today. Six little sticks all in a row. Counting sticks and waiting for...

Heero. He missed Heero, so much that it ached; a dull persistence in his chest completely independent of the cold coiling fear in his gut that was his constant companion. But he wanted Heero, badly; wanted to see his eyes and touch his hair and feel his strength. In the days since Heero had left, Duo had come to terms with what had passed between them, on the night Heero had left. He would probably never be completely free from fears and uncertainties, but now he knew what he wanted, what he needed, and... it was Heero.

He sighed, and abandoned his little game. Surely they would be coming back soon. Heero said, It’s a day’s travel from here to Kinekell. Two days for infantry. He put two sticks on one side, and two on the other, and that left two in the middle. He stared at them, not knowing what that would mean. He’d never had experience in a battle with armies of such size, but surely it couldn’t last more than two full days!

Maybe they were moving more slowly on the way back. Duo refused to let himself think about why that might be. He resettled himself slightly in his perch, not wanting his bad leg to cramp up. He wanted to show Heero, how he was off the crutch, that he could walk freely with no more than a slight hitch in his step. Heero would be proud of him...

Resolutely, he turned his eyes northward. A flock of birds started up from a tree in his vision, and he started counting them. One for the first day, when Heero went away...

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, he sat up straight. There was movement under the trees. Yes, there was! He held his breath as the figure flitted in and out of his vision, then released it explosively as he got his first clear view. It was a man -- a soldier! Instinctively he crouched down, flattening himself against the top of the crate where he wouldn’t be seen.

The man drew closer, and Duo blew out an explosive breath as he recognized the man’s uniform. Five lines crossing -- it was the Alliance uniform, not Oz.

Hope flared in his chest, and for a moment he let it run wild. They were coming back -- they were coming home! Soon, oh, soon, the rest of them would be here. Heero would be coming home soon -- it was just a matter of time...

He would wait. When the soldier, battered and exhausted, passed near enough to his perch that he could have called out to the man, he did not. He would wait here, for the rest of the men to arrive. Yes, see, no sooner said than he saw more movement on the path, more movement under the trees.

But as more and more soldiers passed by his perch, Duo began to sense something wrong.

They came alone -- in clumps of twos, maybe threes... why? Why were they not in their units -- where were the officers? And -- a limp here, a crude bandage there, surely that was to be expected -- you didn’t fight battles without casualties -- but, they were all in some way injured.

But... that didn’t mean anything... did it?

He stuck stubbornly to his perch, out of sight, ignoring his uneasiness as the noise of the encampment started to grow again behind him. And still -- no men on horseback, no officers...

No Heero.

Another, larger group was approaching; this one actually looked a little more lively than the others, they were arguing loudly enough that he could hear a few words even from here.

“...all I’m saying, is...”

“...trap, we walked right...”

“Get them. We’ll get them, the bloody...”

“...know who...”

“...find them, by the Gods, we’ll find them and make them pay!” One voice carried above the others. “We’ve been betrayed. Some whoreson stinking pig sold us out to Oz, and we walked right into a trap!”

Duo froze, the splinters digging into the skin of his palms and arms. A trap?

“...near thing, I hear...”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, he sat up straight. There was movement under the trees. Yes, there was! He held his breath as the figure flitted in and out of his vision, then released it explosively as he got his first clear view. It was a man -- a soldier! Instinctively he crouched down, flattening himself against the top of the crate where he wouldn’t be seen.

The man drew closer, and Duo blew out an explosive breath as he recognized the man’s uniform. Five lines crossing -- it was the Alliance uniform, not Oz.

Hope flared in his chest, and for a moment he let it run wild. They were coming back -- they were coming home! Soon, oh, soon, the rest of them would be here. Heero would be coming home soon -- it was just a matter of time...

He would wait. When the soldier, battered and exhausted, passed near enough to his perch that he could have called out to the man, he did not. He would wait here, for the rest of the men to arrive. Yes, see, no sooner said than he saw more movement on the path, more movement under the trees.

But as more and more soldiers passed by his perch, Duo began to sense something wrong.

They came alone -- in clumps of twos, maybe threes... why? Why were they not in their units -- where were the officers? And -- a limp here, a crude bandage there, surely that was to be expected -- you didn’t fight battles without casualties -- but, they were all in some way injured.

But... that didn’t mean anything... did it?

He stuck stubbornly to his perch, out of sight, ignoring his uneasiness as the noise of the encampment started to grow again behind him. And still -- no men on horseback, no officers...

No Heero.

Another, larger group was approaching; this one actually looked a little more lively than the others, they were arguing loudly enough that he could hear a few words even from here.

“...all I’m saying, is...”

“...trap, we walked right...”

“Get them. We’ll get them, the bloody...”

“...know who...”

“...find them, by the Gods, we’ll find them and make them pay!” One voice carried above the others. “We’ve been betrayed. Some whoreson stinking pig sold us out to Oz, and we walked right into a trap!”

Duo froze, the splinters digging into the skin of his palms and arms. A trap?

“...near thing, I hear...”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

“...General escaped... Gods be...”

“...Colonel will...”

The Colonel?

Heero!

“Gods, man, are you blind, deaf and dumb? The Colonel is dead!”

No.

Oh, no.

“...you sure?”

Please, don’t let him be...

“Yes! Damn it to every devil in hell, I was there! I saw those Oz dogs drag him from his horse -- what could I do? I couldn’t reach him. Nobody could reach him, and those filthy bastards cut him to pieces while we watched!”

The scream that echoed from the mountains to the heavens was silent -- completely silent.



He ran, not knowing how he had gotten down from his perch, not knowing even now how he avoided the bitter, murderous men who filled the camp. He ran until he reached the tent, Heero’s tent -- No! Heero! -- and had collapsed into the darkness inside. Everything he feared. Everything!

Heero would not be coming back.

Not now, not ever.

A soft, keening wail was the only audible expression Duo would allow for his grief. Heero! Why... why? Why, by the Gods, why give him this chance, this miracle, only to steal it so cruelly away? Why give him back his life if he would lose it less than two months later? Why does everything I love have to die?

His hand groped through the darkness, fastened on the trailing edge of a blanket hanging on the bed. Blindly, he yanked it down, and hugged it to his chest, burying his tear-streaked face in it. It still smelled of Heero -- a little bit.

Was this all he had left, of the man he loved? Lingering traces, passing memories? It wasn’t enough -- wasn’t enough to hold together his world which was threatening to unravel around him. He had no past. And his future -- You were my future, Heero. We were going to have a future together, you and I...

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

No more.

He sank to the floor and wept, cried out his anguish until at last, his quiet sobs turned to fierce growls, and the grief transformed into a boundless anger.

Oz. OZ! Was there no end to their crimes against him? How much pain had he endured already at their hands? How many families had he lost -- to them? The first time, with the destruction of Maxwell -- he’d lost the Father and the Sister, but he was left with Solo, at least. And then the second time, when Solo died, at least he’d had the Devils, the Maxwell’s Devils and revenge to keep him going. Until even that was gone, somehow, and for two years he had nothing -- nothing! -- except the burning will to live, to spite them all by surviving...

And now Heero. But how? How? Heero was strong; he was smart, he was damn good at what he did... I know he was strong enough to stand up to them. How did they set a trap for him that he couldn’t avoid?

A trap?

That’s right.

You were betrayed.

Fury gripped him now; burying, at least for now, the pain of his loss. An ambush; Heero and his troops had walked right into an ambush so perfectly placed that they had absolutely no warning of it. That shouldn’t have been possible, not unless Oz somehow got a copy of the plans -- the battle plans!

You were betrayed!

Someone in Heero’s own army, one of Heero’s own men, had sold him out. A furious snarl peeled Duo’s lips back from his teeth; he felt, for the first time in oh so long, the familiar rage of the God of Death. Yes. Vengeance. If nothing else, he could find the traitor and see that he died painfully, and rotted in hell, the son of a bitch!

But who? Think, Duo, think. How could they have gotten hold of them? Only the senior officers had copies; Heero and Wufei. Wufei almost never left his tent, and there were guards posted there day and night. It didn’t seem likely that copies could have been made right under General Chang’s constant supervision.

That left Heero’s copy. And in the final days, Heero had been out of his tent more often than in. Duo should know, he had been there the entire time Heero was gone.

And there had been no-one --

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

No more.

He sank to the floor and wept, cried out his anguish until at last, his quiet sobs turned to fierce growls, and the grief transformed into a boundless anger.

Oz. OZ! Was there no end to their crimes against him? How much pain had he endured already at their hands? How many families had he lost -- to them? The first time, with the destruction of Maxwell -- he’d lost the Father and the Sister, but he was left with Solo, at least. And then the second time, when Solo died, at least he’d had the Devils, the Maxwell’s Devils and revenge to keep him going. Until even that was gone, somehow, and for two years he had nothing -- nothing! -- except the burning will to live, to spite them all by surviving...

And now Heero. But how? How? Heero was strong; he was smart, he was damn good at what he did... I know he was strong enough to stand up to them. How did they set a trap for him that he couldn’t avoid?

A trap?

That’s right.

You were betrayed.

Fury gripped him now; burying, at least for now, the pain of his loss. An ambush; Heero and his troops had walked right into an ambush so perfectly placed that they had absolutely no warning of it. That shouldn’t have been possible, not unless Oz somehow got a copy of the plans -- the battle plans!

You were betrayed!

Someone in Heero’s own army, one of Heero’s own men, had sold him out. A furious snarl peeled Duo’s lips back from his teeth; he felt, for the first time in oh so long, the familiar rage of the God of Death. Yes. Vengeance. If nothing else, he could find the traitor and see that he died painfully, and rotted in hell, the son of a bitch!

But who? Think, Duo, think. How could they have gotten hold of them? Only the senior officers had copies; Heero and Wufei. Wufei almost never left his tent, and there were guards posted there day and night. It didn’t seem likely that copies could have been made right under General Chang’s constant supervision.

That left Heero’s copy. And in the final days, Heero had been out of his tent more often than in. Duo should know, he had been there the entire time Heero was gone.

And there had been no-one --

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

No.

-- in the tent --

No, it wasn’t me.

-- except him --

No!

-- the entire time.

You were there. You had the opportunity that no-one else had. It would have been so easy, to copy the sheets and slip away for a few hours, and return with no-one the wiser.

I would never betray Heero. I'd rather die!

And just who will believe you? the voice demanded coldly. General Chang despises you. He'll be overjoyed to brand you as a traitor, what he's wanted to do from the beginning.

But I didn't do it! he screamed silently.

Do you really think that makes a difference? a jeering voice asked. What do you have to put against the evidence? Your word. Nothing more. That might have been good enough for Heero...

Quatre. Quatre will help me...

You really think he can help you? came the gleeful snicker. What can he do against Chang? The only man who could have protected you from him was Heero. And Heero's dead.

Gods. Oh, Gods. A campful of wounded, angry, blood-dulled soldiers, without the discipline of their officers -- looking for someone to blame, someone to take out their rage. Looking for vengeance, for their loss.

His legs wouldn't support him. Eyes staring blindly into the darkness, he staggered to the bed he knew from memory, and slid down to sit on it. I could run. Before Chang gets back, before they get organized, before they begin to search for the traitor...

Run where? And how far would you get, still weak, alone and without supplies, with winter coming on?

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

No.

-- in the tent --

No, it wasn’t me.

-- except him --

No!

-- the entire time.

You were there. You had the opportunity that no-one else had. It would have been so easy, to copy the sheets and slip away for a few hours, and return with no-one the wiser.

I would never betray Heero. I'd rather die!

And just who will believe you? the voice demanded coldly. General Chang despises you. He'll be overjoyed to brand you as a traitor, what he's wanted to do from the beginning.

But I didn't do it! he screamed silently.

Do you really think that makes a difference? a jeering voice asked. What do you have to put against the evidence? Your word. Nothing more. That might have been good enough for Heero...

Quatre. Quatre will help me...

You really think he can help you? came the gleeful snicker. What can he do against Chang? The only man who could have protected you from him was Heero. And Heero's dead.

Gods. Oh, Gods. A campful of wounded, angry, blood-dulled soldiers, without the discipline of their officers -- looking for someone to blame, someone to take out their rage. Looking for vengeance, for their loss.

His legs wouldn't support him. Eyes staring blindly into the darkness, he staggered to the bed he knew from memory, and slid down to sit on it. I could run. Before Chang gets back, before they get organized, before they begin to search for the traitor...

Run where? And how far would you get, still weak, alone and without supplies, with winter coming on?

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The last of his will drained away. Maybe the old Duo would have still tried -- would have run into the teeth of winter, would have fought with them when they came for him, would have tried *something,* driven by the desperate need to survive no matter how harsh the price. But was it worth paying that price, over and over again, for a life that was nothing -- nothing -- without Heero?

You said it yourself, came the nasty whisper. You have no past. You have no future. You have... nothing.

He sat there, motionless, for so long that the darkness crept in through his open, unseeing eyes, and filled his soul.

Despair.

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The last of his will drained away. Maybe the old Duo would have still tried -- would have run into the teeth of winter, would have fought with them when they came for him, would have tried *something,* driven by the desperate need to survive no matter how harsh the price. But was it worth paying that price, over and over again, for a life that was nothing -- nothing -- without Heero?

You said it yourself, came the nasty whisper. You have no past. You have no future. You have... nothing.

He sat there, motionless, for so long that the darkness crept in through his open, unseeing eyes, and filled his soul.

Despair.

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++

After enough time, the noise level dropped away, as the strain of the fast pace took its toll on the infantry. As the weight of their arms and gear and the unrelenting toil drained away their first burst of rowdy energy, and forced them to concentrate on keeping their footing over the uneven, half-paved road. Not that there was silence, of any kind; only that the steady tramp of feet, clank of equipment, and the sea of low muttering from person to person was muted to a background hum.

When at last it was quiet enough to speak without shouting, Heero nudged his horse through the crowds to draw abreast of Wufei’s. The General glanced up at him, the weariness that he could not allow into his posture or movement showing -- just a bit -- in his eyes.

“What is it, Heero?”

Heero kept his own expression blank, as he reached inside his jacket -- where he had kept it safe beside his heart -- and pulled out a tightly folded sheaf of papers. He handed them over to Wufei without looking at them; he already knew what they said.

General Chang took them, and unfolded them, and quickly scanned the contents. He had to read it twice before Heero’s intentions sank in, and then he looked up at his second-in-command with an incredulous disbelief etched across his stern features. “Are you quite serious?” he demanded.

“When am I not serious?” he returned evenly, and Wufei made a sound of exasperation.

“You can’t possibly be proposing... a change in tactics? This late in the game?” Wufei shook his head in disbelief.

“Why not?” Heero nudged his horse a few steps forward, a little closer to the General. “The troops don’t get their orders until the charge is sounded. What difference does it make if the plans are worked out hours or years in advance?”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

+++

After enough time, the noise level dropped away, as the strain of the fast pace took its toll on the infantry. As the weight of their arms and gear and the unrelenting toil drained away their first burst of rowdy energy, and forced them to concentrate on keeping their footing over the uneven, half-paved road. Not that there was silence, of any kind; only that the steady tramp of feet, clank of equipment, and the sea of low muttering from person to person was muted to a background hum.

When at last it was quiet enough to speak without shouting, Heero nudged his horse through the crowds to draw abreast of Wufei’s. The General glanced up at him, the weariness that he could not allow into his posture or movement showing -- just a bit -- in his eyes.

“What is it, Heero?”

Heero kept his own expression blank, as he reached inside his jacket -- where he had kept it safe beside his heart -- and pulled out a tightly folded sheaf of papers. He handed them over to Wufei without looking at them; he already knew what they said.

General Chang took them, and unfolded them, and quickly scanned the contents. He had to read it twice before Heero’s intentions sank in, and then he looked up at his second-in-command with an incredulous disbelief etched across his stern features. “Are you quite serious?” he demanded.

“When am I not serious?” he returned evenly, and Wufei made a sound of exasperation.

“You can’t possibly be proposing... a change in tactics? This late in the game?” Wufei shook his head in disbelief.

“Why not?” Heero nudged his horse a few steps forward, a little closer to the General. “The troops don’t get their orders until the charge is sounded. What difference does it make if the plans are worked out hours or years in advance?”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

“The older plans are better,” Wufei said with firm conviction. “Tried and tested over the years -- their faults have been seen and corrected. But these -- these --” he gestured with the sheaf of papers, nearly dropping them -- “are completely against tradition!”

“I don’t recall a rulebook saying what we could and couldn’t tell our troops to do,” Heero said quietly.

Wufei practically growled, his black eyes narrowing towards the younger man. “For the past three years we’ve kept conventional tactics.”

“Then maybe it’s time for a change.” Heero cracked a tiny smile.

For a long moment Wufei stared at him, his own face unreadable; Heero’s smile faded. When Wufei spoke again, it barely carried across the background clamor. “This is about that boy, isn’t it?”

“How do you mean, sir?” Heero said uneasily.

“I thought as much.” Wufei sat back a bit, satisfied. “This was his idea, wasn’t it? He wanted to play war, and you decided to play along.”

Heero shook his head firmly. “If I were humoring him, sir, I could have dropped the papers in the mud as soon as we left the camp. He’d never know. But I chose to keep them and give them to you, not throw them away, because I know war and I know that the changes he made are good ones.”

“Give me one good reason to go along with such a ridiculous charade,” Wufei said flatly.

Heero was silent for a time. The horses paced steadily along; the army flowed like a river over the dusty path and ragged trees crawling slowly back the way they’d come. They were coming out of the jagged, rocky hill country now, to a place of softer, more rolling valleys and hills topped with thick woods. At last Heero answered. “Because, sir, there is not one faster way to lose a battle than to give the troops conflicting sets of orders.”

Wufei started a bit in his saddle, shooting Heero a disbelieving glare. “You would go against my express orders in this matter, Colonel?” he barked.

Heero lifted his shoulders in a barely perceptible shrug. “It’s my duty to follow orders, General. But it’s also my duty to use my best judgment as a soldier, and to do the best I can by my men. It would be much better for everyone -- you, me, and the men -- if there were no conflict between those two duties.”

Wufei muttered a low curse, quickly cut off, and took a deep breath; his grip whitened on his horse’s reins as he held his temper in check. “Have it your way, Heero. Do whatever you want with the left flank. Those are all the soldiers under your command. Vant and I will stay with the established plan.”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Heero bowed his head submissively, hiding the tiny smirk of triumph. The gleeful expression was wiped away, though, by Wufei’s next words. “Just understand this, Colonel Yuy. If anything goes wrong, I will hold you personally responsible -- and your clever slave!”

Without waiting for a response, Wufei spoke a sharp word of command to his horse, and took of sharply through the crowd, leaving Heero behind, the smile slowly fading from his face.

+++

He sat still in the same place when they came for him. Five of them. Chang wasn’t taking any chances, Duo made the dreary observation.

He didn’t put up any kind of resistance, not even a stinging taunt. Not just that he knew that there was nothing to be gained by it -- not just that he did not want to turn the promise of murderous violence in their eyes, in the white-knuckled grips on their weapons, into reality -- that had never stopped him time before. The change was on the inside -- something that had stopped moving, something that had broken down.

“General Chang wants you,” the leader snarled, and when Duo did not move to stand, he reached down impatiently grabbed hold of Duo’s upper arm. “Now.” The pressure of the soldier’s fingers made livid marks on his skin, even as Duo quietly complied with the man’s curt orders. The other four guards swarmed about them as he left the quiet haven of Heero’s tent for a final time.

What will they do to me? Duo wondered bleakly. He couldn’t force himself to care too much.

The sunlight hurt his eyes, accustomed to the darkness. Around him, the world crystallized into blurs of bright winter sunlight, tinted sometimes in shades of brown and gray. Sound, too, blurred into a roaring jumble of words lost in fierce and angry tones. For a moment he was blessedly numb to the world, allowing the men to pull him across the uneven ground to some unknown destination.

Golden light mixed with the white, dimming it down; he was shoved abruptly onto a hard surface, and then the world snapped back into painful focus.

He was sitting in a hard wooden chair in the center of the cleared space of a large tent. The tent was not empty -- some chairs and tables scattered around the space, and some men came and went around the corners of his vision. None of them crossed the invisible boundary of the circle in which he sat. Once before. He’d seen this place once before during the disastrous interview, the first and last time he’d really seen General Chang...

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Heero bowed his head submissively, hiding the tiny smirk of triumph. The gleeful expression was wiped away, though, by Wufei’s next words. “Just understand this, Colonel Yuy. If anything goes wrong, I will hold you personally responsible -- and your clever slave!”

Without waiting for a response, Wufei spoke a sharp word of command to his horse, and took of sharply through the crowd, leaving Heero behind, the smile slowly fading from his face.

+++

He sat still in the same place when they came for him. Five of them. Chang wasn’t taking any chances, Duo made the dreary observation.

He didn’t put up any kind of resistance, not even a stinging taunt. Not just that he knew that there was nothing to be gained by it -- not just that he did not want to turn the promise of murderous violence in their eyes, in the white-knuckled grips on their weapons, into reality -- that had never stopped him time before. The change was on the inside -- something that had stopped moving, something that had broken down.

“General Chang wants you,” the leader snarled, and when Duo did not move to stand, he reached down impatiently grabbed hold of Duo’s upper arm. “Now.” The pressure of the soldier’s fingers made livid marks on his skin, even as Duo quietly complied with the man’s curt orders. The other four guards swarmed about them as he left the quiet haven of Heero’s tent for a final time.

What will they do to me? Duo wondered bleakly. He couldn’t force himself to care too much.

The sunlight hurt his eyes, accustomed to the darkness. Around him, the world crystallized into blurs of bright winter sunlight, tinted sometimes in shades of brown and gray. Sound, too, blurred into a roaring jumble of words lost in fierce and angry tones. For a moment he was blessedly numb to the world, allowing the men to pull him across the uneven ground to some unknown destination.

Golden light mixed with the white, dimming it down; he was shoved abruptly onto a hard surface, and then the world snapped back into painful focus.

He was sitting in a hard wooden chair in the center of the cleared space of a large tent. The tent was not empty -- some chairs and tables scattered around the space, and some men came and went around the corners of his vision. None of them crossed the invisible boundary of the circle in which he sat. Once before. He’d seen this place once before during the disastrous interview, the first and last time he’d really seen General Chang...

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The General was not as tall as he remembered him being; that was Duo’s first impression, blurred and dazed though it was. Of course, this time around Chang was tired and worn and dirty from the battle and the long ride, and even seated he leaned heavily against the desk. Still a furious tension gripped his muscles, drove his fingers to tap a constant rhythm on the wood, and his slanted black eyes were cold.

A minute after Duo was pushed down into the chair, Chang turned that hard gaze on him, and Duo had to concentrate on swallowing past the tightness in his throat. He honestly did not know if he had the strength for this, to face Chang’s triumphant accusation and judgment without making a total disgrace of himself by breaking down.

“Duo Maxwell,” the General said crisply. Like the rest of him, his voice was hoarse around the edges and raspy from overuse, but still carried the bite of command. “So glad you could join me.”

Duo dropped his eyes down, on the ground, and didn’t rise to the bait of Chang’s sarcasm.

Chang looked at him in silence for a minute, but when no response was forthcoming, he sat a little straighter in his chair and continued. “No doubt by now you’ve heard some garbled version of the events at Kinekell,” he continued. “I will put things plainly. The entire attack on Kinekell was a ruse, meant to lure us out from our defensive position and into their trap.”

He closed his eyes, and sat smaller and colder in the hard chair. He heard the scrape of wood against the ground as Chang pushed back his chair and began to pace.

“Somehow -- somehow, they had obtained copies of our troops’ movements and set up ambush that came very close to destroying our entire army. Which leads me to you, Duo Maxwell -- and your role in all of this.”

Oh, Gods. He was on trial -- he couldn’t just sit here, just sit and listen to Chang condemn him without even trying to protest his innocence. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and said past a dry mouth, “General, I swear I didn’t do anything. I --”

Chang cut him off with a brusque gesture and a fierce scowl. “Spare me the platitudes, Maxwell! You know exactly what you did.”

Anything else Duo might have said died unspoken, and he sank back into his seat. This wasn’t a trial -- it was a sentencing. He clutched the last remnants of his sanity about him, and waited.

“Justice must be done,” Chang pronounced, and, straightened his posture. With a few steps he was standing directly before Duo, looking down at him with an unfathomable expression. Duo stared back at him, face frozen, with the last flickers of his spirit dying inside his eyes.

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

General Chang took a deep breath, and then bowed low. “Duo Maxwell, on behalf of myself and all my soldiers, I offer my most humble thanks.”

What?

Chang continued. “The change in troop deployment took the ambushers by surprise, as they were acting by the original plans. If not for the alterations that you made to the battle plans, we would have been slaughtered to the last man.”

His words fell on deaf ears. The sudden reversal of the world had completely stunned Duo, who was still struggling through the concept that General Chang -- the man who distrusted and despised him -- was bowing before him.

They don’t think that I...?

A sudden change in tone caught Duo’s attention back; Chang was still talking, but much of the formality had dropped out of his voice, and of his posture. His tone now was of... contrition.

“I have behaved very disgracefully towards you,” Chang said quietly, “ever since you came to this encampment. My conduct has been dishonorable, and frankly inexcusable; I only hope that you will be willing to forgive my petty actions and accept my sincere apologies. I owe you my life, and the lives of all my men, and there is no service in the world great enough to repay this debt.”

“Oh,” Duo heard himself say. “That’s all right.” He blinked dazedly up at the General, bemused by the relief that spread over the older man’s face. He actually smiled, an almost perceptible smile, and bowed before Duo once more. Duo watched, feeling very abstracted from the entire situation.

Chang turned partly away from Duo, and returned to lean against the back of his chair, not yet sitting down. “I am partly to blame for this,” he said, more to himself than to Duo. “When Yuy proposed the altered plans, I confined them to the left flank. If I hadn’t done that, if I had not let my jealousies rule me... then Colonel Vant might still be alive.”

Duo’s bemusement vanished into shock, and he sat bolt upright in his seat. Colonel who?

“General,” he heard his own voice saying, and could hardly believe how calm he sounded. “Where is Heero?”

“Oh, Heero?” Chang returned from his momentary preoccupation, looking back down at Duo. “Colonel Yuy is supervising the retreat, of course. The... survivors... of the right flank returned to the encampment as fast as their condition would allow, and I, of course, had to be here. Yuy should be bringing the left, and center, divisions back to the camp sometime tonight, or maybe tomorrow.”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

It was all too much for Duo -- he had prepared himself for death, only to find that the world turned itself upside down. Already he was exhausted by the raging emotions he had experienced earlier that day, and now this new revelation was too much to handle. Later, he promised himself, I’ll figure it all out later.

For now, there was just one thought that filled his mind.

Heero was alive.



Three thousand men made up the right flank at Kinekell.

Four hundred returned.

The casualties hadn’t been nearly so high in the other divisions, Wufei had explained. He told the story in quiet, clipped sentences. They had entered a shallow valley on the approach to Kinekell. Heero had led his men across the western hill instead of staying on the road. On reaching the edges of the woods, his troops surprised the western edge of the ambush. The fighting had broken out immediately. Heero sent messengers to warn the other officers of the trap. Wufei had received the message, barely in time. The horseman sent to the right flank never arrived at all.

Had Oz’s attack gone to plan, the entire Allied army would have been wiped out in a single day. Even now, over four thousand Allied soldiers lay dead in the valley grave. All that would save the nearby town from plague as the bodies rotted was the oncoming winter -- there had not been time for burials, there had not even been time for mass pyres. It was a grim, soul-killing victory. But it was still a victory. Despite the staggering losses, Oz had taken even more casualties -- there could be no further hostilities this year.

And now, as Duo stood by Wufei’s side and watched the exhausted survivors come pouring back, he found himself wondering if they would even survive the winter, much less the next spring. All equipment they had taken with them was lost. And he knew, from the tightness around Wufei’s black eyes, that he wondered too.

But that was the future -- first they had to survive today, and tomorrow, and then perhaps they could think about someday. “Do you know who it was?” he asked Wufei quietly. “The traitor.”

Wufei scowled angrily, and Duo couldn’t stop from flinching just a little bit when he saw the way Wufei’s hand clenched into a fist. “No,” he said sharply. “Not for certain. But I think I... yes, I can think of some possibilities.”

“What will you be able to do about it?” Duo wanted to know.

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

“That’s the problem,” Wufei sighed. “If it’s... if my suspicions are correct, then I will probably never see him again. Of course he won’t come ba -- Ah!” He cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes narrowing, focused on something on the other side of the crowd.

“What?” Duo, too, and looked in the direction Wufei had; he was not as tall, though, and could not see what the older man had seen. “What is it?” Actually, the crowd was thinning out; there was space to see and move between the men, now, and behind the walkers followed the horses...

Wufei didn’t answer for a moment, and then his posture relaxed and a faint sigh left him. “There, he’s finally back. Thank the Gods, I was becoming anxious --”

“Heero,” Duo breathed, and then he was gone.

Wufei stared; his mouth actually hung agape. In all his twenty-four years he had never seen anyone move that fast. The boy -- no, Duo, he should start thinking of him as Duo -- was like a streak of dark lightning, actually seeming to blur as he bolted across the distance separating him from the man on horseback.

Heero was actually sagging in his saddle as he rode; he felt very heavy today. The exhaustion of days of hard riding, of the arduous battle, of long nights without sleep all combined with the soul-sickness that such a defeat had left on him. He knew that it could have been much, so much worse -- that they had avoided a total calamity by a very narrow margin -- but still something in him always whispered that if he had ridden a little harder, acted a little faster, somehow he could have made things better...

He was startled out of his dark thoughts when he felt something strike him from the side -- he had not been on his guard, and he was too stunned to react as a weight forced him off the saddle from the other side and slammed him into the ground. Fortunately it was still soft, but it was still enough to force the air out o his lungs, as he blankly stared into the sky.

His view of the sky vanished, though, as a dark form loomed up over him -- a weight on his stomach pinned him to the ground as hands clutched his shoulders. Silhouetted against the sun he saw the long hair --long hair! -- falling forward onto his chest and neck as his lover bent down to fasten hungrily onto his lips.

Between the fall and the kiss, Heero wasn’t much inclined to move at first. Duo’s unexpected aggression had surprised him, and it was several minutes before he recollected enough presence of mind to break temporarily away from the kiss and struggle into a sitting position, holding onto Duo as the boy slid down into his lap. “Uh, Duo --”

Duo hugged him fiercely, nearly crushing the breath from his lungs, as he babbled on into Heero’s ear. “Heero, Heero -- thank the Gods, you made it back, you’re safe, you’re okay, I was so afraid for you, Heero, I thought you were dead -- oh Gods, I thought you were dead but you’re okay, you’re all right --”

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

“I’m alive,” Heero said breathlessly, and hugged him fiercely. He wanted to say something to Duo, to tell him how very much he loved him. He wanted to tell him how thoughts of Duo were the only things that had kept him going, kept him sane during the moments of chaos when everything around him was blood and fire. Or the nights spent on the torturous journey back, waiting for the next attack to come from the dark under the trees... all the words clogged up in his mouth and he found he couldn’t say anything at all. All he could do was clutch Duo to him.

Duo kissed Heero frantically, pulling him close, his hands and arms in constant motion as he tried to feel as much of Heero as he could. He couldn’t get enough, he needed more... more touch, more closeness, more reassurance. For a few hours, a few terrible hours, he had thought Heero was dead; the aching void that had overtaken him then was still there, at the edges of his consciousness. He ran his hands up Heero’s back, pushing up underneath his shirt to touch the skin. It wasn’t enough, and he moaned helplessly into Heero’s mouth; he needed to feel...

Heero sensed the urgency in Duo’s attitude, maybe even better than Duo himself did, and though it physically hurt to do so, he pushed Duo away. Duo whimpered with the loss of contact, but Heero silenced him with a gentle caress to his face. “Not here, love,” he whispered. “It’s too open here. Too exposed. I need to be someplace where nobody’s watching me, nobody’s looking at me... except you...”

Duo’s expression cleared, and he smiled the most beautiful smile Heero had ever seen. He had always loved Duo’s smile, from the first time he had been privileged with it, and every day there was more joy, more life to it. “Hurry, please...” he breathed into Heero’s ear. “I need to be near you...”

They had to help each other stand; neither one was completely steady on their feet. All the way to their tent Duo kept as close to Heero as he could, and still keep moving -- he thought it would drive him insane, to be so close to Heero and have to wait, when all he wanted to do was wrap himself around Heero and never let go. Heero, himself, gripped Duo’s arm tightly until he realized that he was leaving bruises, at which point he forced himself to loosen his hold.

They passed others on the way, of course, but most of the men didn’t even look up, too exhausted to focus on anything other than their own aches. The few who did see them quickly averted their eyes, allowing their commander as much privacy as could be done. Those who had been soldiers for a long time knew, more than anything else, the need to touch another human being, just once, without violence. Sneering aristocratic sensibilities, the pious mouthings of priests -- they all melted away in the face of this life of constant violence, in the need to be close to someone.

Someone. Anyone.

Re: Spoil of War, book 2

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

No sooner had the tent flap fallen closed behind them than Heero found himself being pressed steadily backwards. Duo’s mouth was joined with Heero’s in a desperate kiss as he pushed Heero through the darkened space, illuminated only by the guttering candles Duo had lit before leaving the tent earlier. When the bed hit the backs of Heero’s legs, he fell backwards, pulling Duo down on top of him. On top of the blankets, they writhed steadily against each other, gasping as the contact deepened.

With a noise of frustration, Duo pulled his hands away from Heero’s face to scrabble at the ties holding his thick leather jacket closed. It was a minute before he could undo the heavy garment, and pushed it back open around Heero’s shoulders, sliding up the lighter shirt underneath. At last, he achieved satisfactory contact with Heero’s skin, running his hands all over Heero’s chest, and his back when the other boy arched up into the touch.

For Heero, the world was dissolving into the bliss of the contact, of Duo’s warm hands sliding over his flesh. He heard his own gasping breath as alien in his ears, mixed with the sound of Duo’s breathing, but neither of them wanted to break the moment with speech. He felt Duo’s hands yanking at the fastenings on his jacket, then on his pants, and realized in a flash of insight where this would lead. He did not choose to stop it, instead reaching up to return the favor. Duo’s own clothes, still borrowed from Quatre, were soft and simple -- drawstring pants and a single shirt. Duo cooperated, ducking his head to allow Heero to pull the garment off of him, before returning to his assault on Heero’s worn, combat-stained leather pants.

At last they were both free of constraint, and Duo sighed in relief as he settled his nude body atop Heero’s, reveling in the feeling of flushed skin pressed to his. Underneath his clothes, Heero was soft, and warm, and alive. He squirmed against the other boy, seeking to produce more sensation, and felt Heero’s hands travel down from where they had been clasped about his neck, to undo the band that held his braid in place. As he pulled his hands back, drawing the freed strands into a cascade of warm silk about them both, Duo caught his hands and claimed his mouth in another deep kiss.

He ground closer against Heero, rubbing each inch of skin together that he could. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t close enough; he still needed more. Unconsciously, he brought one leg up and rubbed his knee between Heero’s thighs. He gasped into Heero’s mouth as Heero parted his legs, and allowed his thigh to rub up against Heero’s groin. A flash of intense heat took over his brain, and it was a moment before he could see or even think straight again. At last he managed to regain his breath, and tried to speak. He couldn’t manage full sentences, or even coherent thoughts; the best he could do was, “Heero... you’re so... need to feel you...”

Insistently, Heero pulled Duo’s head down towards him, until his cheek lay against Heero’s jaw. “I’m yours,” he whispered into Duo’s ear, making him shiver. “Whatever you want, love. I want it too.”

Duo’s whole body shuddered, and with a desperate moan he tore himself away from Heero and struggled to his feet. Confused, Heero pushed himself up on his hands and watched as Duo stumbled across the floor in the flickering light. “Duo?” he asked, afraid that Duo wanted to end it, that he would leave Heero aching. “What is it?”