The cart creaked down the hall—squealing wheels unappreciative of the steel flooring ever-present in the satellite. Prussian eyes followed it, noting the white shrouded body and solem procession of Dr. Barton—green eyes empty.
Dark brows knit into the clear forehead. Dead deviant? And Barton’s dealing with it. Interesting …
The youth stood, throwing his blood-stained labcoat to the floor. Grey sneakers padded across the floor like a giant cat, stalking prey. He’s up to something. He flicked a wild strand of hair across his nose.
Barton turned around suddenly. The youth saw the brief panic flash across his face.
Bingo.
He had no clue that brunette heard him.
“Heero, you gave me a start,” the scientist said calmly.
“Dr. Yuy.”
The gulp did not escape the ruthless scientist’s gaze. “Dr. Yuy, of course.”
“Better. Patient die, Barton?”
“Yes. Intern brought him from stasis. He never woke out of it.”
“A shame,” Yuy muttered with apathy.
“The more the infection dies, the less I have to cure.”
Heero walked around him, eying him intently. He saw Trowa shift uncomfortably under the gaze. “Of course.” He paused. Trowa let out a sigh—almost relaxing, before he spoke again. “I don’t see why they bother studying them. They should … die.”
The tone was carefully controlled. He could see that the brunette didn’t know what to make of the inflection, or lack there of. Good. It will keep him wary. If he’s going to escape, he’ll have to be.
Trowa didn’t hear him that time. He was obviously fretting over when Dr. J’s pet would leave. Heero, however, was paying close attention to the other’s body language, just to be certain. He saw the careful grip of the hands, the snug yet comfortable gurney strapping.
Yes, there’s someone alive in there.
None of his business. If Trowa wanted to die, that was his problem. Heero Yuy himself had enough of being threatened. He’d proved that when he killed Duo.
Duo … It wasn’t that Duo was bad, far from such. He’d warned the boy to leave him. He told him to pursue Hilde and live a long, happy, useless life.
Duo always was a stubborn ass.
The squealing gurney wheeled away. Thank the gods. If Trowa had acted much more suspicious he’d have had to report him. As it was, someone had probably caught on by now. Dr. J monitored Deviants like a hawk. Monitored the scientists too. Hell, he probably knew almost as much as Heero did about Trowa Barton’s past.
Oh well, one less Deviant for me to worry about.
He heard muffled feet hurrying from the inner walls of the lab.
Then again, so was Duo.
Trowa wheeled down the hall with his precious burden hurriedly. There wasn’t any time for mistakes or pauses. As it was, the encounter with Heero had already bitten into that time severely. He wouldn’t have time to grab any supplies from his room.
No, he had to get to the Docking Bay. Doktor S would be waiting in the shadows, ship ready. If he wasn’t … Well, he wasn’t going to think about that.
Are you alright in there, Quatre?
I think I know how a Mummy feels.
He was alive. That was something.
Passing by his room was no detour. It was practically in the middle of the station. He paused, wiping his face with a towel he’d stolen from the lavatory. Emerald gaze paused on the door.
It was closed.
How strange.
He didn’t have time to think about that now. Quatre was choking in that shroud and they both needed to get out of there. Dr. J was bound to notice the disappearance sooner or later.
Keep walking, Trowa he thought to himself.
He proceeded onward, watching warily the never-changing lines of the wall, listening for the increasing hum that signified approximation with the Docking Bay. He felt so ill-prepared, like getting on the bus without parents for the first time, only a hundred times worse.
There it was—the humming sound of constantly running engines. Not far to go now. He glanced at the shrouded form of Quatre, watching for the barest signs of breathing. Satosfied it was there, he moved his gaze to the hallway again, hoping to God no one else would pass by and ask questions—especially considering he wasn’t sure what the government actually did with dead Deviants.
He was hoping they dropped them in Outer Space—not out of disrespect, but a hope for survival. The only place he knew that opened to space was the Docking Bay. At least he could make excuses, as feeble as they were.
Where was Doktor S? He should have joined them by now.
Trowa gritted his teeth and kept an eye out. For all he knew, the poor man had been flooded with new requests for medicine, and being the pacifist he relatively was, didn’t want to fight about leaving the work.
The brunette laughed as he recalled a time, when angry, that he snapped that false nose on the doctor’s face. He’d cried like a baby. S really had no will. It was sad really—but years of government service can do that to a man.
Trowa stopped the gurney by the double doors leading into the Bay. He looked about twice, then entered the code given by the Doctor, and silently passed through, dragging Quatre behind him.
Do you see him?
Trowa looked around the small ships and escape pods. No sign of Doktor S.
No, Quatre. Where the hell is that man.
He felt the vibe of a shrug pass through his mind. Can I get out now?
Do it quick, before anyone sees you—And make sure my lab coat’s tied tight around you.
Quatre wiggled out and fell on the ground. An intern looked up and then shrugged. Trowa nodded at him. He swore that interns were utterly oblivious. Probably brainwashed stupid.
The blond kicked the gurney away with his shoeless feet, and walk along the row of ships. He looked much like the female scientists—the ones with lab coats that covered the shortness of their skirts. Trowa’s even stuffed him. The blond just looked like an eccentric woman. Most of the people on the floor ignored them.
“Where are you going, Kat? Get back over here.”
Quatre started back toward Trowa, when he saw a flash of movement behind him. Reflexively, the brunette grabbed the youth by the arm, yanking him toward him.
Dr. J stepped out from behind the ship. “Dr. Barton, so pleasant to see you again … And under such unusual circumstances. That is Quatre Raberba Winner, isn’t it?”
“How did you get here so fast?”
The claw snapped at Trowa’s nose and he jerked back. “Elevators. Special elevators.”
“Fuck.”
“Naughty boy. You shouldn’t say words like that in front of a superior. What am I going to do with you.” Head looked back and forth between the two, noting the way Trowa’s armed wrapped securely around the Deviant. His goggles made him look like a predator bug—and the replacement hand wasn’t much help.
“What do we have here? You’re Deviant, Barton. Pity … You had such promise.”
Trowa pulled Quatre closer too him, feeling his heart beat rapidly against his chest. The blonde’s hand clenched and he gritted his teeth. The brunette could see that he wanted to scream.
“What are you going to do, Dr. J?”
“You know the punishment … Deviants pretending to be Standard, don’t get the chance to … rehabilitate that other Deviants do. You should have spoke up. We might have been able to cure you.”
Trowa forced a Stoic expression on his face, even though all his fears were rising up inside him, rolling like a serpent in his stomach. He clawed at it, knowing that his soul would be safe. That he didn’t need to live—living was just an added bonus.
But he couldn’t die knowing that Quatre would be put into Stasis again.
Dr. J pulled a revolver from his lab coat pocket, a sickening smile spread across his face. “I hate to do this, Trowa.”
“The hell you do.”
Trowa, he only has two bullets in that revolver. He’s worried he’ll miss.
Got it, now get down.
Crack
Trowa winced as the bullet hit his side. Anticipation of Dr. J’s actions had paid off, but not entirely. He pulled his hand away, as he backed up, staring at the blood beginning to come through his lab coat.
It’s just a scratch.
The revolver clicked again.
“You’re really going to kill me, aren’t you.”
Dr. J just pointed the gun at Trowa’s chest in response.
“Dr. J!”
The voice came from the doorway. Dr. J spun around to see Doktor S standing there, gentle features strained, body rigid. It was Quatre who took the chance to strike. Years of pent up sexual frustration burst in an attempt to knock J to the floor.
The doctor clawed at him and threw the blond aside. “Now for you, Trowa.”
He turned the gun on him again and fired, however white flashed for him with the shot.
“What the-“
“Doktor S!” Trowa staggered to the fallen scientist, chewing his lip. “Doktor S …”
The doctor gazed up at him with a glassy stare, face pale—stretched across his skull. He coughed blood, and the brunette wiped his face, secretly aware of J’s movements. The wild haired doctor, lifted a hand, and brushed a couple strands of the loose, brown hair from Trowa’s face. “I finally did something good, Trowa. I finally—“ He coughed again, and Trowa tilted his head up. “I finally stood for something.”
The hand trembled and fell. Trowa laid it on his chest. He could hear the mechanics and interns running his way. “You sure did, Doktor. You sure did.”
Quatre stood and walked over to him, stumbling a little. Trowa took him in his arms, and lightly kissed his forehead, not caring who the hell saw him do it. Dr. J himself, wasn’t certain what to do. Frustrated he dropped the empty revolver on the ground.
Click
Trowa looked around the room. His eyes fell on a scruffy youth, dark hair, blue eyes, green tank, and old biker shorts. Dr. J laughed.
“Heero, that’s a good lad. I’m in a bit of a fix. Would you do the honor of killing the Deviant for me?”
“Mission accepted.”
A cruel smile spread across the youth’s lips. Trowa knew he would shoot him—there was no mercy in that smile. It was full of contempt. He could have spit venom and it wouldn’t have been more effective.
Heero pointed the gun and fired, shooting to kill. The youth never missed his target. No mistakes.
Dr. J fell lifeless to the ground. “That was for Duo Maxwell.”
“Hee-“
The youth turned on them. “Get out of here. Both of you.”
Trowa froze, but Quatre grabbed him and pulled him into a ship. Like they were leaving from Sodom and Gomorrah, they didn’t look back.
Heero fingered the gun at his head. The charges were set. It wouldn’t be long now, and all those Deviants with no reason to live would be free. He would be free. And Quatre and Trowa? Well, it was up to them now. They could save the rest of them as they would.
As for Heero—he had some catching up to do.
I’m coming for you Duo.
He pulled the trigger.