Pressure of a Blade

AN: I'd like to take a little space to write a thank you snippet to Asarie and Shadowfall for their reviews. I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, but I haven't checked in on this fic in a while since it was getting so little response. In truth, I signed in to remove it when I saw your reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I also apologize to Shadowfall for having to create an account, lol, but I'm glad that this fic has given you reason to consider the 1x3 pairing. I agree with you, Asarie, this is my absolute favorite pairing. I haven't found many good fics featuring this pair that's not complete angst. That leaves me with the choice of sitting around bitching about it or writing my own fics. And I love the challenge of trying to bring them together in a "believable" setting. I hope you continue enjoying the fic, and thanks again.

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Approximately five hours later, green eyes opened and flicked over to Heero’s bed roll to see him coming out of his sleep cycle as well. Both rolled up their mats, shoved their duffle bags into the cabin of the truck, and headed into Sanc.

As they reached the border, Heero climbed into the cargo hold of the truck, fired up the cock pit, and sent the command for half of the Boxes to rendezvous outside the mountain village they had left just hours previously. The other half remained on the roof of the warehouse to be sent to wherever else the enemy would be attacking. They wouldn’t know the destination until they hacked the communication lines of the suits that would target Sanc.

One last stop to top off the gas tank, and then all there was left was to wait.

They didn’t have to wait long, forty five minutes after their entrance into the city surrounding Sanc Palace, the first reports of an invasion force were surfacing as the satellites caught glimpses of the incoming transport shuttles.

“Incoming.” Heero’s calm voice echoed through the truck.

Trowa picked up spots in the distance that grew as they came closer. He kept the truck on the designated route, but noted the formation of the enemy as they approached.

As expected, they encountered no resistance upon entrance to Sanc kingdom, just took up stations around the palace to ensure no one of importance could escape. Little did the enemy know, Heero had arranged for Relena’s removal from the situation before he called Trowa in about two weeks ago. Security and her PR worked together to make it appear that she was still in residence at the palace even though she was actually no where on earth. She and her most trusted security team members had been the guests of Quatre on his observation satellite not 1000 km from one of the enemy’s bases.

This knowledge amused Trowa as he watched the vigilant troops block all exists from the city. It wasn’t more than a minute later when the first shots rang out. A suit went down without even getting a shot off. Chaos ensued, but Trowa never stopped driving. A soldier never allows interference with his assigned role.

“Trowa, park and get back here.” Heero called from the cargo hold of the truck.

“Understood.”

By this point, traffic had exploded, people where abandoning their cars and running down the streets. It was only by luck and sheer will that Trowa made it to park in an alley near one of the chosen safe stop points.

Upon entering the cargo hold, Trowa knew Heero wasn’t happy; his jaw was tense, and his eyes were tight, narrowed and focused on the screen. Trowa’s first thoughts went to any possible malfunctions of the Boxes which may have led to total attrition of their deployed weapons, but Heero’s voice told him otherwise.

“I can’t find their communication frequency.”

Without access to their comm system, they couldn’t be sure where and how to deploy the remaining Boxes. News reports would alert them to current locations but not intended targets or how strong the force was, so they wouldn’t know how many Boxes to send to each different location.

“On it.” Trowa set up his laptop and began a thorough search of the initial area, but found nothing. A detailed scan of the surrounding area and current battle ground showed nothing but the Boxes command frequency and white noise from the city. They were running out of time; twenty minutes tops before the troops found the command frequency’s origin and destroyed the cockpit.

“Damn, no good.” Shutting down his computer, Trowa checked his weapons and started towards the door. He would have to do this manually.

“Trowa” The Wing pilot stopped him; he turned, waiting.

“Don’t die on me.” There was no emotion in the statement, but the fact that he said anything at all told Trowa everything he needed to know.

He nodded and left.

The circus performer hit the pavement running, confiscated the nearest abandoned car, and started driving towards the battleground. There were several times when he had to jump a curb and drive on the sidewalk until the road cleared enough to resume legal driving.

The streets were strangely empty now, the people having taken cover in the nearest buildings, but there were scared faces peering out of windows, trying to catch glimpses of what was happening. Explosions and gunfire echoed across the city, sounds of suits fighting invisible opponents.

As he neared ground zero, he saw what he was hoping for; a suit went down not too far from the surrounding buildings, but it didn’t explode, leaving the suit in one piece.

Using the buildings to his advantage, he ditched the car and began sprinting towards the suit. It had landed face down, the largest part of the chest grinding against the concrete, leaving the cockpit hatch exposed but parallel to the ground. His acrobatic skills would be needed to filter through the door, but the task was nothing compared some of his routines back in the colonies. Suspended upside-down by an arm and a foot wedged into a hand-hold, he popped the hatch, weapon drawn and aimed at the pilot’s seat.

But nothing happened. The pilot was unconscious or dead, hanging uncomfortably by his harness, blood trails staining his face. Putting his gun away, Trowa got to work.

Heero didn’t have much time before the enemy would whittle the frequency’s origin to his current location, so he got to work. He climbed into the cockpit and wedged his body in between the pilot’s seat and the starboard monitor. One foot was pressed against the seat, the other against the panel below the monitor, his entire body weight was held by the strength of his legs pressing outwards against the two opposing surfaces. Quick fingers determined that the screen still worked; luck was on his side.

He removed the headset from the pilot, hooked up to the monitor, and after a few key commands into the suit’s computer, sent the signal feed directly to Heero’s location. He would now be able to overhear enemy orders straight from the source.

Hacking into the suit’s main functions, he created a blaring signal frequency that broadcast with a ten mile radius to block and further disguise Heero’s command signal. It would buy them more time.

A glance at his watch told him he had accomplished his task within his given time frame.

Pressure against the back of his head told him the pilot had woken up, and had his gun trained on him. Not good. Heero would be pissed.

Trowa lifted his empty hands into the air; there was no way he was giving in, but it couldn’t hurt to let his enemy think that. There was something the man wanted; otherwise, Trowa would already be dead.

“What did you just do?” A rough voice ground out, slightly slurred. Trowa hoped his reflexes were as slowed as his voice sounded.

In one fluid move, the Heavyarms pilot tilted his head and released the pressure against the panels that held his weight; he began falling. He heard a shot ring out as his body did a half turn in the air allowing him to fall towards the ground and face the pilot as he pulled his gun. Another shot rang out, and Trowa felt a sharp pain in his right hip as he pulled the trigger. A hole appeared in the enemy’s forehead, and his gun fell from his hand bouncing off the suit’s hatch and tumbling towards the earth.

Trowa never let the momentum of his turn end; his body gracefully cutting through the atmosphere as he brought his feet underneath him just as the ground rose to meet him.

What would have been an effortlessly perfect landing sent sharp spears of pain through him and his body pitched forward awkwardly. Tucking one shoulder underneath him, he rolled across the ground rather than skidding to a stop, letting his momentum disperse with the roll, and just lay there breathing through the pain.

Two deep breaths and a wave of nausea passed before he rose to standing. He was in the middle of a battlefield. He had to move, but the wound was deep, and he was bleeding profusely. The bullet had entered right below his hip bone and lodged itself deep within the muscle mass. That would be a bitch to get out.

He stood, but one step let him know how difficult the return trip would be. Explosions rocked the sky above him as he began crawling off the field. He could put weight on the injured side, but shifting his weight over to the left was enough to send him back to the ground. Gritting his teeth, he stood again and forced the muscles to work. Pain flared across his senses, but the buildings which had hidden him previously were now the biggest danger. Stray shots were sending shrapnel and concrete blocks careening towards the ground, and he was in dire danger.

Forcing an increase of pace, Trowa managed to partially run, partially hop back to the car he had used to get to the battlefield. Driving was much better than walking, and he made it back to the truck within thirty minutes.

He stumbled to the driver’s side door and used the strength of his upper body to hoist himself into the seat. The pain remained and flared sharp and brilliant across his vision when he moved or shifted his weight, but he had a job to do.

Putting the truck in drive, he used alleyways, sidewalks, and dirt trails to get away from their previous location ASAP.

“Its over in Sanc.” Heero’s voice was as calm as always, but it came from right behind Trowa’s ear. Still high on adrenaline and endorphins, the acrobat jumped at the voice so close to him, but the sudden movement caused him to gasp in pain.

Which didn’t go unnoticed by Heero. “Where?” He demanded, as he crawled into the passenger side. His eyes found the blood pool with little effort.

Trowa said nothing in response to his injury. “What was the count? Where are the Boxes being sent?”

“You’re loosing too much blood, pull over.”

“You should be watching the monitor, judging the battles from the attrition rate of the Boxes.” Trowa felt nausea settle over him with increasing familiarity, and his eyes watered with the pain. It was shameful to let Heero see him like this.

“There’s nothing that can be done at this point except wait for the battles to be won or lost. Pull over, Barton.” His command left little chance for resistance.

He did as he was told. No sooner was the truck in park that Heero was forcing him to lay down across the seats so he could get a better look at the wound. Trowa had to stop himself from laughing.

There was no way Heero was going to be able to view the wound now. His jeans were too tight for casual inspection of his hip under normal circumstances, but now they were soaked with blood as well. No, they would have to be cut off, and now wasn’t the time.

But it did feel good to be flat on his back rather than sitting. Obviously, Heero had come to the same opinion as Trowa because he gave up trying to inspect the wound. Ever focused on his current task, he removed his shirt and began ripping it into strips. He tied three tight wraps around him, two circling his hips and another that circled just the right leg to compress the area around the wound.

“You didn’t apply pressure after injury.” Irritation was clearly heard in Heero’s voice at Trowa’s disregard for his health.

“I was in too much of a hurry. They were zeroing in on the location of the cockpit’s frequency.” Trowa neglected to say that it was the location of the man within the cockpit that he truly wanted to save, but the soldier refused to allow such a statement of weakness.

A beep from the cockpit signaled there was an alert to be viewed.

Heero grunted, never losing eyes contact with the injured soldier. “Stay there and keep yourself conscious. You’ve lost too much blood to go under, understood?”

Trowa nodded, and Heero returned to the cargo hold.

The next span of time was spent with Trowa mentally reviewing Heavyarms weapon signature, how much ammo loaded equated how many shots he would get on an enemy search group, ground plans of bases he had infiltrated. When he ran out of figures and schematics, he switched to his newest routine, reviewing how many seconds he had between each grab and release. Not that he would be able to practice anytime soon with his newest injury, all the more reason to keep the time tables in his head fresh.

There was a reassuring lack of sensation that had settled over him some time during his mental exercises. Heero returned some time after that, and supported his injured side as they clumsily made their way to the cargo hold. Trowa registered the sound of his jeans being cut away and closed his eyes in preparation. Sure enough the numb feeling dissipated into pain as Heero began searching for the bullet. Every slight movement felt like fire, but he grit his teeth and refused to make the smallest sound.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually his companion succeeded in getting the forceps deep enough to remove the bullet and began stitching up muscle and flesh. He had been forced to cut the bullet’s tunnel open more to reach the deepest part to start stitching. A glance at the little white box, told the injured acrobat that Heero was using the medkit Trowa brought which meant he wouldn’t have to pay attention to the dates for the stitches to be removed. The kind he used dissolved after a two week timeframe. Nice to know, but the needle doing the stitching was anything but nice, and it took so long, as deep as the wound had been.

After what seemed like years of pain, Heero’s voice told him he could sleep now. And he did.
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Hope you enjoyed the new addition. I'll update soon.