Work Text:
Beneath: A Sister’s Love
by duointherain
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing
It was a field trip. Duo hadn’t wanted to come. He’d complained. It was like her life was passing before her eyes. She clearly remembered explaining to him why going to the May Day Protests would be good for his writing. He could get an article into the university paper.
She stared up at the riot cop. A mask hid their face. Everything moved so slowly. Frozen on her knees, hands up, her mind couldn’t tell her how she’d gotten there. It was too busy telling her she was about to die with the asphalt digging into her knees. The mass of humanity rioting around her seemed so quiet. Some part of her was a tiny kid, a palace in flames. Milliardo screamed in her memory. The baton came down towards her head.
Then a brick sailed past the cop’s head, over Relena’s head, and as the cop spun, she sucked in fast deep breath.
Duo stood there, still too skinny, baggy brown cargos and a grey hoodie with his bookbag slung over one shoulder, his braid laying on his shoulder, he flipped the cop off, wiggled his eyebrows. Smoke from something, fire or tear gas rolled by his legs, and Relena had never seen anyone so cocky. He was taller than when they’d gone on that disaster mission to destroy the weapons plant.
Now she could hear the roar of the riot. Breaking glass, crashes of metal, human screams, and she scrambled to her feet. Looking around her, the police and the protesters were holding equal ground. She had her own little island as the rolling tear gas seemed give her wide berth. It was just chance that had her turning slowly around. The brick Duo had thrown wasn’t a brick at all, but a red square pushing the tear gas away. He’d done that. He’d planned. He’d been in this shit before. He’d given her his tech.
Her head snapped back around in his direction.
Duo had run. He hadn’t made it far. In slow motion, he threw up both hands, surrender, not really defense. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but next to the cop, he wasn’t a man either. She screamed, “Stop!” Her voice bled away into the rage of the riot’s voice.
The baton fell even as Duo kept moving backwards. She didn’t see it hit, like that bit of the story was snipped out, movie frames cut away, but he fell, completely limp, braid and a trail of blood arching as he dropped.
Rage, bottled up rage exploded and she ran towards them. Trowa had explained how to take down a riot cop once and it had been like any other campfire story, unreal and unneeded. Now his words guided her. “Go in low,” he had said. ‘The baton will hit weaker.”
Duo or Milliardo, both of them were in her mind. Her brother! Her fucking brother! She’d worn combat boots, a gift for her birthday and they gave her good traction. Her fingers felt like talons and she growled in primal fury. She threw herself around the cop’s legs and with all the rage she’d never expressed, with all her love for her crazy purple-eyed brother, she lifted him and threw them both towards the tear gas filled ground. If he landed a strike, she didn’t feel it, but she climbed up him even as he hit the ground. She palm struck his chin and pulled his gas mask up and away in almost one fluid motion.
Tear gas burned down her throat, what felt like back up and out her eyes. Practical, she put his mask on her face, pulled the straps to tighten it, then threw herself over Duo as the tide of riot tsunami’ed past around them.
When a hand grabbed the back of her shirt, smoothly lifting her up, she swung and clawed like an angry street cat. That hand held her up easily and she found herself staring into Joel’s green eyes. He had a much smaller mask on, higher tech, but it was clear and she could see his amused smile. He flung her over his shoulder, then reached down to pick up a limp Duo, carrying him under one arm. She felt a tingle of energy roll over them and then it was like they were completely invisible, walking through the riot, sidestepping, but passing as if they were no more than ghosts. Once they were clear the main body of the riot, he put her down, but kept a hand on the back of her neck, marching her to a black van that she could swear wasn’t there just a moment before.
He let her go as he handed Duo into the waiting med techs. They took him, letting his bookbag fall outside the van. Relena picked it up, then turned back to watch the raging battle that now seemed so distant.
“Well what do you think,” Joel asked. He had his mask off. “You can take off the mask. We’re in a protected zone.”
Her eyes still burned from the gas, from tears she hadn’t thought she’d been crying. “I think I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix these problems.”
“Go, princess, go,” Joel said, making a finger gun at her. “For now, let’s go home.”
“Yes. For now.”