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Drug Trip	By : Zethsaire Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Heero/Duo Views: 790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters. I don't make money off this story.

Chapter List
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Author's notes: Currently the couples in this fic are ...none. You'll just have to read it to see what happens! But I can guarantee that if you don't like 1x2, this fic ain't for you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I don't plan on making money of this fic in any way. It is for pure enjoyment and writing practice only!

Chapter Two

Tuesday, March 18th, AC 204

Heero woke alone. For the second day in a row, he was without obligation; without work. He was also content, physically at least. Usually waking up alone meant waking up in an alley somewhere with no food, no drugs, and barely enough willpower to drag himself off to work.

Those had been the bad days. It was hard to eat if he didn't work, but hard to get work if he didn't eat, or have clean clothes. Dirty whores were cheap whores; no one was going to pay very much for someone who smelled like garbage.

Drugs had never been hard to come by. He had a few different dealers, all of whom were interested in alternative forms of payment. Sometimes they let him clean his clothes and take showers there, for a little extra. Or sometimes he'd even washed his hair and gotten a sponge bath at the laundromat. If he had to, he visited shelters, but he'd avoided them in the past because of the paper trail.

The drugs helped with the pain. Some days he couldn't deal with what he'd lost, or what he'd become. Those were the days he didn't remember; when he'd gotten so fucked up that there was nothing left.

He had tried to explain to Duo that he couldn't quit, but he knew that Duo didn't understand. All the pilots remembered him from the war – goal oriented, mission-obsessed, self-sacrificing and iron willed – that was what they thought he was. That was their Heero Yuy. They just didn't know that it had all been a lie.

He hadn't become a drug addict when he couldn't cope with the peace. Rather, he'd been unable to cope with peace because he was addicted to a very special drug, a drug he had been unable to find since shortly before the war's end.

There had been a lot of experiments with Heero's training. The Barton Foundation had certain expectations, expectations that had proved impossible to meet through mere self-discipline. They hadn't wanted a human; they'd wanted a killer, a soldier. A machine. Though he'd tried, J was unable to remove emotions from Heero. He still felt too much; cared too much. He jeopardized the mission and everything they had worked for.

Every pilot had been modified to a certain degree. Too much had been at stake to be revealed during capture, so the doctors had altered them to be almost torture-proof. They had been given faster metabolism, tolerances to a great deal of drugs and high pain thresholds. Each professor had also developed a cocktail mix of drugs for them to use in emergency situations; a patch to keep them going when they could not afford to stop and rest. Against warnings from the others, J developed his even further.

Heero had been given the patch not as an emergency supplement, but as a daily staple. Mood stabilizers, adrenaline, testosterone, drugs to improve concentration and stamina, and self-preservation inhibitors. Everything they thought they knew about him was the way the drug had made him. He'd been the drug since he was eight years old.

When his supply suddenly stopped, he hadn't been worried. No one had expected to survive the end. Only after the war was officially over did he begin to loose it. Seven years of repressed emotions came rushing out of him, plus all the usual problems of withdrawal and dependency formed by any drug. Compared to that, he'd hardly even noticed his growing post-traumatic stress.

He'd tried to keep it together, for the others. When his supply ran low, he'd been looking for something to replace it. He'd even tried duplicating it at first, but J had never given him the formula, and he lacked the equipment to properly analyze what he had left.

At first he'd been able to get by with a mix of anti-depressants, (at an ungodly high dose,) along with smoking marijuana regularly, to keep himself as calm as possible. Throughout all this, he struggled with self-identity, having lost all the purpose he'd ever had. Who was he, without the drug? What was he, without a war? He didn't know.

Living with Duo had been a mixed blessing. He knew it wasn't safe living on his own – it would have been far too easy to convince himself that he had no further reason for living. But Duo brought him a great deal of stress. They were best friends – Heero trusted him like he trusted no one else. He loved Duo, or at least, he thought he did. Like everything else he hadn't experienced before, this only made things more confusing. He had never had to come to terms with his sexuality before. For that matter, he had no idea if he should pursue his feelings, or it he should leave everything alone, and not risk ruining their friendship with romance. Without Duo he had no one.

When Relena and Une had urged him to join Preventers, he thought he'd found an answer. If he became a soldier again, he would have purpose and motivation. He buried himself in his work, dodging drug screenings and psychiatric evaluations, sometimes altering the records to show he'd already taken them. He pursued harder drugs to keep himself under control, to deal with the stress of his job and try to keep up the image everyone expected of him. His life teetered on the edge of a cliff, and he was sliding towards disaster.

Then Duo had said those words. Three small, innocent words. He didn't know why he'd lost his temper. Those words broke his balance – they showed him that what he thought had mattered, didn't. That the world, the life had built for himself was a broken, hollow shell. It was all too much for him to handle. Proud perfect Heero Yuy ran away.

He'd lost everything when he'd walked away. His friends, his family, most likely his only chance for a relationship. He'd tried to fill the emptiness with more drugs and ended up loosing even more. His pride, his dignity, and his virginity. All of it was gone, and he was no closer to knowing who he was then before.

Heero scowled.

Dwelling on all of this wasn't going to make anything better. He was alive, and for better or worse, he was back with Duo. He had no idea what day it was, but the wall clock said 3:45. Yesterday Duo hadn't gotten home until almost 7. That meant he had more then three hours to kill. Three hours of nothing.

For lack of anything better to do, he got up. He stood blearily, shuffled over to the shower, and washed. Then he dried off and got out his bag, sifting through his clothes for something to wear. They were all clean now, but hardly better then rags. At least they fit him; he hated the nasty mix of feelings he got when he wore Duo's clothes.

Then his hand met plastic, and his ears caught the sound of pills rattling. He pulled out the bottle and and stared at the label. It was a prescription for methadone, and it was half-empty. The dosage was insane; almost 200mg recommended up to 3x a day. It had five refills.

He stared at the bottle for a moment. If he had this, he must have had either stolen it, or been in a clinic and had it prescribed. The bottle had his street name on it; Yamato Saito. He stared at it, not quite believing what he was seeing. Methadone was worth a fortune, especially for heroin addicts. And he had a prescription!

He took two. Why he had gone and gotten a prescription was beyond him. People could track you through the system, even under a false name. Well, no harm now. Even if anyone was still looking for him, which he doubted, he was living with Duo now. As for taking the pills, well, the bottle had his name on it. Sort of.

After making sure the lid was tightly closed, he stuffed the pills back into his bag. He was just about the push the bag back under the futon when he heard a phone ring. It was coming from his bag. A phone, and a prescription. Apparently he'd really wanted someone to find him.

It was a cheap prepaid phone. Normally considered safe for people on the run, he knew someone with Duo's skills could have traced it. He didn't recognize the number, but then, he also didn't remember buying a phone.

"Hello?" He tried his best to sound pleasant, but his voice was gravel.

"Bad day Yamato? You sound like you need a trip."

"...Cornelius?" He vaguely recognized the voice of one of his drug dealers.

"Who'd ya think it was?" Cornelius drawled. Heero heard him snapping his gum in the background. "Hey, you want some work?"

Heero sat down. Anything Cornelius set up was likely to be more of an endurance then actual work. Everyone at his parties was always so high that they didn't know what was going on. But they paid well, and of course, the drugs were good. And he wanted a hit.

"It's not tonight is it? I don't...know what happened, but I lost most of my things. I don't have anything I could work in."

"Nah, it's not till Friday. Don't worry bout the clothes, you left a couple outfits here. I got the afternoon free if you wanna come get 'em."

And get laid. Cornelius never called him over unless he wanted some. He could go over and take what Cornelius offered...or he could stay here, and be bored out of his mind.

"Yeah, I'll be over in a bit. Have to catch a cab – I'm staying with a friend."

"A'ight. I'll be waiting."

"Bye." He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket.

Since this was technically a job, even if he wasn't getting cash, Heero put makeup on. Nothing fancy; just some foundation, blue eyeshadow, and a little eyeliner. His hair was unmanageable, as usual, so he pulled it back. He really needed a haircut.

The only clothes he had that were in even passable shape were an slim-fitting olive green t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. They weren't up to the normal par for work clothes, but Cornelius wouldn't care. It never occurred to him how amazed Duo would have been to see him appraising himself in the mirror, trying to be presentable.

He remembered to leave Duo a note. It didn't say much, just that he was going out, and the number for the pre-paid phone That felt weird. He wasn't used to giving anyone a reason to find him.

Even though he didn't have a key, Heero locked the door behind him. Duo would have one, and he didn't anticipate getting back before Duo did. If he did, he could always sit on the step and smoke till Duo came home, or pick the lock if he really needed to get in.

There had been a small roll of twenties in his bag, probably set aside for drugs. Though why he'd want anything else when he had that much methadone, he wasn't really sure. He hailed a taxi, and gave the man Cornelius' address. It wasn't a long ride; Duo lived on the edge of the good part of town, and Cornelius' place was in a relatively respectable part of the bad part of town, if it could be called that. He gave the driver two twenties and let him keep the change, even though it was almost twice the fare. Tipping well usually ensured that taxi drivers wouldn't remember what whore they took where if the police came asking.

Cornelius had a pretty nice place. His was the ground level floor of a three-story building, and he rented out the two levels above. That gave him an excuse for the otherwise unexplainable source of income he received.

The door had a grille across it, and an intercom. It was standard security in the worst parts of the city, and wasn't overly uncommon in this district. Rather then using the intercom, Heero called Cornelius on his phone. Anyone who was actually there to see anyone in the building did the same, that way the occupants knew that if someone was actually buzzing in, it was probably the cops.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Cornelius said, and hung up before he could reply.

Each of the multiple locks on the other side clicked as he opened them before the door swung open and the grille was pushed back. Cornelius was looking at him, tall and blonde and beautiful. He was also a total bastard if you got on his bad side, or owed him money. Heero never let Cornelius' looks get in the way of the job. He wasn't here to be friendly, just to get his clothes and give his dealer what he wanted so they could part ways.

He ignored the hand Cornelius offered him, and walked inside. He didn't wait for the other man to finish locking back up before strolling through the small hallway into the apartment. It smelled like cigarettes and alcohol, with an underlying whiff of pot smoke. The furnishings were nice, Heero noted in passing. It seemed his dealer had been redecorating.

There wasn't much point in staying out in any of the main rooms. It would be more comfortable on Cornelius' huge bed, and if he stayed out here, they might never make it in there. Cornelius was impatient at the best of times.

The bedroom door was open and the bedside lamp turned on. There was a bag by the end of the bed with clothes in it; a quick perusal revealed some of Heero's more expensive work outfits. He was glad he'd left them here; he only had a little cash, and getting more would be harder without them.

Rough hands encircled his waist, the smell of Cornelius' expensive cologne drifted towards him. "I've missed you." His dealer said huskily.

"I'm sure." He tried not to flinch as those hands slipped up under his shirt.

"I can give you something, if it'll help."

"I took something already, it'll kick in soon." He tried not to sound so fatalistic about it.

Cornelius chuckled into his hair. "You're more fun when you're high."

"Then I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself." Heero muttered. He could feel the methadone starting to kick in, his muscles relaxing. Soon his inhibitions would drop, and he would do whatever Cornelius wanted him to. And if he was lucky, he wouldn't even remember it.

Tuesday, March 18th, AC 204, 8 pm

Heero came to slowly; his eyes were crusty and his mouth was dry. Everything on his left side was numb, he must have been laying on it wrong. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up to see Cornelius coming around to his side of the bed, freshly showered with only a pair of jeans on.

"How long was I out?" He asked, sitting up stiffly.

"Couple of hours."

"Great." He was late for dinner. Duo would have a fit.

"Got somewhere you need to be?" Cornelius almost sounded interested.

"My roommate is going to be pissed." He explained, looking around for his clothes.

"Are you sure he's not your boyfriend?"

"I'm sure."

"Hm." Cornelius mused, pulling some bills out of his pocket. "Here."

Heero stared at him in puzzlement, but took the two hundred-dollar bills. He hadn't been expecting Cornelius to pay him, especially not in cash. His dealer smirked at the look on his face.

"You don't remember? We had some...company."

He hadn't remembered, until Cornelius had said something. His numbed brain offered up hazy images of a woman with an obviously fake blonde wig and bright red lipstick. Cornelius must be branching out; he usually didn't do it with women. He brushed those thoughts away before his drug-fogged mind could recall anything else.

"Can I use your shower?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I've some more customers coming along, so I'll see you later."

"Thanks." He said, and tucked the money into the pocket of his jeans that he found laying on the floor.

"I'll call you Thursday with the place and time."

"What? Oh, yeah." The party. Well, it would be good money, and with how well the methadone had worked today, he wouldn't have to worry about acquiring extra drugs for the occasion.

Cornelius walked out, lighting a cigarette on his way. Heero slid out of bed and gathered his clothes and the bag full of work things and headed into the bathroom. Like the rest of the place, his dealer's bathroom was nicely decorated. It seemed Cornelius watched the home decorating channel for people who don't want to look like drug dealers.

He felt a lot better after he was clean, as long as he didn't think about anything too much. He got dressed in his t-shirt and jeans again, and headed out of the apartment. Cornelius was busy selling some contraband to several people in his living room and didn't even look up at him as he passed. None of them was the blonde haired woman, for which Heero was eternally grateful. A blue-haired girl he didn't know let him out, and he hailed another taxi from the street corner.

When he got back to Duo's place, he saw Duo's truck there, and the lights were on inside. Even though he'd only been back for two days, he felt strangely guilty for not being there when Duo got home. There wasn't any logical reason; it wasn't like they'd had plans. Then again, Duo had probably been surprised that he wasn't there. Maybe he'd even worried that Heero had run off again. He hurried to the door.

Duo was inside on the couch, playing some co-operative game and screaming profanities as he gunned down his opponents. There were open Chinese food containers on the counter, and a half-finished plate by Duo's feet.

Heero went over to the couch and pushed the bag of clothes under it, to join the bag he already had. He watched Duo play for a few moments, not wanting to interrupt his match. He didn't recognize the game, but he knew the type. Join a team, run around with various weapons, and slaughter as many people as possible. Apparently the profanity was also a required part of the game, if he could judge by what the other players were saying.

The match ended with Duo ranking most valuable player, with over three hundred kills. Heero wasn't sure, but that seemed to be a good score. Duo was certainly grinning when he looked up from the console.

"Wanna play?"

He had often down such offers before, not liking to compete and be judged by people he didn't know or couldn't see. But Duo looked so happy to see him, he couldn't say no. Wanting to beat Duo's score had nothing to do with it, of course.

"Alright."

And when Duo smiled again, he knew he'd finally done the right thing.

End Chapter Two

Author's notes: Yes! Chapter Two is done! A few new sentences in this one, not too much, just getting things straightened out for further story consistency. As you can probably tell, that was a huge problem last time. I ended up completely where I didn't want to be. I really think this is going to be much better.

Zethsaire, out!
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Drug Trip