Platinum [complete]

~

Treize was having more trouble with the drunk than he had expected; the man was definitely losing the fight, yet he was still managing to get a few hits in that were stinging and only making him angrier.
~
He tried to remember if that hole in the fence at the end of the alley was still there. It wasn\'t likely to be fixed in a neighbourhood like this anytime soon. If they cut through the backyard there, then the Laundromat, that would take them about six blocks west of where they were at the moment, and if fate shined on them, they could hop the bus before anyone caught up to them.

Zechs was moving a lot faster than Heero had expected, and he caught up to him, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the telltale mismatch in the chain link fence. He pulled on it to provide enough of an opening for Zechs and jerked his head toward the Laundromat, instructing Zechs sharply to meet him at the bus stop. He eyed the dumpster nearby and thought that perhaps he\'d have just enough time to tip it over and make the progress of anyone following them a bit more difficult.
~
Treize wasn\'t too busy, however, not to notice that Zechs was leaving with that stupid little brunette. Liars, he hated liars!

His anger reached a new peak as he grabbed the drunk by the head, slammed it against the pavement, and stood up, ignoring the growing pool of blood coming from the man who was no longer moving. If Zechs thought he could try and run away with that little brat, he had another thing coming.

That blonde was one of his best money-makers, as foolish as he could be a lot of the time, and Treize would NOT lose him to some little prick in ratty clothes.
~
Milliardo ducked through the opening in the fence and walked to the Laundromat, then over to the bus stop. Once he was there, however, he looked down at himself, and at what his life had come to. One pair of ripped up shorts, a fistful of bills from a man who was probably dead by now, and more bruises and cuts than he wanted to count. What the hell was he doing? What had he been doing for all these years? He shuddered and leaned against the bus shack, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes. He didn\'t care if Treize found him any more; he didn\'t care if Heero pushed him into the street and his head got flattened by a car. He was sick of all this... everything he did seemed to end with agony.
~
Heero gave a test push on the dumpster, but it was too heavy to knock over without wasting valuable time that wouldn\'t be recovered by a simple delay. He was reacting instead of acting; he knew this, but he couldn’t stop. He needed time to plan, and he needed help. He didn\'t know how far the pimp\'s tentacles reached, and while perhaps at one time Zechs\' contract, or whatever it was that bound prostitutes to their pimps, might have been \"bought\" - something that was so out of reach he didn\'t even know why he was thinking about it - he\'d made an enemy. A mortal one. The man had warned him outside the apartment building the consequences of crossing him.
~
Treize marched in the direction the whore and his accomplice had gone in, his teeth bared as he walked the warpath. Cracking his knuckles, he rounded the corner into the alley and spotted the brunette, struggling with the dumpster. Zechs wasn\'t in sight, but one out of two was good enough-- people were going to pay for his mussed suit, his bad temper and the bruises that were forming on his face.
~
Heero cursed his luck. He should have given Zechs his change and told him to take the first bus that came by. Any plans of trying to escape long enough to form a plan were long gone. Could he take Zechs\' pimp? He would have been a lot more confident if he\'d seen the fight between this man and O\'Neil. Heero had always known he was strong - deceptively so. He knew target areas to hit on the body, and he knew how to fight dirty if necessary.

Was it enough? Someone didn\'t get to wearing clothes like this man did running the sort of \"business\" he did and live very long unless he had something to back it up. Well, the best defence was a good offence, and while he was short of breath from the run and the attempt to topple the dumpster over, he hadn\'t taken any of O\'Neil\'s punches, either.

He wasn\'t sure when he\'d made this his fight - he supposed it had happened when he invited Zechs to his apartment, when he\'d played along and then not walked away afterwards. He stripped off his shirt and threw it through the opening in the fence, then scrambled on top of the dumpster and launched himself at his brand spanking new nemesis.
~
Treize tried to grab the little brunette\'s shoulder, but the man was faster than he had anticipated, and that last fight had worn him down some as well.
~
Milliardo watched another bus go by, and sat down right on the cement under the street lamp. He wanted to go to sleep, right there, and he didn\'t care what anybody else would say or think about it. There was some noise in the alley, but he could barely hear it over traffic-- Milliardo closed his eyes and let his face rest in his hands as he shuddered once more. He didn\'t want to think-- he wanted to just wake up, at home, with his sister and his parents, and have this all be a bad dream.
~
Treize in the mean time finally snagged the brunette\'s arm, and slammed the man into the wall, trying to knock the wind out of him. \"Where’s Zechs you little shit? Try lying this time, see where it gets you!\"
~
Heero managed to twist enough that the impact against the wall was mostly to his shoulder and not the back of his head. Lying? He didn\'t lie. He didn\'t know anyone named Zechs. He might have made the acquaintance of someone who provided the name \"Zechs\" when prompted, but if there was one thing that Heero had learned, where lies usually managed to trip people up - telling the truth, albeit a carefully edited version of the truth, worked far better.

The man\'s strength, if he\'d used all of it, wasn\'t as much as Heero feared. He had a high tolerance for pain and Treize had clothing to grab onto, whereas Heero had shed some of his. He chuckled, then reached up his hands and smoothed the lapels of the other man\'s jacket, noting the look of surprise at his actions. He made dusting motions on the breast pocket and continued to laugh. It seemed the height of hilarity that Heero wanted the man to look good just before he pounded him to a bloody pulp. Or died trying.

He slid his fingers behind Treize\'s jacket and he pulled it up and over his opponent\'s head, twisting the fabric into a temporary knot as he used his full body weight to slam Treize into the opposite wall.

His laughter was approaching near hysterical proportions as he pulled Treize toward him and then back into the wall again. All he could think of was whether or not the Laundromat might be able to properly launder the suit after all the damages it had received.
~
Treize coughed as he hit the wall. This arrogant, foolish little...! He tried not to lose what little calm he had left, but it was gone; he released a roar of anger and charged at the little bastard.
~
Heero almost welcomed the impact. He had to get control of himself - laughing himself sick was only going to give up the slight advantage he had in the form of the jacket binding Treize\'s hands. This was certainly not covered under the heading of \"safe sex\" when he\'d still attended school.

He would not lose control, would not sink into the blinding rage, the rush of adrenaline that had followed his mother\'s death. It had been the first indication to Heero that his strength was, as they said, \"unusual.\" Usually there was a trigger, one that often led to brief gaps in his memory, or clouded recollections that seemed more like dreams or nightmares.

The human body had its weak spots, and Heero would go for every single one of Treize\'s if necessary.

He felt his feet slide in the gravel underfoot and grit his teeth, giving up his plan to attack Treize\'s instep and reconsidering going right for the jugular.
~
The little brat was laughing-- laughing! Treize completely lost it. He slammed the brunette into the wall with his shoulder and kneed him in the gut with a snarl.
~
The man was resourceful, Heero would give him that, not that he was surprised. He was thankful that the knee had gone higher than his groin - perhaps his past opponents had had a height advantage that Heero lacked. Zechs\' pimp did seem more fired up. That was good. Angry fighters made mistakes.

That is, if they didn\'t kill their opponents first.
~
Milliardo looked up when he heard the noise... it sounded like Treize\'s roar of anger. He looked up at the sky when he heard it again.

Treize had probably killed that drunkard... that probably meant he was fighting Heero.

Heero, against Treize...

He blinked slowly, then blinked again, a flash of life coming back into his eyes. Heero probably didn\'t stand a chance against Treize...

But what did he care? Heero just thought he was some cheap whore...

Heero had treated him just like Treize...

Milliardo had done the same thing and worse to Heero, though... the blonde closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn\'t want to think about this! He didn\'t want to think at all. He was sick of it.

There was another howl, and this time it sounded like trash bins were being thrown about in the alley.

The blonde looked over at where the noise was coming from, and with a pained expression, he got to his feet and crossed the street once more. If Treize killed him, so be it-- Heero didn\'t deserve any of the trouble he had gotten simply by helping Milliardo out. Nobody did.
~
Heero hadn\'t meant to take the knee to the gut, but he had - almost - meant to wait for the next blow to land, just to get a feel for the kind of fighter his opponent was when angered...whether he struck at any exposed area of the body, or if he seemed to have a pattern of any sort.

It was a lot easier to size up an opponent when the fight took place in a gym or other arena, one with padded floors and protective gear. Heero also wasn\'t sure how long it would take to discern a pattern, and he didn\'t really want to offer his body up just on the hope that he might anticipate the next blow.
~
He arrived in time to watch Treize slam Heero into the wall, and Milliardo winced. Treize liked to break people in before actually trying to harm them-- knock the wind out of them, hit their intestines till they threw up, hit the face till it wasn\'t recognizable any more-- then he went for serious blows like the neck and spine.

And Treize didn\'t look like he was playing any more. The large man threw his jacket to the ground and grabbed Heero\'s arm.

\"No! Treize, stop!\" the blonde screamed through the fence, clutching the links. \"Heero, he\'s going to break your neck!\"
~
What the fuck was Zechs doing here, Heero wondered. Did no one ever listen to him? He\'d just managed to figure out Treize was doing exactly what Heero had tried to do earlier, let the walls do most of the work. It was jarring, each impact, but although anger could fuel a fight, it was like a flash fire - very fast, very bright - and burned out very quickly. Although \"very\" was a relative term.

Heero felt the fingers dig into his bare arm, and this was exactly why he\'d gotten rid of the shirt. Before his arm was twisted behind him, giving the pimp clear access to his neck, Heero let Treize\'s weight do the work for him. He bent his body, shifting all his weight to his lower body and letting some of the momentum bring Treize over his back. With any other opponent, it might have knocked them for a loop temporarily, but he\'d known from the moment he\'d been threatened that this was no ordinary opponent.
~
\"Treize!\" Milliardo screamed, as Heero\'s arm was pulled back for the finishing blow. \"I\'ll come back, I\'ll do anything, just stop!\"

Neither of them seemed to be listening; the fight continued regardless of what he was saying, but he said it anyhow. \"I have the money, Treize, I\'ll never disobey again! Let him go!\"
~
Heero wanted to tell Zechs to butt out, that this no longer was about him, but about everything that Treize stood for, about every mistake he\'d ever made in his life, about every miserable drunk who\'d thrown a punch at him on the street to get back at him for evicting them from the premises. He wanted to pound Treize\'s skull into the pavement, but the damn man was making it so. Damn. Hard.

He could feel the muscles in his arm being pulled past their stretching point again, and he would have laughed again if he weren\'t saving his energy to twist away. The dance was becoming repetitive, much as Heero had expected, but he was still waiting for O\'Neil\'s punches and the rage coursing through his opponent to catch up to him - to give Heero an opening.

His back was raw and bleeding from being shoved into the rough brick over and over, and the finely made jacket was now a sodden pile. Heero ducked his head and wrapped his arms around his opponent\'s torso, wishing like hell there was a way to loosen the belt and use it to choke the life out of this man.

He just needed Treize to lift up the right foot, to shift his weight as he pushed forward - enough that Heero could try to cause him to lose his balance. Grappling at close quarters like this made manoeuvrability difficult.
~
Milliardo steeled his nerves. Neither of the stubborn men was going to give in-- he shoved the money into his damp pocket, ducked through the fence, and looked around desperately. He needed something to... there!

The blonde snatched up a piece of broken glass from the cement and approached the struggling men, clenching his jaw and frowning in determination. \"I said stop!\" he cried out, slamming the glass into Treize\'s back.
~
Treize froze, his eyes going wide as his grip on Heero loosened ever-so-slightly. There was a shard of glass embedded into his lung. He coughed, sputtering blood onto his lips as he turned his head and looked at the trembling blonde who had stabbed him. \"You little fuck,\" he hissed, releasing Heero and throwing his hands out to grab Milliardo.
~
He winced and brought his hands up to his face to protect himself, but for some reason, Treize hadn\'t touched him yet. Milliardo opened one eye and looked to see why he wasn\'t dead yet.
~
It took Heero a moment to realize he\'d been released, and that the cursing this time wasn\'t directed at him. The blood on his lip could have been from the only good blow Heero had managed to deliver to the pimp\'s ribcage, but was more likely due to the glistening shard in his back as he turned away from Heero. He was likely a dead man, Heero thought, unless he received medical attention before he bled to death.

Heero didn\'t look a gift horse in the mouth. With Treize\'s back unguarded, the opening was there, and all it took was girding himself for the pain as he grasped the glass - and twisted it.
~
Treize didn\'t cry out in pain; his eyes merely went wide as the shard in his back was twisted. His body went numb, unable to translate this level of agony into his mind; he simply collapsed face-first on the cement like a sack of bricks.
~
Milliardo was left gasping for breath as he watched the man who had taken care of him for years now fall at his feet. Some part of him was saddened-- the loyalty within him had attached itself to Treize rather quickly in the first few months they had known each other, no matter how poorly life had gotten after that...

He shook his head as though denying what he had just done, and what Heero had just done. As though Treize wasn\'t as good as dead now. There were no words he could even begin to form to make sense of all of this... all from one stupid kiss, from one lonely heart desiring something it wasn\'t supposed to have.

He fell back against the fence, hyperventilating, as Heero stood over Treize like a wolf after the kill.
~
Heero stared at the man lying prone at his feet, blinking a few times and tempted to poke the body with his toe. The body. Not a human being, not a man - a thing.

He stared at his hands, at the streaks of blood, and at Zechs, who looked like he\'d be willing to bolt if not for the fact that he was on the verge of a full out panic attack. Heero rubbed at his face tiredly. Evidence would need to be taken care of. It had been years since he\'d killed anyone, and he wished he could say he regretted it this time, but he didn\'t.

It had been a fight to the death.

He put his foot on Treize\'s back and grasped the glass again, pulling it out and then limping over to the discarded jacket, wiping the glass free of blood and fingerprints, and then wrapping it in the jacket and swinging it against the wall to shatter it in as many pieces as possible.

He had nothing left to say to Zechs. What, really, had he expected? It was like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone - some sort of moral was to be had here. Resisting temptation, turning the other cheek.

He turned to walk away - for the second time that evening. He was tired, damn it. It had been a long day at work, and everything since then had just escalated into this. He didn\'t think that he needed to worry about Zechs reporting him as the murderer - not if he wanted to avoid being an accomplice.

He turned back, made a fist, and let it fly, snapping Zechs\' head back. \"Now we\'re even,\" he said.
~
Heero was cleaning things up, the very same way Milliardo had watched Treize do it so many times. Get rid of the evidence, sometimes get rid of the body, then pretend as though nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

The blonde swallowed hard and shook his head. Why was life like this! Why was everything like this!

Heero\'s fist cracked against his face, and Milliardo barely registered it. But, Heero was leaving. For good this time, he would probably never see the brunette again. Would never get the chance to explain things.

He fell to the ground heavily, letting his legs give out beneath him, and stared at Treize\'s back, which was no longer rising and sinking with the struggle to breathe.
\"I want to go home,\" he whispered hoarsely to himself, pulling his knees to his chest and letting his forehead rest against them.
~
Heero clenched his fists. He was not going to give in this time. Look where it had gotten him the last time. He wanted to put it all behind him, wash the blood off, and get the hell out of town before sunrise.

He was used to not getting what he wanted. Hell, he\'d found that out the moment Zechs bolted from the bedroom. It was certainly a night full of bitter regrets. All he caught was the word home. That\'s what Heero had planned to do - go \"home.\"

He ran a bloodied hand through his hair, cursing his roommate for not picking him up the way he should have, then remembering the money he\'d thrown at Zechs that he\'d found in his roommate\'s room.

Shit.
~
Treize was dead, he only had a couple of hundred dollars, and as soon as the other owners in this part of town learned that the head pimp was out of the way, it would be open season on all of his remaining whores.

What was he supposed to do?

...He could take the bus.

Sure, why not? He had nothing better to do any more. If they let him on the bus while wearing only a pair of cut-offs, he\'d get on, and ride it until they made him get off.

Milliardo stood up slowly, warily, and turned his back to Heero. \"You weren\'t like the rest,\" he muttered apathetically before ducking through the fence and walking back towards the bus stop. Maybe he could hitchhike until his money ran out. Maybe he could find a new pimp somewhere.
~
Not like the rest. Heero closed his eyes in pain, suddenly cognizant of everywhere Treize had pinched, punched, and thrown him against the wall. He crouched down and ran his hands quickly along the lines of the pimp\'s slacks and jacket, finding what he was looking for.

This was it, he said. He had one thing left to say, and that was that.

Zechs wasn\'t moving very fast, and Heero looked up and down the street to insure no one was coming before he sprinted after him. He stopped in front of Zechs and turned around, brandishing the jewel encrusted money clip. \"Zechs,\" he said, \"is dead. Make sure he stays that way.\"
~
What Heero was saying didn\'t make sense. Milliardo frowned and looked at the money in Heero\'s hand, then managed to look the brunette in the face. \"What?\" he asked hoarsely.
~
Heero pressed the money clip into the blonde’s hand and shrugged. \"You\'ll figure it out.\"

He walked past the man and shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the blood, knowing he\'d have to stick to back alleys and dimly lit streets to avoid drawing attention to his back. Even if he still had his shirt, he sure as hell wasn\'t about to put it on now.

It was funny how he could almost pretend, with his hands hidden from sight as they were, that he\'d just been out for a stroll as he sometimes did when the nights were too hot to sleep, and when he felt the need to burn off some of the nervous energy that sometimes kept him awake.
~
When their fingers touched, the tiniest of thrills went down Milliardo\'s spine, and flashes of the amazing time he had spent with Heero ran through his memory. Was all that for nothing? Had they met on the street just to part like this? It didn\'t seem fair, or right!

He looked down at the money in his possession now, and frowned, looking up at the bus coming his way.
~
Zechs may have been a prostitute, but whoever \"Zechs\" had been before - who was it that had driven him to new heights of ecstasy in bed? The prostitute, or the man?
~
Milliardo stepped onto the bus, and though the driver gave him quite a disapproving stare, he accepted the money and let the blonde have a seat. As the bus took off, Milliardo stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by. His frown deepened. This was for the best, wasn\'t it? Heero didn\'t want to see him any more, right?
~
Heero had ducked between two buildings and leaned against one of them briefly, wanting to take off his shoe but forcing himself to wait until he got back to the apartment. For all the shit his roommate had caused him this evening, he sure as hell better not be home. Heero didn\'t feel like trying to explain why he was home so late from work - assuming the guy even noticed. He saw the bus drive by and managed to avoid checking the windows to see if he recognized the passengers.

Maybe once he\'d swallowed his pride and moved back in to his stepfather\'s house, he\'d call the clinic and make an appointment. Reality was a harsh mistress, and like it or not, he had engaged in risky sexual activity. Would have gladly done it again if he\'d had the chance.

He swore under his breath and pushed away from the wall. Shit. He\'d still gladly do it if he had the chance.



Prologue for Chapter Two:


Milliardo watched the brunette from the shadows across the street, hugging himself and staring. He couldn\'t bring himself to believe that what Heero had made him feel was just animal lust and nothing more. The blonde watched his once-lover stand and head towards the apartment building. A cry rose to his throat but made it no further-- he would leave Heero alone, as he should.

Heero didn\'t want to see him... but, at very least, Milliardo knew he had to see Heero, even if it was always from a distance for the rest of time.

Part of his mind told him he should have stayed on the goddamn bus. But he couldn\'t. He simply couldn\'t accept the thought that he would never see the brunette\'s face again.
~
Heero was glad beyond measure that the door had been left unlocked. The apartment looked unmolested, which surprised him - probably no one expected to find anything of worth in the place. The money he\'d thrown at Zechs mocked him from the floor, making him feel like shit.

He hadn\'t even known the money had been refused.
~
Milliardo turned away as the brunette mounted the stairs. He would use the money to rent a place to live, he\'d get a job, and he\'d try and become a real member of society.

Maybe, someday, he\'d be good enough to come back and visit.

Maybe, someday, he\'d tell Heero the truth about everything.

For now, Milliardo was thinking of new names he could call himself... A cool breeze swept through his hair, and Milliardo sighed, closing his eyes.


Wind... that was a nice name.


~



That\'s it! Finished! Well.... that\'s the end of the first chapter in Heero and Zechs\' lives. It gets far more interesting from there... but you\'ll have to check out chapter two: Lurking in the Shadows.

...and, if anybody would like to recommend a better title for these, I\'m more than open to suggestions.