FicWad

TITLE: CAPTAINS
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R (will eventually be NC-17)
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, crossdressing, swearing
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: The Caribbean in the time of pirates. Duo Maxwell is an infamous captain pirate bored with easy lays. His life will get much more interesting when he meets the dark Navy Captain Heero Yuy in the most unusual circumstances.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: There was a big outcry about last chapter's cliffie. It wasn't even a really mean one in my opinion but anyway, as I felt harassed I took my sweet time to update. Oh yeah I also cliff hung the new chapter as well. No... no reason, just because I could and because you should know I'm nasty. No hard feelings. smirk

Chapter 14 : The Stalker's Guidelines

The aimless wandering they had done while looking for the Sandrock hadn't been for naught as it had brought them at only a two days sail from Jamaica. There was still that petty problem of how to infiltrate a Military man into a pirates' safe haven. The Captain Lowe wasn't worried about that though. He had been serious when saying he was counting on Trowa to find a way. After some consideration on his part, the wonder-spy had announced he indeed had a plan. What Heero hadn't foreseen was that that master plan would entail hiking close to thirty miles on rough ground. That's obvious he should have because it did.

Heero was annoyed. Of course he was as fit as any self-respecting officer and perfectly able to hike the assigned distance, but that wasn't the point. It's not because you could do something that you necessarily wanted to. Lucky the Captain wasn't the sort to bitch; that saved him some embarrassment when he realized that no matter how much he didn't want to follow through with the plan, he had to because it was a sound one.

The Wing was anchored a stone's throw from Villa de la Vega, a port located South-west from Port Royal. That town wasn't so much populated with less pirates than with less paranoid ones. The bay in which it sat wasn't as defensible nor as heavily watched and the military frigate could stay unseen provided it went away as soon as the rowboat with Heero and Trowa on board was cut loose.

The two friends berthed on a little beach out of sight of Villa de la Vega's lookouts and walked to the town with as much casualness as they could muster. That was very little in Heero's case, moreover when he had to wear non-military clothes for the first time in what felt like forever. The civilian ensemble his crew had managed to put together was too tight in all the wrong places and annoyingly loose in the others. It was sad to think that he was now tripping on Trowa's too long pant legs for the very roundabout reason that his subordinates were too terrified of him to have any other pants on board than the very distinctive pale grey ones all Sank's Navy soldiers had to wear according to regulation.

In Villa de la Vega, they found a guide to lead them to Port Royal by land. The man had boggled at the absurdity of it when going by boat was so much simpler but a more than decent fee for his task had silenced him pretty fast. They probably could have foregone the guide seeing that the journey shouldn't be that difficult. Heero was however of the opinion it would be safest to cover all their basis; he had had enough surprises these past days to last him a lifetime. If the man only aided in leading them away from the areas crocodiles loved to dwell in, when they'd cross the Rio Cobre, that would still be one thing less to worry about.

That was how the three men found themselves hiking in the middle of nowhere under the combine assaults of the tropical sun and the resident bugs. It was a tie to decide which of those two annoyances was the worse. Heero would have said the heat but it would have been a cheap shot against the low quality fabric his borrowed shirt was made off; the damn thing itched when one sweated. That's why he was only mildly comforted when their Arawak guide reassured them they would be in Port Royal before the night and thus would avoid the worst crowd of mosquitoes.

They were going at a brisk pace, carried minimal gear and didn't plan to stop for longer than the time to consume a hurried lunch. The guide had concluded that they would cross the distance in under ten hours which seemed to amaze him; he obviously didn't think much of white men. Those too had won his grudging respect with their endurance and absence of complaints and when they went their separate ways once in Port Royal, he even recommended them a decent place in which to spend the night.

The sun would go down in another hour and Trowa was pretty tired but when he suggested they'd get settled and began their investigation in the morning, he was shot down by Heero's obstinacy. His friend wanted to go to the docks at once and his own fatigue showed only in the way he didn't even pretend anymore to be looking for the signs of a political plot. Trowa followed him to the Port without trying to disguise his reluctance. He loved Heero like a brother, quirks and all, but sometimes his single-mindedness seriously got on his nerves, especially when he was dead on his feet and there was a clean, unmoving bed with his name on it, only a few blocks away.

Port royal wasn't that big a town and they were on the docks in no time. It was even faster to locate the Sandrock. It appeared that as long as you were inside the walls, so to speak, everyone just assumed you were one of them. It was a wonder that such trusting people hadn't been infiltrated ages ago and yet even more strange that people whom the rest of the world feared, often with reasons, were so welcoming and trusting once in their Haven.

Heero didn't waste time in finding a good spot to watch the brigantine and then couldn't be moved no matter how much Trowa begged and pleaded. The Captain Lowe was on a mission and he was simply unshakeable when in one of those moods. The spy kept him company the first few hours, but when there still hadn't been any movement coming from the ship around dinner time, he grew bored and frustrated. In the end, he announced he'd go find something to eat for the both of them and book rooms in the place their guide had suggested on his way. Heero let him go with no reaction whatsoever, his gaze still unwavering from the damn ship.

Trowa found a nice little tavern which served an even nicer stir-fry with a syrupy rum. He had been surprised at the neatness of the establishment and at the joyful atmosphere all around, pleasantly so. For such an infamous den of iniquity, Port Royal didn't live up to its seedy reputation. He took his sweet time dining, all the while relishing the thought that Heero would go hungry. If his friend had nothing better to do than to play hide and seek with a prankster pirate instead of spending time with his only friend, he could very well do it alone and if that made him petty... than so be it!

It was a complete coincidence that he caught sight of Kushrenada while exiting the tavern, but it was of his own free will that he chose to follow him. On their last encounter, the man had more or less implied that he was on his way to report to Oz's Governor and unless Jamaica had suddenly changed ownership and said Governor was lurking around, it had been a blatant lie. Trowa wasn't really surprised; in his experience everybody lied, that was one of those facts of life one had just to accept in order to grow up. However, where it was getting interesting was that in his line of business, Trowa had also learned to gauge people by what they were willing to lie about.

The spy was on a mission too and he wasn't about to forget it no matter how distracting and entertaining Heero's misadventures had proven to be. He had the feeling that if he wanted to know what was brewing in Caribbean's politics these days, Kushrenada was the man to look out for. He was in the mood for a good filature, even more so when the alternative was to go back to the docks and hold his smitten friend's hand while he waited for his Holy Maiden's apparition. Because for whatever supposedly noble reason Heero was pretending to be pursuing Shinigami, Trowa himself knew better.

He followed Kushrenada most of the evening and long into the night. The privateer had shed the overbearing arrogance that had so annoyed Trowa on the Wing. He was trying to appear less than he was and to escape notice; he was failing on both accounts. That man was probably born unable to fit in and the bit of commonness he must have had at some point had been bred out of him a long time ago. When Trowa had complained to Heero about the way the man behaved as if he were royalty, his friend had retorted that it might be because he was. It was easy to believe right then. Kushrenada might not have been on any direct line to an impending regal succession but there was little doubt that he was indeed related one way or another to most European royal bloodlines. That was part of why it was such a mystery to find him lurking about in a pirates' harbour. What business such a well-bred nobleman could possibly have in Port Royal? Or being a simple privateer for that matter?

The random stops Kushrenada made on his way didn't appear to follow any pattern the spy was able to identify. They were in succession: a decrepit shop which looked to have been closed for ages, a tavern where he ordered a pantagruelian meal and ate alone, a medical clinic which hosted some sailors he inquired about but declined to visit when the young maid invited him in to see for himself and finally a luxurious brothel where he was greeted like a long-lost brother or more accurately like any stupendously rich customer. The whole evening hadn't revealed anything Trowa didn't already know or suspect. That Treize was a sensualist appreciative of all pleasures of the flesh wasn't really a revelation. Neither was the fact that he was prolix with his money nor that he didn't care enough for his subordinates to hold their hand while they were sick. The spy was beginning to feel stupid staking out the brothel all alone in the dark. Especially when the man he was following was enjoying a very expensive prostitute without a care in the world. He wasn't acting as someone guilty of anything worse than a little overindulgence.

Kushrenada had been in the arms of a voluptuous brunette for nearly two hours when Trowa decided to call it quits. It was likely that the privateer would spend the night and the spy was reluctant to spend his standing in an alley. He could still come back early in the morning to carry on his stalking and see if Treize's diurnal activities were more exciting than the nocturnal ones. With a little luck, he might just be able to drag Heero away from his own stalking and maybe even to grab a few hours worth of sleep somewhere. Any remotely dry flat surface would have done at this point. Just when he was ready to get a move on, he saw Kushrenada exit the brothel looking even more conceited than earlier. Trowa let out a disheartened sigh and followed with resignation.

This time the privateer was really cautious. Would have they come from anyone else, Trowa would have defined the frequent looks he threw behind him as "skittish". It was like he was another man entirely, or the same man but with a very risky purpose. Well... looked like Heero was right in saying that persistence always paid off in the end; things just might get interesting. To avoid detection from the man's careful scrutiny, the spy hauled himself atop one of the house and followed by way of the roofs. Most buildings were wooden and conveniently huddled together, a sure fire disaster waiting to happen but damn useful for the time being. This way wasn't a walk in the park but close enough for a man like Trowa whose gypsy family had taught to walk the tightrope when he was still a kid. Moreover, for all his cautiousness, Kushrenada never thought to survey above him, thus giving the green eyed man an invaluable advantage.

When the privateer stopped at last it was in the middle of a nondescript alley. He leaned on a wall, crossing his arms but failed to exude the nonchalance he was aiming at. He looked damn impatient as a matter of fact, which Trowa took to mean that he was waiting for someone, a late someone maybe. A few minutes later a blond someone stopped at Treize's side. Trowa thought briefly that it was dear cousin Dorothy; the hair was too short though even not accounting for the fact that on closer inspection that someone was indubitably male. The new man seemed even more worried than Kushrenada, at least if his body language was any indication.

The conversation he managed to catch some bits of seemed to confirm it. Something about "feeling like someone was following." He heard a little more:

"...the wop took the bait..."

"...the Lady will be pleased..."

"...sick, no one died yet..."

"...ghost frigate still unaccounted for, but damaged..."

"...you can get the bitch back..."

Some parts were easy to understand and were painting a disturbing picture but too much was missing to really make sense of the conversation and getting closer would be taking the risk of being spotted.

Trowa was beyond frustrated because for all that every words were teasing his spy's senses, there wasn't any real evidence he could work with here. If only he could know who was the blond man at the least. He didn't have a name and not even a face as the man kept his back to him all along. Desperate times called for desperate means and Trowa resolved to a course of action no self-respecting spy would resort to aside from in most dire circumstances. He grabbed a couple of tiles from the roof he was perched upon and threw them further down the street behind him. The human nature was such that the two men would compulsorily turn in the direction of the noise and he would be able to catch a glimpse of the blonde's face. It happened exactly as he had planned save for two things. First, Trowa witnessed two other unrelated figures taking off in the dark at the first sound of shattering tile, one of them had a long braid. Second, the man talking with Kushrenada was wearing an iron mask hiding most of his face. Well... so much for that plan!

Trowa didn't know if Kushrenada or his friend had seen the escaping figures and was pretty sure he was himself still in the clear. Regardless, the unexpected noise had shaken them enough to convince them it was time to go. They exchanged a nervous handshake and went on their separate ways. Now, the spy was confronted with a dilemma; which of them should he follow... if any? The last bit was a meek protestation from his exhausted body; the foolish thing had yet to relinquish the hope of a bed at the end of the journey. His dutiful mind sent an apologetic message to his tired feet and he went in the direction the masked man had gone. He was really curious about that one...

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the Captain Lowe was still watching the Sandrock. It was incredibly boring as there hadn't been any of the comings and goings he thought there would be. At first, he had believed there was no one on board which was puzzling; it was unusual to leave a ship unattended. He had been proven wrong however when a plump Spanish man climbed the gangway around nine and was greeted by an older one who seemed to just materialize on the deck but had probably been secreted away in the innards of the brigantine until then. The new comer gave him hope that he would finally see some action if the crew were coming back to sleep on the ship. He was disappointed once again. He didn't see anyone else for hours.

Even Trowa hadn't come back and he was getting hungry. Less determined men would have given up by this point and done the sensible thing; that is to say following his friend's example and leaving to eat and sleep as the other had done. Heero however was far too obstinate to be put off by mere fatigue nor an empty stomach. The Colonel had been fond of deprivation as a way to teach his grandson to endure; he proclaimed it would toughen him up and had been right in a way. Heero could go days without eating and with little sleep. He still hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Inaction was another matter entirely. He hated doing nothing and had begun to fidget a while ago. It was fortunate there was nobody around because he looked damn suspicious. He reached the limit of his patience around two in the morning and came to the conclusion that the rest of the crew would stay in town for the rest of the night. The two men on board had looked tired and had apparently left the ship unguarded. It was the perfect opportunity to explore Shinigami's lair. He might just learn something useful by investigating his cabin.

In hindsight, he should have guessed how bad an idea it was to go in without back-up. The reasonable thing to do would have been to at least inform Trowa of his plans. Alas, the reasoning part of his brain had shut down under exhaustion and his guts were doing the thinking. Pity he didn't remember the things couldn't be trusted since he had met Miss Winner.

He walked to the gangway and surveyed the premises. Once assured there was not a soul that could stand witness, he didn't waste any time and climbed hurriedly. Coming at the top he looked around, still cautious; there was nothing unusual, that much he could see even in the semi-darkness. He crept silently on the deck, it wouldn't do to be busted for something as silly as making a plank crack or tripping on a rope. The Captain's cabin was usually the one opening on the upper deck. That's where he went. He was pretty sure that whoever's name had been given as owner of the Sandrock, no one other than Shinigami would be allowed to lead a crew he was a part of.

He opened the door while holding his breath and let out a relieved sigh when the hinges didn't creak. He closed the door behind him and had a brief scare when he saw there was a light on inside. A quick survey of the room however confirmed that it was empty. The cabin was spacious and a little messy. It didn't look like it was by lack of care but rather as if someone had left in a hurry, which could account for the chest of clothes left open, the dirty shirt thrown over the back of a chair, the unmade bed and the still burning lamp. That last thing was strange as it gave an eerie blue light. He came closer to it and could smell saltpetre; it was ingenious as it would burn much longer than oil, would go out if disturbed instead of setting the ship on fire and that also explained why he hadn't seen any light from outside. At night, that faint blue glow would be undetectable from afar.

Aside from the bed and the dresser, there was another chest with a heavy lock, two cabinets shut as well, a massive desk on top of which lay a few maps, some ink and feathers and nothing else of interest save for an out of place metallic cylinder that looked imbedded in the wood and could be a lever... for a secret compartment maybe. He was contemplating whether or not he should push it when his attention was caught elsewhere. There was a huge window with little panes in the far end of the room. That wasn't unusual in a Captain's cabin. What was unusual though was that instead of looking out, the window was completely blinded by more planks. He tried to find a catch on the wood, something that would open the window or move what could only be shutters, but didn't find any. What would be the point to have a big source of light if it was to obscure it; that didn't make sense...

He was about to get back to the desk when the door opened all of a sudden. He froze for a moment than turned slowly toward the new-comer. He expected to be confronted for his intrusion and likely attacked. Shinigami however, for it was him, was looking longingly toward his bed and didn't appear to see him. He seemed tired and thus unobservant tonight. He shuffled to the bed and fell more than sat on it. He now had his back to Heero who was trying not to panic. Daring, the intruder retreated behind the heavy burgundy curtains draping the window. If the pirate hadn't seen him from the get go, there was a chance that he wouldn't see him at all.

From the shadows of his hiding place, Heero had the advantage of a nice watching spot. He would be able to observe Shinigami at leisure. He wasn't sure what he would gain from that but felt compelled by the task anyway. On the other side of the room, the man had taken off his boot and thrown them in a corner. He was now undressing and there was much more alabaster skin on display than Heero was comfortable with; he continued to watch all the same...

Duo stood unabashedly naked and stretched as much muscles as he could think of in a clear effort to loosen them. His shoulders drooped with a groan; it looked like it wasn't working. He heaved a tired hand to his neck and began massaging, all the while shuffling toward a cabinet. There, he abandoned the soothing massage to empty a jug of water in a basin and get on to his nightly ablutions. He was using a dampened cloth and a well-worn lump of soap. The Captain Lowe was trying to catch a wisp of that soap's fragrance; he had no luck with that. The pirate, still naked, splashed water on himself to rinse off and shivered at the cold. Heero wondered how anyone could be cold in such a stuffy room. He watched rivulets of clear water glistening along the thin yet fit body and felt perspiration dampening his own skin. The pirate dried himself summarily with a close-by towel and went back to the bed. That was the first full-frontal view Heero had of the naked man and he was hard-pressed to stifle a groan. He also had the utmost difficulty to keep his gaze above the waist and refused to try and explain why that was.

Duo appeared to be searching under his pillows and soon came up with an oversized shirt that he put on immediately. Heero didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved that the gorgeous body was now mostly covered. Mostly being the operative word. The tails of the shirt were batting at Duo's thighs, still leaving a fair expanse of flesh in display... and fair it certainly was. The shirt was also much too big and kept sliding over a rounded shoulder. In a way it was worse than when he had been naked: he was impossibly cute like that and dangerously sensual at the same time. When he untied the trademark braid and the heavy locks came crumbling all over the place, it was the last straw and Heero closed his eyes in a vain effort to reign in on his hormones. Nobody should look that beautiful and especially not when one was male. He had understood being attracted to Helen but couldn't fathom why his attraction, far from cooling off, burned all the hotter now that he new his dream lover was a man. There must be something wrong with him.

While he was lost in his thoughts, something had changed in the room's atmosphere. Worried, he opened his eyes and immediately noticed the tense posture of Shinigami's body. He didn't think and in a moment he was across the room, faster than he knew he could move. He pounced on the pirate, plastering himself against his back, encircling his waist with an arm and putting his other hand on the generous mouth. Hmm... now what?