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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 " Part Two
Battle-spawn tremors intensified. Detonation bursts grew louder. Sky glowed. Red auras tinged the moon. Odds were high the outnumbered resistance fighters had been trounced. Could be an hour, maybe minutes, until Mobile Dolls swarmed down the pitted road targeting anything perceived as a threat. Relocation was strongly considered. If Heero had been alone he'd utilize structural barriers and access lanes to elude the ultimate killing machines, minus human pilots who might listen to rational reasoning. Heero wasn't alone. Duo was in no condition to navigate labyrinths of busted concrete, shattered glass and splintered trees. Perhaps two motionless figures hunkered among the rubble might be overlooked. Perhaps the scarlet moon would be the last memory he and Duo shared. Heero propped Duo in a seated position against the unstable wall, grabbed the M25 and dared a quick glance over the saw toothed top. "Whatcha doing?" Duo inquired in a lethargic tone. "Be quiet while I scan the perimeter." "'Kay." Duo agreed then wondered why "Ring Round the Rosie" kept replaying inside his head. Ground trembled. Wall wobbled. The whine of gears, gummed up with grit, screeched. Heavy footsteps moved a Virgo on a straightway trajectory to the pilots' shabby hideaway. An advanced Virgo II followed at a calculated distance. *If they stay on the opposite side.* Heero mentally figured the mechanized beasts' heat sensor ranges. As if thoughts were telepathic the lead Virgo pivoted then tilted forward to peruse the battle scarred landscape. Ineffectual rifle, cradled against Heero's chest, might as well been pea gravel and a slingshot. "How am I supposed to fight those fucking monsters?" was muttered in frustration. Duo glanced up with day-dreamy eyes. With a bit more volume he suggested a plausible solution. "Why don't ya ask 'em to dance?" Knowing how easily sound carried on the wind, Heero warned, "SHHHHHH." Heero slid into a crouch. In the residue of sifting mortar, shifting bricks and dregs of broken dreams he cursed his failure of protection. Metal plated "feet" pick up the pace. Each step, impending doom. Heero counted off, "One. Two. Three. Four. Five is gonna be a bitch." Blinding light flared. Impulse reflexes on automatic, Heero flattened his body over Duo a heartbeat before shards of titanium alloy rained from above. A loud secondary POP caused him to cringe. The abrupt rearrangement triggered spasms in Duo's arm. "What the hell!" "Don't know." Heero admitted. Well beyond the point of caution both men looked up. Faces shielded from windblown debris they stared in stunned disbelief. The wall had disintegrated. Remnants of the Virgo was mingled among wreckage of stone and steel. Severed joint couplings wept hydraulic fluids. Cockpit shielding was reduced to slivers. Snaky lengths of singed wires tangled in snaky coils. Droning hum of jammed servomotors redirected the pairs' attention. Flanked by Heavyarms, Virgo II's decapitated corpse sputtered blue sparks and belched gray smoke. Despite frozen features, 03's dealer of destruction looked quite pleased with its handiwork. Trowa materialized in the cockpit hatch. Meanwhile, on the ground, 04 maneuvered a heavily armored TATV (Tactical All Terrain Vehicle) around the shattered debris that, by the mercy of God or Allah, hadn't entombed their fellow pilots. Heero settled Duo into the rear seat. Quatre opened a hospital grade medic kit. Gloved hands removed dirt-speckled bandages. Gashed bicep was properly cleaned and redressed with a large sterile, self-stick pad. Lastly an injector pen dispensed a premeasured dose of CH-732 sedative.
Under Heavyarms watchful security, Quatre took a straightway route to an underground faction sympathetic to the Colonial insurgents' quest for freedom. Come morning Wing and Deathscythe would be retrieved. Duo, wrapped in a blanket, head pillowed in Heero's lap, slept soundly. Face smudged with sweat and dirt, hair dusted salt and pepper, 01 kept his vigil. Exhaustion lurking just outside his perception, Heero pondered a philosophy he'd been compelled to reexamine. Life is cheap…especially mine. Recent events granted Heero new insights into the value of life. The defining moment. When he stared into the mobile suit's soulless "eyes" and realized he didn't give a damn about duty or expectations of preordained sacrifices. At that pivotal point of clarity Duo Maxwell became the most imperative reason for taking the next breath. Damnable Doctor J. almost succeeded in molding Heero Yuy into a detached instrument of devastation. The scheming bastard modified physical, mental and emotional responses then unleashed his customized Perfect Solider. Wing was the lethal mechanism. Zero System the controller. Self-destruction the mandatory directive if victory was unobtainable. At the beginning of Operation Meteor Heero viewed the braided man from L2 as merely an essential tool for stealth missions and wielding a Beam Scythe with deadly accuracy. Unorthodox in every aspect of warrior and pilot, Duo challenged J's dispassionate indoctrination. Gradually, without comprehending the subtle transformation, the imperfect soldier reclaimed his humanity. Now the future was open to any possibilities. ****** Battles test resolve. Questions of honor alters allegiances. Betrayal unites enemies into unpredicted allies. Regardless of the framework of warfare Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell will not face the fray alone. Together they'll learn the foreign concept called love might not be so elusive after all. Far from the madness of combat, for a short time, death and destruction can be forgotten. Shimmering moon casts kaleidoscopic illusions of shapes and shadows. Duo sighs in his sleep. That simply sound makes Heero's heart skip a beat.
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