Pressure of a Blade

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The two built in silence for days, stopping only for bathroom use and to grab a bottle of water and some rations, trying to beat the timeframe. But the job got repetitive, easy to let your mind wander while hands do the work.

Heero had kissed him. It burned; it tore at him because Trowa didn’t know how to deal with it. He had wanted the Wing pilot for so long, that was a rare occurrence. Barton rarely desired anything let alone another person, but it had begun with nursing Yuy back to health and grown from there. He had never acted on that want, never planned to, just locked it away in a reinforced steel box in a far corner of his mind, but dreams have a tendency of exploiting those corners. So Trowa lived with the knowing, ignoring it like an ant in his path. He would never risk the silent friendship they had.

Then Yuy had kissed him. A fury arose in Trowa for the loss he felt. Heero had ruined everything, treated a friendship Barton considered precious and cherished as casually as walking. Had flippantly thrown lust between them despite Trowa’s desperate attempts to keep it out. And ruined everything.

He very nearly hated Yuy for taking advantage of the one thing Trowa had wanted most. But it was what he wanted most, and the feeling of Heero’s lips against his, his body so close that his heat seeped across the air between them and under Trowa’s shirt…

It was torturing him slowly, this almost hate, this desperate lust, the vain attempt to shut both emotions back up. His mantra had been rendered useless days ago. So what now? Shut the hell up, keep the confusion behind closed lips, and work until you’re finished or dead. He wouldn’t allow himself to sleep, didn’t trust his roommate or his dreams not to betray him. Everything was balanced on a knife’s edge, but the pressure held, the threateningly safe pressure to which he had become accustomed.

Until Yuy jerked the blade and split him open.

They had worked in silence long enough for Trowa to get just the slightest bit complacent. He had thrown himself so far into the mechanics, concentrating fully on the weapons he built that he forgot he was also avoiding Yuy. The Wing pilot had been working across the bay building a base, then moving to a clear spot a few feet away and building another thruster base. Trowa followed the pattern, adapting the guns and mounting them onto the base, the acrobat following the progressions, but ensuring he was at the weapon farthest from the one Yuy was building. But after three days of this morbid dance, Trowa slipped and didn’t notice Yuy break the pattern, didn’t notice how close he had come, he was only seven meters from him.

“Your assessment is wrong.”

The wrench Trowa was holding jumped from his fingers, clanging against the concrete floor, a deathnell to the silence. Besides the clumsy fingers, Barton flinched at how close he had let the assassin get. He wanted to ignore the comment, but the close proximity and the loud wrench wouldn’t let him pretend he didn’t hear. But then, he was so shocked at the plunge into sound, so distracted by Yuy’s voice, it took him a moment to register what was actually said.

Trowa began inspecting his work, looking for flaws before he realized that wasn’t what his partner was referring to. Before he could ask Yuy to clarify his statement, he did. “Your assessment of the situation between us was wrong.”

Trowa pressed his lips together and turned more fully away from the other. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

That stopped him cold; it wasn’t like Heero to state the unnecessary and definitely nothing personal. Such matters were foreign to soldiers, but the blue eyed pilot continued despite that. “I don’t think you incompetent. I’ve trusted you with my life on several occasions; you should have realized your assessment was inaccurate.”

He should have.

A light turned on in Trowa’s head, and he was beginning to believe his personal feelings had been swaying his perceptions since he landed earthside, possibly before. The betrayal he felt at being left behind by the others, especially by Heero, skewed his thoughts. He should have seen what Heero had pointed out on his own, and he should have figured out the truth of Yuy’s words seconds after he told him he overrode the option to bring Trowa into the situation. But he didn’t.

So…now what? He started from scratch. Trowa picked up his wrench and began in silence, trying to sift through all the inaccurate information and find the truth, but that’s easier said than done since he could think of absolutely no reason not to use every resource at hand to try to save the earth especially with the lack of time. Barton was at a loss as to why Yuy tried to prevent his entrance into the situation.

Trowa looked up to see Heero’s eyes staring back. “Then why?”

Heero turned away as he confessed in a whisper. “I thought the earth was lost.”

Time stilled as Trowa relived watching a young unknown soldier stepping out of his cockpit, holding his death in his hand in the form of an innocent, little red button. He watched, awed at the determined face, as Heero accepted what they all thought was his final mission and pushed the button with no hesitation.

He blinked and saw Heero’s eyes scanning his face. The Wing pilot was willing to self destruct again, he planned to defend the earth in vain, dying in its defense…but the others…

“The others are off planet.” Trowa spoke as everything clicked into place. Heero was willing to sacrifice himself, but he had changed since the wars…he wasn’t willing to sacrifice the others, sacrifice Trowa. That’s why he refused.

Yuy nodded. “I’ve been organizing pockets of resistance who’ll lay down arms quickly during the initial strike. I’ll lead a stronger defense to disguise the true plan.”

That’s what he had been doing before Trowa got to earth.

“And you plan on getting the contact information of those underground groups to Wufei as the attack is launched.”

“Too late to realize my intentions.”

“And the others will organize a counterstrike from space with reinforcements in place on earth.”

Heero nodded, avoiding eye contact. “You were not to be sacrificed.”

“So what changed?” Heero was the one to make the call, there was more to the story.

“Something Quatre said.”

“He knows.” Trowa saw some unidentifiable emotion flicker through blue eyes for an instant before Heero nodded, and Trowa began to wonder if that nod was an answer to more questions that he had originally meant to pose. Quatre always had an uncanny ability to know people’s intensions; he most likely knew of Yuy’s plan the second he sent Duo and Wufei off together. But what could the blonde say to change Heero’s mind, to bend the steel will of the Perfect Soldier?

“What?” Something was burning in Trowa’s chest. The sense of guilt and shame of doubting himself and because of his own sense of self consciousness when it came to pilot 01, he doubted Heero, his trust, his intentions. But that guilt turned to dread at the thought of watching him die again.

“He offered a shuttle to get you out in time, suggested you could go underground and ensure Chang did get the needed information.”

Green eyes narrowed. None of those were possibilities Heero wouldn’t have considered. Quatre’s steel bending words were omitted. But Trowa addressed the subject change. “I’m not leaving, you’ll need two people to operate those weapons.”

Heero’s brows furrowed. “The cockpit is operated by one person. If we use NARCs, the shooting platform can be rigged to use the same system. One person is sufficient.”

Barton nodded. “Sufficient, yes, but the defense system is only centered there. Knock out the cockpit and the Boxes are dead in the water.” Both pilots were well aware that any experienced pilots would know that; the enemy would be looking for the signals commanding the weapons. He continued. “You’ll need one man operating the cockpit, and one man driving the truck I rented as a mobile base of operations.”

Yuy’s eyes widened. “Scrambling the airwaves plus the added mobility…”

“Would make it damn near impossible to find when we add Duo’s stealth mechanism.”

Heero’s silence was profound, but his words were quiet, almost weak. “This could work.”

Trowa’s words followed, putting voice to a whisper. “I don’t intend to let you die.”

The blue eyed youth dropped his head, his hair hiding his eyes from Trowa’s sight, but the Heavyarms pilot saw Heero’s hands clench and release at his sides.

The silence spread between them, and for one of the few times in his life, Trowa felt the need to break it. “We need to start fitting the stealth mechanisms to the Boxes.”

Heero nodded, still seeking refuge behind his hair.

The pressure between them lifted slightly, but there were still things unsaid between them.

What did Quatre say to convince Heero to call him in? And there was that kiss…did Heero feel something deeper for him? That wouldn’t make sense, though. Trowa knew he cared for his companion, if he knew he was going to die in a situation, he would want Heero to be as far away as possible. Barton carried thoughts of the Japanese boy with him everywhere. He tried to shut them down but it rarely happened. Trowa hoped that maybe, Heero did the same. Maybe, when he died, someone…that he would live on…in someone’s…in Heero’s thoughts.

It was stupid. So stupid that Trowa had problems even thinking through the concept, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

So why??...The jumbled thoughts spun around in his head in a downward spiral as they began the necessary actions to create a small mountain of the anti-sensor, stealth mechanisms that Duo and his team had created for Deathscythe.

A week had passed of working at full speed, eating rations and gulping water at the worksite, and sleeping two hour increments laid flat next to the tools in shifts every forty eight hours. A grueling pace to even the most hardened of soldiers. They had created a total of 122 Boxes of various design. The enemy had an estimate of 500 mobile suits, it was going to be tricky, but they still had some time according to Quatre’s observations.

After the one week point they took turns at a six hour sleep shift because both noticed a slight decrease in production rate, lack of sleep slowed them slightly. As Trowa slept, Heero programmed possible attack and defense formations, creating new designs to avoid a soldier guessing positions of the undetectable weapons based on knowledge of military tactics and formations.

During Heero’s sleep shift, Trowa keyed up the stealth system to make sure it worked. The Boxes blurred and began to blend in to the concrete walls that surrounded them, a glance at his laptop showed nothing hitting the radar except the cockpit which hadn’t been fitted. He couldn’t help but smirk, his enemies would regret. An invisible opponent is a soldier’s worst fear. They would be playing a deadly game of hide and seek with what amounted to mice armed like Heavyarms. It would be orchestrated chaos. He got some sadistic pleasure out of knowing what the enemy had waiting for them once they hit the atmosphere.

He looked over the work Heero did, and began writing a recognition program for the guns because the NARC system was only applicable to the missiles and rocket launchers. He wasn’t sure if this group had other model suits that they modified or if they had created their own. Any silhouette could be used, so Trowa stalled the actual object of recognition for the program and would “take a picture” of the inbound suits to be targeted once they breached earth’s atmosphere. This was a little more difficult, and Heero was the better programmer, but he would let him look over his work to make sure there were no mistakes when he woke up.

After the sleeping shift passed, they dove back into building their weapons. By the end of the second week, they had 303 Box weapons to combat about 500 enemy suits. The odds were much better than either had hoped for at the onset of building. As long as every Box took out one enemy, the losses for the rebel group would be massive. Even if they continued the assault despite the losses, they would be easily overturned by the other pilots and the underground pockets of resistance.

With the recognition program Trowa wrote, the NARC system wouldn’t be needed unless the weapons weren’t doing sufficient damage before their destruction. The NARC system would be more destructive, but with all Boxes firing almost simultaneously, the enemy suits could track the stealthy weapons easier. Plus, firing a target shot from the truck would make them easier targets.

Trowa didn’t intend to let Heero die, didn’t intend to put him in more danger than necessary.

Quatre contacted them via vid-link about two days before all preparations were ready and notified them that the base farthest from earth had begun to mobilize. The other bases were expected to follow within the next day, maybe two. The ETA of the enemy to earth would be four days.

He also informed them that Duo and Wufei were to rendezvous on his satellite in 27 hours, then he excused himself to see to his guests.

Heero and Trowa engaged the Boxes and moved them under cover of night to the roof of the warehouses in the neighborhood, unhindered by the roofs of the cargo bay. This way they would be ready to make the trip to battle when activated. All that was needed were approximate coordinates, then the recognition program would take over.

The earthbound pilots assumed the main focus of the attack would be Sanc Kingdom since it was the figurehead of universal politics and its suit weapons were removed after Oz’s attack due to their pacifist preferences.

But since this would be an easy conquest, the majority of the enemy suits would be spread out to residual military bases that were, conveniently, never decommissioned during peacetime.

The attack plan would most likely be to station 5-10 suits to secure the area with the majority of their forces elsewhere, so that would be the perfect place to hide.

With multiple suits transmitting frequencies, one foreign signal would be easily overlooked. They could tap into the opposition’s transmissions, read the parameters of their attack so the pilots would know where the other forces were sent. Because of this, they would know where to send units of the Box weapons. They could bug the airwaves to know whether their weapons were working or not.

At this point, they had no time to alter their plans, they would have to trust that the programs they wrote would work.

With this plan, the NARC system wouldn’t be applicable, the pilots would be too far away to see more than explosions in the distance, if that.

All the better for Trowa who had no intention of carrying Yuy around in something as non-maneuverable as a big rig truck while he’s shooting target shots, potentially signing his death with every bullet. Technically, it’d be their deaths, but Trowa concern rarely touched himself. He’d never lay down his life without a fight but he had no fear of death.

But for some reason, the thought of Heero’s death did hold a frission of fear to it. He put all thoughts behind him, blanking his mind to concentrate on what needed doing which was meeting the cab that had been called. Trowa made his way to pick up the truck he’d rented so he and Heero could load up the final piece of equipment, the cockpit which was the key to the whole operation.

The two spent the day fitting stealth mechanisms to the truck. They decided to spend a sleep shift at the warehouse before leaving for Sanc because there was no way to be sure they would find a location secure enough to allow them to do so once they arrived. They made certain everything was in order and then headed to the back office to rest.

Their bedrolls were laid out on opposite walls from each other, both flanking the only door and out of the visual range of the only window. Trowa laid out his roll, and stood beside it facing the wall. For some reason, he felt self conscious while he took his shirt off, his back to Heero as he heard the rustle of clothing from across the room that told him 01 was undressing as well.

He stood still as the need to solve the riddles in his head took over. It was one of the last chances he might have to speak with Heero; there was no guarantee they would live through the next week. And the need to know was pulsing in his head like a living thing.

Trowa drew a deep breath, hesitating to form the words needed. “Heero.”

The movements behind him stopped, and Trowa turned to address his partner’s bare back. It seemed Heero had faced the wall while undressing also. “What did Quatre say?”

He continued undressing. Light in the room was sparse, but the Latin pilot saw the muscles of his back crease and stretch with the movements as Heero unbuttoned his pants. “I already told you.”

Trowa turned away quickly as the other pilot’s pants began falling to the floor. He lay down on his roll and stripped off his shoes; he always slept in his jeans when he was unfamiliar with the setting or the company. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his companion folding his clothes and setting them beside the bed, ready for a quick start if needed. “We both know that is not what changed your mind about calling me in.”

“Hn.”

Trowa closed his eyes to let sleep come, assuming Heero had said all he planned, so he was surprised when the Wing pilot answered his question. “He said, ‘Even the basest of criminals receive a last request.’ It struck a cord.”

He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden, Trowa’s mouth was almost too dry to speak. “What was yours?”

“You.” It was so faint, Trowa barely heard him, thought he had heard wrong, but Heero elaborated. “To see you again, work with you. Perhaps more.”

Perhaps more? Why was his heart beating so fast? It felt like a bass drum within his chest. “The kiss…it was sincere.” It was a statement now, but before Heero’s confession, it was a question plaguing Trowa’s mind.

“Yes. As was the blow.” He turned on his side facing the wall, signaling the end of the conversation, but Trowa wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Both were ill timed.” The Heavyarms pilot was suppressing the urge to squirm. This conversation was very uncomfortable for him, and he wasn’t certain why. He now regretted opening the topic to begin with.

“Sometimes timing is unaccountable; you act in response to an observation.” Heero’s voice was somewhat muffled, like his face had turned into his pillow.

“What was the observation?” No matter his desire to be done with the conversation, it was like he couldn’t stop, like he was being dragged downstream by a fierce current headed for jagged rocks.

Silence filled the air and bore down on them both, such pressure between them; it made Trowa wonder if his ears were about to pop. The room was clothed in shades of grey. What little light that did reach the window, filtered in through dirty glass and landed on the concrete floor between the two males, leaving dappled patterns, relieving the absolute dark.

Trowa stayed lying on his back hands joined behind his head, but he turned his head towards the other in anticipation of his answer.

“We are the same.”

Trowa’s gasp could be heard clearly to both, and was so sharp the breath of air felt like he was taking in blades instead of oxygen. Wasn’t that what he had wanted to know for so long? He had known they were the same since he watched Heero self-destruct, but he was ignorant to whether or not Heero saw that. “Yes.” It slipped past his lips before he could stop it, and he was embarrassed by the fact that his voice sounded so hoarse. But his throat was so tight right now, it couldn’t be helped.

Through the dim room, Trowa could see the shape of Heero across from him. As he watched, Heero rolled over to face him; his blue eyes the clearest thing in the room. They were sharp, looking for something. Under that deep gaze, Trowa felt like a mouse staring into the eyes of a hawk.

“Then you know the possibility of what could be between us.” His voice was as flat as it normally was, but Trowa thought he heard a plea within those words.

But he couldn’t, wouldn’t acknowledge it; he looked away, staring at the ceiling once more. “I know what we have, and I’m not willing to risk that.”

In his peripheral vision, Trowa saw Heero roll onto his back and lace his fingers behind his head, mimicking his own position. “You speak as if it has to be one or the other.”

“Doesn’t it?” Confusion ruled his voice, how could it not?

“Does it?”

“Yes. One cannot be involved on such a level without it affecting your decisions and actions.” Trowa tried desperately to find some sort of familiar ground within himself.

“I disagree.” The taller youth wondered how he could sound so calm as he churned up Trowa’s belief system.

The acrobat was at a loss for words. This was the only man he had considered a better soldier than himself, and here he was confessing to one of the biggest heresies in a soldier’s book. “How?”

In the silence of the still room, he could hear Heero draw a deep breath and expel it slowly before answering. “During the war, did you find my decisions or actions disagreeable or detrimental to the cause?”

“No.” Was he implying…?

“Then you know I can be involved on such a level without it affecting either.”

He was. “How long?” Trowa had been hiding unnamed feelings about Heero since he cared for the unknown boy in his trailer. How long had Heero been hiding?

“Antarctica was when I first acknowledged feeling something.”

Silence prevailed until Trowa chuckled, a defeated sound. “You were unconscious for about a month before we were formally introduced. Since I had known you longer, I guess its only natural I would acknowledge it before you.”

This time it was Heero’s sharp gasp that could be heard by both. “But you punched me.”

“I thought you found out; I thought you were trying to manipulate me.”

“You didn’t let me. I guess that means you can be involved and not let it affect your performance as well.” He sounded satisfied now that he had proved his point.

“Perhaps.” Trowa rolled over to face the wall, finally able to let the conversation go. “You should sleep.”

“Trowa?”

“Hn”

“Tomorrow, if I kissed you, would you punch me again?” His voice lilted, like he was teasing him, but the green eyed pilot heard the insecurity in those words as well.

“If you deserve it. Goodnight, Heero.”

“Goodnight, Trowa.”

Because of the dramatic revelations of the conversation, Trowa didn’t expect to be able to find sleep quickly; however, he slipped into its depths easily.

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Ok, so it was a "late" weekend update, but it was a weekend update...at least in my timezone. Sorry.