The Little Things Arc
Part Seventeen: On The Way Home
by D.C. Logan
This motel was definitely third class. His first clue was
the rate per night--he'd never stayed at a motel that
charged by the fractional evening before. The battered and
sorely used locking mechanism on the door had seen better
days sometime in the previous century. The lock pick set
that Duo had given him for Christmas three years ago worked
both more efficiently and faster than the magnetic key that
had come with the lease of the room. His suitcase, scuffed
and abused from a young lifetime of continuous travel,
looked pristine when compared to the outfitting of the
room. He set it on the edge of the bed with some
trepidation, but nothing leaped out at him from the folds
of the linens or from under the mattress.
He hated traveling with a magnitude and vehemence that he
applied to little else now that the war was over. His life
had long been a continual series of interchangeable hotels,
motels, safe houses, and dormitories. He'd just wanted a
place of his own. He'd been tired of carrying his life's
worth of possessions in two hands. Duo had helped him
change all that.
The shower spat at him when he twisted the handle
experimentally; at least the water ran acceptably hot after
the first few moments. As far as he could tell upon his
initial explorations, it was the only positive aspect of
the room.
His appointment was at eight in the morning, and if his
clients matched the room they'd reserved for him, well, it
would be a short meeting. So, only about eighteen hours
until he could turn around and head back home. He sat on
the edge of the bed, as the only chair in the room appeared
to be carefully balanced against the wall; he doubted it
would have supported his weight.
Heero couldn't remember having this strong an urge to race
through his business before Duo had moved in. But then
again, he hadn't had a good reason to rush home before Duo
had become part of his everyday life. Heh, who was he
kidding, wherever Duo was, that's where his home was--all
the rest of it was just window dressing. He'd finally
reached the point were the time spent apart from him no
longer felt like a vacation--it was quiet torture. For the
first time in his life, he was leaving someone behind that
cared whether or not he came back. It had been and
continued to be a humbling experience for him.
He'd never felt needed, necessary... wanted before. At
first he'd found the realization terrifying, and he'd run
from it by traveling on business far and often. Now it was
a comfort to him, and the travel a heavy burden.
+
What was it with people today? He couldn't come up with a
good reason for it--but it seemed as if, for whatever
reason, on this particular day at this particular
place--everyone was simply angry. Angry and eager and ready
and willing to take out their combined aggression on
whomever was convenient or did anything, however small, to
provoke them. Heero remembered seeing this, or something
very much like it, while traveling during the war. It was
almost as if whatever general tolerance had been granted to
each person had been used up in the general anxiety of
everyday activities, and they had none to spare on fellow
travelers.
All he wanted to do was get home to Duo. With a minimal
amount of interference from the crowds around him if that
was at all possible. It didn't feel like it would be a
peaceful flight though. The crowd had a surly edge to it,
and people were pushing against each other without apology
or excuse. It grated on his nerves.
He wrangled his way over to the bank of seats in the
staging area by his shuttle dock. He didn't sit though,
preferring to find a sheltered corner for his back by a
structural support. He carefully set his travel bag--he
traveled with only the one--between his feet and stepped on
the fabric extensions to deter theft. Not that it was
really necessary, but if he looked ready to comfortably
handle anything that would dare come along to bother him,
nothing would. That was the way the underculture on this
colony worked.
He passed his waiting minutes watching the crowds move in
small bursts of activity through the concourse. A young
girl caught his attention. She was perhaps five or six, and
was being towed along almost as an afterthought by the long
casual arm of her mother. She in turn was dragging a piece
of wheeled luggage through the concourse like a disobedient
pet--it tipped, then righted itself every few strides.
It was enough to make him smile, however briefly. It had to
last him for the remainder of the trip though. Well, that
and thoughts of what Duo was doing. It was a quiet
diversion he'd come up with to pass the time while away
from his partner. 'What was Duo doing at this very moment
back in the apartment?' He had a thousand answers for that
little question--most of them wrong, he knew. But the
thought of Duo brushing his teeth, making his coffee,
running errands...doing the mundane things that were a part
of each day of his life whether Heero was there or
not--brought him simple pleasure for which there was no
price.
"Hang on Duo, I'm on my way home..."
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