Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/39981.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gundam_Wing
  Relationship:
      Duo_Maxwell/Heero_Yuy, Trowa_Barton/Heero_Yuy, Trowa_Barton/Quatre_Winner
  Character:
      Duo_Maxwell, Trowa_Barton, Heero_Yuy
  Additional Tags:
      BDSM, Violent_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-12-28 Words: 2283
****** Forgiveness ******
by strixus
Summary
     Trowa gets involved in something messy between Duo and Heero.
Notes
     One of the very first fics I ever wrote.
Duo was mad.
No, mad wasn't the right word for it. Furious, seething, those came closer. His
violet eyes darkened to almost indigo, violent and terrible had any one seen
them. But Heero wasn't looking; he was walking away towards the hangar door,
back oblivious to the twin points of sapphire burning holes in his back.
"How dare you!" Duo screamed across the hangar, the anger in his voice edged
with panic. "How can you be the judge of how much I know and understand? You
don't know me! You aren't my keeper!" He was fighting tears, but knew they
would not come. He didn't cry. He never cried.
But Heero kept walking away, not stopping to even turn around and favor a
reply, his footsteps echoing on the metal floor.
Duo clenched his teeth, feeling the muscles in his jaw clench, making his neck
ache. He wouldn't let this happen. Heero would not get away with acting as
though it had never happened. Duo refused to let him.
"You're as afraid as anyone of being alone! You are afraid of letting people
understand you! You're more afraid of that than anything." He sneered, beyond
caring of the effects of what he said. "You're a bigger weakling than I will
ever be!"
Heero stopped dead in his tracks. He did not turn.
Duo kept on. The response encouraged him. "You act so high and mighty, Heero
Yui! Perfect soldier! Like you're not even human! Well I have news for you! I
know you're human! I know just how human you are!" Duo saw the slight tense in
Heero's shoulders, and mistook it for a response. "And I'll tell the others
just how human you are too! I'll tell them what happens in the dark, what the
Heero Yui they know does at night." Duo hissed the last between jaws clenched
with teeth bared like fangs. His eyes blazed hatred almost, but had it been
hate, it would have been for himself.
Heero turned, and the gun came up in a fluid motion faster than Duo could
follow. The shot that followed was empty and hollow, echoing in the metal belly
of the hangar like the sound of something popping under great stress.
"No," Heero said, no emotion in his voice. "You won't."
Heero turned, and walked away.
From the floor, Duo moaned, curling around his wounded leg, trying to hold the
blood in.
"Heero, you bastard."
It was the last thing he said before he blacked out from the pain.
 
***
Trowa watched the whole event from the distance of the upper scaffolding of the
hangar, unobserved by either of the participants in the argument below. He
sighed deeply, knowing before either of them did how it would end. It had been
a wonder Heero had not killed the American.
But what did Duo expect?, Trowa thought. To ask someone trained to be no one to
let himself be understood was lunacy. But that was Duo incarnate, he knew.
With a second sigh, he watched Heero walk towards the door, unmoved it seemed,
by the sight of Duo curled on the floor with a small pool of blood forming on
the plating under him. When Heero was out of the hangar, Trowa stood from where
he had been sitting, and walked to help the braided boy. It was the least he
could do, for now.
***
Duo felt the pain before anything else registered. His leg felt broken in four
places, none of which he wanted to return to at the moment. The shards of pain
were like glass buried in his brain. And then it occurred to him that he wasn't
dead. That was a miracle within its self.
Thanks, God, you got me out of yet another chance to leave this hellhole, Duo
sighed mentally.
***
Trowa watched as Duo regained awareness without moving. He had removed the
bullet from the boy's leg. It had not been deep, but it would be enough to keep
him off it for a few months. Heero's aim must be slipping, he thought.
Crustily, Duo opened his eyes, and moaned. He didn't register anything, not
even the face hovering above his, only unfocused blurs of color. And then he
saw Trowa, moaned again as his eyes unfocused, and he passed out once more.
"Idiot," Trowa said, softly.
***
Days had passed, and not much had changed.
Trowa tended to Duo, who had yet to get out of bed or remain awake for longer
than thirty minutes at a time. It was more than just the leg wound, Trowa knew.
Duo was in pain beyond the physical.
No one had seen Heero in days, and no one expected his return when it came.
Trowa turned to enter Duo's bedroom, carrying a plate with a small sandwich for
the boy, and stopped. He dropped the plate.
The plate rolled away, as though trying to run.
Heero was sitting on the edge of Duo's bed, watching him sleep with cold blue
eyes. No emotion showed on the Japanese boy's face, not even a twitch to denote
sadness or killing rage. Trowa wished immediately for a gun, and then realized
it would do him no good.
"Get out of here." Trowa whispered, his voice was tight with anger. "Get out of
here now. You hurt him more than that bullet ever could."
Heero looked up, eyes empty. But Trowa saw something he hoped he did not
imagine. There were streaks of wetness on the light bronze cheeks. Had Heero
Yui been... crying?
Heero stood, careful not to disturb Duo, and faced Trowa across the bed.
"Has he told you?"
"Told me what? He hasn't spoken twenty words out side of telling me he's hungry
or wants water! He hasn't told me anything, but I have eyes enough to see
something happened! What did you do to him?" Trowa's green eyes almost seemed
to glow with dark anger.
Heero closed his eyes, and sighed.
"If he hasn't told you now, he never will. My secrets are safe, in his shame."
And with that, Heero walked around the bed and out the door to the room,
pushing past an unmoving Trowa. He was gone before Trowa could think to try to
stop him.
Confused, Trowa picked the sandwich and plate off the floor. Duo was not awake,
so he ate the sandwich himself.
***
The next day, Duo was awake, sitting up in bed, and even happily chattering.
Trowa sat silent, listening most of the day, answering the boy's whims when he
could. To was good to see Duo acting normal. He pointedly ignored the questions
about lime Jell-O with marshmallows.
Duo was healing from whatever had happened. Trowa did not have the heart, or
perhaps had too much heart, to ask Duo what had happened between himself and
Heero. Those were not questions one asked someone healing from the event. Duo
was sturdy, Trowa knew, but even the most basic question could send him back
into despair.
***
That evening, when Duo was long asleep, Trowa went outside to sit on the front
steps of the small house. Trowa had made a regular habit of spending most of
the early evening outdoors. He enjoyed the night air, the cool breezes. It was
peaceful.
Then he saw an unwelcome figure standing in the yard, tall and lean. Heero.
"Trowa, has he said anything yet?" Heero's voice was quiet, almost afraid. It
was though he wanted Duo to explain what had happened, so he would not have to.
"No." Trowa frowned, not standing to greet Heero. "What ever you did to him,
he's not telling." Trowa felt like spitting at the Japanese pilot. "What did
you do to him?"
Heero seemed to pale, but in the darkness it was hard to tell. In darkness it
was always hard to see what was really happening. Trowa did not expect the
answer to his question, and almost started when Heero spoke again.
"It was his fault. He came to me. Came in the night, like the black cat he is."
Heero's voice shook, though with hate or sadness Trowa could not tell. "I don't
know what really happened."
"Liar."
"I don't know how he got hurt!" The words tumbled out of Heero, and he looked
shocked he had even said them, but once started, they would not stop. "It was
my fault.... He's so fragile..." Heero spread his hands and looked down at
them, as though looking for blood.
Trowa was beginning to understand, processing all of the things in his mind
quickly: the bruises on Duos back and sides, the red marks on his writs and
legs, now he understood them. He understood because he had seen very similar
marks before, on someone else.
"You...?" Trowa looked the question at Heero.
"Yes. He wanted it though... don't think I'm that horrible. Though I may as
well be..."
"And you enjoyed it, didn't you? You beat the living hell out of him and
enjoyed it!" Trowa did spit now, violently. It landed at Heero's feet in the
dirt. Heero turned his face down, and stared at the glob of dirt covered
saliva.
He turned, and walked away into the night. He knew Trowa already knew the
answer to that question.
Trowa knew the answer.
Heero had, weeks ago, seen the black eye Quatre had sported for a few days
after the last mission Trowa and he had flown together.
Trowa collapsed to sit on the front steps, put his face in his hands, and
cried.
***
Months had passed, and Duo had recovered with his usual swiftness from the
gunshot wound in his leg. Trowa did not need to care for him any longer, but
Duo still insisted on spending most of his time with him, to Trowa's annoyance.
Heero had not been seen by anyone since that night on the front steps, though
Trowa had said nothing to a soul about that encounter.
Things were normal, for once. It was far too good to last.
***
Trowa lay face up in his bed, sleep very far from him, probably too far for him
to chase down. He was thinking of Heero.
He admired the Wing's pilot in a strange way. Heero had the guts to tell
someone, something Trowa had never had. Trowa had found other ways to be rid of
his problems. Since that last mission, he had not spoken to or even been in the
same room with Quatre for more than a few minutes. Quatre was convinced now
that Trowa hated him. Well and good, no matter how it hurt.
The knock on the door startled him, but he did not move to answer it. It opened
on its own, silent. A figure walked in, silhouetted by a hall light for a
moment, and then lost in blackness with the lick of a latch.
He did not expect it to be who it was.
***
Trowa sat up from his bed, and turned to face the intruder. He leaned his head
on a hand, and sighed.
"Heero." It was a statement, not a question. "Why are you here? What gave you
the nerve to come here?"
Heero was silent. Trowa could not see him in the gloom, but could hear where he
was by his breathing. Heero walked forward and sat down on the bed beside
Trowa.
Trowa looked over, and saw only a dark shape with no face.
"I..." Heero stopped, and took a deep breath. "Trowa, I need you to forgive
me."
 
***
Trowa understood what Heero meant without him having to ask beyond that. He
closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, fighting off the voice in him that
started to speak.
"I'm...I'm sorry," Heero started. "I shouldn't have come. It was too much to
presume that you could ever forgive me." Trowa felt Heero's weight lift off the
edge of the bed.
"No." The voice commanded, and Heero obeyed. He sat down.
"You want me to forgive you fully? Of every transgression, of every time you've
hurt me or Duo?" He saw Heero's dark form nod. Trowa swallowed the acid in his
throat. "Then prepare yourself."
"I will forgive you, Heero Yui."
***
Trowa hated himself for it. For every action, for every motion: he hated every
touch, every time he felt the many scars that marred the bronzed skin. It was a
war with himself, between pleasure and disgust, but it was something he had to
do.
And yet he relished it...Found it better than he had ever thought it could be.
Heero Yui was not fragile, far from, and could take much more than Trowa had
ever dare given.
When it ended, Trowa curled into the oblivion of sleep, trying to forget and
simultaneously remember everything he had done.
***
Morning came like a painful hangover, white hot and splitting through the fog
of night. Trowa awoke to memories, to smells he had almost forgotten. It was
all he could do not to cry.
He rose, and quickly stripped the bed of the soiled sheets. They might not be
beyond saving, he hopped. Had they been white, they would be only fit for
burning. He pulled the pillowcases, and even the mattress cover, and folded it
all within its self, trying to hide the streaks of discoloration.
He scanned the room, and smiled softly when he found what he was looking for.
He turned, and carried the pile of bloodied and otherwise contaminated sheets
to the laundry room.
Curled in the far corner of the room, his hands still tied behind him, and a
huge and livid bruise rising on the side of his face, was Heero. In his sleep,
he shivered, but smiled.
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