Gifts In Return (A Gundam Wing Fanfiction)

Gifts In Return - By BHG

(Original Publish: 2008)

"Is he dead?"

"He looks it."

"Yeah, you're 'prolly right. Lets ditch the body."

"Where? Why can't we just leave him here?"

"Dummy, then the commander will want to know why we are here and why we aren't at the meeting!"

"Oh... I suppose you're right."

"Here, help me lift him."

"Woah, he's really heavy for a kid his size."

"Yeah, no kidding! Here, shove him down there."

Heero felt his body being dragged across the brushed steel floor and then the hiss of a hatch being pried open. A heavy boot pressed against his stomach and shoved him back with a rough kick, sending his limp, useless body tumbling down a chute of some sort. The weight of his body left the surface of the metal and for a few seconds he was weightless, air rustling through his hair and against his face before he crashed against a wall of metal with a sickening thud. He could hear a few bones snap upon impact, the sound quickly followed by a surge of extreme pain. He would have flinched but it seemed as if the connection from his brain to his body was severed, and his body disobeyed all commands to open eyes, move legs and arms.

My body is getting me back for all those years of neglect, he mused. Then he thought on this and was disgusted at his own morbidity. The weight of his own useless appendages pressed heavily on the floor and his autonomic response of breathing seemed labored, as if there were someone sitting on his chest. He had landed on his back on top of his right arm, which was the source of the cracks. His other arm was draped crookedly across his chest and the sensation of his legs lying in disarray across the hard metal floor slowly crept through the pain to greet his disoriented mind. He reached through the haze of throbbing pain and searched his surroundings with his other senses. He realized he was very cold. The freeze of space seeped through the metal below him.

No insulation, I must be in a storage unit.

The scent of oil, dust, and the lingering acidic odor of fuel. A garage. They must have shoved me into one of the transfer chutes that leads to the holding cell for shipments. His brain immediately sprang forth a photographic image of the blueprint of the small trade satellite he had infiltrated. His previous position was only 50 feet above where he estimated he was at. If I can commandeer one of the forklifts and can go to sector 12-P before th-

Then he realized with frustration that he was unable to do anything. It was a stroke of bad luck that had placed him in this situation. He had done research on this mission and all of the soldiers and workers at this satellite station were supposed to be at a monthly "teamwork building" meeting this afternoon. He hadn't factored in the possibility of a random sexual encounter occurring in his path. He knew it was careless on his part. He had gotten too comfortable in his missions and wasn't on his guard. So when he came around the corner both parties were startled and the nature of the act being performed by the two officers had stunned Heero just long enough to stop him from guarding against the blow to his stomach which had sent him tottering forward, and by then it was hopeless for him to prevent the final blow to his head.

If only the guys could see me now...

He felt vulnerable, a gnawing feeling that chewed on the inside of his chest and eclipsed all his other thoughts and sensations. Someone could kill me right now, and I wouldn't be able to do anything. However, this sort of vulnerability wasn't entirely new to him. He began to reflect on a similar situation Duo had freed him from.