Foolish Games

Warnings: Bondage, vignette to what bondage *should* look like, massive blood loss, reference to child prostitution, language, dark man on man lovin', yaoi, lemonishing, angst, songfic (sorta) , Trowa POV.



Author's Notes: I struggled with this bad boy. Whew! It's a good thing my muse won over because I was headed somewhere dark and terrible and it would've been a point of no return. Actually, when I began this chapter, I had been listening to an entirely different song. It was called Space Lord by Monster Magnet. Really good song...but it was leading me somewhere I really didn't want to go. So, I switched it to Not the Doctor by Alanis Morrissette. I actually had the idea while listening to the acoustic version...but I wrote it while listening to the reg. version. Personally, I'd listen to Manson or A Perfect Circle or maybe even NIN when reading the chapter. I chose the song for the lyrics, not the sound. I had already written half the chapter by the time I switched over the song. Overall, I am not impressed by the way I wrote the sonfic portion of this chapter. The rest...I got the message across, so I guess its okay.



Aaaanyway, I hope you enjoy it. I worked really hard on it.



Rating: NC-17



Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the idea of a Preventer Unit...but I do own this story. Please don't sue.











Not the Doctor

***











I thanked the attendant and shouldered my backpack, walking from the docking port. I arrived here on the L2 space colony nearly two hours ago. Docking ports are usually crowded, but this was ridiculous. I wonder if there is a holiday coming up soon. Oh yeah, that Easter thing.



I roll my eyes and wonder if Duo is celebrating Easter this year. He usually celebrates every holiday anyone could possible think of. Last year, we had Easter dinner at their house. Probably not going to happen this year.



I turned left at Sequoia Ave. and then right again on Main Street. I walked four blocks until I came to the strip mall. I stared at it for a moment and then decided to stop for a club sandwich or something of that nature. I really didn't have a clue whether or not Duo would be up here in space. Externally, it didn't seem probable. But, no matter how much Duo hated this colony, he still thought of it as his home.



And a lost boy always runs home.



//...I don't want to be the filler

If the void is solely yours...//



And there is no sense in starving myself while I traverse on a whim.



I get in line at the deli and look over the meat selections. I narrow my eyes when I feel a presence stop suddenly behind me. I could practically smell his fear. I stare at the reflection of the glass that was serving as a window to the icebox and moved slightly to the left.



I'm not sure who was more surprised when I turned around to stare him. Duo, dressed strangely in black suit slacks, white shirt with the collar unbuttoned, and a black suit jacket, with his hair in a lowered ponytail instead of the braid he usually wore it in, stood stock still, eyes wide, his mouth partially open in pure terror.



//...I don't want to be your glass of sealed malt whiskey

Hidden in the bottom drawer...//



What the hell did he think I would do?



He shook himself and almost turned away. He actually looked like he was about to take off before he thought better of it and walked towards me instead. His stance was wary but his stride was quick and precise, bringing a hand up to wave at me and plastering a smile on his face.



//...I don't want to be the bandage

If the wound is not mine...//



I've seen him do that before. I don't like it when he smiles falsely at me. After all we've been through together; the least he could do is smile genuinely at me or not at all.



I settle my features into their usual calm as he closes the distance between us. I politely step out of line and greet him with a curt nod.



"Imagine seeing you here," I say coolly.



He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it before anything came out. His eyes dart around nervously and I see his smile slip. He tries to recover it, fails, and lets it drop.



He grabs my elbow with trembling fingers and I allow him to lead me into a private corner.



"What are you doing here?" he asks in a low voice.



"What are you doing here?" I counter calmly.



//...Lend me some fresh air...//



His eyes finally come to rest on my face, which he regards with annoyance. "I live here, Tro," he snaps. "Or have you forgotten?"



He's dancing around the truth. He never lies, but he can dance his ass off when he wants to.



And I forgot my dancing shoes.



I promptly punch him in the face.



***



//...I don't want to be adored…

…for what I merely represent to you...//



It didn't take long for me to carry Duo's body to a cab, explaining to the driver that he was drunk, and then into the motel room where I shuttered the windows and turned off the lights.



I tested the strength of the ceiling fan with my own weight before I cuffed Duo's wrists and hung him from it. I ripped up the sheets of one of the beds and used a strip to cover Duo's closed lids and placed a stool under Duo's feet so that he didn't suffocate. I left his clothes on except for his socks and shoes.



//...I don't want to be your babysitter

You're a very big boy now...//



I sat in the chair by the front door and admired my handiwork.



I'm not really an artist, but I don't think you have to be when the material you're working with is Duo Maxwell.



He hung there like a fallen angel. The daylight seeping through the cracks in the shutters illuminated his cherub's face. His full mouth darkened with blood and swollen from the punch I delivered to knock him out. His incredibly long chestnut hair falling around his face, hiding his closed lids and streaming down his back, held in any semblance of order with his black hair tie.



//...I don't want to be your mother…

…I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months...//



The bottom hem of his white button down barely covered his bellybutton because his arms were raised so high, exposing his well-toned abdomen. The V of his pelvic muscle disappeared into his black slacks and I wondered again why he was dressed like that.



He would never wear a business suit on L2. He wouldn't feel comfortable. Jeans and a tee or an outfit made of leather; that's pretty much Duo's wardrobe.



Duo didn't even wear a suit when Relena married that French diplomat two years ago.



//...Show me the back door...//



I pulled my chair closer so I could look up into Duo's face. The dark circles under his eyes were new. At least as of a month ago when I saw him last.



I can never decide if time in between seeing Duo is too much or to little. Don't get me wrong, I am quite positive that I love this man. But it's a strange kind of love. At least, in terms of what I know of the concept.



We'd always fuck before missions in the first colony war. In fact, I think we were the first two to begin the trend between the five of us. No, I'm positive. Duo was the one to whisper in Quatre's ear that I'd wanted him. I'm not sure if I would have ever approached him on my own. And, I suppose, the rest is history.



//...Visiting hours are nine to five…

…But If I show up at ten, past six...//



However, I don't think I actually *liked* Duo, though, until after I destroyed his gundam.



I smile, remembering. He made me pay for that. He really did. And then he forgave me and held me until my subsequent sobbing passed through my system.



Honestly, to this day, I could give a shit about his damn gundam. That was never the point and, at the time, Duo knew this better than I did.



//...Well, I already know that you'll find some way

to sneak me in that door...//



He punished me for everything and anything I've ever done in my lengthy young adult life. Things that I blamed myself for that, in retrospect, weren't really as awful as I made them out to be. People I've hurt and killed and ignored and blamed and stolen from...there's freedom in it. There's pleasure in the pain of it. Love in the hate. A relief like the sigh of an angel as you sit there and let your lover bandage you up afterwards.



The most special part of it, I think, is the desperation in the TRUST you feel as you stop remembering whether you should beg your lover to continue or stop. When you just surrender to it. And you let it wash over you. And then you're floating. And then there's peace.



I had such terrible nightmares before that night.



//...Find the empty bottle…

…With the holes along the bottom…

…You see?...//



I never thought I'd be able to repay him until now. However, I'm not sure it'll work the same way. I have this nagging feeling that Duo is so much more skilled at the dark side of pleasure than most people that...I may try to return the favor, trying to get him out of whatever shit he put himself in, but just end up hurting him physically.



//...It's too much to ask for and…

…I am not the doctor...//



I'm trying not to think of how angry Heero is going to be if he finds out about this. He's been looking for Duo for about two weeks now and for me to find him so easily is something to ponder. But maybe not now. Not this moment.



I try not to think of how badly I want him to wake up and look at me with fear and respect. I don't think I could bear it. This is why I blindfolded him.



//...I don't want to be the sweeper of…

…the eggshells that you walk upon...//



I try not to think of how often I've wanted to conquer him like this and how odd it is that I'm actually doing this as a favor to Heero. Heero doesn't understand why Duo does the things he does, acts the way he acts. For the most part, he is a mystery to me too. But I do know Duo hates himself. For reasons I think only I'd be able to understand, he really feels soiled around shining people like Heero Yuy, much like the way I used to feel around Quatre. And no one has ever tried to offer this ministry to Duo before. I spoke to Quatre about it once and he said he didn't think it was a good idea. Duo had been tortured too often by Oz and the Alliance during the colony wars. Quatre didn't think Duo's ever gotten over that. I argued that torture at enemy hands and torture at the hands of love and compassion is something altogether different. It had been the end of the discussion. Quatre did not understand and, being as how I really didn't either, I let the matter drop.



//...I don't want to be your other half…

…I believe that one and one make two...//



I don't know. I really don't know.



I just know feels right.



And Heero told me once to follow my feelings.



Duo made a noise in the back of his throat. I went very still, watching with bated breath.



Duo shifted, the blanket of unconsciousness slipping from him. He lifted his head and tried to capture the tail end of the blindfold with his mouth. He couldn't reach it.



//...I don't want to be your food or…

…the light from the fridge on your face at midnight...//



I can't help myself. I smile.



//...Hey, what're you hungry for?..//



Duo tugs with his arms, trying to free himself from the bonds that hang him from the ceiling. He tugs and tugs, the metal of the handcuffs biting into the tender flesh and bone of his wrists.



Then he went very still. "Hello?" he calls out. And I note the fear in his voice. I don't answer.



"Listen," he says. "I told you you'd have the money by Tuesday. I know for a fucking fact it's no where near Tuesday. Why are you gettin' premature on me?"



I say nothing. I don't even move.



"Fine," he says, desperation making the tenor in his voice higher than usual even though he was trying to control the situation. "You need it sooner, I'll get it sooner. This really isn't the way to ask, though."



He pauses, listening. I wait. He waits. I can taste his panic. God, this surreal.



After a few moments, he begins to struggle frantically against his bonds. He's thrashing and cursing and then the panic that had been boiling up inside of him spills out and he is screaming now. "Answer me, fucker! I can hear you breathing! I have powerful friends, you'll fucking die for this..."



//...I don't want to be the glue…

…that holds your pieces together...//



And his screaming becomes a roar and he's struggling so violently that I eye the ceiling fan. It may not hold if Duo continues on like this. And I'm staring at his wrists. They're covered in blood and cut flesh and Duo is moving so violently it looked like he's trying to break his own wrists to get free. And then I remembered there had to be trust for this to work.



"Duo."



Suddenly he stops and he's listening again. His body is quivering and I watch the blood drip from his wrists and down his forearms. He must've severed the veins. The realization that he could bleed to death while hanging there excites me and I don't pause to wonder why. I'm up and out of the chair and circling him.



And then his head snaps up and I can see he finally recognized my voice because of his wicked smile. Finally a true smile. Barely a stretch of lips, his mouth partially open, his sharp, perfectly white teeth flashing dangerously, and I'm glad again that he's tied up. I'm still afraid of him. Always have been. He could devour my soul and damn me to hell if he wanted to. He knows me that well. And now he's bleeding to death, hanging from a ceiling fan, grinning at me with that lustful malice that is always behind his eyes. Always. And I'm hard for it.



//...I don't want to be your idol…

…see this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights...//



"Fuck YOU, Trowa," he murmurs, barely concealed laughter rolling behind every word. "Lemme down. I'm not in the mood."



"No." I know he's testing me. He won't let me minister to him unless he knows I can take the heat. "Signale?"



The signale is the word Duo will utter when he REALLY wants me to stop. It has to be a word that has nothing to do with the act so it is recognized immediately.



Duo shakes his head in the amusement. "You know, it might have been useful to go over ground rules before you punched me in the face, asshole. Let me down."



"Signale?" I repeat.



Flash of sharp white teeth again and I wonder if he is pure evil and we just think he's a good guy because he's pretty. He's never pretended to be otherwise. He called himself Shinigami during the wars and we didn't believe him. Maybe he was telling the truth. He did say he never lies.



//...I don't want to be lived through…

…by precarious occasion, please...//



He's chuckling now and I notice the small puddle of blood gathering under his feet. He managed to kick the stool when he was thrashing about but his toes touched the carpet so he was okay.



"And what do you plan to do to me?" he asks softly, the laughter in his voice becoming annoying. And I know he's trying to. Like I said, Duo is a professional at the dark side of pleasure.



"Signale?" I repeat again, leveling my voice and keeping it distant and nearly disinterested.



//...roll down the window...//



Something sagged in Duo's shoulders and his head slumped again. "I won't need one," he mutters. "At this point, I'd let you kill me before saying the signale."



"Which is?"



//...Visiting hours are nine to five…

…But If I show up at ten, past six...//



Duo was quiet for a moment, the smile gone from his beautiful features. He's ready, I could feel it, I could practically taste the bitterness welling up in him, the self-hate...and I paused in front of him, letting him feel my breath on his cheek. He lifted his head, craning his neck, and managed to murmur the signale into my mouth. I bit his lower lip before pulling away.



Orphan. Odd. Well, the signale is the signale.



//...Well, I already know you'll find some way…

…to sneak me in that door...//



I pulled out my pocket knife. I grin because I use it for everything. I sterilized it before coming here but I wonder if I'll ever use it again. I circle behind him, slashing at his clothes every once and a while, not quite hitting his skin and Duo is quiet and waiting.



I pull at his ponytail and he gasps. "No," he breathes in disbelief. "Trowa..." I lift it and let him feel the cool metal against his neck. Duo would go mad if I cut his hair. "No, Trowa," Duo whispers as he begins to struggle. I put the knife to his hair and he opens his mouth in a big 'O' and begins to say it. "Or-" And I cut the hair band around his ponytail and watch his hair fall in sheets around his body, so free and loose and thick and so very, very soft. I move behind him, pressing my body against his and placing my chin on his shoulder. I trace his cheek with the tip of my knife leisurely and watch the small little red lines well up with blood.



//...Find the empty bottle,

With the holes along the bottom, you see?...//



"I thought you said you'd let me kill you before saying the signale," I reminded him matter-of-factly. "Within two minutes I had you saying it."



He turned his face toward mine, following my voice, and laughs shamelessly. "Anything but the hair," he says.



//...It's too much to ask for and…

…I am not the doctor...//



I push away from him and relish in his hiss as his swinging body adds to the pain of his bleeding wrists. I cut at his clothes some more, watch as scrap after scrap of cloth sheds itself from his body.



"What's with the suit?" I ask calmly as I work around my subject. Michelangelo once said, 'I took a block of marble and chipped away everything that was NOT David.' I thought about that as turned his odd clothing into rags.



Duo does not answer. I knew he was thinking. I also knew I wasn't really going to get answers out of him. He wouldn't even talk when Oz soldiers tortured him. Sadly, that's why we always threw him into holding cells for insurance when we were infiltrating a base or something. We knew Duo wouldn't talk and we knew he'd escape. And we knew he'd forgive us for it later.



Or did we?



//...I don't want to live on Sunday…

…when my motto is last week...//



Has he really forgiven us? Or are we assuming?



I step back and do once over on Duo's form. He was gloriously nude except for a few scraps hanging from his arms and legs here and there. Blood was trickling from his wrists, down his arms, down the flat planes of his stomach and the curve of his sides, and down the muscles of his legs and dripping from his toes. Long, long lines of red. He was so beautiful. So very, very beautiful. His hair flowed around him and nearly covered his body where his clothes no longer did.



I pause, wondering if he'd passed out from blood loss. He hadn't moved for a long time. No, he's moving his head up, looking in the general direction of where he thought I'd most likely be.



"So," he says. "How long have you dreamed of this? How long have you sat patient at Quatre's side, waiting for the opportunity to punish me at the mighty Heero Yuy's bidding?!"



His sarcasm angered me, his mocking reference to Quatre pissed me off, his teasing confused me, but I punched him in the gut anyway, wondering who was really in charge of this game. Him or me? Obviously him, I muse as he grunts and breathes heavily and nips playfully at my goddamn ear with his teeth!



"I see your masochistic streak has won out, Duo," I say as I step away from him.



And he smiles again. Not wicked this time. Sad. A pathetically sad smile and I knew I was in way over my head.



I became frustrated because I didn't know what Duo needed. I didn't know why he was here...and I couldn't wrap my head around why he would just disappear without consulting his friends first.



"It wasn't your fault," I say, the words spilling from my mouth before I could think them through.



The smile disappeared and his body trembled. I frowned. Where did he just go with what I said? I remember him telling me once that he did a lot of things he regretted as a kid. He wouldn't specify, but I know it still bothers him.



I said it again. "It wasn't your fault."



A sob catches in his throat and he turns his face away. I furrow my brows and think. I've been beating the crap out of him for about an hour and the first sob is from, 'it wasn't your fault'? Maybe I have Duo all backwards.



//...I don't want to be responsible…

…for your fractured heart and its wounded beat...//



I inch closer to him, the sickly, sweet smell of his blood acrid in my nose. "It wasn't your fault," I repeat. "Say it."



Tears are streaming down his face and he shakes his head. "You don't understand, Tro..."



I slapped him. "Do I need to? Say it."



"I consented," he sobs. "I was so hungry, Tro. I took money from 'em. I don't want Heero to know, promise me you won't tell Heero..."



Oh, my God.



I blink and try to sort through what he's telling me. I have to do this quickly. He's bleeding to death.



I took a guess and say, "A child doesn't have the right to consent."



And his sobbing is violent now. Dear God, I guessed right. Duo must've sold himself for food money when he was running the streets of L2 as a kid. No wonder his relationships are all strange and primarily physical, Duo has no idea what love looks like outside of sex.



//...I don't want to be the substitute…

…for the smoke you've been inhaling...//



"Fuck you, Trowa," he rasps at me when I put my hands on either side of his face.



"It wasn't your fault," I say. "Say it."



"It wasn't your fault," he mimics and I backhand him.



"Goddammit, Duo," I growl. "All this fucking bullshit you blame yourself for is making you and everyone you care about miserable. Stop being self-righteous about this."



I pause as I see him grimace. He knows. He knows his behavior hurts Heero. He knows it but it just feeds the dragon of his self-loathing and he leans into it. It's like he's addicted to it.



//...Why do you thank me?...

…What do you thank me for?...//



I begin kissing his face, softly, ever so softly, his nose, his eyes, his brow, his mouth, his cheeks, all the while murmuring to him and watching as the kind words hit him like blows. "You're beautiful, and fun, and caring, and sweet, and strong, and pure. You're the best friend anyone could have, Duo. You ARE loveable, and you DO matter, and your friends WILL miss you if you die, so fucking say it wasn't your fault so I can let you the fuck down!!"



His sobbing had resumed. He didn't believe a word I just said. I don't know what to do. I'm not a fucking doctor and I sure as hell am not a therapist. I have no idea what to do.



I do know that I'd rather watch him bleed to death than let him down and watch him self-destruct around everyone I care about and run around miserable for the rest of his life. Odd, I'd kill him out of love. Seems almost like a religious cameo, I muse as I unwrap his blindfold and let those searing violet eyes gaze on me through tears and blood.



"Say it," I murmur.



//...Visiting hours are nine to five…

…But If I show up at ten, past six...//



And he does. And after the first, "It wasn't my fault," it was torrent of them. A thousands confessions of innocence streaming out of him and it was almost like Duo had been trying to convince himself he was dirty and impure.



Quickly, I unlocked the cuffs around his wrists and he fell heavily against me. I laid him down on the bed and tied tourniquets tightly over his bleeding arms and hands. I pulled out the bags of fluid and blood I had been keeping in the fridge in case all this had gotten out of hand--and I think it may have--and took out sterile needles and turned the motel room into a makeshift hospital.



//...Well, I already know you'll find some way…

…to sneak me in that door...//



After clean blood was flowing back into him, I washed him down. His crying continued as I cleaned him, his violet eyes watching me gently wash away all the blood and sweat that had gathered on his limbs. Then, I wiped down the furniture and scrubbed the carpet. The blood stain will always be there, but it didn't have to look like it was fresh.



Duo was still awake when I was finished and I crawled into bed next to him. He was watching me with a mingled sense of fear and wonder, the tears flowing from his eyes seemingly endless. I held him close to me and whispered how wonderful he is and how glad I am that he's alive, over and over. I stroked his hair, hair I would never really cut in a million years, and rocked him to sleep.



//...Find the empty bottle…

…With the holes along the bottom...//



I know there is more for Duo to deal with. This kind of stuff doesn't go away in one night. But I did what I could and I feel closer to him now. Maybe someone can help him heal where I simply re-opened the wound.



Maybe...



//...You see?...//



I fell asleep breathing in Duo’s scent and woke up the following morning breathing in Duo's scent from the pillow he'd slept on the night before.



Duo was no where to be found...and if I told you I looked for him, it'd be a lie.



//...It's too much to ask for and...//



Duo would come back when he's ready.



Or not.



How should I know? I'm no doctor.



//...I am not the doctor...//