Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Two: PREVENTERS

Heero Yuy

Wufei's call couldn't have come at a better time. It couldn't have come at a worse time, either. And trying to get my head around that paradox became my new hobby. Other than assisting Duo in the management of his acute agitation, that is. At the very least, keeping him from self-destructing gave me something else to think about other than the ticklish sensation in the back of my mind that I experienced whenever I heard Duo's laughter or felt his steadying touch.

Over the next few days, I kicked my therapy sessions into high gear. I couldn't afford to lean on Duo like I had been, not if I wanted to stand next to him in Une's office and guard his back as he'd guarded mine here. And knowing that I'd allowed myself to – quite literally – lean against him so much became a source of puzzlement that I instinctively sensed could become a source of shame if I allowed myself to dwell on it. Luckily, I hadn't really had the time. But I could feel it crouching in the back of my skull, waiting for the dust to settle before formally introducing itself.

So, as fucked up as this is going to sound, I'd been happy to focus on helping Duo moderate his unpredictable temper. He may be one of the strongest, most loyal, and expressive people I've ever known, but he's like a star that can't decide between becoming a red giant, a spinning pulsar, or a black hole. Einstein himself would have marveled at this young man standing next to me.

But Einstein isn't here. It's just me, Duo, and Une. And I can't help tensing as our boss takes a deep breath in preparation for delivering her verdict.

"Agents," Une begins. "Welcome back to Earth." She takes this moment to survey me and I feel like I'm being assessed for my efficiency. Just another weapon in her arsenal. I fight the urge to fist my hands at my sides. "You've made outstanding progress in your recovery, Agent Yuy," she tells me. "But your physician informs me that it may be sometime before you will be fit for fieldwork."

I nod. "Yes, ma'am," I reply in my characteristic stoicism. In all honesty, I don't have any interest in going back to fieldwork if Duo's about to be fired.

That last thought startles me. Jesus... what am I thinking? That I'll quit the Preventers if I can't work with Duo every day?

Thankfully, Une saves me from exploring this thought further.

"Agent Chang has completed his preliminary investigation into your last assignment and it is those results I would like to discuss with you this morning." She pauses and levels a hard look at both of us. Then, for the first time in known memory, she directs softly, "Have a seat, gentlemen."

There's really only one thought I have in response to that:

Oh shit.

Duo declines the offered seat and I remain at my post beside him even though my body demands otherwise with admirable enthusiasm.

She takes our stubborn insistence in stride and simply – finally ­– gets down to business:

"Agent Maxwell," she says briskly, "the facts of this incident have been reviewed thoroughly and while it appears Agent Yuy owes you his life, I cannot condone your vigilante methods. Preventer protocols exist for very good reasons. You'd do well to remember this in the future. For now, you'll take an unpaid leave of absence for no less than thirty days. I suggest you spend this free time wisely. Perhaps reviewing your training materials," she concludes.

Beside me, I finally, finally sense a lessening of tension from him. He nods once and forces out a gruff, "Yes, ma'am."

And then Une glances in my direction.

"Agent Yuy, you told Agent Chang that you'd sent a communication to Agent Maxwell on your check-in date. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply.

"And what were the contents of that message?"

"I informed Agent Maxwell that the mission was proceeding according to schedule."

"I see," she hums. "And your exact words, agent?"

I open my mouth to tell her but nothing comes out.

Before I can wonder too deeply about this, she asks, "And what time did you compose and send this message?"

"On the day of my scheduled check-in," I reply and my voice sounds curiously wooden and dead to my own ears.

"The time, agent," she insists.

Yet again, I have no answer.

"And when you hadn't received word from Agent Maxwell, you checked your server connection. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I reply with relief. That much, I am sure of.

Une nods. "And did you find anything suspicious?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did you check your communications history cache?"

"I..." My God, I don't remember. Had the sun managed to fry my brain completely?

"Let me help you," she continues fluidly, not disturbed remotely by my fumbling responses. "You didn't find a recording of a sent message in the cache memory because no message was ever sent."

I frown. "I sent a message," I insist.

"No," she tells me slowly and with deliberate intent, "you did not, agent. There is no record of it because you never composed it. Nor can you tell me word-for-word what you'd intended to write." Une pauses. "It's very unlike you to not remember those kinds of details, Agent Yuy. And I also find it unlikely that you would convince yourself that you'd written and sent a fictional message... at least not without encouragement from an outside source." She pauses briefly and gathers a breath. "There's only one logical conclusion: you've been compromised, Agent Yuy."

The atmosphere in the room changes tangibly. The implications of this... The possibilities... Oh God... I start to seriously consider sitting down.

"I hope you understand that I cannot reinstate you, even for administrative duty, until you have been evaluated thoroughly by our staff psychologists," Une continues.

I barely hear her. Fuck. How in the hell had this happened? When had it happened? When had those bastards managed to feed me a lie about checking in with Duo?

I feel suddenly very disoriented and dizzy. One moment, I'm standing at attention and the next I'm leaning heavily against Duo's shoulder. I can't recall gravitating toward him, but there's no denying the fact that he's supporting my weight effortlessly in the middle of Une's office.

I don't know how much of her informational lecture I've missed, but when I clue back in, I hear: "I have scheduled you a series of appointments with a Preventer psychologist who specializes in –"

"No," I hear myself say sharply. The last thing I need is someone else sorting through my brain. There's no possible way I can consent to that.

"Until you're certified mentally stable I cannot allow you to return to work," she warns me, her expression stern.

"I don't care," I hear myself say. I just want out of this office. Out of this situation. Or perhaps I just want to lock myself in a small, dark room until the whole thing goes away.

In the face of this single, impossible, inconceivable thing, I flee.

And it's not until I'm swaying unsteadily on my feet at the elevator banks that I realize Duo had followed in my wake. And he'd followed not to offer me words, but a silent shoulder to lean against. And I suppose it's an indication of my disorientation that I don't hesitate to take him up on it.

End of PREVENTERS