Disclaimer: I'm out of my head and know not what I do.

Pairing: a little 1+2 - very little
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Shounen-ai (maybe?), AU-ish...
Challenge: Identity
Count: 775 (more or less)

A/N: Written for the GW500, this little ditty is a short ficlet only telling a brief tale. And bear with me in this. It might be more than just a one-shot depending on what track my mind takes.

The Gunman
by Merith

He pushed open the batwing doors, trail dust thick in his throat. The interior was dark, and he paused, giving his eyes time to adjust. The saloon was a shack, but in a small frontier town with few to support it, none could expect better. He noted the bar ran along the back wall, its bartender polishing a glass, watching him.

As he walked across the floor, his spurs clanged loudly and he felt the others watch his progress. A murmured, "some kind of breed" sounded as he past.

"Beer," he answered the unspoken question before turning. In a quick glance, he scanned the room, picking up the three crowded around a table in the corner, the Chinaman making sweeping motions with the broom, and the dapper man sitting by himself. The others held no threat.

"I asked if you was some kind of breed," one of the three pushed himself up and stepped away from the table, his friends followed.

Centering his attention on the man, he kept track of the others. "I don't know." Even knowing that was the wrong answer to give, he couldn't lie.

Thick, cruel lips curled into a sneer. "Bastard half-breed. Who are you, boy? Don't you know your daddy?" His hands hovered above the guns strapped to his sides.

With a quick step away from the bar, he announced, "They call me Lord Death, and that's the last you'll ever know." The other's hands twitched, and he moved. Twin Colts recoiled, bucking in his hands as he slid over the floor. The large man toppled, guns falling without being fired. Coming to a stop, his pistols trained on the other two, both who held their hands in the air.

"Good show, old man. Good show." The blond in the corner rose, clapping his hands.

It was then he saw the bartender held a shotgun on the room. Without knowing why, he trusted the man and holstered his guns, nodding his thanks.

"You really must be going, now. Before the sheriff comes," the blond smile, indicating the backdoor with a tilt of his head. "Chang will show you the way." Already dismissed, the dapper man turned to the bartender, "Fresh coffee, Trowa?"

A hand tugged on his sleeve and he went with the Chinaman. Ushered out the backdoor, and through a quickly darkening alley, the two didn't stop until they neared the edge of town. The Asian pointed out a spot behind a stack of crates. "You wait there until dark. The train leaves then." Black eyes pierced into him. "Don't miss it. Be on the train when it leaves."

He could only nod and hid himself as instructed. Night came swift, and from the noise the train made, he knew it was time. Cautiously he crept from his hole, keeping to the shadows, flitting from one spot to another. It'd been nothing to climb up the train's roof, and nothing to find the vent cover. Prying open the cover, he slip easily into the hole and dropped to the floor.

Instantly in the dark, the only light came from overhead. He held out his hand instinctively trying to get his bearings. The striking of a match sounded loud, its light sharp and too bright with its sudden appearance. A lantern was lit, and he saw the one other. The last one, his mind supplied.

"Who are you?" he demanded, more curious than concerned.

The other shook his head, a small twist of his lips and he announced, "You've been seduced, but aren't lost yet. Let your friends help."

He frowned. "What the hell?"

Without replying, the man strode forward, stopping inches from him. "Find out who you are." And he lowered his head.

The connection of lips jolted him, and he was suddenly spinning out of control. Sitting upright, Duo gasped, hands gripping the nylon of his sleeping bag convulsively. "Shit," he whispered in the dark, whipping his head around to convince himself he hadn't left the planet.

They were all there, spread out in a loose circle around the campfire. Unzipping the bag with a shaky hand, he rose and stumbled a few steps into the trees. He took a deep breath, and mumbled to himself, "Last fucking time I have lasagna before bed." Only he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten it.

Finished urinating, he fastened his jeans, and chuckled softly. "Heero kissed me? That had to of been a dream." His walk back to the camp slowed. "Find out who you are..." He shook his head. Once more ensconced in his sleeping bag, he whispered, "Some days, I wish I knew."


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