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"I Will Find You"Written By: ELLE Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Gundam
Wing (unfortunately) and they were used without permission, but all
the words are my own. Rating: R Warnings: modern day AU, angst, some foul language
Pairings: 1x2x1 with brief mention of 3xH, implied
5xC Summary: A series of intersecting vignettes back and forth through time documenting Heero and Duo's relationship before and after the apocalypse - including what lengths they'd go to in order to be together again. Author's Notes: I have been writing this since
July so I'm happy to finally have it done! This is what happens when
you get terribly distracted and real life bowls you over with unexpected
news. ;-P
"I Will Find You" 59 Days Since Last Communication Heero wasn't exactly sure how long he lay under that
rubble, breathing shallowly, pain washing in waves through his body
until someone came by and helped dig him out. He didn't think it was
more than a few hours but time was muddled in his head as he fought
down panic and painful memories, barely conscious, fighting just to
keep his brain from overwhelming him. His ribs were cracked, he was sure, but the didn't think
they were broken, hadn't punctured a lung, thankfully, and that seemed
to be the only real injury he sustained. But he remembered staring
back horrified at the beam that would've crushed his leg if he'd still
had one, instead just leaving scratches on his prosthetic. He shuddered
to think what an injury like that could've done to him. The blood
loss alone could've killed him. It was the first time in his life he was truly thankful
for his handicap. In the days following he would sit and stare at
the prosthetic, knowing that without it he would've never gotten home,
never gotten back to Duo. He drug himself a few blocks from the fallout shelter
and spent nearly four weeks in a partially collapsed service station,
eating pasta out of cans, potato chips and pretzels, drinking warm
bottled water, washing himself in the employee bathroom sink. The
owner came to it once three or four days into his stay there and Heero
left for a few hours. The man was sick, it was obvious, coughing,
sweating, weak and Heero knew he wouldn't make it. He didn't know
if the disease was dropped with the bombs or introduced some other
way but it was obvious – this guy had whatever it was and he
wasn't going to last long. By the time Heero finally felt strong enough to leave,
everyone was dead. He hadn't wanted to wait that long to start the return
trip to California, but he knew he wasn't going to make it far with
cracked ribs if he didn't give them a chance to heal a little. Whatever
method of EMP blast they'd used was like nothing Heero had ever seen
before. Most cars now had electronic components and were completely
immobilized by the blast. He figured he might be able to hotwire a
car if he found one old enough but a lot of the trip, at least here
at the beginning, would be on foot. His hope was that once he was outside the city, the
effects of the EMP blast would be minimal to the point of finding
a car that functioned even with computer electronics. Gas might be
problematic – while he certainly had enough money in his bank
account to slide his card through the machine back and forth to California
twenty times, those card readers usually connected to a database on
the back end that more than likely wasn't functioning. It would probably
be easier to siphon gas from other cars or ditch it when it ran out
of gas for another. Regardless, he immediately gave up any hope of commandeering
a vehicle inside the district. Heero found a map in service center
and marked out his route, deciding to just take I-40 all the way home.
He knew it was going to be iffy getting out of the city, roads destroyed,
whole sections of the city bombed and in fact, it took him nearly
three more weeks just to get outside of I-495. As near as he could tell, most of everything inside
the loop had been decimated. Occasionally he would find a pocket of
street that was mostly intact and maybe a little service center or
grocery store where he could gorge himself on junk food and resupply,
but in general it was slow going over collapsed buildings and he had
to change course and then try to work his way back to I-66 as much
as possible before being waylaid again. The last thing he wanted was
to fall through a weakened pile of rubble and have to dig himself
out or – though he didn't like to think about it – hurt
himself any worse than he already was. His ribs slowed him down significantly,
forcing him to rest and take agonizing breaks when he didn't really
want to – he couldn't afford any further injury. Nights became dangerous as the stink of dead and rotting
bodies began to build and carrion animals descended upon the city.
Heero knew their interest wasn't with him, but it was still better
to be safe than sorry, and after seeing a mountain lion standing not
fifteen feet from him in broad daylight, he would try to find shelter
in a building as the sun set, giving up precious hours to stay safe.
He could only imagine they must've come from the Appalachian mountains,
but it was nothing he ever expected to see in his lifetime. Then again, prior to meeting Quatre, he never expected
to see the fucking apocalypse in his lifetime either but maybe that
went without saying. When he finally reached Idylwood Park and the point
where I-495 met I-66 there were fifty-two notches in his belt for
every day that passed but the sense of accomplishment he felt was
unmatched by any previous experience in his life. He was tired, hungry,
dirty, and he hurt all over but he was finally, finally on
his way home. On his way back to Duo. Heero felt stupid for never considering this outcome
– that they might be separated and unable to communicate with
one another. The only thing he had was Duo's voice in his ear, telling
him he wanted him home, and it fueled him forward no matter how slowly
he was forced to go. He couldn't imagine being in Duo's position,
stuck waiting for an eventually he couldn't at all be sure of. But
then Duo knew him, knew was a stubborn, determined bastard he could
be, knew he survived Fallujah against all odds, drinking his own piss
to stay hydrated with his leg busted to shit, gangrene setting in.
Duo had to believe he would come. He just had to. Hitting the highway was both a blessing and a curse.
On the one hand, the highway was basically empty and though the blast
radius extended a few miles outside of DC, it was only another day
or so before the road was smooth and unmarred and that sure made walking
a hell of a lot easier. But on the other hand it took longer to find
shelter at night unless there was a hotel right off the highway. A
few times Heero debated wandering off course and seeking out a WalMart
or something and acquiring a tent but there were upsides and downsides
to that decision. His ribs were doing significantly better but it
would still be added weight and while with a car it wouldn't be a
problem, he still didn't think he was out of the EMP blast zone and
didn't want to waste time searching for a car that wouldn't even work. But it wasn't long, before hunger, exhaustion, and frustration
dictated he had to try. When I-66 hit I-81 he decided that then was
as good a time as any to stop and if he wasted a day trying to find
a car then at least he could make it up simply by having a car. Even
with half a tank of gas he could probably make a good hundred and
fifty miles in a car in a few hours - which would take him who knew
how many days on foot. However he was immediately encouraged when he saw the
electronic sign on the Denny's was still advertising a long expired
grand slam breakfast and that meant that he was finally outside the
EMP blast radius. It was probably the first time since he left LA
two months ago that an unstoppable smile worked it's way onto his
face and he set out for the hotel down the street. There were a few cars in the hotel parking lot, which
was promising. Everything else was deserted but then if you got that
sick out of town were you really going to try to make it back home?
Heero hoped, while he was being optimistic, that he might just be
able to break into a guest room, steal a dead guy's keys, and take
a car that way. Either way he was going to take a shower, rest, and
get a car working before he left this place. But first thing's first – the car. It was the only
way he was going to be able to relax. Heero managed to get into the
employee keycard system with a password tapped to the monitor and
created a master card for himself. He noted the rooms of the three
guests left and went in search of them. When he approached the first room he knew it by the
smell. It was horrendous – bodies swollen and bloated with decay
– and he might've been sick if he wasn't numb from hunger pangs.
But thankfully the keys were sitting on the bedside table so it was
a quick in-and-out operation. The next room wasn't so easy but he
figured it would be better to have at least two sets in case the gas
tank of one was empty. He had to spend a few minutes digging through
the pockets of dirty laundry, holding his breath as much as possible,
but he was rewarded with the keys and that was enough. After that, Heero decided two of three was good enough,
and decided to raid the kitchen. At one point they had some kind of
continental breakfast available and while things like croissants were
molded and anything diary spoiled, there were still several sealed
bags of cereal and canned peaches and bottled water and took a stash
over to the nearest room, unloading it on the table and staring at
the clean, orderly room with an intense feeling of depression and
longing. He didn't even know if Duo heard him say I love you that
one last time and here he was – another hotel room. He'd seen
the inside of so many over the past few years but this time he couldn't
lay down in bed, pick up the phone, and dial Duo's number. He tried to stave off the depression. Took a hot shower,
unsure if the water was still potable but not really caring at that
point, not looking at himself in the mirror, not wanting to see how
thin he was, how long his beard was. And he ate methodically, barely
tasting the food despite how hungry he was, letting it slide down
his throat until he felt uncomfortably full, not wanting to think
about what he was eating or why he was eating it or when he would
eat next. And then he lay down on the bed, naked, and tucked himself
up under the sheets. He opened the little velvet box he'd set on the
table after he'd undressed and stared at the thick, dark grey tungsten
band inside. He picked up the phone out of habit, listened to the
dialtone. He didn't want to type the all too familiar digits in but
he did anyway, knowing it was futile but still hoping. The harsh tones and the irritating "this call could
not be completed as dialed" weren't unexpected but still –
Heero hit the button to end the call but kept the receiver against
his ear. "Duo," he said softly, so quiet he almost
couldn't hear himself speak. "It's been sixty days. I miss you
and I... I love you."
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