GW 500 Fic - Price of Infamy
Aug. 15th, 2004 01:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tripoverhercatsTitle: Challenge #34: Flattery - Price of Infamy
Author: Tripsoverhercats
Pairing: Duo/Hilde.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, post-series (around AC 202)
Word Count: 646
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. CC Colton
Being the only Gundam pilot who had been publicly “outed” during the war gave Duo more than a few problems. Hanging up the priest’s outfit had gone a long way to reducing his post-war profile, getting older had matured his looks. It had been a few years since he had last been directly accosted though and he had not been prepared for this.
It was on one of those entertainment channels that Hilde liked to keep on as background noise in the shop when he saw it. The band was a popular one - they even had a few of their songs on their player - but they had been out on a long salvage run and had missed their latest release. They were singing about him… they were dressed like him. The video showed footage of when he had been dragged through the streets in chains, shots of him and Deathscythe in battle, and even some of his unencrypted battle transmissions. “God of War, God of Death” was shooting up the charts, and was one of the most requested videos. They were idolizing him…
He bolted for the bathroom, and spent several minutes hanging over the toilet. Finally reduced to dry-heaves, he curled up on the cool tile and tried to gain control of the shivers that wracked him. Dimly he heard Hilde calling his name, a hand shook his shoulder, but Duo simply curled tighter in on himself.
“Go away.”
“Duo, please… you’re going into shock. You need to get off the floor. Let me help you get to the sofa.” Her tugs turned into a firm grip, and she half-dragged, half-supported him into their tiny living room. She shoved his feet up onto the arm of the couch and tucked one of their thin blankets around his body.
Just seeing the video had dredged up some of the worst memories of the war, he could hear the crowds screaming their hate at him again, feel the manacles dragging at his wrists, and taste the blood from his torn lips. He had been hit by flashbacks before, and had even helped Hilde through a few nightmares of her own, but this one was the worst in years. Hilde’s hands brushed his hair back, her touch helping to remind him of where and when he was.
“I think they were just fascinated by you. They have a face, a voice and even a name of sorts.” Her hip rested against his abdomen and he wound his arms around her waist, anchoring himself to the present. “With most of the war records sealed from public view…”
“Yeah, it’s my damned fault for being a loudmouth showboat, my fault for being the one they tried to publicly execute.” He was torn between laughing, screaming or crying as his mind continued to rip up images of his past and it came out a mix of all three. Hilde curled against him and rode out the remainder of his internal storm. Finally Duo sighed, relaxing into her embrace. “Hell of a morning, babe. Trips down memory lane suck.”
“Well, it could be worse. Your name is still sealed, and you really don’t much look like you used to.” She felt his breath come out in a soft snort against her neck. “Well you don’t. You’re a lot scruffier now.”
She felt his lips twist in a soft smile against her skin at the old jibe. “Who’s scruffy looking?”, he murmured drowsily.
“That’d be you, sandpaper face.” She twisted on the couch until he ended up spooned against her back, arms still clasped around her, his chin tucked against her shoulder. Hilde felt him slowly drift off, the warmth of his lanky body seeping into her. Let the world stare at his pale imitators, she had the real thing right here.
Author: Tripsoverhercats
Pairing: Duo/Hilde.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, post-series (around AC 202)
Word Count: 646
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. CC Colton
Being the only Gundam pilot who had been publicly “outed” during the war gave Duo more than a few problems. Hanging up the priest’s outfit had gone a long way to reducing his post-war profile, getting older had matured his looks. It had been a few years since he had last been directly accosted though and he had not been prepared for this.
It was on one of those entertainment channels that Hilde liked to keep on as background noise in the shop when he saw it. The band was a popular one - they even had a few of their songs on their player - but they had been out on a long salvage run and had missed their latest release. They were singing about him… they were dressed like him. The video showed footage of when he had been dragged through the streets in chains, shots of him and Deathscythe in battle, and even some of his unencrypted battle transmissions. “God of War, God of Death” was shooting up the charts, and was one of the most requested videos. They were idolizing him…
He bolted for the bathroom, and spent several minutes hanging over the toilet. Finally reduced to dry-heaves, he curled up on the cool tile and tried to gain control of the shivers that wracked him. Dimly he heard Hilde calling his name, a hand shook his shoulder, but Duo simply curled tighter in on himself.
“Go away.”
“Duo, please… you’re going into shock. You need to get off the floor. Let me help you get to the sofa.” Her tugs turned into a firm grip, and she half-dragged, half-supported him into their tiny living room. She shoved his feet up onto the arm of the couch and tucked one of their thin blankets around his body.
Just seeing the video had dredged up some of the worst memories of the war, he could hear the crowds screaming their hate at him again, feel the manacles dragging at his wrists, and taste the blood from his torn lips. He had been hit by flashbacks before, and had even helped Hilde through a few nightmares of her own, but this one was the worst in years. Hilde’s hands brushed his hair back, her touch helping to remind him of where and when he was.
“I think they were just fascinated by you. They have a face, a voice and even a name of sorts.” Her hip rested against his abdomen and he wound his arms around her waist, anchoring himself to the present. “With most of the war records sealed from public view…”
“Yeah, it’s my damned fault for being a loudmouth showboat, my fault for being the one they tried to publicly execute.” He was torn between laughing, screaming or crying as his mind continued to rip up images of his past and it came out a mix of all three. Hilde curled against him and rode out the remainder of his internal storm. Finally Duo sighed, relaxing into her embrace. “Hell of a morning, babe. Trips down memory lane suck.”
“Well, it could be worse. Your name is still sealed, and you really don’t much look like you used to.” She felt his breath come out in a soft snort against her neck. “Well you don’t. You’re a lot scruffier now.”
She felt his lips twist in a soft smile against her skin at the old jibe. “Who’s scruffy looking?”, he murmured drowsily.
“That’d be you, sandpaper face.” She twisted on the couch until he ended up spooned against her back, arms still clasped around her, his chin tucked against her shoulder. Hilde felt him slowly drift off, the warmth of his lanky body seeping into her. Let the world stare at his pale imitators, she had the real thing right here.