Disclaimer: I don’t own the G-Boys. I wish I did.

Pairing: 1x2
Rating: PG (NC-17 in later chapters)
Warnings: yaoi, Duo POV, language.

Notes: I know that this doesn’t match what the series says happened to the pilots before the wars, but I just felt like writing it this way. And I also advise reading the prequel, ‘Wake Up’.

Sleepless Nights
Part 2
by Jade Black

The next day, I woke up to an empty bed. The sheets were wrinkled and mashed down, and imprint prominent in the pillow- but Heero wasn’t there. The harsh yet welcoming aroma of fresh coffee wafted up from downstairs- and I heard the light pad of Japanese feet as they made their way up the stairs- I suddenly knew what my lover was up to.

The door, which had been previously left ajar, was gently pushed open- and Heero backed open the door, carrying a tray full of wonderful smelling oddments. “You’re awake,” he commented as he crossed the room to slip back under the sheets. I looked down at the tray- a pot of coffee and two mugs, a selection of croissants and a couple of plain bagels. I waited for him to settle- then poured and handed him a mug of steaming coffee. He took it eagerly, a rare smile crossing his face, and took a sip to wake himself. I could understand why he needed it. After last night’s activities, I was knackered- and I hadn’t even been the one doing the most work… somehow, though, I didn’t think I’d be sitting down comfortably for a while…

I decided to fore-go the coffee, having found out the hard way that anything made by Heero probably tasted something like engine oil, and instead took one of the warm croissants- knowing he had probably run out and got them fresh from the little bakery across the street. Hm, it wasn’t bad.

I looked up from my little feast and found that my eyes immediately met deep cobalt. “D’you have a story to work on?” I said through a mouthful of the sweet bread.

Heero put down the mug of coffee, and took one of the two bagels. “A big entertainment studio is suing an author who published a story on the internet that featured two of the male characters in one of the studio’s shows in romantic intercourse- I’m covering the case for The Times.”

“Oh,” I said. I guess that meant Heero would be holed-up in his office in the attic all day. I’d probably only see him for lunch… then again, perhaps I could coax him down a little earlier… but it would take all of my charm and trademark charisma to drag Heero Yuy away from his work.

“I’m going to be out all day- I probably won’t be back until at least ten tonight- I’ll try to be home earlier, though.” Ah, that explained the breakfast in bed and the super shag-fest last night- he was trying to make up for his absence today. Well, I guess it was my fault anyway, so I shouldn’t even try moping about it- he wouldn’t have even ended up as a journalist if it wasn’t for me.

Straight after the war, he vowed to protect Relena… however, he found that he couldn’t stand the blonde harpie for all that long- and moved instead to join the Preventers along with Wufei. He moved in with me about a year after he joined, and he often left me alone to go on missions. One night, I quite absently told him how much I worried about him when he was out there shooting bad guys.

He came home the next day, Preventers jacket slung over on shoulder, and said he’d quit.

At the time I couldn’t believe that he would actually just up and quit a job that he was so locked onto when I even expressed the tiniest but of discomfort about it- but then he told me that he was planning on becoming a journalist instead… and then I got more that just a little worried. I mean, we all know how good Heero Yuy is with words- his vocabulary pretty much stretches from “Hn,” to “Omae o koruso.” Okay, since I’d met him, I’d managed to get a few more words out of him (such as “Hai!” “Fuck!” and other expletives used in a, er… sexual manner), but I wasn’t sure that was enough to make up even a paragraph of a newspaper or magazine report. He explained to me that, whatever he was doing, he wanted to be helping people to see the truth… and I could whole-heartedly understand that- I just wasn’t sure that his abilities lied in journalism… I didn’t think writers usually carried guns. As a test of his skills, I got him to write me an article on the quality of the local McDonalds, and I read through it for him and- shit! It was brilliant. Really, what he can’t say in words, he can truly write… it just goes to show you how wrong you can be- especially in Heero’s case. Anyway, after all that, and he became a professional freelance writer- working out of our attic- he had my full support.

I did see him during the day- since I still working for Hilde at the scrap yard… there’s something about engines and taking them apart that could still get to me, even after all these years of working on them. Anyway, the scrap yard was only about a five-minute walk away- so I could come back whenever I wanted and… distract Heero from his work. Ah, yes, good memories. I guess that today I probably wouldn’t see him at all… of course; I was always prepared to wait up for him.

I took another croissant. I guessed all the five of the rolled French treats were for me, and the two bagels were for him. I really was beginning to hope there was some orange juice left in the fridge downstairs- I wasn’t going to be able to handle the coffee. “What are you planning to do today?” he said, taking another large gulp of his coffee.

“The usual. There’s this really old Mustang from like… centuries ago, that got dragged in yesterday. It’s just begging to suffer the wrath of the Shinigami.” He smiled at me. “I’ll have my mobile on if you want to ring me- you know all the numbers.”

“I might do. I might be kind of busy.”



Ah, yes. The scrap heap. Uncountable tons of mangled metal, piled precariously on top of each other- reflecting the morning sun- is there anything more beautiful? I’d only ever once climbed right to the top of it, and Hilde took a photo of me looking like the ruler of the mountain, surveying his kingdom- but after the work it took me, I had decided not to do it again without taking lunch with me. It was an even more beautiful sight from the top, though. It wasn’t the highest structure in the area, certainly not, but there was still a brilliant view of all the little streets in the area- and you could see directly into the window of our houses’ attic from there, as well. Sometimes I wonder if Heero had seen me.

But, there wasn’t any time to sit around and admire it today- I had work to do, after all. I’d said “Hi,” to Hilde when I walked in, but I had a mission- and that mission was a Mustang. I’d heard of these beautiful cars, but I had never actually had the privilege of seen one. They truly where a work of art, there’s nothing quite like an antique car. And this kind was so hard to get hold of it was almost like having Deathscythe back. Almost. The car was pretty mangled, though, there was a dent the size of Antarctica in the hood, and the paint had been scratched off in a million places, so there were only very scattered patches of rusty red remaining. It had been keyed repeatedly along one side, and the headlights had been smashed. I guessed some kids had seen it in a parking lot somewhere, got jealous of such a gorgeous car, and decided to wreck it so no one else could enjoy it. I almost remembered when I had been like that. I certainly knew a lot of other people like that. Solo for one.

I could only half remember Solo, I had been so young it seemed almost insignificant to me… however, he still seemed to me like a brother and a father and a mother to me all rolled into one. He was the one who had picked me up off the streets straight after my parents died, and there was nothing I wanted more than to thank him for that- and to see him alive again. Hell, I couldn’t remember my parents at all- I couldn’t even remember my own name- so he had renamed me to be Duo. Then he had taken me back to the Maxwell orphanage, and I gained my surname. I couldn’t believe my luck- there was free food and shelter… it was like he was an angel or something.


I wandered through the streets with no idea of my destination. It was fast growing dark, although I had no way of knowing the time. The streetlights had been switched on long ago, and every so often, I passed under one- but the light had no warmth to it. I was frozen- dressed in only a thin and worn blue t-shirt and jeans. My hair hung loosely, the ends tickling the back of my neck as I slowly moved about. I knew I should be looking for somewhere to shelter, but I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to run away from it all.

My eyelids were drooping heavily as I walked out onto one of the main streets- all the shops having closed hours ago. My footsteps grew slow and heavy, just as a fat droplet of water hit my nose. I looked up at the darkened skies as the first breaks of what promised to be a mother of a storm began to fall. By the time I was halfway down the road, I was soaked to the bone. I noticed a gap between crates between two stores, and crouched down on the floor, crawling into the gap and moving one of the crate lids so that it provided a roof over my head. I hugged my knees and my teeth chattered, I was shivering so much I couldn’t see straight. Me feet felt like they were made of ice, and the numb feeling was slowly spreading up my legs. I felt dead.

I rested my head on my knees, feeling tears dripping down my cheeks along with the raindrops, and wished that it would all just finish- that I could go home or die… either way I’d be happy- but not with torture like this…

The rain fell ceaselessly around me, pounding on the plastic crate lid that shielded me from the worst of the downpour. It was like I was being surrounded be people trying to get into my head- fists banging on my skull and making the sound resonate around me, along with the steady drip somewhere next to me, and the random pattern of droplets as they hit the sidewalk and the road. Every now and then a car went past, sending up a spray of water in its wake, but other than that there was no light. There was no one here to find me… I wished I could just slip away into oblivion. There was no point in prolonging it all.

As I started sobbing into my already wet knees, I didn’t even register the wet slap of shoes against concrete. There were footsteps hurriedly rushing closer and closer… I looked up, and saw them pass by- though not whom they belonged to. They passed, without even noticing me. Just like everything else. But, then, the footsteps stopped- and all I could hear was the rain again. Slowly, the feet padded back. I watched as they stopped just in my line of sight- a pair of scuffed white sneakers, laces done up loosely, hanging apart from a pair of faded and torn jeans. I couldn’t see any more of the person- but then the knees bent, and I saw more. A dark green anorak hanging loose and lopsided off a boy’s shoulders, a couple of sizes too big for him- and then a worried face, blonde hair hanging down in his eyes like little curtains- plastered to his forehead by the rain.

He knelt down and looked in at me, a little puzzled, as tears ran down my cheeks and my hair knotted around me. I stared out at him from between my knees. “Watcha doin’ down here, kid?” he asked me, his voice laden with a heavy tone that spoke only of life on the streets. I could do nothing but sniffle in reply. “What’s ya name?” I just looked up at him. “I’m talkin’ to ya, kid! What’s ya name?” He reached out an arm to grab mine; his hand was warm. “C’mon, come with me. I know some place ya can go.”

He dragged me through the streets with him, I lost track of the way, I was so tired. I vaguely remember being dragged up to some big house, but I think I passed out soon after.

on to part 3

back to fiction

back to jade black fiction

back home