GW: Bloody & Rat

[amichan]

I pause as my phone conversation, well, attempting to recruit Mindy to come fix the computer, without telling her any details, not going so well, anyhow, is interrupted by a beep from call waiting, "Hold on, a minute." I click over, "Yellow?"

"Blue," a voice I recognize instantly replies, sounding tired, and more than a little annoyed.

"What the frig are you calling for?"

"Give me your location, I understand there's some sort of computer trouble."

"Hold on one second," much as I despise Trowa, I'd rather be involving him in this cock up than some random college-girl I only know `cause I crashed classes as an alibi. I click back over, "Never mind," I say as brightly as I can manage, "it just fixed itself problem solved, go back to whatever you were doing, bye!" and I hang up on her before she can say anything, and click back, "Okay, go on" I say.

There's a pause and for a minute no one says anything, it would be just like the way my luck is currently going for us to have been cut off, so I start stringing random curse words together figuring if nothing else it'll get a response.

"Yes, shut up!" he comes back after I get to number four, "Control wired. Something about the information having problems, and needing a computer fix. I take it you're still within the area of the mission parameters."

I sit down on a nearby wall and massage my head, "Look, just tell me where you are, alright? I'll direct you."

He mutters something, and then gives a highway number. Shit—that is close. Within ten minutes, he's parking in the school yard, and we meet by one of the gazebo-things. He makes a not-witty comment about the fact that my hair isn't tied back in its usual braid, but is partially bunned, partially down, and I tell him where to shove his car keys.

"The sooner we get back there, the sooner you can get back to doing whatever it is you were doing," he mutters, "Which way is it?"

"This way," I point the opposite way he was going, and head off. We walk in silence. He keeps his hands balled up inside the pockets of his anorak, and I smoke another cigarette, much to his annoyance.

Once we get to the top end of Romeo's street I call him, Trowa looking nervously at his watch.

"You know a contact's phone number??" he exclaims, as we continue to walk, "You know how many rules that breaks?"

"Ask me I give a--hey, Romeo, it's your friendly neighborhood courier service. You get that thing working yet?" he answers in the negative, "Well I brought help. Mind if we come in?" I knock on the door.

Romeo opens it hanging up his phone, "I won't ask your name," he says to Trowa, "but thank you."

Trowa grimaces something that passes for a hello, and sets to work. I decline to flop down on the couch for non-vocalized risk of bleeding on it, and sit down on the third step up of his stair case, leaning as forward as I dare to, trying to make small talk so that I have something to think about and Romeo stops looking like he's gonna faint at any second, as he paces backwards and forwards in front of his couch.

"Would you relax?" I ask him, offering another cigarette towards him, "We're not going to shoot you. If we were you'd be dead already."

"That's some small consolation," he admits, flopping down into a sofa, and putting his feet up on the coffee table once he clears it off, "I just, I'm sorry you had to do this."

"No big deal," I answer.

Trowa makes a noise that probably translates to `speak for yourself'.

"Present company excepted," I jerk my head in his direction, and make myself dizzy, "Seriously, it's not like we have a book to follow. This stuff is mostly off the cuff, fly by the seat of your pants, so to speak..." I look over at Trowa, "Are you done?"

"Almost," he calls Romeo over to show him some things on the computer.

I tap my toes together, realize that's probably not the best thing to be doing, re-tie them and then stand up, and walk towards the door, taking the picks out of my hair so the bun falls out, and re-braiding it as quickly as I can, re-inserting them.

Trowa leaves Romeo at his computer and follows me out of the door, "You were calling someone else?" he asks, "Before I mean, when I contacted you."

"Our illustrious whoever I was talking to told me that Control wouldn't screw up and give Romeo something he couldn't do, so I was on my own."

"You were calling who?"

"Bite me, it's not important. Thank you for diving to the rescue, now fuck off and leave me alone."

He glances at his watch, again, but then looks over at me, "What is your problem?"

"Other than you?" I retort, "Let's see. It took me a bit longer than it should have done to get the disk, thanks to base rotation, Control cocked up half the plan, but they're supposed to be smart, not to mention I got shot, and--,"

He cuts me off looking marginally bemused, "You got shot?" he remarks, "Did it castrate you? `cause I would never have noticed."

"Fuck you," I remark, "If anyone needs to be castrated it's you, you incestuous--"

He punches me.

Finally.

 

Vaguely, I realize I'm lying in the back of a car, from the angle I'm at, I can make out that Trowa is driving, and from the noises of movement, there is somebody in the passenger seat.

I can feel sticky, warmth that means I'm bleeding again, soaking into the seat under me, and then we go over a bump in the road and I'm tired and should sleep some more.

 

I'm aware firstly that I'm lying on a sleeping back on the ground, secondly that there's something heavy on top of me, which is also warm, which would indicate a person. I know the last person I was around was Trowa, and he sure as hell wouldn't be lying on me, and if he was would probably be heavier.

Now I open my eyes, whoever it is their hair is glowing cause it's so pale, in the light from across the way, where Trowa is doing something with a small stove. It sinks in suddenly what this is, and I try to move, a sort of, "woah..." escaping my mouth, the trying to bolt causes intense pain to radiate up the side of my body, so the next thing I manage is a string of curses, and the girl wakes up, and

blinks at me with confused pink eyes, cocking her head on one side, and then reaching a pale hand towards me. She has less color than me, "No-no-no," I move backwards, trying to ignore the pain that causes, "You stay over there!” not this crazy bitch again, “What the fuck do you think you were you doing?" I wave a hand towards her, and towards me. I glare over at Trowa, "I suppose you think this is funny—ow—shit..." I mutter, moving a hand towards my side.

"Well, yes," he says, "I guess you really are gay," he adds as an afterthought.

Crazy bitch has been mumbling something, sitting still where I dumped her off me on to the sleeping bag, as I backed up into the wall, "Keep warm-no fever. Moving like that could be damaging," she explains after a moment, "tear stitches...make pattern."

"Uh...yeah..." I point to her, "Is she? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," he says, curtly.

"I'm Rachel," she adds, giving a strange smile, before disappearing over to one of the back packs. I never did get her name last time.

I move back onto the sleeping bag, carefully, keeping both of them in view, "So, this is the chick that you picked up a while ago? And you dropped her off with Cathy? Seemed like she was on some serious shit.”

He makes a disgruntled noise, and goes back to stirring something in a pot on the mini gas stove he has.

"I'm sorry," I remark, "I didn't recognize that, is that the noise that means, yes, no, or I’m sorry that I ever accused you of being addicted to drugs, Duo? Plus, you know, I think I have a right to know exactly who the hell she is given that’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman..."

She gives a strange giggle, and then comes back over towards me. I watch her warily, "Now what?" I ask.

"Check you," she moves her hands towards the bottom of my shirt. Okay, maybe this is about to be the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman. Shit.

"Hey, no...wait..." I catch her wrists, feeling the pull in my side, and then catch myself, looking towards Trowa pleadingly, "Some help here."

He stands up, having turned off the stove, "I have to make contact with someone. I'll be back in about twenty minutes."

I probably asked for this.

"What?!" I shake my head, "You know this is cruel and unus--will you stop that?!" I turn back to her, and then round on him again, but he's already gone.

Rachel looks up at me, pouting and I frown.

"Okay, look--I'm going to let your hands go, as long as you promise to not undress me, okay?"

"Clean." she answers.

"Uh, yeah. Okay. What are you wanting to clean or check or whatever? Because I’m a big boy. I’m awake now. Pretty sure I can do it myself."

"Bandages," She points to the back pack; as much as she can given I'm still holding her wrists.

"Uh-huh, and you can't do that without trying to mount me?"

"Mount you?"

I let go of her and she sits back, rubbing her wrists. Then her hand falls off. I know I'm not that strong, "What the hell?" I'm having some kind of blood loss induced delusion. That has to be it.