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"Warheads"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Post War, angst, fluff, psychological
issues, lemon Pairings: 2x1 Summary: Duo and Heero try to become more than
comrades in their attempt to be normal young men. They settle down
but find that peacetime is difficult to adjust to and with only each
other to rely on, it is a struggle, especially for Heero. " Warheads "
I woke up to a new day. I didn't know what day it was. It could be the next day, or the day after that, or a week could have passed, there was no way of knowing. All I knew, by way of pulling back the curtain, was that it was day. Somewhere around midday. The sun was high and proud in the sky, but I didn't like it. It was like seeing a smile on the face of a person you hate, it only brought vengeful resentment. The curtain slipped from my weak grasp and fell shut. Darkness resumed but I couldn't let sleep recapture me, my back was aching, my stomach was growling, my throat was dry and I needed to pee badly. No matter how forlorn a person's mind could get, the brain could not ignore bodily functions. When I sat up straight, the world started to spin, challenging my equilibrium. I swung my arms around, searching for support and found it; the windowsill above my bed. My painful eyes fell on Heero's slight form, he seemed to disappear into his mattress, being swallowed by it like quicksand. He looked so small. I looked at him for as long as I could stand it, watching the rise and fall at his shallow breaths, accompanied by high pitched wheeze, his mouth was open with his strained respiration. A dark shadow had cast over the skin around his eyes, like it was bruised. My stomach growled again and urged me to get up. Still in my clothes from God knows how many days ago, I walked into the bathroom and relieved myself. Looking at the mirror and the stubble that had appeared on my cheeks and chin I reckoned I had missed two days, which would make it halfway through Wednesday, but I felt like I had been dead and buried for lasting years. I shaved, even before I ate, to much protest of my stomach, because I didn't like the look of rough stubble on my face. I guess I was just trying to fight the inevitable aging process, growing up, becoming an adult. If my soul got any older than I already felt it was, I would be an elderly man. There was some frozen bread in the freezer that I impatiently defrosted in the microwave. It tasted stale, in spite of the lavish lathering of peanut butter. The strong black coffee made up for a lot, though. The hot liquid going down my throat was like a soothing burn. When I felt myself becoming normal, regaining some of the strength that had been forcefully drained from me, I walked up to the telephone, where a light blinked red with missed calls. "You have... Four... Missed calls." A mechanical voice informed me. I pressed a button. "Play... All... Messages." The machine said, followed by an intrusive beep. While the messages played, time, date and caller ID were displayed on the small video screen. "This is Trish MacLeane, from Tampa High school Administration, I'm calling for Duo Maxwell. You were absent from your first and second period today but you did not call in sick. Please call back as soon as you receive this message to affirm you are home sick and call again everyday you will not be able to make it to school. When you return to school, please stop by the Administration desk for an Absence Form. Get well soon, goodbye." Another beep and the second message sounded through the speakers. "Hello, this is Trish MacLeane from Tampa High school Administration again. You didn't call in sick today, again. Please call back when you get this message and don't forget to come by the Admin. desk as soon as possible for your Absence Form, thank you. Get well, goodbye." The third message was much of the same, with the time stamp placing at this morning at nine O'clock. Beep. "Hey, Duo?" Sookie's hesitant voice sounded. "Duo? Duo! I'm downstairs, by the door... Duo? Okay, so I guess yer really not home. Call me back ya get this, okay? I'm worried." There was a long pause before the final beep resounded and the mechanical voice offered me choices of saving, deleting or replaying the messages. I simply pressed "EXIT MENU" on the touch screen, not in any state to make even the most irrelevant, insignificant decision. Then I was just standing there, by the front door, my hand pressed against the wall next to the telephone, as I leaned heavily. My legs felt too weak to stand on, I could feel the knee joints quivering. I had yet to recover from my lack of sleep, but knew there would be no sense in returning to bed. Instead I ran a hot bath, treading around the bathroom as quietly as possibly for I did not want to disturb Heero. His body was probably in need of some vital resources as well and maybe I should have awoken him, let him use the bathroom, drink something, eat something, help him take a shower if he would be up for it, but honestly I could use the mental distance between us, with him being unconscious. I wasn't ready to face him yet, I didn't know what I would, or could, say to him. All I had to say was that he hurt me, but his body was in pain and he had just lost his partner and was probably blaming himself - he always does - it would be selfish of me to force my own wronged feelings onto him. At the same time it was selfish of him to expect otherwise. So it was better this way, a little bit more time apart. The warm water enveloped my naked body like a warm embrace and relieved some of the weight I felt in my limbs. The faucet dripped in a slow, but steady rhythm and the sound of every droplet hitting the water and making the surface ripple was all to be heard. Heero's labored breathing, accentuated by sharp wheezes at each intake of breath, was shut out by the thick wooden door and the steam that was gathering in the room provided further protection, fogging up the mirror and the reflective tiles on the wall. I didn't get out of the tub till the water had cooled off so dramatically my body was shivering in the cold forcefully and my uncontrollable shaking had nearly caused me to slip on the wet floor as I stepped out. I dried up and got dressed in a fresh set of warm clothes and inhaled their clean sent hungrily. For a moment there was only the breezy scent of the cotton fabric of my sweater, the hot steam in my face and the weight of my damp braid against my back, but then something got me to wipe my hand across the surface of the mirror and revealed myself and all my baggage. The lie was evident in the face that stared back at me. I hadn't noticed before, but my expression was caught in a sad frown with the corners of my mouth curving down and my eyebrows low over my sullen eyes. I tried a smile, but my facial muscles had no recollection of the gesture. My face remained unchanged. I fled from the mirror, through our bedroom, into the living room. Beyond the big bay window I saw the world had gone dark again except for a full moon. I turned on the sci fi channel to, fittingly, a series about a werewolf. The plot was lost on me, I wasn't really paying attention. Somewhere during an episode of a miniseries I didn't really care for but appreciated as background noise, I must have drifted off, because something woke me with a start. My whole body tensed on the couch as my fogged brain tried to decipher what my senses were registering. I failed miserably the first few attempts but then a tug at my heart strings brought awareness to me and I identified the sounds that had pulled me from sub-consciousness as painful moans. As soon as I had figured it out, I jumped to my feet and rushed to our bedroom, flicking on the lights. Heero was lying on the floor next to his bed, his eyes clenched shut, his mouth open as he gritted his teeth. He had his left hand wrapped around his knee, gripping it tightly. "Heero." I took the final steps towards him and kneeled by his side. "I'm fine." He ground out and then slowly relaxed while the pain apparently subsided. He squinted his eyes against the bright light. Careful to pull him up by his undamaged limbs I helped him to his feet, he leaned heavily on my shoulder, he kept his left foot off the ground, his right leg trembled, trying, but failing, to support his full weight. I maneuvered him around to lay him back into bed, but he stopped me with a soft voiced: "Wait." "What?" He didn't look up at me, only showing his tangled mop of dark hair. "I need to go to the bathroom." "Okay." I understood him to be ashamed of requiring my help for this simple task, but I had been a soldier to, bodily functions are bodily functions, I could reduce it to mechanics like I could reduce Algebra to the variables. Slowly we made our way to the bathroom and I brought him close to the toilet. He tried to fight my hands away. I had one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hooked under his left arm, going high across his chest, my fingers touching the hard plastic of the shoulder brace. "Thank you." He said urgently and continued to try to pry my grip loose. "Just do your thing." I said, with no intention of releasing him, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep standing on his own strength. "I will, as soon as you leave." I shook my head firmly. "The way I see it, we have three options. One: I support you while you pee. Two: I leave and you fall over, peeing all over the floor and three: You pee yourself while we argue about it. Personally, I vote for option one, because I know who is going to be cleaning up in case of option two and three." "Fine." He grunted and pulled down his underwear with his left hand. With my face buried in his neck, averting my eyes to salvage his last shred of privacy, I was surprised it took him so long to start, he was obviously very embarrassed, almost so much he couldn't pull it off, but finally bodily functions won over irrational shame. When he was done after a long time I guided him to the sink so he could wash his hand. I looked at the two of us in the reflection of the mirror, noting, not for the first time, what an odd couple we made. If I'd have to draw comparisons I'd say my face is carved out of the side of a soft stone mountain, terrorized by the eroding forces of the elements. My life showed on my face and in my tired, weathered eyes. Heero, my gaze shifted to his face, was an impassive mold of Gundanium. With his eyes closed there was nothing there to suggest a horrible past of pain and hurt. But when he eyes opened... He suddenly looked at me in the reflection, his eyes gaping holes into darkness. "I'm done." He announced. I nodded and brought him back to his bed where I instructed him to sit and wait. I rummaged through our closet, looking for a pair of my own baggy sweatpants and one of my warm sweaters. I brought the mismatched set to him along with clean underwear from his own side of the closet. While he changed his underwear, struggling as he only had one hand to work with, I occupied my gaze elsewhere, where the rough pads of my fingers played with the hem of the sweater. I had chosen my clothes because they were bigger than his and allowed for more space to maneuver his battered limbs into. I didn't say a word as I helped him get dressed. The sweater in particular was a hassle to put on, he moaned when I forced his arm too far, but I didn't apologize. After the sweater came the sling to support the weight of his arm to relieve the weakened muscles and tendons surrounding the shoulder joint. I felt him looking at me the entire time and it cost me effort not to return the meaningful gaze. I purposefully kept looking at the task at hand till we were finally done and I left him behind to bring him back the crutch that had been leaning against the wall by the front door all this time. "I'm fine." He said again and he cumbersomely raised himself to his feet without accepting the crutch I held out to him. "Heero." I warned. It pissed me off that he ignored me. He gingerly tried to put some weight on his left foot to take the first step, but as soon as his weight shifted to that side, he cringed, let out a high-pitched "Ah!" and would have crashed down to the floor if not for my lightening reflexes. It was by mere luck that I had managed to catch him without upsetting any of his many other wounds. "Use the damn crutch, Heero." I ordered. "Or would you prefer I carry you around for the next two weeks?" He took the crutch, though his eyes were furious in protest and hooked it under his left arm. His walk was slow. Glacial. But I remained by his side, not confident that he could make it to the kitchen without falling and hurting himself. He was annoyed by my mothering, over-concerned presence, but might as well get used to it. We were going to be in each others face a lot during his lengthy recovery. He reached the kitchen table without further accident, but his whole body was trembling terribly from the exertion. I stood by, idly but alert, as he lowered himself into one of the wooden chairs and I couldn't breathe easily till he was finally seated and safe. I prepared him breakfast - even though the hour was near midnight - of defrosted bread with a thick layer of peanut butter and a large glass of orange juice. He looked at the glass full of orange sunshine and then at me. "Drink it, it's good for you. You're not getting any coffee, you still have some more sleeping to do." I sat down across from him, watching him eat his first meal in a long time. I stared at the red bloody patch in his right eye. "Does it hurt?" I asked, pointing at his eye. "No." He replied between bites. "Just everything else does." I nodded, I could tell from his movements that his whole body was sore and painful. "Aren't you going to get angry with me?" I sighed, honestly too drained to be angry, besides, I couldn't yell at him when he looked so tiny and vulnerable, that would make me feel like the bad guy and I didn't deserve that. "Don't worry. It'll come to me and I'll make sure you are the first to know." He looked at me for fleeting seconds with that confused frown to his eyebrows. He was trying to read me, but after all this time he remained illiterate. For that I could not blame him, but sometimes it hurt my heart more than I could stand and I would wonder why, of all people, I had fallen in love with Heero Yuy, subject to the Perfect Soldier. After he had finished his breakfast I took him back to the bathroom and ran the shower while we worked on undressing him again. I folded the clothes neatly, they could be worn again before needing washing and placed them on the closed lid of the plastic hamper in the corner. I tested the water, reaching out one hand under the diffused spray of water. Normally, hot showers were preferred, but hot water could sting in the wounds. I looked back at Heero, who was sitting on the seat of the toilet, his head leaning back against the cold tile wall. His eyes were heavily lidded, sleep was starting to reclaim him, but we had to get the scent of ash and fire off his skin and redress his wounds. I took off my own shirt and pants, shivering in my underwear. I tested the water again and it seemed even colder. I dreaded getting under the spray with him, but I knew he needed someone to hold him up. I hoped my own waning strength wouldn't fail me. I kneeled before him and unhooked the clasps and ripped free the Velcro of his knee brace, with a hand in the hollow of his knee I supported the weight of his leg, which I kept straight. I placed his foot on the floor in a way that would not cause the joint to bend and then moved over to take off the heavy shoulder brace. It took a little puzzling and Heero winced when I tried to pull it off his body when I had forgotten to loosen the last clasp. I left the old bandages on, so they could protect the wounds from the majority of the water while I washed him and the water and soap would help release the medical tape from his skin. "Come on." I grunted as I hoisted him off the seat. By the bath I sat him down on the edge of tub and helped his legs over the side one by one. Then I stepped into the tub myself and pulled him up. He frowned deeply in discontent as the lukewarm water - feeling cold to the skin - hit his naked body. "I know." I was shivering myself. I wrapped one arm around his waist tightly, making sure that even if he slipped or his leg would give out, I could prevent him from falling. With my other hand I searched the wall for the little shelf where we kept our shampoo and soap. Heero could do nothing but let me wash him as he had to use his good arm to stabilize his right arm against his side. I flipped the cap of the shampoo bottle open and held it upside down above Heero's head, squeezing to get some of the syrupy liquid out. I literally threw the bottle away, in a hurry to catch the blob of shampoo before it dripped off his head. When I started rubbing it into his hair, the small space that we shared between the wall and the shower curtain was filled with a soft vanilla scent. I deemed my mission successful and completed when the entire mass of his hair was lathered and smelling sweetly. I warned him to close his eyes and then guided the showerhead to focus the spray on the top of his head. I thoroughly rinsed the shampoo from his hair, massaging his scalp with my one free hand. He seemed to enjoy it. I could hear, but also feel - with his back pressed against my chest - his breathing evening out and becoming relaxed. "Don't fall asleep, buddy." I whispered gently in his undamaged ear. The "buddy"-thing came so naturally to me... "Hn..." I soaped up his body, working around all the areas covered in bulky white bandages. Some of them started to come undone and exposed some sutured and some open wounds. Looking at his face I saw he had gritted his teeth and his left hand clutched his right elbow strongly. The soap was stinging in the wounds, but there was nothing I could do to relieve that pain other than pick up the pace a little and once done quickly grab the showerhead and rinse off all the soap. "We're done." I eased him back onto the edge of the tub. I kept my hand against his back in case he would lose his balance and fall backwards, while I reached for the faucet and closed it. The steady fall of water came to an abrupt end and we were suddenly even colder. I stepped over the wall of the bathtub and got him out the same way I had gotten him in and then deposited him back on the toilet seat. I dried us both off in haste and then wrapped the big towel around him while I went to fetch the first aid kit from a cabinet in the laundry room. It was a good thing that some habits die hard. The kit was a quite a lot more elaborate than the little Tupperware box most people had lying around. The large box was heavy as I carried it to the bathroom and thudded loudly as I placed it on the floor. It was filled with bandages, band aids of different sizes and textures, several rolls of medical tape, a small suture kit, stainless steel tongs for removing bullets, a wide variety of disinfecting crèmes and sprays and a bottle of antibiotics that Heero had wisely salvaged from his Gundam. I twisted off the cap and filled it with water and handed him one of the large pills, instructing him to swallow it. He did so with effort, coughing and gagging before he succeeded. He was even too tired to swallow. I worked my way from the bottom up, starting by peeling away the bandage around his left foot, revealing a bruised ankle displaying the whole spectrum of colors possible in a bruise. On the back of his ankle was the neatly sutured incision from the surgery to his Achilles tendon. I examined the work briefly, admiring the evident skills and then used a strong, supportive bandage to wrap the foot again and tied it together with two safety pins. The bandage over the knee had come loose in the shower. The wound was minor but I wrapped it with a thick bandage regardless because it would have to withstand the friction with the plastic knee brace. As soon as I was done, I set said knee brace back in place, making sure the opening in the front lined up with his kneecap, the bandage made it a little difficult to tell. "Move a little for me?" I hooked my hand under his right knee and eased him towards the edge of the seat so I could tend to the entry and exit bullet wounds on his left thigh. After that I wrapped bandages all around his waist and paused my medical ministrations briefly to help him into his underwear. With his most private parts covered up it took away a lot of the awkwardness of the situation. I dutifully bandaged the wounds on his torso and the deep cut to his left upper arm and then reassembled the shoulder brace back into place. The last wound I tended to was his damaged left ear shell. His whole body tensed up when I peeled away the bandage and tape that had stuck to the ugly wound. The skin was charred, it was red, raw and hard and there was a deep cut in the top of his ear and lower, just above his earlobe, nearly severing it from his ear. "Is it hideous?" He asked, his eyes searching mine in vain. I didn't know why he asked. It didn't sound like he cared, nor did I suspect it to be something he cared about. Maybe he was afraid I cared. With careful fingers I applied several crèmes to the skin to help it heal and fight off infections and decided it was probably better not to bandage it, so the wound could breathe and I wouldn't cause Heero more pain when it would have to be peeled off again later. I didn't answer his question before I had completed my task and cleaned up the mess I had made. I looked him in the eyes, trying to ignore the blood that had pooled in the right orb and said to him: "You are still beautiful." I meant every word. I sighed and then helped him back into his clothes and after getting dressed myself I took him to his bed. He declared that he wasn't tired, but I ignored him and laid him down. "Next time you want to get out of bed, call me." I ordered, placing the warm sheet on top of him. "I shouldn't sleep," He said, disregarding my order, "I need to restore my biological rhythm." I directed squinted eyes at my wristwatch. It was deep into the night, almost so deep morning was nearing. He was right that sleeping at these unorthodox hours would disrupt his rhythm, but I was also right that he needed more rest. Stubbornness may have weighed in more than anything else and I sided with myself. "Just sleep. We'll worry about your fucking rhythm later." I smoothed the sheets, then wished him goodnight and left, shutting the door behind me firmly. I was tired myself, my bed called to me seductively, but I needed some distance from him. Being around him confused me. I was angry, I had every right to be angry and I deserved to be angry, but when I was with him, all I could do was feel concerned and care. Care so much. I wish I could not-care, just for a little while, but even his lie could not stop me from caring. I dropped down on the couch, the TV screen still flickering - with an outer space action scene constructed of poor CGI - I shrugged my shoulders and ducked my chin into the neck opening of my warm sweater. I tucked my cold hands in between my thighs and realized I should probably turn the Air-conditioning down, but even the mere though exhausted me hopelessly. I looked at the white apparatus fastened high on the far wall and focused all of my remaining energy into my most intimidating glare, but the AC was comically unimpressed and kept humming a happy tune as it blew cold air into the apartment. I felt the cold dry out my eyes, so I shut them for just a moment. When I opened them I realized I had fallen asleep and had been caught into the web of a surreal dream. I was running up a flight of stairs. Blue illuminated shards of glass assembled into a winding staircase in a vast black space of nothing, with nothing below me, nothing beside me and nothing above me. As I climbed, my bare feet were cut by the razor sharp edges of the shards and it hurt, a kind of hurt that shot through my entire body but centered in my heart. I ran, even though I knew the stairs would lead to nowhere, I understood that they went on forever, every flesh cutting step let to another and another, but I was driven by haste, fear and determination. "Come on!" I screamed. I thought at first at myself, to urge myself on, even though the pain was evident in my voice, but I noticed the vice-like grip on my left hand and the weight tugging on my shoulder. I didn't look back, I knew it was Heero whom I was dragging forward and I knew I must not let him go. I had to hold on and I had to keep running. From somewhere, from everywhere, echoing through the nothingness was the sound of glass shattering. In the wake of our path the glass steps lost their weightless position in space and descended down by the force of gravity. I heard Heero panting an wheezing behind me, struggling to keep up do to the injuries he had sustained on his mission. His secret mission. His lied about mission. "Aren't you angry with me?" He called from behind me. "Just keep running!" "Aren't you angry with me?" He repeated, like he hadn't heard me. I grumbled under my breath. "Just shut up and run!" He failed to hear me again, with that same tone, like time was being rewound, he asked "Aren't you angry with me?" "Yes! Yes, I am fucking furious!" I screamed and I stopped my running to turn around. As I did so, I felt his hand slipping from mine. I could have firmed my grip, could have reached down my other hand, but I didn't. I felt him slip and I did nothing. He fell against the side of the glass steps, cutting the skin of his palms and forearms as he put them forth protectively. With his head down his bangs covered his face. The steps started to give out, first the one at his feet, then at his knees, his hips and his torso. His whole lower body dangled down into the dark abyss. The edge of the step against his chest cut into the flesh and blood flowed. I heard a dripping sound, the sound of his blood hitting the floor, even though the floor could well be an eternity below us. The final two steps he was holding onto started to fail, small shards of it going down, disappearing from sight, as soon he will if I wouldn't stop it. "It's okay, Duo." He spoke reassuringly with a soft tone. "I'll help you." I said in response, but for some reason my body wouldn't move. "No, Duo. It's okay." He looked up at me. His eyes were frightening, the white of his eyes had turned a blood red and his irises caught the light in a pale, ice blue. The steps broke and he fell. Seconds later I heard the same shattering of glass on the ground, followed by a thud that was accompanied by sickening cracks. I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling of our living room. I placed two hands over my stomach, feeling nauseous. I looked down my body at my clean, bare feet. There was no blood there, but I could still feel the sharp pain that had traveled to my heart. I breathed deeply for a few lingering moments. Trying to make sense of things, even though I knew I couldn't. The dream and reality were both equally confusing. With the back of my hand I wiped my forehead, sweat had gathered there in spite of the chilling cold that had overcome the room. I groaned as I hoisted myself into a sitting position and forced my head around to look through the window. Judging by the position of the sun, it was somewhere in the afternoon. The dream had been short, but apparently the sleep had been lengthy. I snuck towards our bedroom and peeked inside. The ajar door cast a sharp line of golden light into the darkened room and molded to Heero's sleeping form. I stood listening in the doorway. It took forever but I finally heard the wheeze I was growing too accustomed to. I simply looked at him for a little while, enjoying how normal and peaceful he looked with the sheets and the shadows hiding his wounds from sight. The ringing of the intercom disturbed a rare moment. I shut the door as quietly as possible and hurried towards the intercom. "Hello?" I asked warily. "Duo." The voice was cracked over the poor quality of the line, but the identity of the speaker was unmistakable. "What are you doing here?" I inquired breathless, completely amazed. "Do you mind coming to the door. Talks easier." "Right. Right." I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. "I'll be right down. Don't go anywhere." I said stupidly. Running through the hall barefoot probably wasn't the most hygienic thing I had ever done, but also not the least, so I couldn't be bothered if the soles of my feet ended up blackened and filthy. In the reflection of the steel doors of the elevator it was brought to my awareness how ridiculous I looked in my baggy, navy blue sweatpants, bright red sweater, disheveled hair and dark rings under my eyes. Not to mention barefoot. Once the elevator doors opened I sprinted past the mailboxes to the front door. Eager hands gripped the handle and almost tore the steel door out of the doorway. He appeared to me like an angelic vision to the backdrop of bright, white light. I lunged my tired body forward and hugged him like it was appropriate to hug an old friend. I felt the chuckle rumble in his chest as I embraced him tightly. "I can't believe you're here." I said into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, smelling the clean clothes my hug was wrinkling. "You didn't have to come." I said, even though I was immensely grateful that he had. "Of course I had to come." We both pulled back to look at each other. "You look great, Quatre." I said, looking at his glowing face. "You look horrible, Duo." His tone changed as did his face, to something grim and concerned, to something that would never smile again. I realized, with a drop of my heart, he suddenly resembled me. He placed his small hands on my broad shoulders and squeezed them. His eyes were telling, but what they were saying I wasn't sure I understood. "I came as soon as I heard." "I'm assuming Une made some un-requested calls?" I led him inside and back to the elevator. It was strange, even stranger than when I had seen him at the party, for now he was entering my world, my little niche in the universe, and I wasn't sure he would approve. It's not quite the traditional niche... "Yes. I'm sorry it took me so long. L4 to Earth isn't exactly a daily flight, I had to make some arrangements." He looked at me in apparent pity. I disliked it, but I didn't mention it. "You have to stop apologizing. Not everything is your fault... I'm glad you came." I admitted softly. "I've been... I'm sort of a mess." "Yes, I see." He pinched a lock of my messy hair between his fingers and pulled it away from my head. One of the many bundles of strands that had fought the confinement of the braid successfully. "How is he?" "Goddamn stubborn." Quatre nodded and chuckled softly. "I've heard the stories from Trowa." "Yeah. He's not exactly a model patient. For now he sleeps mostly though. And I'm kind of grateful for that. I don't really know what to do with him." An awkward silence fell between us till the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I led the way to the apartment's front door and before I opened it, I gave him a halfhearted, embarrassed warning, that this wasn't what he was probably used to. Quatre brushed off my concerns with a light comment of previous, grungy safe houses we've all shared. "Right." I muttered and flung the door open, letting him enter first. I observed him closely as he, in turn, scrutinized the living place that was revealed before him. He stopped two steps into the apartment with a thoughtful look to his face and an insecure way to his stance. I closed the door softly, acutely aware of Heero sleeping in the bedroom, separated only by thin drywall and a single door. "It's nice." He said. I didn't think that he was lying, but I suspected him of withholding part of the truth. "It's a little empty though." He looked at the shelves that only carried dust. It was a painful observation that I made myself every time I came through the front door. "Take a seat." I urged, hoping to alleviate the suddenly heavy situation. "Do you want something to drink?" I pulled open the refrigerator and offered him the choice of orange juice, beer and water from the faucet. It was all I had. "No, thank you." He gingerly sat down on the large couch, his hands stiffly resting in his lap. I took a beer myself. I could use one. "Are you hungry?" I asked, sitting down in the lounge chair. "I could order pizza, or something." He politely declined once more. I took a large swig of my drink, eager to occupy myself with anything and change the scene of two old friends sharing an uncomfortable silence, to just two old friends sitting together. But after my third large gulp, I had to give up hope. "So," I started, without any clear plan of action, "How uh... How's life on L4?" He smiled but his eyes were apologetic. "Good." He was ashamed to elaborate based on my own dire situation. "Quat, if you're happy, I'm happy for you. You don't have to worry that your happiness is going to hurt my feelings in some twisted way." He shrugged and looked around the apartment once more. "I don't really know what to say about it. I'm very happy, but it's just my life. I don't feel like there is anything special about it." "Believe me, there is." I said poignantly, "If your life makes you happy, than that's very special." He cast his gaze down at the carpet. Shyly he asked: "You aren't happy with your life?" It was a difficult question with a multifaceted answer I didn't know how to formulate. The clearest I could be about it was: "I'm not sure. I used to be, but now I'm not sure." Unconsciously I looked at the closed bedroom door. I set my bottle of beer away and buried my heavy head in my open palms, groaning. Quatre scooted closer towards me and hesitantly lay a hand on my shoulder, he grew more confidant and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze and then rubbed his hand up and down my shoulder blade. His hand offered me some comfort, though inexperienced with the notion, it reminded me a mother soothing her child, but I was grimly aware of the blatant fact that nothing he could do could ever be enough to ease all the pain away. If anything ever could. "I'm fine." I proclaimed, an obvious lie, and straightened in my seat. I looked at him with a grateful expression: "I'm really glad you're here." Even though I didn't know if he could help me anything, I was thankful that for as long as his stay would last, I wouldn't have to feel so alone. "Why won't I take care of dinner?" I quirked an eyebrow. "Since when do you cook?" He shook his head, his blond bangs dancing. "My chef is at the hotel I'm staying at. He can be here with some groceries in twenty minutes." I snorted. "I can call "Little Italy" and have them bring a pizza here in seven minutes, ready to eat." Quatre's face contorted at the thought of being subjected to possibly unhygienic fast food. A chuckle was released forth from me. I hoped that for as long as he would be here, he would make me laugh some more. It felt good. heavy feelings soon flooded back in with the intake of breath, but for as long as the rumble lasted, I was free. "I'll go clean myself up and I'll go grocery shopping and we'll make something ourselves, okay?" He nodded, with that he could live. But then he thought of something. "What if Heero wakes up?" Heero's bad reputation as a patient had preceded himself. "Don't worry, he'll be out cold for a few more hours." Before Quatre could fathom more arguments on the subject I disappeared into the bedroom, impressing even silence itself with my quiet ways. Heero didn't stir a single time. In the darkness of the room I stripped and replaced the clothes I had been wearing with something more dignifying and less I-ride-the-Special-Bus; a simple pair of faded jeans and a black sweater. I sat down on my own bed, my eyes fixing on Heero's lonely form as my fingers worked expertly to rebraid my hair. I ventured back into the living room where the blonde Gundam Pilot was still sitting where I had left him. I tried to discuss meal options with him but he came with no suggestions, insisting that anything would be fine. I knew he was merely being polite, but it annoyed me a little. I finally grumbled "Fine, I'll figure it out." and stepped into my old sneakers and left. Walking outside in the crisp air of the approaching evening was a cleansing experience, I felt like I could finally breathe, even though I hadn't noticed before that I was suffocating. The trip to the grocery store was disappointingly short. Inside the store it was frigid, the Air-conditioning blowing with the strength of a mobile suit engine exhaust. I wandered through the aisles trying to decide on dinner, picking up miscellaneous items the household might need along the way. I settled for the ingredients to make a hearty pasta meal and stocked up on soda cans and bottled spring water for the young man who didn't blink in a storm of gunfire, but squirmed in fear in the presence of bacteria. At the cash register I pulled out my wallet. Heero's wallet, I corrected myself, looking at the simple, black leather pouch. I was getting sentimental. I opened up the soft leather and pulled out his credit card, loaded with dirty money, money he earned risking his life. Money earned with the lie. It made me uncomfortable and defeated as I swiped the card through the machine, like I was submitting to the details of Heero's actual labor, like I was accepting it as the only possible solution. I hated it. I always hated paying with his credit card, but now I hated it even more. Like during the war I hated paying for spare parts and survival necessities with money that we had hijacked from OZ. It was money earned by actions that we did not support, yet we were dependant of it. I carried two heavy plastic bags back to the apartment, where I opened the door to Quatre standing in the far back of the living room, by the low chest drawer on which two bolts stood erect but shameful. "Hey." "Hey." He copied and with an honest smile he pointed back at the bolts. "Deathscythe?" "And Wing." I put the bags on the counter and joined him. He frowned. "Heero doesn't seem like the type to keep souvenirs." He correctly observed. "He isn't. I kept it for him." His frown deepened, grew more confused. "Why?" "Because some day he would have come to regret it if all of Wing had been destroyed." Quatre looked at me for a long time, like he wanted to say something but for the sake of leaving the peace undisturbed dared not to. Eventually though, he spoke his mind. Quatre is all about keeping the peace, but he was also about honesty. A trait I appreciated, but sometimes stung, like now. "What makes you think he would ever come to regret it?" I mirrored his frown. "I mean," He paused in hesitation, "He is not the sentimental, souvenir type now... what makes you so confident he ever will be?" "He has really improved lately, he continues to grow!" My raised voice betrayed my growing hurt and rising anger. Quatre bit his lip and struggled with the truth on his tongue inside his closed mouth for a while. He spilt it: "I'm just afraid you are waiting for Heero to become someone he is not capable of being." If his comment hadn't stunned me so, I might have punched him in the face. How dare he say that! It was insulting to Heero and consequently insulting to me. What little faith to have in two of your best friends. "How can you say that?" I asked incredulously. He caught on to the sour taste his comment had left in my mouth and apologized before he tried to explain himself: "I didn't mean it in a bad way. I'm just not sure... I mean..." In spite of his ever proper attitude he cursed under his breath and looked at his polished shoes as if the answer was carved in the luxurious Italian leather. "Let's just drop it." I snapped. "I'm hungry." I rearranged the bolts on the chest drawer more proudly and prominently to emphasize my point and then stomped over to the kitchen, extracting vegetables and pasta from the bags, ripping the plastic in my aggression. It felt good to let my hands be rough for once and I soon felt most of the anger ebb away to a safe place inside of me. I took a deep breath and then announced to Quatre, who was still standing in the living room: "I'm okay now." He walked over and helped me unpack the rest of the groceries, cut the vegetables and prepare the sauce. We worked in silence which allowed us to pocket and label our emotions individually and store them for future reference. Hate and accusations was not what we needed to fill the rift that had fallen between us since the war. We needed to use all this energy we easily spent on anger, on pulling our veritable continents back together, so we could truly be friends again, instead of former comrades. True to my nature, I was first to break the silence, assuming Quatre was too cautious to ever do so. "So, Trowa lives with you on L4?" "Yeah." Quatre suddenly looked absent, with a smile on his face as he stirred the red sauce that bubbled gently on the stove. "You guys really got close after the war." "Yeah." I looked at the stupid grin on his face and suddenly something dawned on me that maybe I should have come to realize sooner. I smiled, to fully clear the air between us and then teasingly asked: "Are you guys...? Are you guys together? Like me and Heero?" "No!" He exclaimed and he dropped the wooden spoon to the floor. "Shit! I'm sorry." "It's okay, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry, I just figured..." feeling sheepish I reached for a paper towel to clear the blood red mess off the floor. Quatre kneeled down too and helped me mop up the spilled sauce. He abruptly stopped and leaned back on his heels. "No, No, I'm sorry." I looked up from my cleaning task at his forlorn face. "Quat, it's okay, it's just sauce and there is plenty left." "That's not what I mean. I shouldn't have lied." He said, straightening creases in his khaki pants. "Lied?" I sat back on the kitchen floor as well, letting the soiled paper towel flop back on the tile. "We are together." He admitted, his eyes searching me but he would find no contempt, only smiles. "You know, romantically." He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "That's great." I playfully punched him in the shoulder. "You doing the naughty naughty with Barton." "Duo!" A red blush came to his cheeks. "Why did you lie about it at first?" I asked seriously, absent-mindedly wiping the floor with a fresh paper towel. "I guess I've just grown that used to it." "Used to it?" I threw the used paper towels into the trash bin that was within arm's reach. We remained on the floor for our intimate and honest conversation, hidden between the cabinets. "We lie about it a lot, on L4. No one knows. Only a few of my sisters. It's not like I'm embarrassed!" He assured me, "I don't think there anything wrong with homosexuality. But I've been trying to restore my father's company and that means working with prominent business men and they already look down on me because of my age and inexperience... I didn't want to possibly give them another reason to distrust and dislike me. Some of them have been giving me a hard time as it is..." Apparently keeping the peace was a priority that outweighed the value of honesty. I nodded, understanding of his dilemma. "What does Trowa think about it?" Quatre shrugged. "He doesn't really mind. I mind it more than he does. He says that love is private anyway." "He's right." "Yeah. I guess. I just pictured it differently, I suppose." Then he chuckled. "Look at us sitting on the floor. Good God." He rose to his feet and helped me up. He kept his hands awkwardly away from his body and immediately turned open the hot water faucet to thoroughly scrub his hands. Steam was rising up from the sink but he didn't seem to mind it. I washed my hands after him, mocking his germ phobia even though it sometimes had me worried. I related back to me and Heero and I worried that maybe us Gundam Pilots were doomed to keep some things secret forever, for whatever reason. And be hurt every time a lie failed and a facade cracked and a bit of the unwanted truth is right there in our face and we have to catch it like catching a firefly with our bare hands and try to shelter it's light from the outside world, or they would know too. We ate in quiet contemplation. "Are you going back to the hotel tonight?" I asked when we cleared the dishes. He nodded. "I hope you don't mind. I'm not really the type to sleep on a couch." I grinned. "No, I get it." "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?" "Just..." I stopped myself, unsure if it was fair to ask of him, but eventually dared, "Stay, a little while?" He smiled. "Sure. I have a few days and I would love to spend them with you." I smiled back. "You sure Trowa will be fine without you?" "He can take care of business himself." We laughed in unison as we both realized the innuendo of his seemingly innocent and professional comment. "Trowa can certainly take matters into his own hands." "Why his hands? He is very flexible." Quatre was shocked at his own comment but laughed with me nevertheless. After doing the dishes we settled on the couch and I made him watch one of my dated, pre-colony movies from my growing collection. At least thanks to the increasingly abundant row of classic DVD boxes I had something to fill the emptiness of all the shelves, drawers and cabinets in the apartment. Halfway through the movie which I had seen three times already I rose from the couch to check on Heero. I closed the bedroom door behind me, watching through the layered shadow at his figure. I sighed and walked over to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "How long have you been awake?" His eyes opened, but he didn't look at me. He stared into thin air that grew thicker as the atmosphere between us became uncomfortable. It would stay uncomfortable for as long as the lie remained unspoken between us, in the silence it only grew more powerful and hideous, but I would have to stand it a little while longer, I realized, looking at his face. The mask of the soldier could not hide the innate sad expression pressed into his Gundanium features. "A while." "Why won't you come watch Jaws with us?" "I've already seen it. Three times." "Is that really the reason?" "Yes." It was a lie but I was afraid to call him on it, he seemed so fragile. Looking at him in the blue moonlight that fought through the curtains, I remembered my dream, my horrible nightmare. Because of selfish feelings my unconsciousness let him go, let him die. I shuddered as I remembered the crack as if I had actually heard it, somewhere in reality. "Are you hungry?" "No." "Thirsty?" "No." He started to sound irritated. "Okay." I sat by his side for a little while longer and then left him alone, softly closing the door behind me. Back in the living room I noticed the movie had been paused and Quatre was standing in the middle of the room, looking at me in understanding. "I should go." He said. "Leave you two alone for a little while." I didn't say anything, just followed him to the front door. "I'll be back tomorrow." He leaned in and hugged me. "Thanks." "Bye." "Bye." I watched him go with hollow eyes. Only shutting the door long after he had gone. I turned off the TV and all the lights and rummaged around in the kitchen a little before joining Heero in our dark bedroom. I sat on the edge of his bed again and gently touched his face, wishing there was a way to turn back time, to turn back lies, so I could feel the way I used to feel when I touched him - warm and whole - instead of distant and alone. I was touching his face but it felt like Heero was miles beneath the surface, still so far away, no matter how close I leaned into him. I searched the bed for his left hand and brought it up from under the covers, watching the glint of his black eyes the entire time. "Here." I said, I opened his powerless fingers and put my small offering into the palm of his hand, squeezing his fingers around it to form a loose grip. Even in the lack of lighting I could see his eyebrows knit together in innocent confusion. I shed my clothes tiredly and slipped under the warm covers of my own bed. Turning on my side to look at him. The only thing I could see was the shine in his eyes and the reflection of a sliver of pale moonlight in the spoon which he slowly, savoringly, licked clean of peanut butter. An old smile appeared on my face, but it felt awkward, for inside anger was brewing. Staring at him in the night, I realized for the first time how much I hated what he has done to us. How could he? We had something good, something honest and precious. But now it had been stepped on. It was crushed. Like my heart. "Duo?" He softly asked after much time had been allowed to pass and the spoon was discarded on the nightstand. "Yeah." "I love you." Those little words used to bring me indescribable joy. The lie had taken that away from me as well. There was no joy left, only hate: I hated that I doubted him. Still I responded: "I love you too." It was the truth and it was what made everything so hard to bear.
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