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Gundam Wing: Knowing by Calic0cat
Feb. 18th, 2012 07:48 pmKnowing (Heero/Duo | R | 16,913 words): Heero and Duo join the Preventers after the war, but they're not exactly made welcome. I wish I could find more Gundam Wing fic like this: well-paced, tightly written, and emotionally real with a wonderfully done Duo voice. And not a whiff of fangirl Japanese in sight, thank goodness. I like this future for Heero and Duo. The evolution of their friendship into a relationship just works for me.
Excerpt:
By the time Heero prodded the fourth prisoner - the one with the shattered hand - over to my position, I'd managed to wrestle my temper back under control. This was neither the time nor the place to be discussing the seamier side of internal Preventer politics, personality conflicts, and power struggles. "Dispatch said in fifteen," I said shortly.
Heero scowled, "Chopper or shuttle, then, unless they were enroute."
"Chopper or shuttle," I agreed. It was impossible to make it from HQ to here in less than an hour by car, even under ideal conditions and with a damn good driver.
Heero's scowl darkened at the implications. I inclined my head slightly, my jaw tight with tension. Being on our own during the war had been one thing; being unable to count on backup now was something else entirely. Now, we were supposed to take prisoners, not shoot to kill. During the war, we'd have just blown the damn shuttle full of weapons and been done with the whole mess. Hell, we'd have blown the fucking *hangar*, not screwed around trying to get the assholes to surrender or to at least manage to take them alive.
Partners have to rely on each other. Have to trust each other. Heero and I did. Unconditionally. Our close friendship was an extension of that partnership, one that we both treasured.
But as Preventers, we should have been able to rely on other Preventers. Should have been able to trust our fellow agents on a professional level even if we weren't exactly best buds on a personal level. And we couldn't.
Excerpt:
By the time Heero prodded the fourth prisoner - the one with the shattered hand - over to my position, I'd managed to wrestle my temper back under control. This was neither the time nor the place to be discussing the seamier side of internal Preventer politics, personality conflicts, and power struggles. "Dispatch said in fifteen," I said shortly.
Heero scowled, "Chopper or shuttle, then, unless they were enroute."
"Chopper or shuttle," I agreed. It was impossible to make it from HQ to here in less than an hour by car, even under ideal conditions and with a damn good driver.
Heero's scowl darkened at the implications. I inclined my head slightly, my jaw tight with tension. Being on our own during the war had been one thing; being unable to count on backup now was something else entirely. Now, we were supposed to take prisoners, not shoot to kill. During the war, we'd have just blown the damn shuttle full of weapons and been done with the whole mess. Hell, we'd have blown the fucking *hangar*, not screwed around trying to get the assholes to surrender or to at least manage to take them alive.
Partners have to rely on each other. Have to trust each other. Heero and I did. Unconditionally. Our close friendship was an extension of that partnership, one that we both treasured.
But as Preventers, we should have been able to rely on other Preventers. Should have been able to trust our fellow agents on a professional level even if we weren't exactly best buds on a personal level. And we couldn't.