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"Stand By Me"Written By: Karen The Huntress Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its
characters. "Stand By Me" belongs to Ben E. King Rating: R Warnings: During the war, language, violence,
hopeful ending Pairings: 1+2 Summary: War often forces clarity in life and
relationships "Stand By Me " ~When night has come and the land is dark and the moon
is the only light you see. Earthside Quadrant 3971 Encode message: *01. Alliance munitions warehouse destroyed. Need assistance.* End encrypted transmission. BANG! An instant was the only warning before the bullet spun Duo Maxwell around. Hot poker pain seared his right arm. White light flashed behind his eyes. Legs turned to rubber. Knees hit battle-burnt ground with a jolt that stole his breath away. Curses hissing through clenched teeth, Duo tried in vain to focus blurred vision on the OZ soldier leveling a M25 assault rifle. Glock was still gripped in Duo's right hand or was it? What difference would it made anyway? Even if he could force his arm, dangling ragdoll limp at his side, to respond or keep fading consciousness at bay, a numb index finger couldn't pull the trigger. "Fuckin' idiot." Duo chided his inattentive lapse in alertness. Many months ago a Sweeper crewman named Jake asserted. "At the end your life flashes before your eyes." or so the L3 scavenger had been told. At the end it seemed Duo Maxwell's entire existence had been an enigma. Were notions of reality a bad dream? Had any tactile sense of self been buried so deep he'd finally become as numb as his hand? At the end there wasn't any fond remembrances of happier times. No startling revelations regarding the mysteries of karma or fate or why the dryer eats your socks. No mystic manifestations of Solo came to comfort. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen withheld their absolution. Likewise, ghostly apparitions of Deathscythe didn't materialize to ferry Shinigami into an afterlife in Hell. Strangely Duo didn't feel completely abandoned, as if a thread of saving grace grounded him to that baseless credence everything would be all right in the end. Achy cold slithered through his body. Glock slipped from his grasp. Fading eyesight regarded the forsaken pistol. Several blinks to steady undulating images proved useless. A submissive sigh. Duo rolled onto his back. Eyes closed in peaceful anticipation of the final, fatal shot. Boots skittered on gravels. Muddled senses failed to register a startled gasp milliseconds before Heero Yuy snapped the Ozzie's neck like a brittle twig. Survival pack suspended from his shoulder, Heero tucked the retrieved Glock beside his holstered Beretta then scooped up the discarded M25. Without a proper hello he used a fistful of Duo's jacket to drag his Colonial counterpart towards the fractured vestiges of a retaining wall. Pain flared in both arm and arse as Duo bounced over black potholes gouged by beam cannons. "Dammit!" was the sole reproachful expletive. Heero neither acknowledged the swearing nor slowed his strides until both pilots sat side by side behind the unstable barricade of powdery mortar and crumbling bricks. "Two squadrons of Aries control the Eastern Sector. Contacted 03 and 04. Projected ETA three hours." Heero informed with mission-mode conciseness. "Why the hell didn't you stay with Deathscythe?" was demanded curtly. "I wasted valuable time camouflaging both Gundams before tracking your personal homing signal." Duo licked parched lips. "Wild guess, you're pissed off." Heero glared. "That's not an explanation." "Electric circuitry shorted out. Scythe froze up. Had to leave strike zone for a viable signal. Just sent you a mayday when…." Sudden onset of cold sweat bathed Duo in clammy moisture. Tremors. Pale damp face. Ragged hole in right sleeve oozing blood prompted Heero to confirm, "You're injured." "No shit Sherlock." Heero helped Duo shed his jacket. Methodical examination revealed a clean exit wound through the right bicep. Intact humerus bone indicated a ricochet shot, otherwise, the large caliber bullet would've ripped off Duo's arm. No severe arterial damage. Nerve functions can't be determined. Stitches required. There will be scarring. Minimal bleeding, if Duo stayed still and if their tenuous concealment wasn't compromised by surveillance drones, enemy combatants or patrolling mobile suits. Too many ifs Heero decided. More feasible to concentrate on field treatments and evasion tactics to avoid detection. Heero opened a med-kit. Three pressure bandages, slathered with antibacterial cream and secured with wide strips of gauze, stemmed the crimson discharge. Waterproof tarp was repurposed as a blanket. Foil packet of pain medication was torn at one corner. Two pills tapped out. Lukewarm water bottle uncapped. "Take these." Heero ordered. No response. Heero shored up Duo's sagging posture. "02, look at me." Raspy intake of air. "I'm okay." Duo claimed barely above a whisper. "Liar." Duo managed a lopsided grin. "Never lie." ****** Purple twilight shrouded the horizon. Waning sun snatched away the last warming rays. To the East muffled explosions rumbled like thunder. Energy beams flickered like heat lightning. Wintry currents laced with blue smoke, reeking of scorched metal and charred flesh, swirled through the rebels' dubious sanctuary. No doubt Alliance infantry and OZ suits had encountered resistance fighters. Doesn't matter. Two lone Gundam pilots shared equal prospects of being killed by either enemy or friendly fire. Glock, Beretta and M25 rifle arrayed beside his hip, Heero leaned against the rickety wall constantly flaking gritty residue. Duo, dusty braid draped over his left shoulder, laid back with head and shoulders resting on Heero's chest. Thanks to the pain meds throbbing in his arm had eased to a dull ache, as long as he didn't fidget. Duo wanted to sleep. Heero worried he might succumb to shock. To ward off the wily Sandman 01 engaged 02 in continual conversations. In fact, in the last hour, Heero had spoken more words than the total sum of previous weeks. Heero challenged Duo's mechanical skills, posed hypothetical problems for every Gundam system from main thrusters to simple toggle joints. Counterstrike techniques were debated. Battle strategies analyzed. Together they planned all manner of devious subterfuge and imagined, in graphic details, what Quatre and Trowa did when they snuck into each other's rooms. Change in tactics. Heero gazed skyward. The full moon, nestled among countless winking stairs, shone silvery. "You always liked the moon." he affirmed to encourage a drowsy Duo to stay awake. Lost in private recalling Duo replied. "Yeah." One night, after five freedom fighters put on the guises of shooting stars and landed on Earth, Duo gazed at the full moon in childlike wonderment. Now that dazzling "Eye of Heaven" was forever etched in his memories. "Do you think we'll ever see a moon like this again?" Duo wondered, his faraway dreaminess not generated by icy wind or blood loss but a reminiscent sense of déjà vu. Duo had asked the same question that night on Earth. Heero hadn't answered—too busy pilfering parts from Deathscythe to repair Wing. This night Heero pondered the question. "Of course. We'll watch thousands of moons together."
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