Categories > Anime/Manga > Gundam Wing > Captains
The Unending Day
0 reviewsWhile Deathscythe's crew is about to leave, Trowa is still on the prowl. Poor boy!
0Unrated
TITLE: CAPTAINS
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R/NC-17
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, cross-dressing, swearing, graphic violence, sex
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: A huge reward on his head, a crew who doesn't take him seriously, a few vindictive ex girlfriends and a vicious curse which sticks like a bad smell. The fearsome pirate Shinigami thinks it can't get worse. A stalkerish Heero will prove him wrong.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello there! I wasn't all that motivated to write lately and I'm also translating all that is already written in French so my Big Sis' and Grandmother can read it. Perhaps the French version will interest some of you so you will be able to find it on my Fanfiction.net page... eventually. As for what I had promised for this new chapter, not everything's in it because it would have been too long. I'll try to not promise anything from now on just to be sure I don't screw up. But I swear that Heero really is waking up in the next part. :p
Chapter 18 : The Unending Day
Duo always had had a way to act out his feelings in an explosive fashion. To be blunt, he was quite the drama queen. So much so that a number of his past acquaintances had advised him time and again to go and make a living performing on a scene. That might even have been an option he would have chosen for himself if he hadn't been cursed with a warrior's heart. Regardless of his chosen fate, he never quite grew out of his taste for melodrama. Thus, an angry Duo was a formidable sight. When in such a state he didn't walk but soared, witnesses would have sworn his feet weren't touching the ground and would clear the way in real fear to have him swoop down upon them like the very Angel of Death. As with a distant awareness he was conscious that his present reaction was far too disproportionate to the most recent offence but he was still bent on disregarding all the weird feelings his tryst with the Navy Captain had awaken. And contemplating his "queerness" definitely would lead to having to rehash those. Anyway, anger was almost always productive where he was concerned. Often enough it was that very emotion that had carried him through difficult times and currently he could use all the help he could get: there was much to be done.
When he stalked on the disguised Deathscythe's deck, he took a short break to be privately awed at the short time in which he had made the journey from the Shipwreck. That must have been a new personal record. Dismissing his errant thoughts, he got back to work, barking orders around to those few unlucky ones to be on site to get the ship as ready as they could make him. He had to give a lecture to Gene ordering him to play nice with Dietrich's people who should be there shortly to deliver supplies and materials for last minute reparations. It wouldn't do to have the nasty old man bite their heads off because they had dared to come near his baby. After having seen Auda off to the market with a scathing comment about picking bug-free flour this time around, Duo gave a last look to the decks and swirled around to depart for his next errand.
His second stop was at Sally's clinic where he had to round up the rest of his crew. Hernan should be there. Wufei and Quatre would probably come too to say their goodbyes to those who were still bed-ridden and unable to sail with them. When he arrived, his friends were already there and it was a mad house. It appeared that Meiran had already been informed of their imminent departure and was none too pleased by the news. She and Wufei were engaged in a shouting match while Sally and Doc O tried valiantly to be heard over the already loud voices. Duo rapidly got the gist of the problem: it seemed that Meiran refused to be left behind while everyone else try to keep her in her bed. She looked lively enough in Duo's opinion but he also had seen sick people often enough to know that when motivated they could find hidden strength and that didn't mean that they were healed. If Meiran's growing pallor was any indication, she would crash soon and she would crash hard.
Throwing a cursory glance around the room, Duo noticed Quatre and Hernan standing aside with twin commiserated expressions that might have been believed but for the twinkle in their eyes. The Captain shrugged: one has to find entertainment wherever they can, and at least they weren't actively adding fuel to the fire which was something of a miracle for the two mischievous men. On the furthest bed Ahmad was lying with his eyes closed but the way he was grinding his teeth belied the possibility that he was asleep. Duo winced in sympathy: everyone was really loud and that was not an environment suited for recovery. However, the headache poor Ahmad was probably suffering from would most likely discourage him from any attempt to leave Sally's care anytime in the near future. That was someone less to worry about. Speaking of evasion, Duo could see someone sneaking about on the other side of the room. He waved at Howard who spared him a sheepish grin and went back to dressing himself with slow, careful movements. The Captain had no intention to hinder his oldest friend's plan. Of all of them, Howard had been the less sick and even had he been the worst off, he was more than old enough to make his own decisions. Meiran however was another thing entirely and Duo wouldn't hesitate to pull rank over her if she kept being stubborn.
Fortunately, it wasn't needed as the argument finally died down with the Chinese girl still in bed. Whether the others had gotten through her thick skull or whether she had realized by herself how fast she was tiring, the fight seemed to get out of her and she settled down peaceably. She still managed to throw a few jibes at Wufei regarding his inability to take care of himself if she wasn't around to pull his ass out of danger. Wufei scoffed but nobody missed the way he squeezed her hand in reassurance. Meiran got a pleased glow at the gesture which dimmed almost instantly when the young man left her side and gave much warmer goodbyes to Sally. All of a sudden, Duo wasn't so sure it was a good idea to leave the two head-strong women together. Who could say what mischief Meiran would come up with if she felt the Lady Doctor was a threat to her happiness? Especially when Duo believed that Sally would give as good as she got. Hopefully, they wouldn't be gone long enough for the two women to actually kill each other...
The old engineer was almost at the door already when Sally caught sight of him. She gathered her breath to scold him but, taking the time to give him a good look, noticed the determined gaze and serene smile. She simply sighed and hid her acknowledging nod by storming out through the nearest door. Meiran didn't protest either the blatant favouritism. There were things that even she wouldn't question and Howard's oath to never let Deathscythe sail away without him onboard was one of them. Whether he died in a fight or of a nasty bug, it would be by his rules and at sea.
Once they had the tacit approbation of both women, the five men didn't dilly dally and they were soon on board the Sandrock which would depart in a little over an hour. Duo spared a last thought to the Lady Doctor who had forgotten her other comatose patient in the panic. Whether the Captain Lowe decided to wake up or not, it would have to be without medical supervision.
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While his best friend was in the throes of passion and the depths of coma, Trowa had been keeping busy. He had had little trouble following the masked man; apparently, as long as he was no longer in Kushrenada's company, he didn't care if he was spotted. He seemed impatient however to put the most distance between them as soon as possible. The path they took looked to be completely straightforward as far as Trowa could tell within his admittedly limited knowledge of Port Royal and they were soon on the docks. The spy had to jump from the roofs he had travelled upon not to lose the man in the wide expanse of the bay. Fortunately, even at that hour, there was a lot of activity on the docks and the strolling sailors provided the perfect cover for a filature. Thus, Trowa easily followed his prey all the way to a ship moored a little out of the way. He was tempted to go up the gangway but devised it would be wiser to watch for a while before attempting such a daring move.
From the docks, Trowa observed a brief conversation in hushed whispers between the blond and another man that looked like any nondescript pirate. The two men separated soon enough and after a while a light came up at one of the windows. There was a play of shadows for fifteen minutes as if someone was moving around the cabin. In the end, the light was dimmed for a moment when curtains were drawn before being extinguished altogether. Obviously mystery-man had gone to bed and Trowa envied him the opportunity. As for himself, he stayed around a little longer just to be sure but there wasn't anything else happening. He took the time to inspect the ship's hull as well as he could in the relative darkness of a moonlit night and took note of the ship's name: the Epyon. Now he had a name to throw around; it was just late enough that lonely drunks should be eager to talk to anyone paying them the slightest attention...
He found the perfect victim in one of the seediest tavern he could find. The old Irish man who called himself Dog with unexplainable pride had obviously not had anyone lending him a sympathetic ear for quite some time. He told a sad tale of being unjustly sacked from his former employment on a merchant ship a few years prior. Trowa displayed the appropriate level of commiseration. Aside, he guessed that the broken sailor crying in his mug of rum must have started abusing alcohol while on his old job and that was likely why he had been tossed out on his ear in the first place. Regardless of any sincerity on the spy's side, the two men were soon "bestest" of friends and Trowa began his questioning while appearing to chat about random things.
It was somewhat fortunate that the Epyon and his crew were some sort of celebrities in Port Royal, as well as ones of his new friend's preferred subjects to bitch about. Trowa learned that ship and Captain had appeared out of nowhere three years ago and immediately started rampaging in random acts of piracy. It wasn't that rare that new players came out all of a sudden, nor even that they made a name for themselves real fast. What was odd in this instance was that the general pirate population had taken an instant dislike for the new-comer and that the contempt seemed to be mutual. Captain Zechs Merquise was "farting higher than his own asshole" according to Dog's colourful opinion. He treated everyone as so much dirt on his otherwise shiny boots. All sailors took exception to that because the source of his arrogance appeared to be not his navigation skills which pirates had learned to respect and praise in even the vilest of man, but his wealth and superior social standing. That was ridiculous as far as Dog was concerned because in Port Royal everyone was equal. The old Irish recounted various instances when people had openly mocked the snotty Captain about the ridiculous appearance of the Epyon. That got Trowa curious but Dog wouldn't say anything more on the subject, saying it was one of those things that must be seen to be believed.
The drunkard sobered a little when the discussion rolled around the Epyon's Second whom he called "The Bitch" in a fearful tone and while throwing a few cagey glances around. Apparently, the woman who seconded Merquise had managed to gather a little more respect than her Captain if for no other reason than because she was terrifying. Dog's recollection of her real name was sketchy at best: "something, French or Italian" was all he could remember. She was mostly known as "The Bitch" because the name fitted her so well and it was fine to use as long as she wasn't in earshot in which case you simply had to try to stay beneath her notice. Trowa thought he would probably like to meet this woman; she seemed to be his type.
After that, Dog seemed to fall asleep mid-sentence and the spy discounted the need to wake him up. He felt he had learned more than enough and the poor sod probably deserved a break from his pitiable existence. Trowa paid for both their drinks and exited the gloomy tavern for the docks. He was somehow disheartened to see the sun had well and truly risen while he was conducing his investigation. There was some time he hadn't put an all-nighter on the job. He spared a found thought to the bed that he might have enjoyed in the establishment their guide had suggested the previous day but knew it wasn't time yet for that. Before that, he wanted to see the Epyon in the light of day. He was really curious to know what Dog had meant by his derogatory comments. That couldn't be as bad as he said. On his way to the isolated anchorage, he asked a few passers-by if they knew when the Epyon was scheduled to sail. All of them gave him weird glances as if they were questioning his sanity and he noticed the barely suppressed shudder at each utterance of the ship's name. In the end he was reasonably sure that the frigate wouldn't leave the port for another few days.
When he finally caught his first good sight of the Epyon, he barely missed tripping on his own two feet which had never happened to him graceful as he usually was. He stared dumbstruck at the monstrosity for a good while: the sailors' shudders suddenly made a lot more sense. He was startled out of his daze by a passing prostitute who patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. He tried to look at her and she chuckled at his unfocused eyes.
"New in town? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Honey! That thing had had even the most hardened pirates weeping. I don't know what they were thinking when they did that to a ship. Quite a sight, eh?"
She shook her head almost sadly and went on her way. Trowa went back to his horrified contemplation not yet quite sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. "A sight," indeed! That ship was the thing of nightmares. Someone had for some reason thought it would be a good idea to paint it entirely red. It might have been a plot to suggest the colour of blood but under the harsh sun of the Caribbean, the paint had turned a disgusting dark pink. Even the sails weren't spared the ignominy. Possibly even worse than this glaring lack of taste, the name Epyon was written in an embroidered script in a gaudy golden paint. Trowa didn't even have to come closer to guess it was actually real gold that had been used in this instance. That was really a fair assumption when one caught a glimpse of the figurehead which was a statue of a phoenix entirely made of gold. The bird was sculpted in excruciating details down to the three long tail's feathers which looked like three glistening chains. Such craftsmanship might have been commended in any other place but on a pirate's ship, it just looked stupid. Overall the word that came to mind was "tacky" and Trowa was tempted to join the kind prostitute in pitying the poor ship which had been desecrated in such a way.
Suddenly, Trowa caught movement from the corner of his eye and he turned to see who had appeared on the deck. The first thing he noticed were the long blond hair and he first assumed it was Captain Merquise. Soon however, he realized his error: the figure was distinctively feminine and clad in the tightest leather outfit he had ever seen. Now what in the Seven Hells would Lady Dorothy Catalonia do amongst pirates? It seemed that he had been foresighted when he had met her on the Wing and wagered there was more to her then met the eye. It didn't take a genius to jump to the conclusion that the not so respectable Italian Lady and the infamous "Bitch" were one and the same. So Kushrenada wasn't just chum with a pirate, he also had family there and that blended even more in Trowa's eyes the hazy distinction there was between privateers and buccaneers. Nasty business indeed. Should he find nothing else of interest, he was sure that Sank's higher-ups would be interested by that bit of news.
Satisfied for now with his findings, the spy patted himself on the back and went on his way to the inn where he intended to rest... at last. He was hoping that he would find Heero there. The man had to have given up on his own surveillance at some point. As soon as he arrived at the little inn which had come so well recommended, he found a room with no difficulties and for a fair price. He finally fell in bed and was out like a light put at ease by the innkeeper's reassurance that someone would be sent to wake him up mid-afternoon. Little did he know that the mouse-like maid put in charge of that simple task would be far too timid to enter his room and would be thinking her discrete knock on the door enough to raise a man as tired as he was.
He woke by himself around five o'clock and decided that given it was already appallingly late, he could as well take the time to have a healthy dinner and a good long soak to erase the grime of the previous days. He had slept well, truly appreciative of the unmoving bed after having spent quite a few nights aboard a ship. But no matter how rested he was and how pleased with himself he had been when getting to bed, now that he was awake he had a nagging feeling blossoming somewhere in his guts he couldn't quite place.
When questioned, the innkeeper said there was no one in the establishment answering to the name of Heero Yuy, nor a Captain Lowe, nor any combination thereof. Trowa shouldn't have been surprised; he knew his friend well enough to guess that the possibility that Heero would have the common sense to interrupt his guard for a rest had been wishful thinking on his part. Of course, the Captain Lowe wouldn't have abandoned his position, it would have felt like desertion for such a man, never mind that he had been the one to assign himself the task. Trowa feared that the fool wouldn't even have stopped to eat and he felt a tad guilty for the dinner he had promised him and never brought. Resolute to make amends, he sneaked his way in the kitchens and charmed all of Heero's favourites and a picnic basket from the matron who operated there.
All in all it was not far from seven when he arrived at the docks. He was quite put off to find an empty spot where he had last seen his friend. However, there might have been some sort of explanation for his absence and he started to worry only once he noticed the Sandrock too was missing. Where in the Hell did that ship went? And more important, could someone tell him that Heero hadn't been so rash as to stowaway. That didn't look like something Heero would do, especially not without informing him but yet again, many of the things Heero had done lately were every bit as much out of character...
Lost in his thoughts, it took some time before he noticed a bundle of cloth caught in a mooring bitt which the gentle surf was rocking slowly. Following a hunch, he rapidly calculated the distance between the edge of the docks and the wooden protrusion. There was a reasonable chance that the bitt would be slippery but the worse that could happen would be that he would fell in the water: unpleasant yes, but hardly life threatening. Shrugging, he took some momentum, ran up till the very edge and executed a somersault that landed him square on the bitt which held out. It wasn't too bad given the circumstances and his lack of recent training. Somewhere in Europe where she was still running with the circus, his sister Catherine would have been proud of him. Lowering himself until he was seated gracefully on the wooden log, he bent and extended his arm to grab the bundle of cloth. He had to pull with a little more strength because it was stuck but managed to pick it up in the end. Once he had it in his lap, he saw it was a sheet bunched up around some other pieces of cloth. Looking closer, he saw the blood first, quite a bit of it too. There was a big white garment that might have been used by a man to sleep in. Finally, he found the shirt at the middle of the package, even more drenched in blood than the sheet and the night shirt had been. With growing dread, he recognized the garment Heero had worn when they left the Wing. What had the fool done now?
In a daze, Trowa managed nonetheless to retrace his way to the dock in much the same way he had come to the bitt even if the manoeuvre was harder without momentum and he began to explore his options. They weren't many. His best friend had been taken by the most fearsome Captain pirate ever, he was injured, possibly dead and the only back-up he had was stuck in Port Royal where he knew nobody who could help.
"Well... maybe not nobody," he amended while catching sight of the pink ship at the other end of the bay. But really, would it be the smart move that to enlist Kushrenada's help or that of his poisonous cousin? He could also hike back to Villa de La Vega and go from there to ask the Captain Lowe's crew for help. It wasn't yet a desperate situation when he still had more than one option. But was there really time to dawdle? Hiking would take another day and his friend's days might very well be numbered... if he was still even alive...
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R/NC-17
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, cross-dressing, swearing, graphic violence, sex
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: A huge reward on his head, a crew who doesn't take him seriously, a few vindictive ex girlfriends and a vicious curse which sticks like a bad smell. The fearsome pirate Shinigami thinks it can't get worse. A stalkerish Heero will prove him wrong.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hello there! I wasn't all that motivated to write lately and I'm also translating all that is already written in French so my Big Sis' and Grandmother can read it. Perhaps the French version will interest some of you so you will be able to find it on my Fanfiction.net page... eventually. As for what I had promised for this new chapter, not everything's in it because it would have been too long. I'll try to not promise anything from now on just to be sure I don't screw up. But I swear that Heero really is waking up in the next part. :p
Chapter 18 : The Unending Day
Duo always had had a way to act out his feelings in an explosive fashion. To be blunt, he was quite the drama queen. So much so that a number of his past acquaintances had advised him time and again to go and make a living performing on a scene. That might even have been an option he would have chosen for himself if he hadn't been cursed with a warrior's heart. Regardless of his chosen fate, he never quite grew out of his taste for melodrama. Thus, an angry Duo was a formidable sight. When in such a state he didn't walk but soared, witnesses would have sworn his feet weren't touching the ground and would clear the way in real fear to have him swoop down upon them like the very Angel of Death. As with a distant awareness he was conscious that his present reaction was far too disproportionate to the most recent offence but he was still bent on disregarding all the weird feelings his tryst with the Navy Captain had awaken. And contemplating his "queerness" definitely would lead to having to rehash those. Anyway, anger was almost always productive where he was concerned. Often enough it was that very emotion that had carried him through difficult times and currently he could use all the help he could get: there was much to be done.
When he stalked on the disguised Deathscythe's deck, he took a short break to be privately awed at the short time in which he had made the journey from the Shipwreck. That must have been a new personal record. Dismissing his errant thoughts, he got back to work, barking orders around to those few unlucky ones to be on site to get the ship as ready as they could make him. He had to give a lecture to Gene ordering him to play nice with Dietrich's people who should be there shortly to deliver supplies and materials for last minute reparations. It wouldn't do to have the nasty old man bite their heads off because they had dared to come near his baby. After having seen Auda off to the market with a scathing comment about picking bug-free flour this time around, Duo gave a last look to the decks and swirled around to depart for his next errand.
His second stop was at Sally's clinic where he had to round up the rest of his crew. Hernan should be there. Wufei and Quatre would probably come too to say their goodbyes to those who were still bed-ridden and unable to sail with them. When he arrived, his friends were already there and it was a mad house. It appeared that Meiran had already been informed of their imminent departure and was none too pleased by the news. She and Wufei were engaged in a shouting match while Sally and Doc O tried valiantly to be heard over the already loud voices. Duo rapidly got the gist of the problem: it seemed that Meiran refused to be left behind while everyone else try to keep her in her bed. She looked lively enough in Duo's opinion but he also had seen sick people often enough to know that when motivated they could find hidden strength and that didn't mean that they were healed. If Meiran's growing pallor was any indication, she would crash soon and she would crash hard.
Throwing a cursory glance around the room, Duo noticed Quatre and Hernan standing aside with twin commiserated expressions that might have been believed but for the twinkle in their eyes. The Captain shrugged: one has to find entertainment wherever they can, and at least they weren't actively adding fuel to the fire which was something of a miracle for the two mischievous men. On the furthest bed Ahmad was lying with his eyes closed but the way he was grinding his teeth belied the possibility that he was asleep. Duo winced in sympathy: everyone was really loud and that was not an environment suited for recovery. However, the headache poor Ahmad was probably suffering from would most likely discourage him from any attempt to leave Sally's care anytime in the near future. That was someone less to worry about. Speaking of evasion, Duo could see someone sneaking about on the other side of the room. He waved at Howard who spared him a sheepish grin and went back to dressing himself with slow, careful movements. The Captain had no intention to hinder his oldest friend's plan. Of all of them, Howard had been the less sick and even had he been the worst off, he was more than old enough to make his own decisions. Meiran however was another thing entirely and Duo wouldn't hesitate to pull rank over her if she kept being stubborn.
Fortunately, it wasn't needed as the argument finally died down with the Chinese girl still in bed. Whether the others had gotten through her thick skull or whether she had realized by herself how fast she was tiring, the fight seemed to get out of her and she settled down peaceably. She still managed to throw a few jibes at Wufei regarding his inability to take care of himself if she wasn't around to pull his ass out of danger. Wufei scoffed but nobody missed the way he squeezed her hand in reassurance. Meiran got a pleased glow at the gesture which dimmed almost instantly when the young man left her side and gave much warmer goodbyes to Sally. All of a sudden, Duo wasn't so sure it was a good idea to leave the two head-strong women together. Who could say what mischief Meiran would come up with if she felt the Lady Doctor was a threat to her happiness? Especially when Duo believed that Sally would give as good as she got. Hopefully, they wouldn't be gone long enough for the two women to actually kill each other...
The old engineer was almost at the door already when Sally caught sight of him. She gathered her breath to scold him but, taking the time to give him a good look, noticed the determined gaze and serene smile. She simply sighed and hid her acknowledging nod by storming out through the nearest door. Meiran didn't protest either the blatant favouritism. There were things that even she wouldn't question and Howard's oath to never let Deathscythe sail away without him onboard was one of them. Whether he died in a fight or of a nasty bug, it would be by his rules and at sea.
Once they had the tacit approbation of both women, the five men didn't dilly dally and they were soon on board the Sandrock which would depart in a little over an hour. Duo spared a last thought to the Lady Doctor who had forgotten her other comatose patient in the panic. Whether the Captain Lowe decided to wake up or not, it would have to be without medical supervision.
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While his best friend was in the throes of passion and the depths of coma, Trowa had been keeping busy. He had had little trouble following the masked man; apparently, as long as he was no longer in Kushrenada's company, he didn't care if he was spotted. He seemed impatient however to put the most distance between them as soon as possible. The path they took looked to be completely straightforward as far as Trowa could tell within his admittedly limited knowledge of Port Royal and they were soon on the docks. The spy had to jump from the roofs he had travelled upon not to lose the man in the wide expanse of the bay. Fortunately, even at that hour, there was a lot of activity on the docks and the strolling sailors provided the perfect cover for a filature. Thus, Trowa easily followed his prey all the way to a ship moored a little out of the way. He was tempted to go up the gangway but devised it would be wiser to watch for a while before attempting such a daring move.
From the docks, Trowa observed a brief conversation in hushed whispers between the blond and another man that looked like any nondescript pirate. The two men separated soon enough and after a while a light came up at one of the windows. There was a play of shadows for fifteen minutes as if someone was moving around the cabin. In the end, the light was dimmed for a moment when curtains were drawn before being extinguished altogether. Obviously mystery-man had gone to bed and Trowa envied him the opportunity. As for himself, he stayed around a little longer just to be sure but there wasn't anything else happening. He took the time to inspect the ship's hull as well as he could in the relative darkness of a moonlit night and took note of the ship's name: the Epyon. Now he had a name to throw around; it was just late enough that lonely drunks should be eager to talk to anyone paying them the slightest attention...
He found the perfect victim in one of the seediest tavern he could find. The old Irish man who called himself Dog with unexplainable pride had obviously not had anyone lending him a sympathetic ear for quite some time. He told a sad tale of being unjustly sacked from his former employment on a merchant ship a few years prior. Trowa displayed the appropriate level of commiseration. Aside, he guessed that the broken sailor crying in his mug of rum must have started abusing alcohol while on his old job and that was likely why he had been tossed out on his ear in the first place. Regardless of any sincerity on the spy's side, the two men were soon "bestest" of friends and Trowa began his questioning while appearing to chat about random things.
It was somewhat fortunate that the Epyon and his crew were some sort of celebrities in Port Royal, as well as ones of his new friend's preferred subjects to bitch about. Trowa learned that ship and Captain had appeared out of nowhere three years ago and immediately started rampaging in random acts of piracy. It wasn't that rare that new players came out all of a sudden, nor even that they made a name for themselves real fast. What was odd in this instance was that the general pirate population had taken an instant dislike for the new-comer and that the contempt seemed to be mutual. Captain Zechs Merquise was "farting higher than his own asshole" according to Dog's colourful opinion. He treated everyone as so much dirt on his otherwise shiny boots. All sailors took exception to that because the source of his arrogance appeared to be not his navigation skills which pirates had learned to respect and praise in even the vilest of man, but his wealth and superior social standing. That was ridiculous as far as Dog was concerned because in Port Royal everyone was equal. The old Irish recounted various instances when people had openly mocked the snotty Captain about the ridiculous appearance of the Epyon. That got Trowa curious but Dog wouldn't say anything more on the subject, saying it was one of those things that must be seen to be believed.
The drunkard sobered a little when the discussion rolled around the Epyon's Second whom he called "The Bitch" in a fearful tone and while throwing a few cagey glances around. Apparently, the woman who seconded Merquise had managed to gather a little more respect than her Captain if for no other reason than because she was terrifying. Dog's recollection of her real name was sketchy at best: "something, French or Italian" was all he could remember. She was mostly known as "The Bitch" because the name fitted her so well and it was fine to use as long as she wasn't in earshot in which case you simply had to try to stay beneath her notice. Trowa thought he would probably like to meet this woman; she seemed to be his type.
After that, Dog seemed to fall asleep mid-sentence and the spy discounted the need to wake him up. He felt he had learned more than enough and the poor sod probably deserved a break from his pitiable existence. Trowa paid for both their drinks and exited the gloomy tavern for the docks. He was somehow disheartened to see the sun had well and truly risen while he was conducing his investigation. There was some time he hadn't put an all-nighter on the job. He spared a found thought to the bed that he might have enjoyed in the establishment their guide had suggested the previous day but knew it wasn't time yet for that. Before that, he wanted to see the Epyon in the light of day. He was really curious to know what Dog had meant by his derogatory comments. That couldn't be as bad as he said. On his way to the isolated anchorage, he asked a few passers-by if they knew when the Epyon was scheduled to sail. All of them gave him weird glances as if they were questioning his sanity and he noticed the barely suppressed shudder at each utterance of the ship's name. In the end he was reasonably sure that the frigate wouldn't leave the port for another few days.
When he finally caught his first good sight of the Epyon, he barely missed tripping on his own two feet which had never happened to him graceful as he usually was. He stared dumbstruck at the monstrosity for a good while: the sailors' shudders suddenly made a lot more sense. He was startled out of his daze by a passing prostitute who patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. He tried to look at her and she chuckled at his unfocused eyes.
"New in town? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Honey! That thing had had even the most hardened pirates weeping. I don't know what they were thinking when they did that to a ship. Quite a sight, eh?"
She shook her head almost sadly and went on her way. Trowa went back to his horrified contemplation not yet quite sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. "A sight," indeed! That ship was the thing of nightmares. Someone had for some reason thought it would be a good idea to paint it entirely red. It might have been a plot to suggest the colour of blood but under the harsh sun of the Caribbean, the paint had turned a disgusting dark pink. Even the sails weren't spared the ignominy. Possibly even worse than this glaring lack of taste, the name Epyon was written in an embroidered script in a gaudy golden paint. Trowa didn't even have to come closer to guess it was actually real gold that had been used in this instance. That was really a fair assumption when one caught a glimpse of the figurehead which was a statue of a phoenix entirely made of gold. The bird was sculpted in excruciating details down to the three long tail's feathers which looked like three glistening chains. Such craftsmanship might have been commended in any other place but on a pirate's ship, it just looked stupid. Overall the word that came to mind was "tacky" and Trowa was tempted to join the kind prostitute in pitying the poor ship which had been desecrated in such a way.
Suddenly, Trowa caught movement from the corner of his eye and he turned to see who had appeared on the deck. The first thing he noticed were the long blond hair and he first assumed it was Captain Merquise. Soon however, he realized his error: the figure was distinctively feminine and clad in the tightest leather outfit he had ever seen. Now what in the Seven Hells would Lady Dorothy Catalonia do amongst pirates? It seemed that he had been foresighted when he had met her on the Wing and wagered there was more to her then met the eye. It didn't take a genius to jump to the conclusion that the not so respectable Italian Lady and the infamous "Bitch" were one and the same. So Kushrenada wasn't just chum with a pirate, he also had family there and that blended even more in Trowa's eyes the hazy distinction there was between privateers and buccaneers. Nasty business indeed. Should he find nothing else of interest, he was sure that Sank's higher-ups would be interested by that bit of news.
Satisfied for now with his findings, the spy patted himself on the back and went on his way to the inn where he intended to rest... at last. He was hoping that he would find Heero there. The man had to have given up on his own surveillance at some point. As soon as he arrived at the little inn which had come so well recommended, he found a room with no difficulties and for a fair price. He finally fell in bed and was out like a light put at ease by the innkeeper's reassurance that someone would be sent to wake him up mid-afternoon. Little did he know that the mouse-like maid put in charge of that simple task would be far too timid to enter his room and would be thinking her discrete knock on the door enough to raise a man as tired as he was.
He woke by himself around five o'clock and decided that given it was already appallingly late, he could as well take the time to have a healthy dinner and a good long soak to erase the grime of the previous days. He had slept well, truly appreciative of the unmoving bed after having spent quite a few nights aboard a ship. But no matter how rested he was and how pleased with himself he had been when getting to bed, now that he was awake he had a nagging feeling blossoming somewhere in his guts he couldn't quite place.
When questioned, the innkeeper said there was no one in the establishment answering to the name of Heero Yuy, nor a Captain Lowe, nor any combination thereof. Trowa shouldn't have been surprised; he knew his friend well enough to guess that the possibility that Heero would have the common sense to interrupt his guard for a rest had been wishful thinking on his part. Of course, the Captain Lowe wouldn't have abandoned his position, it would have felt like desertion for such a man, never mind that he had been the one to assign himself the task. Trowa feared that the fool wouldn't even have stopped to eat and he felt a tad guilty for the dinner he had promised him and never brought. Resolute to make amends, he sneaked his way in the kitchens and charmed all of Heero's favourites and a picnic basket from the matron who operated there.
All in all it was not far from seven when he arrived at the docks. He was quite put off to find an empty spot where he had last seen his friend. However, there might have been some sort of explanation for his absence and he started to worry only once he noticed the Sandrock too was missing. Where in the Hell did that ship went? And more important, could someone tell him that Heero hadn't been so rash as to stowaway. That didn't look like something Heero would do, especially not without informing him but yet again, many of the things Heero had done lately were every bit as much out of character...
Lost in his thoughts, it took some time before he noticed a bundle of cloth caught in a mooring bitt which the gentle surf was rocking slowly. Following a hunch, he rapidly calculated the distance between the edge of the docks and the wooden protrusion. There was a reasonable chance that the bitt would be slippery but the worse that could happen would be that he would fell in the water: unpleasant yes, but hardly life threatening. Shrugging, he took some momentum, ran up till the very edge and executed a somersault that landed him square on the bitt which held out. It wasn't too bad given the circumstances and his lack of recent training. Somewhere in Europe where she was still running with the circus, his sister Catherine would have been proud of him. Lowering himself until he was seated gracefully on the wooden log, he bent and extended his arm to grab the bundle of cloth. He had to pull with a little more strength because it was stuck but managed to pick it up in the end. Once he had it in his lap, he saw it was a sheet bunched up around some other pieces of cloth. Looking closer, he saw the blood first, quite a bit of it too. There was a big white garment that might have been used by a man to sleep in. Finally, he found the shirt at the middle of the package, even more drenched in blood than the sheet and the night shirt had been. With growing dread, he recognized the garment Heero had worn when they left the Wing. What had the fool done now?
In a daze, Trowa managed nonetheless to retrace his way to the dock in much the same way he had come to the bitt even if the manoeuvre was harder without momentum and he began to explore his options. They weren't many. His best friend had been taken by the most fearsome Captain pirate ever, he was injured, possibly dead and the only back-up he had was stuck in Port Royal where he knew nobody who could help.
"Well... maybe not nobody," he amended while catching sight of the pink ship at the other end of the bay. But really, would it be the smart move that to enlist Kushrenada's help or that of his poisonous cousin? He could also hike back to Villa de La Vega and go from there to ask the Captain Lowe's crew for help. It wasn't yet a desperate situation when he still had more than one option. But was there really time to dawdle? Hiking would take another day and his friend's days might very well be numbered... if he was still even alive...
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