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  • Diamond in the Rough

    By : Alexzander
    Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male
    Views: 3544
    -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
    Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
  • Chapter List
    • 1-Diamond in the Rough
    • 2-CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
    • 3-Pride and a Fall
    • 4-Law and Order
    • 5-HELP!!!
    • 6-EVERYONE’S A VICTIM
    • fast_rewind
    • chevron_left
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5
    • chevron_right
    • fast_forward
  • Author's notes: Duo is beginning to show the results of his abusive relationship with Roger. And Trowa finally loses his temper with the braided Baka with tragic consequences.

    Betas: Thanks again to my most wonderful Betas, Chris and Sana! Love ya guys!!


    LAW AND ORDER



    Duo shook his head to clear it. Last night had been the worst of the week. Roger had beaten him bloody and spent a good amount of time applying his foot to Duo’s gut. Gym was the last thing that he needed right now, but there would be no skipping class.

    Owen had gone ballistic when the call from the school had come on Tuesday afternoon, informing him of his foster son’s tardiness to his first class. For some unknown reason, Ms Une, Duo’s homeroom teacher, had taken an immediate disliking to the boisterous boy and looked for any chance to make his life a living hell. Fortunately for him, Owen didn’t want to damage him too badly before his date that night, so he had gotten off with severe verbal assault and a few added bruises. But Roger had more than made up for the lack of abuse from his father.

    Duo’s stomach churned uncomfortably and he swallowed, trying to keep from tossing the little bit of breakfast he had managed to choke down before leaving for school. They were playing flag football in phys ed and things had become very interesting with Trowa Barton glaring across the line of scrimmage at him. Duo had managed to avoid the rooster-banged boy and his naïve boyfriend for most of the week. He had gotten very good at avoiding people that he didn’t want to deal with.

    Duo huddled closer to the other players on his team as they discussed what their next play would be. With the other bodies in the circle, he was almost warm. For some reason, today, he just couldn’t get or stay warmed up.

    “All right,” Mitch, their quarterback, said. “We’ll send Duo straight up the middle and pull a fake. Jeremy, I want you to come back like you’re going to receive the ball and then I’ll pass it to Duo. Got it? Good. Let’s do this.” The team broke out of the huddle and took their positions on the field. Duo watched, with dismay, as Trowa took his place right across from him on the scrimmage line. The green-eyed boy looked at him and gave him a very nasty grin. Somehow, Duo knew that things weren’t going to work as they had planned.

    Mitch’s voice sounded over the sharp wind and both lines went into motion with the snap of the ball. Duo ran up field, turning sideways to watch for the throw. The oblong pigskin sailed perfectly through the bright late autumn day, spiraling at the right angle, speed and whatnot to make a flawless flight. Duo caught the ball and turned back to start his run up the field. Trowa crashed into his side and they fell into a tangled heap.

    The braided boy screamed in pain as he felt something in his chest snap with the force of the tackle and the shriek ended in an indignant squawk as the air was driven out of his lungs. The right side of his chest felt like someone had driven a red-hot poker through the skin. As the ability to breath came back he could feel his lung bubble with every breath. He coughed, bringing up a gush of red, foamy liquid. He sat there and just stared at the fluid dripping off his hands. His head began to spin and the edges of his sight started to turn black and close in. He looked up at his attacker with a puzzled expression on his face.

    Trowa backed away from his victim, shaking his head in disbelief at the damage his temper had caused. He started to apologize to the other boy, but Duo never heard it. He passed out cold, his breath coming in horrible, wet sounding wheezes.

    The teacher sent everyone back into the building with the command to stay in the gym until things were taken care of. He grabbed Trowa by the scruff of the neck and dispatched him to the principal’s office with the orders to send the school nurse down to the field and to have someone call for an ambulance. He wasn’t happy about the events of the day and had every intention of finding out just what was going on between the two boys.

    Trowa ran for the nurse’s office, his mind running over what had happened on the field. For some unknown reason, he had attacked a defenseless boy. He had seen part of what Duo had done to Quatre and that may have set him off, but he never really meant to harm the smaller young man. He shuddered with horror at the memory of all the blood spilling from the braided boy’s mouth. Trowa’s long legs made the lengthy distance to the medical area of the school a short run. As he entered the building, he almost ran down Quatre, who was heading for the bathroom with a hall pass in his hands.

    “Trowa?” the little blonde said as he dodged out of the way.

    “Later,” Trowa shouted over his shoulder and continued on his way for help. He skidded to a stop just outside the office and listened to be sure that Ms. Po didn’t have another student in the office with her. The sound of near silence made him feel better, knowing that he wouldn’t interrupt someone else’s time with the nurse.

    “Ms. Po?” he said as he entered the room. “There’s a problem on the football field and Mr. Daniels needs an ambulance as soon as possible.”

    Sarah Po, Sally’s mother, looked up at the young man standing in her doorway, the serious look told her all she needed to know. “What’s going on?”

    “Duo Maxwell took a hit in our flag football game and he started coughing up blood. It looks really bad.”

    “All right. Tell your teacher that I’m calling the rescue squad now and will be out in just a few minutes. I have one more question for you.”

    “Yes, ma’am?”

    “What did the blood look like?”

    “It was bright red and well, kinda foamy, I guess is what I’d call it.”

    “Tell him I’ll be there in about three minutes, can you do that?”

    “Yes, ma’am.” He bolted out the door and almost ran over the mystified Quatre again. He used the smaller boy to gain his balance and gave him a very serious look. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, releasing the petite blonde and racing back out to the field.

    * * * * * *

    Duo woke up; feeling like an elephant had planted itself right in the middle of his chest. The weight made it difficult to breath and the wet sound of every breath scared him. Something wasn’t right and he had the urge to run for the safety of his home. He tried to struggle to a seated position, but a gentle hand on his shoulder prevented him from getting any further than part way up.

    “Stay down, Maxwell,” the teacher said, easing him back to the ground.

    The cold damp from the earth seeped into his bones and Duo began to shake. For some reason, his mind didn’t want to work right, but he knew that if he missed anymore classes, he would be in big trouble at home.

    “Gotta go,” he murmured. “Can’t stay here. Gotta get to my next class.”

    “I don’t think you’re going to be heading anywhere soon, young man,” Mr. Daniels said, looking down at the fragile body lying on the moist ground.

    “No! Can’t miss any more classes. Owen said so.” He tried again to get to a seated position. The world spun around him and his stomach threatened to rebel. He drooped back to the earth and closed his eyes to stop the spinning.

    “I think that Owen will understand, Duo.”

    “You don’t know him,” Duo sobbed, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. “He’ll…. never mind.” Twin lines of tears ran from his eyes to his hairline. He stopped himself from sobbing again, knowing that it would only cause him more pain. The dull thud of shoes hitting the turf signaled someone’s return. Duo turned his head to see who raced up so quickly. He looked on as Trowa sprinted back to the spot where he started this whole thing. Duo tried to move away from his attacker, but his damaged body wouldn’t allow him to move. He cried out in pain as he shifted his ribs.

    “Easy now,” Trowa said, kneeling beside him and gently stroking his hair.

    “You son of a bitch,” Duo spat out around the lump of pain. The violence of his response caused him to start coughing again and he nearly choked on the thick, copper-flavored fluid that came up with the spasm. His eyes watered with pain and the edges of his vision became blurry.

    “I’m not going to hurt you,” the banged boy calmly said. He gave Duo a smile that was meant to reassure him, but left him feeling very uncertain of where things lay.

    The sound of quick, light footsteps broke the tension a bit as Quatre ran over to where his friend and Duo were. The look of concern on his face worried the braided one just a bit.

    “What happened here?” Quatre asked, reaching them.

    “It’s no big deal, Kitty-cat-cat-Quatre,” Duo responded, trying to sound like his old self.

    “No big deal?! There’s blood on…”

    “Quatre, I’ll explain everything later,” Trowa said, getting up and leading the petite blonde away from the site.

    “But….”

    “Later. Right now we’re just trying to keep him calm until the ambulance gets here and we can get him to the hospital.”

    Quatre felt the horror and shame that Trowa was feeling. Somehow he had something to do with Duo’s condition and he felt ashamed and horrified by what he had done. Quatre gave his best friend an encouraging smile and wrapped his arms around the other boy’s waist.

    Duo lay on the ground and a wave of jealousy washed over him at the sight of the two young men holding each other. No one had ever held him like that. The only time that he ever got held was after a date had gotten what he wanted and the man lay sated on the bed, then and only then were his needs sometimes thought of. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and he turned his face away from the sight. He gave into the growing blackness and slipped back into unconsciousness again.

    * * * * * *

    Consciousness returned to the braided boy when the emergency vehicle had completed about half the journey to the hospital. The tank-like suspension of the ambulance left much to be desired in the way of comfort. Duo could feel every pothole and jolt the tires hit and with every bump, lump and thud of the undercarriage he got a strong reminder of why he lay strapped to the board with his head in blocks and a cervical collar on. Not that he needed all the stuff, but since he had been unresponsive, the paramedics thought that it would be for the best if they made sure that there weren’t any other unseen injuries hiding under the myriad of bruises that decorated poor Duo’s skin. The only problem with their plan is that the patient couldn’t breath very well in a prone position and his body threatened to go into respiratory arrest before they arrived at the hospital. The thick blood clogged his air passage and he kept the emergency team busy suctioning out the stuff.

    His time in the emergency room stayed dream-like in his mind. It was a series of shouting voices, endless pain, pokes, prods and jabs. The doctor ordered a variety of tubes to be inserted into Duo’s body. The incessant burn of the tube that had been put in the collapsed lung fortunately overshadowed the indignity of the catheter. While the throbbing seemed eternal, at least his breathing became easier and the temporary airway that the paramedics put in place could be taken out of his nose.

    The nurse in charge of his case got him as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances, and stepped out to see about a room in the intensive care unit for him. The frantic noise of the past half hour or more slipped into the endless drone of the heart monitor beeping with every heartbeat and the distant sounds of people talking, phones ringing and the occasional overhead page. The unusual lullaby had him drifting, of course the drugs that had been given for pain and anxiety helped with the detached feelings.

    * * * * * *

    Trowa watched from the sidelines with Quatre next to him as the paramedics rushed over and began helping Ms Po with the injured Duo. A few, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he surveyed the outcome of his loss of temper. He had no right to harm the other boy and there was really no reason for his actions either. Quatre had explained everything that happened that morning in the woods and while he didn’t like it, his little one should have handled the situation. But the frustration of being avoided for days on end caught up with him and when the opportunity arose he took full advantage of it.

    It never occurred to him to wonder where all of the bruises and other injuries that Duo sported this week came from. Trowa knew – in a general way – where they had come from, but he didn’t understand why someone with Duo’s looks, brains and personality sold his body. Maybe Quatre had it right and there was more going on then they could see. Sometimes seeing things from the outside didn’t make the view any clearer.

    The wet, wheezy sound of Duo’s breathing worried the banged boy and he hugged the petite blonde a little tighter in his arms. The feel of Quatre’s body molding to his almost drew his mind away from the whole set of circumstances … almost. As the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing, Trowa let go of Quatre, turned on his heel and broke into a loose-limbed lope toward the student parking lot and his car. He’d follow the emergency vehicle to the hospital and when he could, talk to Duo about the day’s happenings. And when he finished discussing the whole thing, he’d turn himself into the local police for assault and battery. It would be the least that he could do.

    Quatre followed behind the disturbed Trowa, barely keeping up with the longer legs of the tall boy. Something had happened and he intended to find out exactly what it was. He reached Trowa’s car as the banged boy slipped behind the wheel. The tiny blonde stood beside the passenger’s side door, waiting for the other boy to notice him and unlock the door.

    Trowa looked up, the feeling of someone standing next to the car breaking into the cloud of guilt that surrounded him. Seeing Quatre standing there brought a small, sad smile to his lips. He reached across the seat and unlocked the door, letting his little one in. He started the car and maneuvered it out of the student parking lot.

    Quatre allowed Trowa to get the vehicle out on the main drag before he looked at his secret crush. He turned toward the driver and cocked his head.

    “Want to tell me what happened on the field, Trowa?”

    “I did something that I’m not too proud of,” Trowa responded, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

    “And that would be?”

    “I was given the chance to get my revenge on Maxwell for his treatment of you the other day and took advantage of the situation. I tackled him instead of just going for his flags. And after I hit him, he screamed and coughed up a bunch of foamy blood.” He turned his head, slightly, and gave Quatre a horrified look. “I didn’t mean to really hurt him. I think I might have broken at least one rib and drove it into his lung.”

    “Oh, Trowa!” Quatre gasped. “Why? Didn’t I tell you that I would handle things?”

    “Yes, but I was tired of waiting for things to happen.”

    “He might not trust either of us again, you do realize that don’t you?”

    Trowa sighed and nodded his head. He couldn’t help feeling slightly vindicated but the realization that he may have ruined any chance for them to help the braided boy weighed heavily on him. That and the fact he had disappointed Quatre had him looking into the mirror to see the worm that he had become.

    “We really need to keep you away from Heero, Trowa!” Quatre giggled. “You’re beginning to act more and more like him. Trounce first - question your motives second. What a mess you’ve made.”

    “Tell me about it. How do I make the needed repairs? What do I say to him the next time I see him?” Trowa glanced out of the corner of one eye at Quatre.

    “Let me think,” Quatre said, staring off into space. “There’s got to be a reason why he does the things he does. It’s got something to do with the family that he’s living with. Either his pimp is threatening them or…no, that couldn’t be.”

    “Quatre?”

    “I was just thinking that Mr. Reed could be the one selling Duo’s body, but it just doesn’t fit the pattern. There’s something going on in that family and we’re going to need to find out what if we’re going to help Duo.” He sighed, remembering what had happened, both times in the woods. “I don’t think I’ll be going into the woods anytime soon. Too many things have gone on in there. Do you think that some people are just lucky when it comes to life?”

    Trowa pondered Quatre’s question, mulling over the idea and carefully choosing his words. “I think we make our own luck by the choices that we make. Yes, we can’t pick our families, but we can do the best we can for them.”

    “And what if our families do things that could harm us or put our lives in danger?”

    “Then there will come a point where we must choose what’s right for ourselves and leave the family to fend for themselves,” Trowa stated bluntly.

    Quatre smiled at the green-eyed boy. Trowa’s speech had startled the petite blonde. It was the longest string of words the young man had ever put together. It gave the blonde warm fuzzies to think they could have such a serious discussion.

    “And,” teased Trowa. “I’m nothing like Yuy.”

    Quatre burst into a fresh round of giggles. He reached out and took the other boy’s hand in his. Trowa’s larger hand engulfed his smaller, more delicate one. The electric tingle that sparked between their entangled fingers had them sitting in contented silence all the way to the hospital.

    * * * * * *

    Twenty-year-old Treize Khushrenada couldn’t believe his luck. He had come to the high school to do an exposé on one of the promising senior football players for the Mount Morey University newspaper. The editor of the paper and he had a falling out his freshman year and he usually ended up with the crap assignments. But fate –once again- assisted her favorite son and a juicy story dropped right into his hands.

    The battered, delicate-looking boy had caught his attention. The bruised elfin-featured kid had two things that captured the ginger-haired reporter –big amethyst eyes that shone dully from the myriad of contusions and that mass of chestnut hair.

    Treize could imagine what it would be like to have that hair scattered over his naked chest. He had very specific tastes in his lovers; they had to have long hair and he loved them young. That abused boy fit both requirements. The braided one would be an easy mark, just offer him a way out of his current situation and he would be more than willing to do whatever Treize asked of him. None of his lovers ever lasted very long…. the longest being for three months.

    A mystery lingered around the injured boy and Treize had every intention of finding out what exactly what had caused the bruises and other injuries on the poor little thing. He had enough to write the article on the future football star, now for some real reporting. One of the boys stood out from the rest. Mitch Revelson had played quarterback on the play before kid had been smashed to the turf. He knew Mitch through the young man’s older brother, David; he and Treize were in the same fraternity.

    “Mitch,” he called out in his cultured voice.

    “Treize?” the young man said, seeing who was calling for him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

    “You know me, I’m not one to miss any games that you play in.”

    “Yeah, right. So, what are you really doing here?”

    “I’m representing the Mount Morey Gazette and doing an exclusive on one of the players from your class.”

    “That makes sense, I think.” He stared at the other man. “What can I do for you?”

    “What do you know about the boy that was rushed to the hospital?”

    “Not too much. Although, I’ve heard that he can be bought for the right price.”

    “Are you telling me that he’s a whore?” Treize asked, incredulously. He couldn’t believe his luck. First the little lovely and now finding out that he could be had for a price. Fate truly did love him. He would be able to do an entire piece on teenaged prostitution with a true prostitute to answer all his questions. A major newspaper might even pick this up and he could win a Pulitzer for his work. He smiled at Mitch and held out a twenty-dollar bill.

    “Tell me how or who to get in touch with to hire him for a night.”
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