Duo could hear the water running as he stripped in the empty locker room. The clothes scattered over the other bench were unfamiliar, although the length of the pants had him thinking of someone slightly taller than Trowa. They had all grown in the last year; he sighed at the thought that even Quatre was now taller than his own five feet and few inches. Whoever he would be sharing the showers with would be taller than the tallest of them.
He remembered looking up into kind eyes as an older boy had called him "squirt" with a grin. The only person who came close to teasing him in the same way these days was Howard, who wasn't in the same league as his oldest, lost friend. No one else would dare tease a Gundam Pilot and his fellow pilots were not teasingly inclined. 'Easy banter...' he thought, 'All the guys are so serious. When I try, it feels like I'm talking to myself. Even if Tro does get it, he doesn't exactly reply. Sails over everyone else's heads... Q takes it seriously while Heero and Fei are just plain clueless. How'd I end up with friends like these?'
Slipping silently into the shower section, Duo took a moment to study the other man there. Sculpted muscles bunched across broad shoulders as large hands splayed against the wall, bracing most of his weight. His forehead rested on the tiles as hot water sluiced down his back and slightly spread legs. He was all sinew in taut, trim lines, pale skin patterned with even paler scars that would have been almost invisible if the water and the harsh lighting had not highlighted them.
Duo swallowed his gasp, stepping closer. 'Scars are a person's history written on a person's body,' his mind chanted. 'I was there when this was in the writing. No two people can have exactly the same history, can they?' he asked himself, hand reaching out to trace the familiar ridges.
"Wha...?"
The change in the flow of water must have alerted the other man, because Duo found his hand and eyes on a solid chest, pale and hairless, patterned with more of his memories. He didn't dare look up as he found his voice.
"Solo."
The single word hung between the two men in the communal shower of the Preventers' barracks.
Low and breathy, the man's voice was not the boy's of memory. "Never thought to hear anyone call me that again."
It belonged to someone else, someone Duo had heard on broadcasts and over comm lines. He looked up into the face of a man who had once threatened to destroy the Earth.
"Zechs."
Duo stared at the man dressing on the other side of the locker bench and pulled at the hem of his shirt. He wondered where all the words had gone, at the silence in which they completed their respective showers. Those scars, now hidden under layers of Preventer uniform, rose unbidden in his mind to hang suspended between them. "You're not Solo," he stated in a flat toneless voice. "He wouldn't have joined OZ."
"I beg to differ," Zechs said quietly, stuffing his dirty clothes into his carryall. "Without OZ, the Federation couldn't have been overthrown. What happened afterwards..." He looked up at Duo before turning away and mumbling, "...was unfortunate."
"He died in my arms." Duo couldn't keep the accusation from his voice. He glared at the tall blond.
Long pale lashes fluttered down to veil ice blue eyes. "I thought I was dying," Zechs whispered, "then I awoke on a shuttle to Earth. Ambassador Darlian sent me to Noin's parents in Italy."
"No-one survived that plague without the vaccine," Duo insisted with a frown, tossing his wet towel into the basket and picking up his bag.
"I was ill for months, but I got over it. Noin's mother, who nursed me through all of it, thought it might be because..." Zechs sighed and looked around at the empty shower room. "Her maternal grandfather, Dr Vanetti, was the Peacecraft family doctor before the first fall of Cinq. He had my medical records from that time."
Duo huffed and crossed his arms. "You didn't get past 'because'," he prompted.
"What do you know of someone being New Type?" Zechs asked in a whisper, straddling the bench and sitting down on it. He tilted his chin up to face the still standing Duo.
"Howard thinks you have to be one to survive the Zero system," was Duo's cautious reply. He mirrored the other man's position and their knees touched.
Zechs nodded and leaned closer, whispering, "It also includes having an enhanced immune system. You would have survived the plague without a vaccination, too if you'd had the care that I got eventually. I'm glad you kids were vaccinated in time, though. It was awful being that sick for so long. On the streets of L2, you wouldn't have survived."
"We lost you just the same." Duo trailed his fingers along a pale cheek their tips feeling the scratchy beginning of a shadow. "You've never been Solo again, have you?"
The blond closed his eyes and leaned slightly into the touch. "No," he said. "I became Zechs Merquise."
A steady hand guided the handsome face forward and downwards until the platinum fringe mixed with its chestnut counterpart as the two men's foreheads touched. "Well, Zechs Merquise... I'm Duo, Duo Maxwell. Pleased to meet you and I'd like to get to know you better."
Zechs opened his eyes, met the violet gaze through their fringes and smiled.
Two scrawny boys sat hidden among towers of crates in the large warehouse. They could hear the shouts of the many men in the open area, smell the musk of masculine excitement and the distinct stench of blood.
Duo scrunched his nose in distaste as he wrapped strips of rags around Solo's hands, careful to keep the pull just right; too loose and they'd come apart, too tight and he might not be able to move properly.
A loud cheer could be heard amidst groans disappointment. Solo turned his head, listening as his pale brows furrowed.
"Why don't we see Joey here anymore?" Duo asked.
"Bull broke his leg in their last fight," Solo replied softly. "He's working in the Dog House now."
"Oh... that's... awful." Duo felt the lump in his stomach grow bigger. "Aren't you fighting Bull tonight?"
Solo shrugged, testing the movement in his hands. He nodded and presented his foot for wrapping.
"Bull's bigger than you are," Duo said, eyes wide with worry. "Much bigger."
"Bigger ain't always better, kiddo, 'specially after I break his leg for him."
Duo looked up to meet a sparkle in pale blue eyes. "Like he did Joey's, huh?" he asked.
The sparkle became an almost unholy glee. "Just like he did Joey's," Solo said as he stood and swaggered over to the circle that they called The Pit.
Somehow in that short distance, the boy with long, gangly limbs and dirty blond hair became a soldier in a bright red Oz uniform, wearing a silver mask. Duo blinked and he was just a boy again. Then, he was gone, surrounded by big burly men with harsh voices and clenched fists.
Duo waited among the crates until the fight was over and the men had gone, leaving Solo standing alone in The Pit. He was bloodied and bruised from the fight, but triumphant. As the smaller boy left his hiding place, the taller dropped to his knees. By the time Duo reached the edge of The Pit, Solo was no longer a boy, but that redcoated Oz soldier with the silver helmet. He threw the helmet aside and looked up directly into Duo's eyes. "I had to do it," he said. "They killed my parents, shot my father in the head. I've earned my vengeance!"
People began to surround The Pit again, people from the colonies and earth, citizens, soldiers and politicians. Duo stepped inside The Pit to get away from the gathering crowd. When he turned back, Solo was no longer a soldier, but had become a prince. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes was gone, as was that gleam of hunger. All that was left was a stillness, like the stillness of death that Duo knew so well. He slowly got to his feet, muck from the blood-smeared floor staining his pristine, white trousers reddish brown. "I'll teach them about peace," Solo said, "then they can have their vengeance on me."
"No, don't leave me again!" the little brown haired boy shouted. "Solo, don't leave!" Duo started to run, trying to stay ahead of the crowd as they surged forward.
Someone tugged on his braid.
"No!" Duo hissed as he ran further into The Pit, dodging beefy hands grabbing at him.
Solo was falling under the pummelling fists of the faceless men.
"Milliardo Peacecraft has to die!" they screamed, demanding blood, justice and vengeance. "A leg for a leg! A life for a life!"
Someone tugged on Duo's braid again, almost pulling him up short. "Stop that!" he snapped. "My hair's not even long enough to braid yet..."
Duo opened his eyes and stared into the darkness, heart pounding, throat dry, cold sweat trickling down his side to soak into the already damp sheets. His short, shallow gasps sounded loud and harsh in the midnight silence as he struggled to calm himself. There was a reassuring weight on his stomach; strands of fine silk were spread over his chest and thighs while warm, moist and even breaths caressed his navel. "Still here," Duo whispered, voice raspy and hoarse with sleep, his fingertips a hair's breadth away from where his braid lay across pale, scarred shoulders.
"Always here," was the soft murmur that accompanied the gentle tug on his braid.
The End