Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and never have… shame

Warnings: yaoi with m/m sexual relations – both lemony and lime, angst, violence, swearing, hints of sap and probably a dozen other things…

Pairings: 1x2x1, side 3x4

A/N: Hey all – this is the promised sequel to Domino and will be of a similar length – aiming for roughly 24 chapters again but no matter how hard I plan a fic it always morphs a little so let's just see how it goes! I would recommend anyone who hasn't read Domino to read it prior to starting Ready to Fall as the plot takes off about a year down the line from that particular fic and I will be referencing events in it and it is kinda vital to the plot…

As always, songs are inspiring each chapter and the title is taken from the Rise Against song of the same name. The first chapter is inspired by Little Hell by City and Colour.

This fic is beta-d by my good friend Ellewrites (and my co-authoring buddy – check out hers and our joint fic because she is just generally awesome – though I'm sure most of you already have…) and a massive thanks to her for committing to this huge fic and being along for the ride!

And finally… Ready to Fall will be updated every Wednesday – I cannot commit to quicker updating due to work/life etc but I will always try to hit the Wednesday schedule. If I can't, I will let you know either in the author's notes of the previous chapter or on my profile.

So that's it from me – onto the first chapter…

Chapter One

Little Hell

The bar was a twenty minute drive away from the garage – it was the next town over and therefore allowed some anonymity. I didn't want to go to the local dive. We'd been their together, played pool and got a little drunk from time to time so they knew us. Knew us on sight as the queers who ran the garage and I didn't want the damn looks I didn't usually give a shit about or the speculation and gossip it would cause by going to Misty's stag. They'd ask, the friendly chick behind the bar would so ask and then the whole clientele of the bar would find out that we'd had a damn lovers tiff or something.

At this bar they didn't know me. It was in a bigger town so during the times I pissed Heero off enough to need to get away I could just pick one until I cooled down. Until he cooled down. Until we both could be in the same room and not try to knock each other's lights out.

The guy behind the bar was greying, wearing a lumberjack shirt and had a pretty impressive beard. Kinda reminded me of Howard in a weird way – that laid back old dude thing. He eyed me up as I took a stool at the bar.

"What can I getcha?"

"Bourbon straight."

He looked at me hard for two reasons. One I guessed was the awesome task of figuring out my age to work out if he needed to ID. Well, I learnt young that not getting ID'd was all about the confidence trick and ordering a drink that said you could damn well hold your drink. It was all about the attitude and I knew that. But I figured I still looked young, you know, so I reached for my wallet and produced a fake drivers license with a fake name and a fake date of birth and ... yeah, you guessed it, everything fake but the image of my face – that was all Duo Maxwell – but everything else was as fake as the smile on my face.

He nodded and reached for the bottle with another look at me – that would be the other reason he seemed reluctant to serve me. Yeah, it's not even twelve and I've gone for hard liquor – not for beer, not for some mixed drink crap – just good ol' fashioned alcohol. Which I guess is the sign of two things – hard core alcoholic, which I've so not gotten there yet, or emotional shit. Every good barman knows this, so I figure, as he just pours. Customer is always right and all that jazz. The whole great American service industry.

He pushed it over and placed the bottle back on the shelf behind him and I thought of doing the whole clichéd shit of saying "leave the bottle" but I was not going to do that. I needed to drive back home eventually – I was not calling Heero to pick my drunk ass up as he would likely just leave me here in his current state of mind and I'd totally deserve it. I don't actually know where it started this time. I've gotten used to it. So has he. That we don't do "couple" well, that the place is too small and we sure as hell don't do "normal" well. Who'd have thunk it – two guys who can pilot any mobile suit, plane, shuttle, who can assemble and reassemble guns without looking and know how to kill men in many many different ways – can't figure out how to do the whole functional and normal relationship thing. Ah yeah, I thought it but then I wanted this to somehow work, to have a home, someone to sleep with every night – I wanted it and somewhere along the line I forget that he's Heero-fucking-Yuy and that we're both pretty screwed up.

I think it might have been something to do with the bike. It could've been something about the parts I left on top of paper work – hell, it could've been about hair in the plug hole, socks on the floor or food that is growing new and exciting life forms in the fridge but, to be honest, it didn't actually matter what it was. It could be about the fact both of us are shit at getting sleep and we both have moods that fluctuate depending on whether we've had a particularly fun series of nightmares or that, you know, generally we're just not that compatible on a daily basis. So I don't exactly know what it was – but it would've descended into throwing stuff or punching each other… and yeah, there would've been a make-up fuck somewhere there but I figure that just defaulting to sex every time we have a fight is kinda not the healthiest way to have a relationship. Or maybe that's what you get when you have two ex-soldiers who are feeling pretty damn useless outta action and feeling washed up at twenty-one.

I downed my drink and felt that warming shudder of alcohol. It wasn't good stuff and I tried not to wince. Not so good for my masculinity to look like I can't take my damn alcohol when I feel that I was trained better to drink alcohol by the Sweepers than by G's actual Gundam pilot training. I always figure that I became a form of entertainment – figure out how much I could drink before I fell over or something. Hilarious. Though, I suppose, I gotta be grateful for that experience – I can hold my liquor.

"Another – make it a double."

"You want to be careful, kid."

"I know my limits."

I wanted to say something more insulting. That I'm twenty-one and I know my fucking limits. That I don't need a lecture about anything – about thinking more about my body and the stupid pacemaker that keeps my heart beating and all the things I really shouldn't do but I let the dude's comment slide.

"Do you want me to leave the bottle?"

This made me smile, a real damn smile as I'd been thinking about the damn cliché of the broken guy in the movies drinking his sorrows away and I shook my head. I'd drink the double slowly and leave – go back home, take a scenic route, take the bike out a bit further and go back to Heero and maybe make him tell me what the hell I did or whether it's just… him, you know, being him.

"Girl trouble?"

"Something like that," I said, taking a sip.

"Nothing can't be solved by flowers, chocolates and grovelling."

I chucked and took another swig. Nope, none of those things would work – hell, I don't think I even know the concept of grovelling. I barely know the concept of saying sorry. Maybe I buy him a new shiny gun that he can't use because we're off the grid. A part for his laptop. Some new spandex shorts, huh, the image made me want to laugh – I remember seeing him without those stupid shorts for the first time and thinking thank the fucking Lord.

"Guess so," I replied, being all friendly.

He wiped down the bar surface. "You gotta think, kid, that I've been married thirty two years and I learnt a trick or two."

"I'm sure have, pal," I said, the slightest smirk on my face, "but I really don't think it'll work."

"No chick is that complicated."

"It's a guy."

He stopped his whole cleaning the bar thing and gave me another look. Yeah, just because I don't ask for an appletini or something… I took another sip of the drink to let the old guy process the information. Usually, sexuality didn't mean shit or people's opinions didn't mean shit but this area ain't so cosmopolitan. The colonies were pretty damn accepting, the major cities were – a back water town? Not so much. I'm sure the area we had chosen wasn't a total wasteland of heterosexuality but I was also sure we'd be in a tiny minority. Definitely a tiny minority.

"Then I guess my advice ain't as useful as I thought," he said with a wry smile. Seemed I hadn't freaked the dude out. "Though I gotta a question for you, kid – do you love this guy?"

The question made me start. Did I love Heero? Well, we didn't exactly go around saying it or admitting it or being all in touch with our feelings but I guess, yeah, I did. I nodded.

"Then don't sit around drinking away your troubles. Face 'em head on."

Facing trouble head on was kinda our thing so it made sense. I usually didn't shy away from trouble being that my entire life seemed to be getting into trouble so it made sense. Face it head on. I could do that. Openly ask what the hell I'd done to piss him and go from there. It sounded grown up and mature and shit.

"Thanks… though I might need one more drink before I go back."

"One more?"

"Just the one."

He poured and I drank even more slowly. He walked away as another coupla guys entered the bar and he turned on a seriously old screen to some sports news and I thought about what we were doing and what we seemed to be screwing up all the time. Maybe this wasn't the life I wanted. I liked the whole garage thing, the cars, the doing something with my hands and stuff but really, hand on heart and all, it wasn't who I was. Yeah, I didn't want undercover operations with a shit load of morality issues. I didn't want guilt and nearly dying and the scum of the earth to be my daily grind but really, I couldn't deal being this separate. This remote. Not being useful.

But then we'd burnt that bridge pretty damn well. Left L2 and the Preventers without looking back. Might as well have told Une to kiss my ass like I wanted to for her decision to keep up separate from one another for all those years. We were not gonna be welcomed back with open arms, as we'd just gone – protocol be damned – and disappeared. Plus, I didn't feel all that damn confident about the Preventers in general. We knew information was being leaked out and though someone was dead, Murphy, shot dead in the L2 Conference Centre by Roth's little girl, I kinda figured he wasn't the only one and I sure thought that the organisation had a corrupt element.

It was a depressing thought. If we didn't belong in the Preventers and we didn't belong in so-called normal civilian life then like hell did I know what I wanted or what we needed in order to move forward together. It was a damn headache and one I know wouldn't be solved by the bottom of a bottle as much as I longed for that oblivion when shit got too hard to figure out.

My drink was nearly finished, a few more regulars had started arriving and I felt conscious that I wasn't a regular and was being speculated about – sure, look at the guy with the tattoos and the braid. Least the old dude had been pretty decent. Nice guy. I glanced over to the screen that was showing highlights from last night's baseball games and didn't take anything in until the broadcast stopped in the middle of the sports news to turn to something more serious.

I took the last sip of my drink, shrugged back into my leather jacket and was about to leave – money left on the counter, tip that was maybe a little high but it was also because somewhere in the well-meaning conversation had been some advice I needed to listen to. I figured that deserves more than the standard twenty percent. It made me miss Howard, he'd just tell me I was a fucking messed up brat and an ass pirate to boot and tell me to sort my shit out. It was then I realised the bar was all hush and the conversation, jukebox and whatever else made noise in this damn place, was no longer working and the screen's volume was being turned up.

"Shit."

It wasn't my most articulate display of words as I saw the news headlines rolling across the bottom banner of the screen and a familiar figure making a statement on the steps of Sanc Memorial Hospital and it suddenly became very clear that some serious shit had gone down. I reached for my back pocket where I'd usually keep my phone… oh yeah, I'd left fucking pissed and I'd not thought about picking it up on the grounds that I would've had to walk straight past him to the bedside table and he was doing that arms-folded-glare-shit and I was not going to react. I was going to do the dramatic walk out – thank you, ladies and gentleman, I am the king of the dramatic walk out and I kinda take pride in it. It loses its drama when you go back to collect your phone, you know.

Now all I'm thinking is that I'm in deep shit. Heero doesn't know where I am. And he's watching this – damn near he'll want to kill me, strangle me with my own braid – and as tends to happen, I'd totally deserve it.

"I can confirm that an attempt was made on the Vice Foreign Minister Darlian's life and she is currently undergoing surgery at Sanc Memorial Hospital."

"Commander Une – can you confirm whether you have the shooter in custody?"

"The shooter is dead."

"Can you tell us more about the Vice Foreign Minister's condition?"

The reporters were surrounding her like a damn horde of the living dead, held back by agents, throwing microphones in her face but she was composed and unfazed. Give the lady some credit for that.

"I am not able to answer any more questions at this time. A public statement will be made when we have more facts. Good day."

She turned and the image switched back to the studio – sports forgotten entirely and replaced by the now rolling news of Relena Darlian being shot and in critical condition at hospital. Shit.

I turned and left the bar, feeling like I really shouldn't drive over the speed limit considering my alcohol intake but knew there was somewhere I needed to be. Hell, to say Heero had complicated feelings towards Relena was the understatement of the century. Yeah, "feelings" did not mean romantic or sexual but they were confused and basically amounted to some kinda belief that she was the symbol of peace and he needed to understand that she was safe, cared for, and you know, there in the world for him to justify whatever shitty wartime actions he'd done. I know he'd been in touch with her since we came back to earth – encrypted channels and cloak and daggers shit. And I wouldn't deny him that. I have no particular feelings for the Princess either way. She was devastated when he disappeared after I did my whole rejecting him thing and I took her cash and tried to find him so there were times we'd spoken but I felt he held her a little too high on that pedestal, you know. It's not like I want to be placed on that damn pedestal – I do not need to be protected or saved – I am not the damsel in distress in this relationship even though he seems to have a habit of saving me more often that I would like… but hell, maybe I just feel confused too.

Time to just get on the damn bike and get back home. I put my braid down the back of jacket, zipping it up tight so that it didn't flail behind me and secured my helmet before revving and leaving the small bar behind. I thought about the old dude who would think I'd gone back home to face my troubles but really I was heading home because there was something bigger going on.

The drive was shorter than it should've been. I pushed the bike hard, to the limit, felt adrenalin that I hadn't felt truly for so long… felt a bit of who I used to be. The guy who didn't give a shit – the guy who didn't think of my personal safety if there was a job that needed doing and not the guy messing with cars in the middle of nowhere. It didn't surprise me when I pulled in to see Heero standing against the door of the store front, arms folded across his chest and his face completely expressionless only helped by the Ray Bans that hid his eyes. I stood no chance figuring out his moods when his eyes were covered. Figured why he'd done it. Petty shit. He knows I feel like I'm at a disadvantage when I can't see into his eyes so he damn well goes and does that.

The moment I've parked up and got rid of the helmet is the one I realise that this all falls into more dangerous relationship shit as he's got two bags with him – one is his duffle and one is mine – mine that has been hidden in the back of the closet since we went ahead and tried this real relationship shit. The bag that has been packed from the moment I moved in with him and attempted to make a life. A bag with fake IDs and clothes and cash – yeah, plenty of cash in various currencies and it's my go bag. I could justify it and say that one day I figured Roth would try and find us for killing his kid but it ain't because of that and I don't lie.

It's because I don't like being trapped. It's because maybe I was afraid one day I'd have to run from this. It's because maybe I doubted that this would work between us and for that reason I don't say anything as he throws it over to me.

"We have a flight."

"You want me with?"

Ah, yeah, pretty obvious he wants you with, Duo, as he's thrown the duffle bag at you with force and he's doing a good impression of your pissy stompy walk thing towards the car.

He didn't answer and instead puts his bag in the trunk and looks towards me expecting me to do the same. Or I'm guessing. His body language is totally rigid and all military training shit rather than the man I thought I'd been living with – he'd gotten rid of some of that good posture and that standing like a soldier but when in emotional turmoil ... go back to what you know, I guess.

"I need to grab my phone and put the bike away, give me a few, okay?"

At least he nodded as I threw in my bag to join his. He slammed the trunk down with the same amount of force and I reached out a second to touch his hand.

"She'll be okay, you know."

"She's in critical condition."

"Yeah, but she's the chick who came in between a mobile suit battle and lived. You need a lot more than a gun to kill that girl."

I didn't know how serious, neither of us did, and I didn't question that we were going – if Heero felt he needed to be there, then so be it, we'll be there. I picked up a few things in the apartment, changed my t-shirt for the only thing that resembled a shirt and grabbed the phone that I'd left behind. I stood for a moment in this place – the place we'd spent over a year in making our own and trying to find our way. It had been too small, we'd been too damn close and it had been hard figuring everything out but it had been us, just us, and we'd been off everyone's radar and hidden and free. And though I missed the action and missed something, I now felt nostalgic for this life we'd had as it was gonna be over the moment we stepped off a plane in Sanc.

No longer out of touch. No longer just a mechanic and an IT guy. Now we were going to be former Gundam pilots and ex-Preventers and suddenly I figured we should've made a better attempt at this life as really, we could've made it better if both of us had tried.