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Power Trip	By : kracken Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3344 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I don't make any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-Power Trip
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 8
- 9
- 10
Spectacular, professional, and everything Milliardo had come to expect from a Gundam pilot. It was too dangerous, now to extract the weapon. There might be more of the terrorists waiting to reclaim it. Duo, despite his weakness, had measured out tolerances, optimum safe release of fuel rods, shrapnel patterns, and explosive weights all in his head as he had dug through his packs and muttered equations under his breath. Sitting on the ground, long braid coiled like rope, and full of dirt, he had looked like a little boy ready to play a practical joke. The end result, though, had been a neat blast zone and melted slag at its center. No one would be reconstruction any part of the deadly weapon.

"Good job, Maxwell," Milliardo offered. "You have earned your pay, for once."

Duo grinned weakly and then fell over onto his back, arm shading his eyes from the dappled sunlight through the canopy of jungle. "Does this mean that I won't get reported once we get back to civilization?"

"Hardly," Milliardo retorted. "I will expect you to survive the return trip to face formal charges relating to your behavior on this mission."

"I'll try, sir."

Milliardo shot a look at Shef who shrugged in return as he knelt by Duo and checked his vitals. Milliardo took that to mean that Duo's chances were unknown. In the field, Shef had a very limited options for treatment.

"Make a stretcher," Milliardo ordered and Kimmens and Levitz began stripping debris and plants to make one.

Hawkins sprayed Duo with bug repellent copiously as he stood over him, "You always did attract flies, Maxwell."

Duo squinted past his arm at the can. "That's my repellent, Hawkins."

"Borrowed it," Hawkins grunted as he finished and tucked it back into his pack.

"This mission is a complete wipe," Diaz muttered as he checked his instruments.

Milliardo grimaced, feeling the truth of that statement. Une wasn't going to accept destruction of the weapon as anything other than the tail end result of failure.

"We didn't fail," Duo said waspishly and pointed a stern finger, that shook, at Diaz. "We kept the weapon out of bad guy hands. That's more important than getting the thing back to base so that they can poke at it."

"When we're all scrubbing bathroom toilets with toothbrushes we'll remember your take on the mission, Sunshine up our Ass," Hawkins grumbled.

Duo was quiet for a long moment, hidden under his arm and then he surprised Milliardo by saying, "Sometimes, you gotta say, screw what the commanders think and do what you have to do."

"That might look good on my resume for my next job," Levitz sighed as she finished her end of the stretcher. "It only works for people like you, Maxwell."

"I thought it worked for you, ms, 'Take them all on by myself.', " Duo snickered, but then he went quiet and lax, as if talking had exhausted him. It alarmed Milliardo.

"Duo?" He said, not able to help a bark of concern.

"Ah, you called me by my first name," Duo said, almost under his breath. "Progress at last."

"Hardly," Milliardo growled and then impatiently, "Is that stretcher ready?"

"Ready sir," Levitz reported as she moved away to let Hawkins and Krimmins take it and move it close to Duo. Duo dutifully rolled onto it and then seemed to give up his tough guy act, all together.

"Keep the bugs off me," he slurred and then passed into either sleep or a faint. Shef checked him over worriedly.

"The asshole is my best friend," Hawkins told Shef gruffly. "I'd appreciate it if you kept him alive."

"That's always my aim," She replied. "Ready for transport."

Which Milliardo assumed meant, nothing else to be done, rather than that Duo was all right for the journey.

"Salvage complete?" Milliardo asked as everyone began shouldering equipment.

"Complete," several voices responded.

Milliardo walked the site, just to be certain, and then nodded. "Let's move out. We should get dust off clearance in six miles."

"Of jungle," Diaz grumbled.

"Communication silence until then," Milliardo ordered unnecessarily.

That made Levitz nervous. "You suspect more unfriendlies, sir?"

"Always being prepared keeps you alive, Agent," Milliardo told her. "We have no way of knowing if we managed to get all of the terrorists. There isn't a formal head count, after all."

She looked embarrassed. "Yes, sir. I mean, no sir."

They moved out and travel became a game of , don't break a leg, as the soft earth turned to rocky outcroppings, treacherous crevasses, and tangled roots trying to find purchase on ground making a steady climb upwards.

Krimmins took the rear, quiet, but his expression in firm determination that nothing was going to get by him and threaten his fellow agents. Milliardo knew that look. Agents who wore it often didn't live long. A strong protective streak often lead to agents falling on live grenades or running head first into nests of unfriendlies, blazing away, in an almost instinctive urge for self sacrifice. The stuff that heroes were made of, Milliardo thought grimly, dead heroes.

Milliardo could almost make the same assumption about the Gundam pilots, but they had been choosy about their final target, their final act of sacrifice. There was a difference between unthinking sacrifice and cold calculated searches for targets that would inflict the most damage on an enemy.

Pauly was more solid. The small, dark man was just as determined, but he held his gun with a tense caution that made Milliardo's decision to put him on point a sound one. He would keep them out of trouble, not run headlong into it to protect them.

Haskins he kept to the center. The beefy, 'firemen's' shoulders the man owned made him as good as a anti grav sled. The man was shouldering the parts of the demolished weapon easily enough.

"Fuck me, Maxwell!" Tamins snarled as he maneuvered his end of the stretcher awkwardly, to get his end through a close stand of jungle growth and slippery rocks. "Lose some weight!"

"I did fuck you, already," Duo's faint voice snorted, "and don't make me your excuse for being a ninety pound weakling."

"Ninety two pounds, asshole," Tamins retorted.

The man was tall and very slim, but Milliardo doubted that he weighed less than the smaller Maxwell.

"Shut up, Maxwell," Hawkins growled as he decided their route. "I still think you orchestrated the whole injury thing to get out of walking."

"I wish... 'cuz I feel like shit!" Duo suddenly dropped his good humor act and sighed.

"Go the hell to sleep, then, and let us worry about not dropping your ass," Tamins retorted, but he sounded more worried than angry. It wasn't like Duo to admit to any weakness.

Duo's braid had slipped off the stretcher and was dragging the dirt. Milliardo stepped forward, snatched it up, and secured it under Duo's side. The touch of warm flesh, the surprised purple eyes, and Duo's soft, weary smile reached down deep into Milliardo and took hold of a part of himself he hadn't known existed. Cold, hot, shaky. Those terms described Milliardo, just then, not Duo. He felt like a teenager, a rush of hormones making him dizzy.

The stretcher moved onward and Milliardo stayed rooted in place, looking after it. How could it happen? How there could be something inside of him that wanted Duo, all of Duo, physically and emotionally, after a simple touch, a simple meeting of eyes was beyond his understanding? His brain wanted a logical explanation, a switch that had been thrown by repressed sexual need. How long had it been since his last lover? Ages. Of course a touch against the warm body of a very sexually magnetic man, like Duo would hit that switch, would want...

Milliardo felt wooden as he began walking again, images of Duo's muscles rippling under sun browned skin, the Fly Me friendly tattoo flexing along with the Boom, Boom! as they... Milliardo couldn't imagine someone has feral as Duo rolling in white sheets and roses. More likely they would be leaning against a depo corrugated wall while rough, calloused hands stained with gun grease roved and demanded... but that really wasn't what he was thinking about at the moment, so it put the lie to his theory that it was only sexual. He was worried about Duo, wanting him to be all right. He wanted to transport them, then and there, to a hospital. He wanted to care for the man, to drop his damned commander air of unfeeling indifference and help pull that stretcher straight up the mountain faster.

Millliardo didn't expect to get his wish between one confused breath and the next.

"No, good," Hawkins ground out. "We can barely get ourselves through. The stretcher won't go. We'll have to try another route."

Only Milliardo knew that there wasn't one. His decision was split second. It was time to put all of his hard training in the gym, and out into the field to the test.

"I'll take him," He said and strode forward. Duo blinked up at him.

"Baby?" Duo muttered, not looking terribly lucid.

Was that for him or someone else?

"Hey, blondie, decide to do me in... leave me behind. You gotta make the tough decisions, Baby. That's why you have the rank."

Baby was meant for him. Milliardo felt a blush even as he hauled Duo up onto his back to carry him like a child. Duo obediently wrapped arms and legs around him.

"Tie him on," Milliardo ordered.

There was hesitation and then his agents were coming forward and binding what they had together and then around himself and Maxwell. They made a sturdy back sling and then stood back.

Hawkins was the only one who dared voice his opinion. "It's too far. Too rugged. The air will be getting thin as we get higher."

Milliardo felt a kiss on the back of his neck. "Told you I would top," Duo snickered.

"Can it, agent!" Milliardo snapped back, but his reprimand lacked heat. He shrugged Duo until his shoulders didn't ache so much under the strain, and then he started his climb with his double burden.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Power Trip