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Modifications
A GW Fluff fic by Ami-chan
(who's been watching her recorded epis a biiiiit too many times)
/..../ denotes thought
*....* denotes emphasis
**....** denotes sound effects (not used in this fic)
It was when Duo - bored enough to do anything, no matter what the personal risk - was systematically trashing through Heero's laptop, that he found it. A small, inconspicuous-looking document, tucked into the bowels of the system, with a jumbled series of letters and numbers serving as a file name.
/*OLj-HYxLMNG1*? What the heck kinda name is that?/
Idly, Duo brought it up, indigo eyes scanning through in search of anything of interest. What he found was interesting, no doubt about it, but Duo's pursuit of entertainment was suddenly forgotten as what exactly he was reading registered.
What the file listed was a day-by-day report on an experiment involving things Duo barely understood, but the end conclusion made it perfectly clear.
"God . . ." Duo felt utterly, increasingly sick he scanned the digital letters. "What have those freaks *done* to you, Heero?"
"Nothing that I didn't know about," came the familiar, slightly nasal voice from behind him.
Duo yelped and whirled around, braid smacking the computer screen with a dull thud. Heero was glaring impassively down at him, school jacket slung over one shoulder. The Wing pilot raised an eyebrow.
Duo hastily vacated the seat, and Heero slipped smoothly into it, cracking his fingers with a sound that made Duo wince. A few rapidly typed commands, and the information Duo had pulled up on screen disappeared.
"I'm impressed," Heero finally informed him. "You actually made it this far past my security."
Duo scowled at his partner. Heero was being way too calm about this. "You could have told us, you know," he retorted. "It would have explained a lot of things."
When Heero just looked at him, Duo sighed. "Okay, maybe it wouldn't have. But still . . ."
"You know I operate on a need-to-know basis," Heero said, raising an eyebrow. "And you guys didn't need to know."
Duo rolled his eyes. "Actually, we do. Heero, telling us this would let us prepare for any . . . urges you might get."
Heero swiveled around in the chair to face his irate partner. "Duo, I think you misunderstand," he started, but Duo cut him off sharply.
"What's there to misunderstand?" the braided boy yelled, anger leeching through his normally easygoing voice. "Oh, sure, you've been genetically modified and therefore your thinking processes have been royally fucked over, so of course there's nothing to misunderstand!"
"Duo, stop it and let me explain." With an angry huff, the Deathscythe pilot quieted down, glaring at the stoic boy in almost Heero-esque fashion. There was a few seconds of silence, as Heero tried to gather his thoughts.
"These so-called urges . . . they're harmless," he finally said, then paused. Trying to explain something that had been fundamentally a part of him for almost more than half his short life to an "outsider" was teeth gritting to the boy without social skills. "They just let me face death a little easier, just as a soldier should."
"You mean they make you choose the more fatal way out more often than not!" Duo shot back. "How is that 'harmless'?"
"My chances of outliving the war are slim-to-none anyway, Duo," was the quiet reply. "This doesn't make a difference."
Duo blew out his bangs in frustration. "Yes it *does!*"
"Duo," Heero said with incredible patience, "it doesn't affect my normal mental abilities. Just when I'm cornered with no way out."
"Which happens about once a week," Duo muttered sourly. "All right, all right, it's your problem, so you can tell the others if you want to or not. I'll keep your secret until then. *Happy?*"
There was almost a faint tinge of sarcasm in Heero's standard answer of "Hn." The Japanese boy turned back to the desk, already focused on the task at hand. Duo sighed to himself and headed for the door. Quatre - or hell, Wufei - would probably provide less temptation to murder or at least seriously maim at the moment.
/Christ, you think he'd a' told us, but nooooooo. Damn stupid secretive bastard./
With one hand on the knob, Duo turned to spare a last look at his partner. /I should have guessed, what with his tendency to throw himself off high places./ Then he chuckled to himself.
/Or maybe I shouldn't have. After all, who'd a' thought that the Perfect Soldier was genetically part *lemming*?/
~owari~
Notes: This was inspired by watching Heero take his headfirst tumble from the 50th-odd story of the hospital for the millionth time after Duo busted him out (that was the first time I'd watched the uncut version too. Funny. "What the hell happened to your hand???" I was like, you.).
Yes, the lemming. The suicidal maniac of the animal kingdom. I'm exaggerating here . . .
The formatting was a bit different in this one, did you notice? I used Notepad for this fic, so you, Honored Readers, get to see my system for the first time. ^_^