Be Shelled, Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing--original fic concept for this story was created by AlexOKerry with his "Diamond in the Rough"


Be Shelled, Eyes

He couldn’t place whether it was a memory or whether it had only been a dream.

Perhaps he had still been in his mother’s womb at the time. From all around he had been embraced by a warm ambience, and knew deep down in the marrow of his bones that he was loved. Back then, it wasn’t framed as a question, but came to him as more of an awareness, like a third eye. His lips shaped the single word that he presently yearned to say: “Mama.”

And that was the end of the dream memory.

++

Now, the third eye was shut fast and no amount of concentration could pry it open.

Duo shivered and drew in a breath. It was cold and dry-serpentine in its guiltless grace, its scales rattled his teeth and its girth strangled his already strained airway. All the same, he cherished the feeling, the lack of malicious intent. He had, since long before, fallen in love with nature’s indifference.

He drew up the collar of his coat past his nose and held it there breathing in his own warmth a moment. The garment had grown threadbare in a few places and the wind made good use of the loose knitting and rubbed the skin taut in the places that it touched, but that was to be expected from an old hand-me-down. Even a stripped rag had its uses, however lacking they may be.

As much as he nearly enjoyed being battered by a ten degree wind chill, he decided to take a shortcut home. It was an invisible trail that he’d discovered when he had been very young. The particular circumstances escaped him, but he knew that for some reason or another he had made Mr. Reid very angry. As swiftly and as cunningly as he could manage, Duo had hefted himself over the backyard fence and taken off into the woods. He had taken experimental walks around the periphery of the trees before, but never mustered the courage to step inside. That day, he ran and stumbled through the only route untangled by briars and unmolested by poisonous plants.

It became his invisible trail.

As he had hoped, the trees dulled the wind and he was able to walk in peace for a while. For a time, he only heard himself--snapping twigs, brushing past branches, and crushing leaves under his shoes. He paused a moment and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

In the ensuing silence the trees seemed to draw in closer to him, as if they too were admiring the mottled colors of the leaves that he had broken apart. It was unnatural for him, but, for a moment, he found the quiet of the wood to be a little unsettling.

A far off cry settled his suspicions. The trees muffled it, but he could tell well enough its direction of origin. Ordinarily, a questionable cry in the woods would send him running in the opposite direction, but a foolish bravery had decided to supersede all of his reasonable inclinations.

He fished around in his pocket for a makeshift weapon and came up with a pen.

Better than nothing.

The woods had become his second home and he navigated them like a seasoned sailor navigating the saltiest of seas. For how stupidly and dangerously he knew himself to be acting, his heart remained quite calm, calm enough for him to make out the words: “stop” and “shut up.”

He came upon a clearing. In that clearing he recognized a back. For its lack of defining features, it was unmistakable. It belonged to Owen Simpson Reid Jr.

His brother.

Beneath him in a tattered mess lay a mass of clothing and limbs. Whoever was under his considerable weight was putting up a hell of a fight.

Even in the brief time that it took Duo to decide whether to call out or to run a full on attack, he could see the concentrated efforts of Owen’s victim. He could make out the torso turning wildly from side to side, sending his brother’s balance this way and that, and the legs snap back to knee the attacker off.

“Nobody’s gonna hear you all the way out here,” Owen assured the person under him after another draining scream. “Make as much noise as you want.”

Duo pocketed his pen, dropped his bag, and kicked off from the ground with more speed than he would have ever given himself credit for. At the last moment, he turned to the side and used his shoulder as a battering ram. To his surprise, elation, and dread, it sent Owen flying. While he stumbled off-balance around the prone body on the ground.

When the face became visible to him, his blood ran cold.

Quatre Raberba Winner, cousin to Hamilton High School’s pride and joy: Zechs Marquise, and sole son of Naseem Akbar Winner, boss of their father’s boss at Winner Enterprises.

The Reid’s bread and butter.

The trees swayed in a circle as if to trap the moment and Duo made an abrupt turn to hide his face.

“Owen,” he said, using his collar to stifle the distinctness of his voice, “you’ve done a very bad thing.”

“Stay the fuck out of my business!” came the terse reply. “You can go cry to Reid if you want to. I dare you!” There was some noise from him getting up.

Duo turned his head so that he could see a little of what was happening behind his back. Owen was reaching out towards Winner who seemed too shocked to move anymore. “Leave him alone!” Duo shouted.

To spite him, Owen’s hand clamped down around Winner’s outstretched wrist.

More out of fear than from his inherent duty as a human being, Duo wheeled around and dove over Winner’s prone body to tackle his brother. “I said: Leave him alone!”

There was a scuffle in which Owen, due to his greater bulk and overall strength emerged the victor. Duo grimaced as he wiped away some blood from around his nose. Some teeth felt loose, but they would eventually right themselves. Before Owen could come down off of his power high, Duo broke the facts to him, “I’m not saying this because I like the kid. That’s Winner’s son.”

When that didn’t seem to ring a bell, he continued on, “Zechs Marquise’s cousin.”

That struck a chord. Owen seemed to shiver at the mention of the name.

Zechs Marquise was the star player on the senior football team at Hamilton. He could have Owen tossed out on his ass from the junior team on a whim. And all of the time that he’d invested into making Reid proud of him would go to waste.

“Stop here, and it’s just a story,” Duo informed Owen coldly. “He could have torn his clothes anywhere in these woods. If you stick it in, there’s no lie to cover that.”

“I’ll tell them you did it,” Owen sneered.

“You tell them that, and I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep,” Duo declared, and Owen knew somehow that it wasn’t an empty threat. What he lacked in brains, he made up for in plain animal sense, and his senses were telling him that his brother had it in him to be a killer.

“Fine, I won’t tell. You can’t either,” Owen told him.

“Go home. I’ll be there after I clean up,” Duo ordered.

“What about dinner?” Owen asked.

“I’ll think of something,” Duo replied vaguely.

Owen left him there with his mess. Between them existed a strange love-hate relationship. They would sometimes protect each other, and sometimes, just as quickly, be apt to blame each other.

Duo surveyed the scene before him. We’re really fucked up.

He removed his jacket and walked around Winner’s body making sure that his clothes weren’t broken beyond repair. His slacks looked like they could hold themselves together if the fly were zipped up. Duo could knot the button back on if he ever found it. Until then, a safety pin would do just as well. The shirt was mostly useless aside from being an article to drape. If he had been wearing a jacket, it was long gone, probably lost in a struggle nearer to the beginning of the woods.

“Can you stand?” Duo asked.

Quatre glanced at him and frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and nodded instead.

Duo stooped to take a hold of Winner’s hand and helped him to his feet. “Hold on, I’ll get you something to hold your pants up.” He went to his book bag and fished around until he found a pin. “What happened here, just now…” he adjusted Winner’s slacks and fixed them the best that he could, patting them down to get the dirt out of them, “don’t ever tell anyone. Understand?” He dressed the passive creature in front of him with his own coat.

Winner nodded.

“Good. Now that we understand each other, you’re free to skip on home.”

A number of things were on his mind that a pampered rich kid with everything going for him wouldn’t understand, but on the point of being violated and victimized, even a prince could feel the same way about it as a pauper. It was a traumatic thing.

“I…” Winner croaked, and sucked in sharply though his teeth, “I don’t know the way out of here. I got turned around…when I ran.”

Duo scowled and offered coldly, “I’ll show you the way out and tell you how to get to the nearest street. Good?”

“Good.”

“Where is your book bag?” Duo asked.

“I dropped it,” Winner replied.

Duo pursed his lips and decided that there wasn’t anything to do about it until another day. “I’ll find your stuff later. Was there anything important in your bag?”

“My books.”

“Take mine for today, then,” Duo said pushing his bag onto him.

“What about your homework?” Winner asked.

Duo shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m sending you home, now.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

++

Duo saw him off at the edge of the trees, and followed his diminishing figure with his eyes far off into the distance until he was sure that the Winner kid was headed in the right direction. He didn’t doubt that Winner would keep his promise, but he was curious to know what kind of a story he would tell to dispel the suspicious articles that he’d picked up on his way home, and how he’d lost his own things at the same time.

On his own way home, he thought of his father and of his brother. He scripted his future in his head, how he would instruct his brother to lie to their old man, what he would make for dinner, Mr. Reid coming home after work, Mr. Reid getting angry that Duo had lost his school books, Mr. Reid asking Owen if he knew anything about it, Owen telling Mr. Reid the lie that Duo had given him, and Mr. Reid getting even madder. Duo got the short end of the stick, but he was used to it, and it was better than telling the truth.

++

Quatre walked home looking and feeling less like himself than earlier that day.

He wondered if someone was calling his cell phone. He’d forgotten about it in his book bag. Hopefully, no one was looking for him. He didn’t want anyone to worry. Today, he was taking a walk in another person’s jacket. He shivered and pulled the collar up past his nose. It smelled faintly like another person, Duo Reid. Despite his outward matter-of-fact nature towards Quatre, his intentions seemed mostly kind. At school he was well liked, and outgoing. Quatre remembered some group presentation projects from their shared classes, though they were never paired together. Any group that had Duo in it was sure to have a funny and memorable presentation.

It would have never occurred to Quatre before that Duo had a darker side, a little of which he had seen just now. He was like Janus, the god with two faces.

I wonder what his home life is like. I’d always assumed that it must be fun and carefree…but now…it’s troubling…Quatre thought to himself. He’s a little frightening.

Quatre made it home with little incident at the door. The servants were too refined to ask about his lateness or his choice in attire, and for once, he felt glad for professional distance. He snuck past the family room where he could see his cousin hunched over a neat spread of homework and up the stairs to his room. His father was still at work, his sisters had long since left the Winner estate to attend colleges and to marry, and he had no mother to speak of. He expected Rashid to check in on him shortly, so he quickly changed out of his ruined clothes and into a new ensemble. The bag was stashed in his closet.

He took a seat at his desk and opened a random book in front of himself so that he appeared busy. Even if Duo hadn’t made him promise, he wouldn’t have wanted to tell Rashid that he’d almost been ravaged by a guy that he didn’t even recognize. It would only prove to Rashid that he was too unguarded to attend school on his own.

For the moment, he felt bad about himself, but felt assured: I’ll bounce back.

The expected knock came to his door.

“Come in.”

Rashid stepped inside carefully, bearing in mind his position as a servant, a very valuable servant, but a servant nonetheless. “You returned late, young sir,” he stated-as a question.

“I apologize. I stayed to tutor someone and lost track of the time,” Quatre lied.

Rashid shifted uneasily on his feet, “You didn’t answer your phone.”

Quatre forced a smile, “Again, I apologize. I left my bag in the library with my coat. By the time I remembered about them, the library had been locked.”

“We should get those back tonight,” Rashid replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” Quatre said, waving his hand about as if to shoo the suggestion away. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Rashid nodded and dismissed himself.

Quatre looked after the closed door and felt a tranquilizing calm roll over him.

Thank god he‘s too polite to probe.

++

Later, Quatre had just slipped under the covers when his door creaked open. It was his cousin.

“Are you alright?” he asked from the doorway.

Quatre answered towards the ceiling, “I’m alright.”

Zechs sat down on the edge of his bed, “You didn’t say ‘hi’ to me when you came in. I thought that something might be wrong.”

“I did not want to disrupt your concentration since you were studying. You want to go to a good college without riding on your athletic status, and I want to respect that,” Quatre explained. “I think that it is very admirable.”

In the darkness, Zechs smiled, “That means a lot to me, coming from you. I’ll work hard.”

For a reason that he could not place, Quatre felt awkward and shifted under the covers. “That’s just…I am just telling the truth.”

Zechs stroked his hair and placed a kiss on his forehead, “You’re a good kid. I’ll let you get some sleep, now.”

“You sleep well, too,” Quatre said as he felt his cousin’s weight leave the bed.

“Sweet dreams,” Zechs said and closed the door behind himself.

Quatre turned his head and saw a light between the floor and the door. An irrational thought crossed his mind: Mother must be awake.

He’d never met his mother.

And for that, he felt sad.

++

Duo had many fond memories of his mother.

When he was a child, he would sit on the counter and watch her cook. Even though she didn’t talk to him at those times, he found them to be some of the most pleasant. He’d liked to watch her slice meat, chop vegetables, and attend to the stove. It wasn’t an age at which he could appreciate the amount of work that was involved in the preparation of his meals. He was more attracted to the motherly aesthetics of the operation.

He’d enjoyed being her taste-tester, and even enjoyed sharing half of his treats with his brother who only popped into the kitchen when he suspected that Duo was eating something that he didn’t know about yet.

Now, those days were long gone and Duo, as he stood in front of the hot stove, now knew what it was like to be his mother.

He could finally understand why she had left.

But he couldn’t forgive her.

You should have taken me with you, he thought bitterly. He used the flat of the knife to crush a clove of garlic, Owen, too.

Owen was a pitiable creature, as repulsive as his actions were. His biological mother had died giving birth to him, his stepmother abandoned him, and his father beat him, got him drunk, and pushed him to start smoking. He had become the perfect friend for Mr. Reid after work. He would drink with him, smoke with him, even get punched by him, and could never leave him.

In the beginning, Owen would vent his frustrations on his little brother because as a child he couldn’t understand the abuse that he was going through and Duo, being even younger, couldn‘t fight back. Later, the frustration subsided and gave way to a complete lack of control. More and more, Owen was giving into his impulses, however frivolous they were. The incident with the Winner kid earlier only made the problem all the more apparent.

Duo wanted to get Owen out of the house, but he was even more afraid of being left alone.

He had thought about trying to find his mother, what he would say to her, what she might say back. He wanted to present himself to her, to show her how screwed up Owen had turned out, and to have her beg for forgiveness. He could see her now, remarried to a better man, having lots of babies, and enjoying a better life altogether. That bitch. Duo sniffed and wiped a tear away with the back of his hand.

++

Owen had taken notice of the blond sophmore some weeks ago. At first it had been a passing interest. He was pretty, and Owen liked to see him. When that fascination turned into carnal lust, it was hard to say. Owen had only one vivid memory from his childhood that he could even loosely tie it to.

It was some time after Mommy Helen’s disappearance. Owen had gotten out of bed due to a nightmare and planned to impose on Duo for the remainder of the night. On his way, he had to pass by his father’s door. It was dark, and inside he could hear crying. He pressed his ear to the door, and heard the voices of Reid and of his brother.

“Shut up. I’ve only put in this much, and you’re already squealing like a stuck pig!” Reid growled.

Sheets rustled. “It hurts!”

The bed creaked, and a regular cacophony of pained grunts, curses, and wails ensued. The noise was so great that neither seemed to notice the door open. From the crack in the doorway, Owen saw Reid-on top of his brother. At that age, he did not know what was happening, but now that he was older, it all made sense.

For the most part, the memory made him feel very uneasy-bordering ill. And, for a lesser part, it stirred a despicable curiosity in him.

A sudden fear shook him.

Was he becoming his father?

++

Later, his door opened and the vestigial smell of dinner drifted into his room.

He saw his brother in the threshold, leaning on the frame a bit. Reid had roughed him up, and he was tired. Duo swallowed and wet his lips before he began to speak, “You can’t keep doing this, Owen.”

Owen watched him from over the edge of the coverlet and made no response.

“Drinking by yourself, smoking behind the school…and now abduction. It has to stop. You don’t want to become like the old man, do you?” Duo pressed.

“…No.”

Duo looked pensive for a moment before he asked, “Dinner was good?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”


....TBC


note(s):
1. Please R&R
2. I'll work on West Elm and Bailey...eventually. Apologies for the delays~~~~~