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'Til Death us do part	By : ClareSelley Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Crossovers Views: 896 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Highlander, and I make no money off this.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Five days later and Duo just knew the nursing staff were avoiding the bed, giving it, and him, a wide berth. Probably due to the fact he'd been throwing paper aeroplanes at them all morning.

Over the last few days he'd caught up with all his favourite TV shows, watched a few new ones, listened to music until the nurses had asked him to stop singing along as it was disturbing the other patients, called Quatre to catch up – and ask about a certain sister of his, did some research on Scotland and the Scottish Clans on L4, read some of the mission write-ups on the Preventer intranet, and some of the ones from the secure area, making a note of the security holes to tell Heero about, and pulled together a short list of houses to visit with a view to rent.

He'd even finished the report two days ago, randomly picking ten words from a dictionary to try and fit into it for amusement. Gown had been a tricky one, though he'd managed it with 'I was glad I was not wearing a gown as it would have hindered my movement.' The debriefing team had sent an acknowledgement, pointedly not mentioning some of the stranger sentences. And now he was bored.

His burns were healing nicely with minimal scarring which the doctor had assured him could be removed as soon as he was fully recovered and the other lacerations had already mostly healed allowing him to walk around the room a little. Hopefully when Dr. Syxe came past he'd finally be allowed to leave the damn place and head back to the hotel. At least there he could head to the loo by himself without a swarm of nurses descending on him.

He'd not seen Sally or Wufei around the hospital wing much to his irritation - he'd looked forward to teasing the Chinese pilot about the possible relationship blooming between him and the ex-Alliance Major, though that did rely on the fact that the doctor would prevent any serious damage to her patient. Mac had dropped in a few times, mostly to see how he was and once to find out how to stop the rude words appearing randomly in his reports, but other than that he'd been left to his own devices.

He was pondering what to do next when Dr. Syxe walked round the screen with a fixed smile. "I hear you've been tormenting the staff again, Night."

Turning innocent eyes on his doctor, Duo sighed as the man checked the wounds. "I'm just bored, I hate hospitals. What's a guy meant to do in here anyway?"

"Rest and recover is generally the accepted thing to do in a hospital bed," Syxe replied, nodding in satisfaction at the healing skin as he picked up the tablet to scan over the details "And I'm pleased, for both you and my staff, that I'll be able to release you this afternoon. You're lucky you're so resilient, you and your fellow pilots." He frowned, "And I need to have a word with Gold over this - she shouldn't be putting you through there sorts of things on purpose, I thought after Air she would have been more careful."

"To be honest, doc, we were at more risk in the Gundams in the war. When you're facing a bunch of tauruses it's more dangerous than a couple of lasers."

"That's not the point."

"So, when can I go?" Duo glanced round impatiently. There was nothing he'd asked for except for a few magazines and his personal laptop that Duncan had brought down to him for his music and TV. Most of his requests had been denied on health and safety grounds, although he didn't know how a bunch of electronic parts to play with and a simple soldering iron would be any danger.

The doctor gestured one of the nurses over, conferring with her quietly. "We're just going to change the dressings while I go and fill out the discharge forms, and then you can leave. You will have to be careful about what you do for the next few days, light exercise only and healthy food with plenty of protein. I'll make an appointment for you for a week's time for the scar removal."

Glaring at the nurse, who he could have sworn sighed with relief as Syxe spoke, he allowed her to change the bandages on his arms, legs and chest where the worst of the damage had occurred. The skin was still tender, but the pain was nothing in comparison to the initial agony, and she was at least trying to be gentle. Annoyingly she was one of the battleaxe nurses that the ward had to offer, he'd been having fun flirting with the younger ones, just because he was gay didn't mean he couldn't appreciate female beauty and enjoy a little innocent banter, right?

It didn't take long for the tablet to be brought over to him for his signature and a sheaf of paper handed over filled with instructions on everything from eating to bathing to exercise he could do. Grabbing the paperwork and laptop, he grinned in relief as he pulled his shoes and socks on and hopped off the bed. "Thanks, doc, I'll try not to be here again too soon, 'kay?"

"Hopefully after I retire," the nurse muttered, so low that he wasn't entirely sure he heard properly.

"You're also under orders from Gold to take it easy and rest for the remainder of the week. You can return to work fully on Monday."

That gave him, what, 4 days of being stuck in a hotel room with nothing to do. Great. He supposed that he could use the time to look at houses and sort his boxes out - he'd just thrown everything he owned in without really paying much attention to what it was, and he was pretty sure that he didn't need all of the crap that he'd brought to Earth.

Pausing at reception to type a quick email to Mac, he almost bounced out the building, savouring the fresh air that swirled around him, so different from the stale clinical air of the hospital floor. Hailing a cab, he relaxed in the comfy seat and let it carry him back to the hotel.

Duncan raked a hand through his hair, reading through Duo's email quickly before leaning back as he shut the computer down for the night. It was remarkably quiet without his new partner's almost constant fidgeting, it reminded him of Richie, unable to sit still for a second. He pitied the hospital staff, from what he'd seen on his brief visits, the braided man was causing chaos without even leaving his bed.

When Duo had collapsed in front of him, he was shocked at the state the pilot had been in. Gashes that looked like they'd been caused by a white hot blade were visible through the torn clothing, already cauterised with the raw smell of burning flesh hitting his senses.

He'd thought the boy was dead at first, the injuries were so severe, but then the rasping breaths had caught his ears and he'd rushed to call the retrieval squad and an ambulance, only to find they were already on their way, sent by Ice once he'd seen the damage from the bases' camera. Duo was lucky to be alive.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat, pulling his sword from under the desk and secreting it in the specially tailored scabbard in the lining, carefully angling himself away from the camera in the corner out of habit.

Modern security was a real pain in the rear when you were Immortal. It had been bad enough when computers had been invented - that damn database had caused enough problems, but then there was the internet, and then other, newer technology, then the colonies. It was enough to give a man a headache, let alone keep fights that involved swords, chopping people's heads and freak lightning storms secret from the media,

Luckily there were both Immortals and Watchers in the media who had a vested interest in keeping the secret, he himself had done a stint as a news site editor a couple centuries ago and covered up a few slip ups. Medical science was also getting to be both a gift and a curse. Healing injuries that would have been accepted as killing blows in past eras gave his kind more of an excuse for surviving wounds that would have killed a mortal, but also meant greater risk of something not quite right being detected in their genetic make up or whatever it was that made them Immortal.

It also meant the Watchers were much, much better at tracking them with technology usually only used by intelligence agencies and professional spies, well, most of them. A couple of Immortals, alright, one in particular, were still eluding the organisation according to their online database - even hidden secret heavily protected websites could be found if you knew what you were looking for. On the other side of the coin, it meant that most Immortals now knew about the Watchers and were aware of who theirs was.

His current Watcher was also in the Preventers, Des Storman, and while he'd never had a close friendship with any of his Watchers after Joe, he and Des treated each other as casual friends, both pretending that they didn't know that the other knew what they were.

The Game had, of course, spread onto the colonies for a while, until one Quickening had shorted out the life support on a colony and almost killed thousands. By silent agreement amongst most of the Immortals, a truce had been agreed, and many now lived peacefully in space. However, most wasn't by any means all, and at least on Earth anyone chasing the famous Duncan MacLeod's head wouldn't potentially damage the fragile balance between human and the harsh and deadly environment of the stars.

Making his way up to the gym, he hoped that the scar tissue wouldn't influence his partner's amazing flexibility. He'd shown promise in the few days they'd trained together and he'd been looking forward to teaching the young man, it had been decades since he'd had someone to train where sword work with the sole aim of taking someone's head wasn't involved.

Beginning his stretching, he started to plan some easy t'ai chi chun routines that Duo would be able to do, even injured.

He'd lost track of the time when he came to rest a few hours later, the gym almost empty, the after work crowd having been and gone while he was lost in the exercises. Shaking his hair out, the damp mane fluffed out around his neck and he turned to see Dree leaning back against a nearby wall, watching him, her blue eyes wide in faint arousal and her long blonde hair twisted in elegant braids that circled her head.

"Duncan. I've not seen you for a while." The sweet voice was husky and smooth, "You've not been coming by my office recently."

"I've been catching up with paperwork while Duo's been in hospital." Duncan replied, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat that was running in rivulets down his body. "The peace was nice." He turned back to take the blonde in his arms, laying a soft kiss on her lips, feeling her arms wrapping around him and her nails lightly raking his back. "But I might have to come and see if I can find any peace in your office once he comes back to work."

Dree smiled, a regal lioness compared to the kitten that Duo had called her younger brother, "You're always welcome," she murmured, kissing him back, her tongue swiping across his lips, seeking entrance.

Running his hands over the slender body, the uniform hugging her figure in all the right places, he held her closely, enjoying the way her body moulded against his before stepping away, "I should get changed and have a shower, I'll see you later Dree."

"Later," she almost purred, giving him a small wave as she sashayed out of the gym.

A cold shower soon sorted the little problem that the female Winner had caused, and he made his way out of the building without any further interruptions, driving off towards the canal boat he owned on the Brussels canal.

I'm getting sentimental, he thought as usual as he climbed aboard the barge. He'd brought the boat on a whim when he'd moved to the city to join the Preventers, planning to live in it temporarily while he found a suitable house, but had quickly found that he'd missed the gentle rocking on the water. It wasn't an experience you could get on the colonies. The happy memories from France all those centuries ago hadn't hurt, and he'd soon made it his permanent home along with the other people who enjoyed life on the ancient canal running through Brussels.

Dumping his uniform from his sports bag into the laundry bag, he tidied up the remainders of his rushed breakfast, marvelling as he dipped the basket of dirty plates into the dishwasher for a few minutes before pulling them out cleaned and dried. Some technology was a definite bonus - it beat pewter plates washed in heated well water for one.

Heating up a meal in the cooker, which used electricity to cook the food thoroughly with some complicated physics that he didn't understand but was a vast improvement on the pot over fire method, he curled up on the couch and poured himself a glass of wine before placing his sword by the seat and finding his place in the pile of paper resting on the arm.

There was something about books and paper that meant society was still lingering over getting rid of them in favour of electronic versions, although with many trees being protected by law, paper was now made with synthetics. It didn't quite have the same smell or texture as his collection of antique books, but turning the crisp pages was still far more satisfying than pushing some down button on a machine.

Good writers, however, appeared in every era, and he'd been pleased to discover a talented new writer specialising in historical novels, even if he managed to get several facts regarding the 21st century entirely incorrect. He'd written to Petor a few times under the guise of an amateur historian, and, after a few heated debates on the capabilities of the Internet in the 2010s the novelist had suggested that the Immortal proof read his latest offering based on the 1980s before he submitted it to his publisher.

Frowning, he noticed that the heroine used her mobile phone to contact her lover and made a short note in the border. Some of the errors could be easily avoided if the man would use an encyclopedia more often, but he insisted it ruined his writing flow and that most people wouldn't notice the minor errors, poetic license he called it. Duncan just called it sloppy.

The moon was shining through the cabin windows when the Highlander looked up from the proof, the wine long gone, the meal only remembered by crumbs and the bed calling his name. Marking his place, he stretched, checking the barge's security and that the door was locked before stripping off and collapsing on the large bed, almost asleep before his head hit the pillows.

Duo sat amongst the chaos of his hotel room with a growing sense of panic. The cleaning staff are gonna kill me, he thought as he took in the sheer mass of stuff that he'd somehow managed to collect in just over a year, which was now spread out over the room in piles. He'd been trying to organise everything into things to be binned, things to keep, and things to think about.

Well, that had kind of worked, although the bin bag sat there forlornly, only about a quarter full, and only one box of things he wanted to keep was propped up on the far wall. The contents of the other eight boxes were spread liberally over the floor, desk, bed and into the en-suite bathroom. He was just glad the Preventers has paid the excess baggage fees required to transport it all from L2.

He picked up the nearest object, a broken communicator that he'd picked up with the idea that he'd fix it up and sell it on. He hated throwing stuff away, Sally's shrinks would probably say it was related to not having anything as a kid, and having to hold onto everything he had to survive. Nope, he had to keep it, he might want to fix the thing eventually and it could come in handy. Never knew when you'd need random spare parts anyway.

With a sigh, he tossed it over to the side and picked up the next object, wondering what on earth had possessed Hilde to give him a mug with 'Kiss the cook' on for Christmas. He couldn't cook anything more than simple things which didn't involve complicated recipes and he invariably forget anything that took longer than five minutes to cook. Hilde had always cooked in at the scrap yard. Luckily ration packs were perfectly edible in his opinion. But it was from Hilde, his best friend and he just couldn't just toss it away like so much rubbish, so over to the 'keep' side it went.

He carried on clearing for a while longer, managing to at least half fill the binbag, although the keep pile was growing exponentially, before his arms and legs started to ache from the motion, OK, that's it for the night, he decided, it wasn't like the bloody stuff would disappear over night and he was pretty sure he could talk the maids down from killing him when they saw the tip in the room if he looked at them right.

As he headed over to the bed, he found himself falling forward as something caught his fee. Great job, master assassin, he berated himself, wincing as he stood up, a faint twinge running up his leg from his ankle, you can't even walk across a room without falling over. Glancing down he noticed a wrapped bundle and pulled it out, trying to remember why he'd got a long package wrapped in a bedsheet in his gear.

Flopping down on the bed, after sweeping everything on it onto the floor, he held the package on his lap, frowning as he searched his memory. Oh well, he'd just have to open it, he supposed, unwrapping the tape that held the sheet in place. Pulling the cloth away, he blinked as the moonlight that was now flooding in from the window glinted off steel. A sword, what the fuck was he doing with a... Oh. Yes. That researcher guy, Adams, Pierson, whatever, the odd one who'd pulled this sword on him a couple of years ago. He'd have to ask Mac what he knew about old swords, or if he knew where to get information on them.

Placing the unwrapped blade by the bed, he curled up in the bed, enjoying the luxury of the soft bed after the lumpy hospital mattress with almost plastic, but apparently hygienic, sheets. Letting his mind wander, his thoughts settled on a pair of chocolate brown eyes as he drifted off to sleep.

House hunting. He officially hated house hunting. He'd never really had to do it before, Gundam pilots didn't really get to have permanent houses, staying in a safe house for a week was as permanent as it got, and after that the boss of the junk yard had put him and Hilde up in one of the ramshackle houses around the perimeter that he owned for his employees, and that hadn't exactly been luxurious, although liveable in, and the rent had come out of their wages. It was times like that when he wished that his old job description had come with a pension, or at least danger money.

The first few houses he'd seen hadn't had room to swing a mouse, let alone a cat, and he'd had to revise his budget significantly upwards much to his annoyance and the estate agent's pleasure. How the hell was he going to afford to have some fun when he wasn't working if he couldn't afford it?

The next house just didn't feel right, although significantly larger. It was nowhere near the office either, and the extra hour of travelling every day was ot something he even wanted to consider - he enjoyed his lie-ins too much. Then there was the house near the office, but the landlord just seemed off to him and all of his instincts screamed not to trust the kindly looking old man.

He was certain he'd seen the entirety of the city's available houses by the time he found a fast food restaurant and ordered something to eat, the soles of his feet aching from the stress on the still healing wounds. Pulling up the list of properties to rent in the area on his laptop as he ate he frowned, scanning the details. Once again nothing caught his eye and he sighed, there was no way he'd be ready to move out when his first paycheck arrived in a week and the free accommodation from the organisation ended.

Nibbling at a chip, he changed a few search criteria, reluctantly looking at the flats available, although the idea of communal security really didn't fill him with confidence. Only one of them really stood out - a canal side flat above one of the many shops that lined the picturesque route. Sending a quick email to the estate agent, he waited impatiently for a reply while he ate the rest of his food. If this one didn't work out, he'd have to go back to the smaller house, he allowed himself a wry smile, at least then he'd have the money for a bloody social life then.

A beep alerted him to a reply, and he read it with a pleased smile. They were able to show him around that afternoon and it was available for immediate occupation, already furnished to a high standard, apparently anyway. They'd suggested an appointment in half an hour's time and checking the map, he sent a confirmation, shoving the rubbish in the bin before heading towards the canal.

He found the flat easily enough, nestled over a small restaurant specialising in old European food, claiming a taste of old Belgium on the sign under the name, De Smet's. While he waited for the agent, he scanned the menu with interest, checking if there was anything that he'd enjoy - after all, what was the point of living over a restaurant if you didn't like the food? Looking down the list he grinned, yep, he'd eat that, and that, not that, oh, that looked tasty... By the time the estate agent turned up he'd resolved to visit the restaurant wherever he ended up living.

"Mr. Maxwell?" The voice was tentative and he turned round with a sigh, once again his braid had gotten him mistaken for a girl, didn't anyone ever notice he didn't have hips?

"Yeah, that's me. You here to show me round this place?"

The estate agent nodded, unlocking the door between the restaurant and the souvenir shop that sat next to it. Duo was pleased to note the alarm system that the agent disabled before leading the way up the stairs to the main door which was also unlocked by the agent before gesturing the pilot to precede him into the flat.

The first thing he noticed was that the almost open plan flat was spacious, light and airy, with a surprisingly high ceiling. The second thing was how well the flat was put together to give that appearance in what was actually quite a small floor area. Stepping over to the large bay window, he glanced down at the canal and the boats moored at the edges, his mind whirring over the possible security implications.

"This house has been standing since pre-colony days, and the building is listed, hence the stairs, it does mean that modifications cannot be made without..."

Duo tuned the agent out, walking round the flat with the man following, still talking. The main area consisted of a cream lounge with a comfortable looking brown sofa and a couple of matching chairs, a small table between them. Behind that was a small kitchen compromising a cooker, single hob and a small dishwasher up against a partition holding a few cupboards and a fridge freezer. Moving around the partition, the bedroom sold him on the flat instantly.

The bed was a large king sized bed, the base made of carved dark wood, A tall wardrobe, a couple of bed side tables and a chest of drawers in the same material finished the furniture. The walls were decorated in a rich green and the bedlinen and carpet were a deep blue, reminding the pilot of looking down at the Earth from space.

"This room is the reason that the rent is so high," the estate agent said apologetically, "the furniture is genuine wood from the pre-colony era and we have to check the condition of it on regular occasions, every six months or so - we would arrange times with yourself of course."

The hopeful note in the man's voice was obvious and Duo grinned, he'd already made his mind up, there was no way he wouldn't be taking on the flat, but there was no reason to tell the guy that immediately, was there? Anyway, he needed to check the bathroom - with his mass of hair, a decent shower was essential.

The bathroom did have a shower, and the tiny bath was the only bad point he'd seen in the flat. He'd lived on the street long enough that a bath was a true luxury, and the tub in the hotel had given him the taste for the pleasure. Oh well, maybe he couldn't have everything, and the rest of the flat seemed perfect, even if there wasn't a dining table either. It was a bit more expensive than he'd hoped for a one bedroom place, but it wasn't as if he had friends round often who needed a place to sleep. He supposed that if Hilde visited he could always take the sofa, and he sure wasn't going to be cooking any four course meals that couldn't be eaten in the lounge area. And if he ever got a lover then, hey, the bed was big enough for two.

"I'll take it," Duo said, making his mind up with a bright grin at the agent.

They sat down to finish the paperwork, a quick phonecall to the Preventer headquarters taking care of the references and deposit - it appeared many agents rented houses through the company, so they were used to the circumstances, and the braided man abruptly himself in possession of a set of keys, a contract and a new flat.

The pilot felt a sharp sense of pleasure as he looked around the room at the realisation that this really was his home now. He, Duo Maxwell, lived above De Smet's restaurant on Barthemylan, in a little flat with antique furniture and a view over the canal. Now he just had to arrange the delivery of his stuff from the hotel, change all his paperwork, let Hilde know his new address and invite her for a visit, and he supposed he'd have to get some food in now as he'd not be able to get meals at the hotel restaurant once he'd moved out.. Dammit, this home owning thing was gonna be complicated.

Now, the most important question was, could he get away with a house warming party?
- 6
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- 8
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'Til Death us do part