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Left Unsaid	By : ElleSmith Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Heero/Duo Views: 1021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Chapter 13: OD
Christmas Day came to a close as nighttime fell over the dense streets of East Village's Alphabet City. Long columns of brownstone tenement apartment buildings and soil-colored row-houses flickered to life as lights were turned on in nearly every window. However, in one tenement building, ten stories high, the windows of the apartment on the top floor overlooking the street remained dark. The large living room window was wide open, allowing faint nighttime urban illumination to shed some light into the small residence.
Duo sat on the carpet between a black leather sofa and a plain wooden coffee table; he was leaning against the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest. His wildly-cropped hair dangled in a lifeless mess around his head, reaching down to his shoulders. Spiky strands of unevenly layered brown hair kissed the rough-leather khaki shoulder-patches of the jacket he was wearing: Heero's Preventer jacket. He was sitting in Heero's empty apartment, wearing the missing man's jacket and sipping from a newly bought bottle of Jameson whiskey while he waited for the news that will undoubtedly break his heart. There was no other place he would rather be while he waited, and no other garment he would rather be wearing. He wanted to feel Heero near at this solemn hour.
He took a long swig from the bottle, gulping the bitter liquor as though it was mere water. He lowered the bottle down and released a raspy sigh. All the while, his grave cobalt-blue eyes glowered at the closed television screen hanging from the opposite wall, having nowhere else to direct their blame. He drank some more.
The sound of a key sliding into the lock from the outside drew his attention in mid-swig. The key was rattled a bit as the person on the other side was probably surprised to find out that the door was already unlocked. A second later, it opened. Duo didn't bother turning around to see who it was.
Relena stepped quietly into the small apartment and closed the door behind her. She was holding a set of keys and dressed casually in plain blue jeans and a sloppy lavender sweater. Her long dishwater-blonde hair was gathered into an untidy ponytail and her makeup was fading after covering her face the whole day long. She stood by the door, staring woefully at the young man sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. She wasn't surprised to see him; in fact, she had a feeling she would find him there once she arrived. Heero had once mentioned that there wasn't a lock in the world Duo couldn't pick, so he must have broken in.
She approached Duo quietly and stopped short in amazement when she noticed his chaotically cropped hair. She chewed on her lower lip, biting back a curious remark because she knew better than to pry. She resumed her approach, finally standing next to the sofa.
"Where have you been, Duo?" she asked softly; "I haven't seen you in almost two days."
"Around," Duo grunted and took a rough swig from the bottle.
Relena observed him worriedly.
"You weren't answering your cell," she added in a non-accusing tone.
"It ain't on me no more," he muttered, swinging the bottle left and right by its neck and watching the golden liquid swirl inside.
Relena frowned, but didn't comment; a part of her understood the burden of carrying that phone. Heaving a sigh, she joined Duo on the floor and reached a hand up, wordlessly asking him to share his drink. He shoved the bottle into her hand without turning to look at her.
"There's been another call," she whispered and took a careful sip, wincing as the bitter drops slid down her throat.
"Yeah, I heard."
"Shaw got hold of you?" she wondered, handing him the bottle.
"Nope," he grumbled and snatched the whiskey back; "I mean I heard," he clarified and raised the bottle for a sip. "Son-of-a-bitch had me on the line too," he added bitterly between gulps, drinking so carelessly that some whiskey sipped and slid down his clean-shaven chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, sighing. "I heard the whole fucking thing."
Relena gaped at him, speechless. Duo knew... he knew about the rape. She shuddered, feeling equally angry and terrified. Heero would never want Duo to know, never. Her eyes watered with helpless tears of frustration. She felt so hurt for Heero... completely devastated.
She reached for the whiskey bottle and Duo handed it to her. She accepted it silently and took a few quick sips, trying to drown the terrible sorrow she felt inside. They sat side by side, staring ahead numbly while sharing the bottle, and their pain.
"I think that was the longest steam of words I've ever heard come out of his mouth..." Duo's despondent voice broke the thick silence after a while. He took another swig and handed the bottle to Relena. She took a few more sips.
"His silence always drove me up the wall, but now..." he paused, raising a hand up to rake his long hair back behind his ears, and shook his head in frustration; "Jesus... I think the silence suits me better," he muttered with a sigh; "...suits him better."
Relena nodded in sympathy and handed him back the bottle. "It's easier," she agreed; "when he doesn't talk... when he hides behind that cold front. But it's not fair to him. He's hurting inside... all the time."
"Yeah, I know..." Duo mumbled sadly, casting his gaze down to the floor. He held the bottle by its neck, toying with it absentmindedly.
"You know I've never even seen him smile?" he mumbled and raised the whiskey bottle for another sip. "Not to mention hearing him cry... the goddamned stony-face bastard, he never showed me anything... nothing beyond the darkness. I fell in love with a freaking brick wall... with what I thought must be hiding behind it," he laughed bitterly; "Story of my fucking life... running straight into stone walls. I'm fucking stuck, yanno? There's this barrier I just can't seem to breach... not with Heero, not with anything. It fucking sucks..." he exhaled sadly and took another long sip of whiskey. He turned to Relena, his blue eyes gleaming forlornly.
"How'd you do it?" he asked in despair; "how'd you make him show you what's behind that wall?"
She sighed and turned to gaze at the coffee table again. "I don't think I did anything, really... it was his choice. To be honest, I always felt stupid for chasing him around like that... hoping that he'd notice me. I never expected him to reciprocate any of my feelings. He thought I was a child. But then one day he just... I don't know what changed. It was after he escaped from the Moon Base. Something must have happened up there. He... something changed."
Duo nodded, bowing his head down in disgrace. "Lotsa shit happened up there," he mumbled drearily. "They held us prisoners for weeks. Heero was already in a cell when they got me, so he was there even longer. They... they used him as a test pilot for these new suits they were building. Test after test... day in and day out. He was bruised and aching all over and they didn't care, just kept going like he was some kind of a machine. They wore him down. When they brought him back to the cell all he did was sleep. I had to force some food into him... he was so tired. One day they took him to test the suit on the battlefield... forced him to fight for them. They took him and never brought him back. I got lucky and escaped while he was gone... I had no idea where he was or if he was even alive. Three months later I found out that he managed to escape a couple of weeks after I did." He paused, casting his gaze down sadly. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"He musta thought I abandoned him. He never said anything, but I know he did. I woulda thought so too. We never talked, yanno? Never said anything even when there was so much we shoulda said... we coulda shown that we cared, but we didn't. And then you came along and gave him what I wouldn't... You showed that you cared, and that's fucking irresistible. God... I was so fucking stupid!" he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I had eight years to fix this – eight years! – but I didn't. Fucking asshole..."
"Communication goes both ways," Relena pointed out softly; "Heero had eight years too..." she mumbled sadly; "It only took him two years to realize that I wasn't enough. He had six more years to contact you, but he didn't. You're not the only one to blame. You were both hurting. Maybe you needed this time apart... to grow."
"And then this shit happened..." Duo grumbled bitterly, shaking his head and sighing. He took another sip of whiskey and placed the bottle back down.
"I always thought that things would be different if he'd share his pain," he admitted solemnly; "That maybe then we'd be able connect more or sumthin', but... but maybe I was comfortable with the silence," he sighed; "To hear him cry, it's... I..." he paused, placing the bottle on the floor between his legs. He stared at it numbly.
"He's been through so much since I last saw him..." he whispered, "he's changed so much and I... It freaks me out. I don't know him that way. I... I don't know if I wanna know him that way... I don't know what to do with all that pain. I... I can barely cope with mine. I can't help him. I... He... He was the one who helped me, yanno? He was the one thing I could depend on to never fall apart. I don't know how to play this game with the roles all reversed..."
"I didn't know either," she confessed. "Seeing Heero hit rock bottom... it... it was hard. I couldn't handle it. I... I didn't know how. The trauma was too much and he... he lost it. He... he got lost in it. The violent outbursts were the worst. I was afraid to fall asleep next to him. The night terrors would take over and he'd... he..." she sighed, shaking her head miserably. "I had to get away... I didn't know what else to do. The only reason he eventually pulled through was because of Doctor Wright... not me. He made it back somehow, but I... I never looked at him the same. I know that he knows that... I know how much it hurts him to see himself through my eyes. It hurts both of us..." She sighed, casting her gaze down shamefully. "Things change," she mumbled; "people change... circumstances change... nothing stays the same. It's out of our control and all we can do is either try to cope with it, or leave. Moving on isn't easy... I couldn't leave him... not while I still feel responsible for his pain. Now I... I don't know. Maybe he's better off without me."
"You don't like what he's become?"
"It's not that," she sighed, shaking her head; "I have no right to judge. I'm the reason he's like this now... And I think that seeing him in a new light didn't change my feelings for him, just the way I perceive him. I came to realize that there's more of him to love now, that's all. I just don't think I deserve to love him the way I do... not anymore."
"And you think I do? Even after all those years apart? You think I can just walk back into his life and fix everything? That's horseshit and you know it. I wouldn't even know where to start."
"You see more of him now... that's a good thing, Duo," she whispered; "You'll be able to help him now, I'm sure. You can heal together. Isn't it what you've always wanted?"
"I... I dunno..." Duo mumbled in distress, repeatedly running a hand through his choppy bangs. "I don't know why I fell in love in the first place. I mean, he was so fucked up and I was even worse... but at least he kept a tight lid on it, yanno? Made it look like he had it all under control even though it was probably bullshit. It was so easy to depend on a guy like that and it... it just happened, yanno? This... this thing just sparked to life and... and I was so caught up I never stopped to think of how fucked up it all was. I didn't haffta think... Heero usually did all the thinking, I just went with it. But I don't think he had it all figured out, yanno? I was the one thing he never figured out. Maybe that was it, I dunno. Maybe he liked not knowing. It was different... new... untainted."
"And you're afraid that now he knows?" Relena asked, observing his face carefully. Duo hunched forward and curled into himself by hugging his knees close to his chest.
"If he knows then I'm screwed..." he mumbled, staring at his feet; "I've let him down so many fucking times... not just on the Moon Base... but every single time. I never came through... not the way I shoulda. He was never wise enough to realize it, though, and just kept coming back for more. There's something very... naïve... about him, yanno? Despite of everything. Something no one has ever touched before so it's... it's still pure, still clueless. It's almost cute... if it wasn't so Goddamn tragic. He just can't see these things the way I do..."
Relena nodded in agreement. "I've noticed that too," she whispered uneasily; "He trusted me with that thing... that thing no one else could touch. He left himself wide open for an attack... and I broke him. I didn't mean to... but he broke," she mumbled helplessly; "He broke because I also let him down."
"So now he knows," Duo concluded, closing his eyes sadly. "He isn't going to choose me... and that fuck is gonna make him suffer for it."
"You don't know that," Relena tried to offer comfort, but he stopped her when he looked up, pinning her gaze with a pair of somber cobalt blue eyes.
"But I do," he whispered tragically; "all he has to do is look back at our time together with this new understanding he's gained and we're doomed. He'll see. He'll realize how I let him chase me just because I liked it. Showed that he cared, yanno? He didn't show it in so many ways, but at least that way I knew. Still I... I never showed it back, not the way I shoulda. It wasn't part of the deal. I knew he wanted me to... He would get this disappointed look in his eyes... broke my fucking heart, but I... I liked it, that disappointment. That hurt. Seeing all of his defenses go up because he wanted to protect that thing from getting hurt... and still he kept coming back, even when I never returned the favor. It's like he wanted to want it, yanno? No matter what. I mean, he wasn't stupid or anything, he probably knew what he was gettin' himself into... and he wanted it. He just didn't want to show it."
"So you didn't either?"
"I guess," Duo mumbled, shrugging. "Maybe it was all about ego... I dunno. I just knew that if I'd show too much, he'd bolt," he sighed, shaking his head; "And he did... whenever I slipped, if I let it show, then he'd take it hard and walk away. I was afraid to show it, I didn't want him to stop chasing me... lose interest. I didn't wanna risk it. I knew that if I showed Heero how I much I really cared then he won't come back. He didn't really want to show me that thing, but in some way he did and that chase... God... it was like he was chasing his own tail. I couldn't bear to watch... but it sorta became our thing... the only thing we could have. Fucking cat 'n mouse... I got fed up with it eventually. The chase wasn't leading anywhere. The war was over. There was no more point running. I wanted him to choose. That night, after the fight in Brussels, I just... lost it. I left without ever giving him a chance to chase me..."
"Because you thought that he chose me?"
"It was the only choice he knew how to make," he mumbled; "because it's the obvious one. I get that now. I get why he stayed... He stayed where he was welcomed. We cut each other loose... just like that and it... it got twisted over time," Duo bowed his head down sadly; his words came out slowly and thoughtfully.
"I told myself I felt betrayed that he chose you. It was stupid, childish, to feel that way, but I did. I was sixteen for fuck's sake... and I was angry... so fucking angry... I didn't care anymore. I just didn't. He chose you and suddenly it felt like he betrayed me. I had to get away. I had to get away from him and then... you know... time just... it runs its course, right? It changes things, you lose perspective." He paused for a moment, fiddling nervously with the bottle. "Betrayal has that kinda grip on the mind, yanno?" he looked up at her, smiling miserably, his blue eyes apologetic; "It's so fucking powerful... like a snake... a python. It wraps itself around you and just... it squeezes out all other thoughts... suffocates all other emotions until... until everything else is dead... gone... except for the rage." He lowered his gaze back to the floor, ashamed.
"Thinking about him made me wanna scream," he said; "It drove me nuts... so I stopped. Or tried to stop... It never really went away. I can still feel it... that rage... right here," he looked at her and pointed at his chest, tapping on it with his finger; "like it's gonna burst," he whispered in a pained voice, wincing; "but I can't let it because if it bursts out, then I'll lose whatever's left of my feelings for him and I... I'm not ready to do that yet."
"Why?" she asked. It was a simple question, and if he didn't stop to dwell on it too much, trying to figure out motive and overcome speculation, it had a very simple answer:
"Because I still love him," he said, casting his gaze down to the floor; "And I guess that's never going to change," Duo added gloomily and with a weary sigh, he reached for the coffee table to grab a pack of Winston Blue that has been lying there, along with a plain blue plastic lighter. He lit up a cigarette and threw the box back to the table. Taking a long drag, he tilted his head back and released smoke upwards in a long and miserable exhale before falling into a deep and frustrated silence.
Relena also had nothing more to say. She reached for the Jameson bottle resting on the floor between them and took a few careful sips. They sat in tense silence, together yet alone with their brooding thoughts.
Holding the bottle weakly in her grasp, Relena slowly leaned her head aside and rested it on Duo's shoulder, her cheek pressed against the rough khaki leather patch of Heero's jacket. Duo tensed, surprised, and turned his head down to look at her in wonder.
"You smell just like him," she whispered wistfully, closing her eyes and smiling sadly. "Just give me a minute..."
He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding his head and turning to face forward again. He resumed smoking, gawking mindlessly at the closed TV screen, while Relena nuzzled her face against his shoulder and leaned even closer against his warm body so she could bask in the comforting and familiar scents of leather, cigarettes and whiskey.
*     *     *
Violent winds gust by quickly, sweeping wildly past the tall Preventer building towering over Lower Manhattan. It was nighttime and the New York City skyline was filled with tall skyscrapers illuminated by glowing yellow patches of light. The dark skies were clear and a bone-cutting chill filled the crispy air. A glassy layer of black ice coated the balcony on Preventer FO's 52^nd floor. Down below, traffic crawled carefully down icy urban roads.
Heero stood on the thick concrete banister surrounding the large balcony; he was barefoot and naked, covered by a coarse gray blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He stood on the stone ledge, looking down at the busy road below while holding the blanket closed around his nude chest. Cold winds tousled his hair, his bangs swinging wildly before his eyes. The cold didn't bother him. He stared at the steady flow of traffic with desolate blue eyes.
A familiar figure was standing way down below. A young man stood at the center of the otherwise empty plaza spreading before the tall building, looking up at him while his long braid flapped wildly with the wind. Heero's eyes were drawn to the fierce defiance burning riotously in Duo's cobalt-blue eyes. He stared back dully, looking straight into his eyes even though they were over fifty floors apart. Duo glared back, his head tilted upwards and a spiteful, daring, expression was set on his hard and matured face. Heero wasn't looking at the teenage boy he had last seen in person, but at the adult whose picture he had seen in an L2PD file... a person he has yet to meet.
Instinctively, Heero's foot moved, about to step forward... off the ledge. He could see Duo bracing himself, his whole posture tensing. He suddenly realized that there was no proper footing beyond the ledge, and stopped. His eyes darted down to glance at his foot, still hovering above the abyss. He cocked his head aside, frowning, and simply stared at his bare foot as it hung above a fifty-story drop.
Down below, Duo was still looking up at him, daring him to take the plunge. Heero shifted his glance to meet his eyes again. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his foot back and placed it carefully on the ledge, steadying himself before he'd fall. Duo's expression turned even colder, angrier.
Feeling Duo's icy glare as though it was biting into his flesh, Heero drew the blanket closer. He held it tightly against his nude chest, trembling. He turned around slowly, clutching the wool blanket close.
Relena was standing on the balcony, just a few feet away. She was looking at him worriedly, a glisten of tormented tears shining in her bright-blue eyes. She reached an arm up, slowly, beckoning him to take her hand. She was also asking him to step off the ledge.
He cast his gaze down to the concrete floor, a mere fifty-inch drop below the banister. It was a safe decision, a harmless jump. He looked up again, meeting her sorrowful gaze. He could see the museum reflecting in her tearful blue eyes and he cringed, looking away from the tainted image of himself. The way she was looking at him has changed once again. All she would ever see in him now will be the handprints of those three men, those animals from the museum. All she could see now was the person he has become since that day; a man shaped, forged and broken by her most fatal mistakes... the source of her deepest, darkest, pain.
He turned away, facing forward again, and his eyes searched the wide plaza below until he spotted Duo. It was a dangerous fall, but manageable. After all, he had jumped off a fifty-story-high building before, with Duo by his side. He remembered how Relena had screamed his name out in panic from the Alliance Hospital No. 3 building's 50^th floor as he took that plunge without even opening his parachute. He could still hear her helpless shriek echo in the wind. She had jerked him into taking action and save his own miserable life. He had opened the chute, though a bit too late. He had crashed anyway, but survived the fall. Thus it began. His endless waltz between Duo and Relena started with a plunge, and so it shall also end. Everything died sooner or later. There were no more chains holding him to this life; Sloan has shattered all of them. He was ready to take the fall.
He swung his leg forward. Just a small step off of life's fragile little edge and it would finally be over...
"Don't," someone called quietly, and Heero stopped short in surprise, looking up. His foot still hovered above the abyss. He stared at it wretchedly, disappointed by his own lack of resolve. He looked up, searching for the speaker. His blank expression showed no hint of astonishment when he recognized the person who just stopped him.
He was an older man, around fifty plus, kind and pleasant-looking. His hair was rich and thick, its color a dark shade of gray with streaks of white here and there. He was dressed casually in plain blue jeans and a tacky red/white reindeer Christmas sweater, which gave him quite a homey and laidback appearance. He stood with both hands tucked into his jeans' pockets, observing Heero calmly; much too calmly considering he had just walked in on someone who was about to throw himself of the ledge of a fifty-story-high building. But then again, Dr. Donald Wright was never one who was easily fazed, not even when coming to get him off the roof of his apartment building back in DC on Christmas AC 203.
"Sit down, Heero," Dr. Wright requested coolly while keeping a safe distance. Heero didn't argue. He crouched down carefully and settled into a sitting position on the cold concrete ledge, facing the man and holding the blanket around himself while his bare legs dangled lifelessly a few inches above the balcony floor. He turned to look at Wright, his expression blank. The man observed him calmly.
"I left this part out of my SOAP report last year," he reminded Heero; "I agreed to keep this as our little secret... do you remember why?"
Heero nodded, bowing his head down shamefully. "I didn't want you to commit me..." he mumbled, gawking numbly at the concrete floor; "I promised it won't happen again..."
"And yet here we are," the man sighed disapprovingly. "I don't appreciate being forced into making a habit out of this," he reprimanded; "talking my patients out of jumping off rooftops every Christmas is not my idea of a holiday."
"This isn't really happening," Heero argued quietly, staring down at his bare feet; they were frozen cold. The cold was real.
"You're not really here," he repeated, looking up at Wright. "It's not real. I'm... I'm still tied to that chair... dreaming..."
"You're thinking about last Christmas," Wright pointed out; "You're thinking about the last time you tried to kill yourself – why?"
Heero shrugged helplessly, sighing. "I don't know..." he whispered, bowing his head down again.
"You want me to talk you out of taking that plunge," the doctor explained softly and Heero could suddenly feel Duo's harsh glare burning on his back. Duo was still down there, watching... waiting.
He nodded slowly, keeping his head bowed in disgrace. "I was drunk... I... I wasn't sure what I was doing." He sighed, turning to look at Wright. "You talked me out of it once... I need you to do it again."
Heaving a weary sigh, Wright took his hands out of his pockets and approached the banister on which Heero was sitting. He stood next to his young patient and leaned against the thick stone barrier, crossing his arms over his cheerful holiday sweater.
"That was different," he said; "Last time you called me so I'd talk you out of jumping off a real roof," he corrected sternly, sighing. "If this isn't real, then why won't you take the fall?"
"It is real..." Heero mumbled wretchedly, closing his eyes. He concentrated on the feeling of cold wind beating against his back. "This fall... it's always been real..."
"And just as alluring," Wright deduced; "Dangerous."
Heero nodded to confirm.
"You feel your life hangs in the balance," the doctor interpreted; "you've found yourself at the crossroad again, and that's why you're thinking about last year."
Again he nodded in agreement. Wright could always interpret what he thought and felt without him having to articulate every little hurt. It made it easier to open up to the man, to treatment. This man was the only reason he was still alive, still functional.
"Last time you chose change," Wright reminded him carefully; "You decided to put some distance between you and Relena and start over in New York. You chose to run away."
He nodded slowly, just a slight and hesitant movement of his head.
"It wasn't enough..." he mumbled ruefully and raised his head up to look at Relena, who was still standing a few feet away, waiting.
"She wouldn't let me go..." he added miserably, observing Relena with a sorrowful look in his eyes.
He couldn't look at her without thinking about the men at the museum. He couldn't look at her without thinking about the panic in her tearful eyes the night he had jerked awake from a fit of night terrors and found himself with his hands wrapped tightly around her neck, still squeezing, while she desperately tried to snap him out of his trance. He couldn't look at her without thinking of how she had cringed from his eager and aggressive sexual advances. She called him a caveman, smiling like it was funny and telling him that it was rather hot and sexy, but all he could think about was how she was comparing him to those apes at the museum. How could it be sexy if she felt that she had to stop him each time he took things too far? He couldn't look at her without recalling how she sometimes regretted allowing him into her bed; or the quiet disappointment in her eyes when she found out that he had turned to others to answer his destructive needs.
He couldn't look at her without thinking of Elizabeth either, without feeling the pain brewing in his heart and the shame festering in his soul. He couldn't look at her without feeling rage and resentment sizzle under his skin; irrational anger he felt towards her just because she had chosen to carry his child to term instead of saving them both the future heartache and terminating Lizzie's life before she was even born.
He couldn't look at her without thinking of a lost childhood and the premature loss of innocence – both his and Lizzie's. He couldn't look at her without feeling guilty for never being there, for saving a whole planet full of strangers yet failing his own flesh and blood by repeating the same sins his parents had committed against him.
He couldn't look at her without falling apart, without crumbling under the burden of guilt for the anguish he had caused her as she tried her best to make it up to him for all those sins and more. He couldn't look at her without breaking all over again. He couldn't look at Relena without loving her and hating her at that same time, so he looked away. He tilted his head back, turning to face the heavens, and fixed his solemn blue eyes on the starless black skies above.
He couldn't look at her anymore... but he couldn't look away either. He loved her so it hurt his soul, maybe because he hated her just the same. She had ruined him just as she had built him; he couldn't forgive her for that. He couldn't choose her... he couldn't.
Sighing, Heero leaned back, shifting his weight towards the abyss, but not enough to topple over. His fists curled tightly around the ledge, holding onto it or else he would fall. He refused to let go; he couldn't. The wild wind beat against his back, the gray wool blanket flailing around his naked body. He could still feel Duo's icy stare like daggers in his back.
What kind of person he will see reflecting in Duo's eyes, he wondered. Who will Duo see when he'll look at him? The teenage soldier he used to be, or the broken man he has become? Who did he want Duo to see? What version of himself did he wish to find in Duo's eyes once they were finally face to face – the strong, or the weak? The fake, or the real? Which one did he need to be so that Duo won't look away the moment their eyes met?
He leaned back even further, but his fists were still curled tightly around the banister's ledge to stop the fall, refusing to let go. He couldn't. He was afraid. What if all he would ever be was this broken version of himself? What if Duo looks away? What then?
"There's only one way to find out," Wright said.
But he was afraid to choose. He couldn't choose Duo either. What if it was the wrong choice? What then? What will be left of him then? What if he took the plunge and Duo won't be there to catch him?
He couldn't do it. He couldn't...
"No one is going to push you off this ledge, Heero," Dr. Wright reminded him softly; "It's entirely up to you."
He knew that. He's always known that it was up to him. Duo won't chase him. Duo won't come for him. No; Duo just waited. They were similar that way; both contrary and antagonistic. If chased, they dodged. If cornered, they lashed out. But if invited patiently, allowed to take their time and come on their own terms, they appeased. That was why Duo waited for him. That was why he never chased. Duo was waiting for him to come on his own terms instead of just bolting in senseless fright. It was the only way they'd both know it was genuine. It was the only way to make it real, but he didn't know what real was anymore. He didn't feel real. He was all undone; unraveled and disseminated so that he couldn't even recognize himself. And if Relena hadn't been able to put him back together again then who's to say that Duo could? Did he even want him to, or did he wish to start all over again, rebuilding himself from scratch? Why bother?
Heero sighed and closed his eyes, still facing the heavens.
For Relena? Why? So he could spend his life looking at a miserable image of himself?
For Duo? What for? So he could spend his life in endless banter, frustration and games of hide and seek, always second guessing himself?
So why should he bother? For what? Who?
His daughter? Why? She was lost to him; dead because of his negligence.
For a spiteful payback against his inadequate mother? Why? She never mattered, so why start now? There will be no satisfaction there.
For a defiant display of perseverance towards the men who had trained him and stole his humanity away? Why? What would that prove?! They were all dead! They wouldn't care if he persevered. He was just a tool... a plaything, a weapon. They never wanted him to be anything else, so why should they care if now he was?
It didn't matter. He wasn't getting off this ledge for them... not for any of them. He will make the choice for his own sake, for the death he had been promised. He will give his life for a choice no one would ever know he made. It was a safe jump... safer than any leap he had made before because death was a certainty. Redemption was finally at hand.
And so at long last, after all those years, Heero was ready to take the plunge. It was so much easier to choose when he knew that he won't be forced to live with the consequences; knowing that his decision didn't have to be accompanied by the necessary resolve it took to follow it through.
His legs trembled when he moved to stand, maneuvering carefully on the concrete ledge as he rose slowly, holding the blanket clasped against his naked chest. He wobbled for a moment before he managed to steady himself by spreading one arm to the side. He straighten up, his back rigid and his shoulders drawn back. He stood with his back turned towards the abyss. The balcony was dark. Dr. Wright was gone; Relena wasn't. She stood on the balcony, waiting, while Duo waited down below.
Heero clutched the coarse blanket closer, drawing strength from the only source of security he had left. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and prepared to jump.
A cold drop of water fell on his chin. It started raining; a freezing, sharp, drizzle pounded hard against the concrete balcony. Facing the sky, his eyes closed, Heero allowed the cool sprinkle to ease the heat pulsating in his cheeks. The rain washed over his flushed and feverish face. He opened his parched lips, welcoming the blessed wetness. Cold water trickled into his mouth, some dripping down his stubbly chin; dribbles of awareness that flurried his mind to life. Cool liquid slid down his throat, surprising him, and he coughed – choking and gurgling loudly. He swallowed, breath still panting, and opened his eyes.
A glass of water was served to his lips again, gently. He gulped the water down hungrily, spilling most of it, until the glass was pulled away from his gaping mouth. He moaned in protest, shaking his head weakly. It was not enough...
A light was switched on, pouring mercilessly from above. He grimaced and closed his eyes again, trying to escape the brutally bright assault. He wriggled his limbs feebly, writhing against the leather bonds holding him down to the reclined chair. He felt the coarse fabric of the blanket brush against his naked body. His restrained fists curled around the rough textile, desperately holding onto the cover.
He opened his eyes again, carefully. They were bloodshot and glassy. Black bags under his eyes made them appear as though they were sunken deeply into his skull. His gaunt face was terribly pale and clammy, glistening with beads of feverish sweat. Wired electrodes were still connected to his forehead. His hollow cheeks were covered with dark stubble and the skin on his chapped and wounded lips was peeling off.
He blinked until his pupils adjusted to the bright projector light raining from above and then slowly turned his head to the left, where Dr. Sloan usually stood. As expected, the man was there, watching him in mute and sickly fascination.
"Have you reached a decision?" the older man asked calmly.
Heero stared at him dully for a moment, trying to distinguish between dream and reality, before nodding his head.
"Yes..." he croaked faintly; "Are you going to kill me?" he asked almost pleadingly and Dr. Sloan smiled down at him; a morbidly pleasant smile.
"Once you choose," he promised and Heero nodded gratefully. He closed his eyes and turned his head the other way, licking his dampened lips, savoring the wetness. "Then I... I'm ready..."
"Where should I dump your body?" Sloan asked the question coolly, as though discussing something trivial; "Which one of them is going to find you?"
For a moment, Heero simply gawked mindlessly in the opposite direction, lost in thought. He blinked, slowly turning to face Sloan again.
"Put me by my daughter's grave," he murmured quietly.
"Does that mean you've chosen Relena?" Sloan raised a curious eyebrow.
Heero sighed and looked away, shaking his head weakly. "It means I want to be buried beside my daughter..." he mumbled mournfully; "I never... there's no will. I... I've never given any thought to my own burial... I just want her to know."
"Transporting a body across three states isn't easy," Sloan reproached, smirking. "Are you trying to get me caught?"
"You asked... I answered..." Heero mumbled resignedly; "What you do after I'm dead is out of my hands..."
"So if I just dump your body in the Hudson?"
"Then so be it."
Sloan smiled, pleased. "Interesting," he commented; "You've reverted back to indifference. Is that how you've always braced yourself for death?"
"There's no point fussing over the inventible."
"True," Sloan agreed; "Your detachment is commendable. I didn't think you still had it in you after this past week."
Heero sighed and turned his head the other way. "Everything is just so... clear now..." he mumbled dazedly.
"And that comforts you," Sloan deduced; "Soothes you."
Heero didn't comment. He was tired of speaking to this man. He's already said so much... The man has wringed every last word out of him, except for one – a name, a choice... a final resolution.
"So tell me, Heero," Sloan urged gently, almost as casually as if he was about to inquire about the weather. "Who should we call?"
Heero's eyes snapped wide open and darted in Sloan's direction.
"...call?" he rasped fearfully, his expression turning wretched as realization hit him. "No..." he whispered, horrified, and began shaking his head repeatedly. "No calls... no more... calls... no more talking... no more... calls..."
"Heero," Sloan reprimanded like he was speaking to a disobedient child, "you know very well that this is how it works. You choose and I make the call so you can say goodbye. They have to know. Only then you'll be worthy of redemption. We've been through this many times."
"No..." he moaned weakly, still shaking his head in useless resistance. "I'll walk you through it... my choice... I'll tell you why... tell you everything, but... I... I won't call... I won't tell them... I can't... no..."
Sloan was scowling angrily now. He yanked the blanket away swiftly and Heero gasped, startled.
"No!" he cried out, hysteric now that his only source of security was gone and he remained laid completely bare in front of his torturer. A stampede of images assaulted him, trampling over him in a violent rush: His stepfather took away his favorite toy just to see if he would cry. A fire took his mother away. His stepfather was soon to join her. A shot to the chest took Odin away. Dr. J took Mary away. Dekim Barton took his humanity away. The sound of J's claw took his free will away. Retraining took the rest of his mind away. Duo took his heart away. The war took his soul away. Three men took his dignity, his masculinity, away. The DC Incident took his sanity away. Relena's negligence took Elizabeth away. His own gun took his daughter's life away. He too had thrown away Lizzie's favorite toy – her pink bunny doll – when he moved to New York, thus completing the cycle. Everything was taken away; every little piece of him stripped off and thrown to the dogs. There was nothing left... nothing! He had nothing left!!!
"Give it back!" he begged, sobbing loudly; "Please... Sloan... Give it back! Give it back... please... GIVE IT BACK!"
"I will once you make that call," Sloan said coldly.
"No..." Heero cried hopelessly; "I... I can't... Don't make me... don't make me hurt them before I die... give me that... just that one last thing... please... please don't make me hurt them... give me that at least... please... don't take it away... give it back... please... give me something back... just one thing... please... please... give it back... please!"
"Tell me who I should call."
"No!" he shouted, suddenly bold, angry. He thrashed wildly in his bonds, livid and distraught, naked muscles stretching beyond their limit yet still fighting to break free, driven by hopeless desperation. He was sick of the torture. He couldn't take it anymore!
"I won't tell you!" he snapped, screaming madly; "I won't choose! I won't say it! Not one more word! I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY TO YOU SLOAN! NOTHING! I'll DIE before I tell you! I'll die and you'll NEVER know! Never! All of this will be for nothing! NOTHING! You'll get nothing more from me! Just like always – nothing! NOTHING! You sick fuck – you get NOTHING!"
Dr. Sloan didn't let the mad shouting get his goat. He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"I was hoping it won't have to come to this," he muttered, dissatisfied, as he pulled the medical supply cart closer and reached for one of the lower compartments. Heero watched him mutely, panting harshly through clenched teeth. His nude chest heaved hurriedly up and down with short, panicked breaths. ECT electrodes were still plastered over his pale and scarred torso, the wires stretching as his chest moved in a frantic rhythm.
"You've obviously lost your mind," Dr. Sloan determined while bending down to retrieve an instrument's tray from the lower shelf. He placed it next to the one already resting on the supply cart. The new tray was covered with a piece of green cloth. Heero's eyes darted towards it anxiously.
"TR can do that sometimes," Sloan mumbled thoughtfully, sighing. "Maybe I've gone too far. Too much trauma in too few sessions," he deduced as he unclothed the tray, revealing three glimmering surgical scalpels, the dildo vibrator he had used before and a manual-hand-mixer-like tool with a rotary handle and gear, only instead of an egg beater, the tool had a small metal claw at the tip.
"There's no reasoning with you anymore..." the doctor concluded sadly and snatched a pair of latex gloves out of a box also resting on the cart. He put them on, snapping the rubber band around his wrists. He turned to Heero, scowling at him with stern, disappointed, eyes.
"Chances are that you won't succumb to physical torture," he said as he turned to prepare another injection of Magic, testing the syringe before administering the shot; "but I just don't know what else to do with you, Heero..." he sighed and injected the drug straight into Heero's arm this time. The young man offered little resistance; all he could manage was shrugging his shoulder ever so slightly in a useless attempt to avoid the needle plunging into his arm. Fed directly into his vein instead of the IV fluids, the drug spread rapidly through his system, taking immediate effect. Reality slowly blended into a hazy dream; time and place gradually losing significance.
Dr. Sloan placed the empty syringe back on the tray and picked up the rotary-geared claw. Turning to face Heero, he began rotating the gear, opening the claw slowly. It creaked, and Heero's eyes widened, before snapping shut. His whole body tensed. He clenched his eyes shut tightly in a useless effort to block out the sound.
Sloan continued rotating the lever, opening and closing the small metal claw, thus creating a persistent rhythm of the metallic creaking sound.
Heero bit down hard on his lower lip, drawing blood. He squeezed his eyes even tighter, shaking his head in useless denial. The sound drowned him nonetheless, overwhelming his sense of self. He was unable to block it out. It pulled him under, erasing who he was. Tears gathered behind his closed eyes. He was losing himself... drowning. He fought to resurface for air, but the sound was resilient...
"I need you to tell me about your choice," the doctor commanded coldly. It was Dr. J speaking... commanding... only it wasn't. It was Sloan, he reminded himself. It was just Sloan. He never talked to Sloan... never told him anything... never willingly... He was right not to trust him, but what difference did it make now? Sloan has already won. He mustn't give him the satisfaction of getting this one last thing out of him. He had to fight... resist... resist the claw... just ignore it... ignore it...
TELL ME, the Voice commanded.
"No..." Heero groaned through clenched teeth, shaking his head helplessly from side to side. It was Sloan. Not J. Not J... He didn't have to obey... Resist the claw... resist! Tears poured down his pale and stubbly cheeks. He couldn't! There wasn't enough of him left... nothing solid enough to fight, to resist.
J told him to shoot so he did. Five men dropped to the floor with each shot and he didn't even blink. He watched them burn, cremated... but one of them was still alive. J told him to keep looking – to never again avert his eyes – and he never did. Men went down screaming all around him, but he didn't even blink. Sometimes he'd laugh – a strange and manic laughter would fill his ears inside the cockpit and he would realize that he was the one laughing. He laughed because he could never cry, and he had to let the terrible feeling out somehow while being forced to listen to them scream over the open com as they were incinerated inside a burning cockpit. So many of them dead... burnt alive, just like the man in the crematorium... just because J had said so; and if J said something, he did it. Resistance was futile...
TELL ME, the Voice repeated harshly; WHO SHOULD WE CALL?
"F-fuck... you..." he hissed, panting, fighting to keep sane and remind himself that it wasn't J talking. It was the Voice— it was Sloan. He will resist him for as long as he possibly could. He refused to go down like this – He won't! Not again. He will not lose himself again, not to this man. He had to save what little of him was left... He had to preserve it long enough to die without giving the Voice what it wanted...
But then Sloan switched the ECT machine on, and Heero was suddenly too overwhelmed with pain to resist the pull. He went down thrashing and screaming.
*     *     *
"Urgh!" Relena groaned loudly as she was thrust against a wall, naked flesh and plaster colliding with a meaty 'smack!' She had just been thrown against the headboard wall in Heero's bedroom, shirtless and panting, her black-lace bra heaving up and down with each rapid breath. The bed had a thick wooden frame; the headboard's ledge was just wide enough to sit on. She sat there, pressed against the wall, watching her partner with lust-clouded eyes.
The mattress creaked when Duo stepped closer, walking towards her on the bed until he had her pinned between his hard body and the wall. He was fully clothed in black, still wearing Heero's Preventer jacket, and holding Relena's lavender sweater clutched in his fist. A drunken shine gleamed in his lusty cobalt blue eyes. He let the garment drop onto the bed, grabbed Relena's arms by her wrists and held them stretched up above her head, pinned to the wall. He forced her legs open with one knee and she welcomed him by resting the soles of her feet on the headboard, spreading her legs widely. Liquor flushed her cheeks red and shameless lust ran small tremors through her heated body.
It had started out innocently enough; just a meaningless make-out session between two drunk and heartbroken people trying to connect, to ease their shared anxiety and pain. The Jameson took over, allowing her to forget that the heady combination of cologne, leather, cigarettes and the scent of whisky engulfing her didn't belong to a substitute for love. If she closed her eyes, she didn't have to acknowledge that she was with Duo, she could just picture herself with Heero...
He stood towering over her, his strong presence as solid, powerful and demanding as Heero's. She trembled all over, hungry for touch, heat... for the fierce passion she knew so well. Her breasts heaved heavily up and down with needy, panting, breath. He tore off her bra, throwing it aside. His callous hands cupped her swollen bosoms, massaging ruthlessly. His fingers pinched her erect nipples, twisting until it hurt. She gasped loudly, tilting her head back against the wall, her face contracting in pain/pleasure.
"He does that..." she whispered, smiling wistfully and keeping her eyes closed so she won't lose the fantasy.
"I know..." Duo's lust-heavy voice rasped back; she could hear him fumbling with his belt and zipper. He leaned down towards her, supporting himself against the wall. The heat and familiar scents of his body engulfed her, chasing reality away once more. She wrapped her legs around him, welcoming his hard manhood while thinking of another's.
He fucked her mercilessly, pounding her into the wall. The headboard banged loudly with each of his violet thrusts. He had her arms pinned over her head again – in complete control. Total dominance, just the way Heero liked it. She loved every minute of it even though she never did. It was so familiar, so much like him... and she missed him so much.
Tears gathered behind her closed eyes while a rumbling orgasm gradually built-up between her legs. She kept her eyes closed tightly, panting through gaping lips and allowed Duo to bring her over the edge. When rapture washed over her, she came calling out Heero's name.
*     *     *
Sloan slammed the vibrator into him roughly, and Heero screamed, throwing his head aside wildly. His legs were propped up on the stirrups again, forced wide open and restrained. His nude body was marred with thin and bleeding cuts. The surgical scar running from the bottom of his neck and down to his navel had been sliced open; a thick bloody gash marring his torso at the center. Blood sheeted down the sides of his naked body, soaking the reclined chair. The ECT electrodes on his chest were drenched with blood, but no longer pumping voltage into his mutilated body. His fingers were broken, resting in odd and unnatural angles against the chair; each one has been crushed by the rotary claw. The leather bonds around his wrists were also caked with clotted blood; the delicate flesh around each wrist raw and bleeding after countless useless attempts to break free. His hair was drenched with sweat, long bangs plastered over his pale and bristly face. His facial features were the only patch of skin that wasn't cut or bleeding, though they were tortured nonetheless, set in an anguished and grimacing expression.
"S-stop..." he begged, sobbing the word out in despair while Sloan fucked him ruthlessly with the vibrator. Reality was fading away... It was getting harder and harder to remind himself that he wasn't back in the hands of those three brutes at the museum. He could feel their filthy hands creeping out of the Shadows, advancing towards him... ready to pull him under and drag him back into the darkness where they will have their way with him once more...
"No..." he pleaded, weeping hysterically; "P-please... Stop... Don't... don't take me back there... not again... stop..."
"Not until you agree to make that call," Sloan grunted irately, thrusting the vibrator faster. Heero whimpered, shaking his head miserably.
"I won't... I won't..." he rasped over and over. The Shadows were all over him now, their slimy hands slithering over his abused flesh. They plunged him into the nightmare, shoving his head down under dark waters. He gasped for air, but it was too late. The apes ganged up on him, squealing madly. They grabbed him by his ankles, pulling him towards their lair. He tried to crawl away, squirming on the ground like a pitiable worm, but they were too strong. He clawed at the floor with his fingers in a futile attempt to resist being dragged into hell. His fingernails cracked and broke, leaving ten bloody trails of desperation on the floor. The apes squealed and hollered in delight once they had him in their filthy pit. Darkness swallowed him whole. His clothes were ripped off his body. He was tugged and pulled by feral arms. They were going to devour him...
"No!" he sobbed in despair; "No... No... Please – NOOO!!!"
*     *     *
"Aww... YESSS!!!"
She came once, sobbing out Heero's name, but Duo wasn't done. He threw her onto the bed and she landed on her hands and knees, still shaking from a powerful orgasm, yet so terribly hot for more. The mattress yielded under his weight as he walked past her and jumped off the bed. He grabbed her by her hips and yanked her closer to the edge of the bed where he stood, ready to sheath himself inside her once more. She remained on all fours while he stood behind her, just tall enough, and thrust in deep. She groaned in ecstasy as his thick manhood filled her aching need. He fucked her like a bitch, thrusting mercilessly and with unbelievable stamina. His crushing grip dug into her hipbones, mixing pleasure and pain. He was going to make her come again, but she won't let him; not yet.
She pulled away and he grunted, disappointed. She turned around slowly, still on her hands and knees, so that she was facing his screaming-red manhood. She took him into her mouth and he let out a low, rumbling groan. She smirked and reached one hand up to cup his balls, massaging gently. She sucked him off just the way he liked it... the way Heero liked it. Duo seemed to recognize the moves; perhaps Heero liked to give it the same way he liked to receive it, she thought dimly. She felt like she had a lot to prove; she was determined to outdo herself. She made him come by the skill of her tongue and he exploded with a shuddering orgasm, shooting his seed into her mouth while rasping a breathless "Jesus..."
She pulled back, finally opening her eyes, smirking. She looked up at him, using the back of her hand to wipe the dripping cum and saliva from her mouth and chin. Duo snarled at her; he had a score to settle.
He shoved her by the shoulders and she landed flat on her backside, legs dangling off the bed. He knelt between her legs, pushing them open, and leaned his head in. She closed her eyes, throwing an arm over them, her mouth gaping open breathlessly as his hot wet tongue slipped carefully between her legs. She struggled to summon back the fantasy she had held onto before, but nothing about the way he went down on her reminded her of Heero. Duo didn't know her as well as Heero did; it wasn't the same. Her mind started drifting.
She realized that they forgot to use a condom and wondered if there were any left in Heero's nightstand. She used to have this bad habit of counting how many were left in the package each time she dropped by, curious to know if he was still sleeping around like had done in DC. She knew of his nightly conquests; he never bothered hiding traces of the many women who had spent the night in his bedroom. It wasn't surprising; after all, she was not the only one who found him utterly irresistible. The power and confidence he radiated, the sheer resolve in his intense blue eyes when he approached with sex in mind, were overwhelming. He didn't even have to make an effort. He could just sit there and women will be drawn to him like months to a flame. He probably had to beat them off with a stick. And if he was the one to make the move, there was just no saying 'no' to him, although he never forced the issue if one did refuse his straight-forward advances, as she had done many times before, eventually driving him off to seek the company of others.
It got harder keeping track of his one-night-stands once he moved to New York. She would search his nightstand every chance she got and she would always find the same brand of condoms, allegedly the same pack, because the number of condoms left inside was always consistent with the number of visits she had paid to his apartment. Either he was done searching for sex with no strings attached, or he knew she was looking and kept that pack just to ease her mind. In any case, after a while, she stopped keeping count. It has been a long time since they slept together anyway... since August, was it?
Yes, she remembered. It was a hot and muggy summer day and Heero was all sweaty under his black business suit when he met her in City Hall Park, a short walk from Preventer HQ. Back then he had been working as an A-SAC in Cyber and therefore was required to wear a suit. His unruly bangs were plastered over his damp forehead and he wiped them aside when he noticed her approach, trying to appear presentable, which was flattering. It was a spontaneous get-together, for she hadn't planned on being in New York that month, and meeting for coffee before jumping into bed together made their short encounter feel less like a booty-call and more like a reunion between old friends. By the afternoon hours, they ended up in his bedroom anyway, but at least they gave each other the courtesy of some small talk first.
The sex was hot and steamy, just like the burdensome weather. The smell of salty sweat was in the air. She loved the stench of his sweat. They didn't even make it to the bed and wound up on the floor right next to it – Heero on top, pinning her beneath him. She recalled how he had suddenly ceased his fervent advances and paused to gawk anxiously at the nightstand as though he had just realized he had dispatched for battle without carrying any ammo. He flung a hand towards the drawer and she stopped him, panting heavily and shaking her head. "It's okay," she rasped; "we're safe..." she assured him, knowing exactly what kind of mistake he feared to repeat, but trying not to let it bother her; "I just want to feel you..." she moaned and pulled him back down. He debated the issue for a second more before giving up on protection and diving back in, eager to oblige her request.
Heero was fierce, like fire. He went all caveman on her and for once she didn't mind his primal zeal. He wanted her badly and after over two months apart, she was so unbelievingly hot for him too, no matter how ferocious were his moves. His desperation was rather gratifying; she hoped it meant that he was no longer exorcising his demons on other partners.
She struggled to recapture that heat, running images in her head, trying to recall all those nights of unbridled passion spent in Heero's bed. She held onto those memories firmly, calling back the heat until it erupted from her body with a shuddering groan.
*     *     *
Sloan plucked the vibrator out with an audible wet 'pop!'
Heero whimpered in relief. His insides throbbed, but at least he was finally empty. He could breathe again without shrilling out pitiable pleas.
The apes retreated, leaving his mangled body on the filthy floor. Everything hurt so badly. He couldn't distinguish between one ache to another, but that was okay as long as he remained empty...
The reprieve was short lived, because soon a new pain flared to life, incinerating him from the inside-out. The ECT machine whirred loudly and his whole body tensed, arching off the chair.
Sloan injected him with another dose of Magic. It burnt in his veins like a toxic waste. He was burning, consumed by acid flames. Just like the man he was forced to shoot and then throw into the crematorium – he was being burnt alive!!!
"NO!" Heero shrieked in panic, sobbing hysterically; "I didn't know he was still alive! I didn't know!" he howled mournfully, wailing like the child that he was while witnessing the flames devoured that miserable moaning man...
"I didn't know! I didn't know! I'm sorry! I didn't know!!!"
He could smell charred flesh again... that stench that never left his nose, only this time it was his own. The pain intensified. The fire seethed through his mangled body; sweltering heat blistered his skin, scorching his insides. There was no mouth-guard to protect him this time and he bit his tongue, immediately tasting copper. Blood gushed down his unshaven chin, dripping from the corners of his trembling lips. There was blood everywhere. And fire... a battlefield flooded with the agonized cries of the pilots he had slaughtered. They were being incinerated alive inside their cockpits. He could hear them scream. They were all shrieking at once, their horrified shrills echoing in his head. Those cries will always be there; an eternal testimony of the suffering he had caused. He was so sorry... He was so – so! – sorry!
Hopeless tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the blood. He gasped loudly for air, drowning in his own blood. It trickled down his throat, suffocating him. He gurgled sickly, fighting to breathe. A broken sob tore from his bloody lips. He wailed in despair, crumbling to smithereens. He wanted this torture to end... he wanted the screaming to stop, for his victims to finally leave him alone... to be quiet. He had no idea that the desperate howling was in fact his own:
"Stop!" he begged, sobbing and coughing out blood; "Please! Please stop! I'll talk! I'll choose! Please! Please stop! I'll tell you! I'll call! Please... just stop... Please – STOP!!!"
*     *     *
"Oh God! Don't stop! Don't stop! Oh God... Don't stop!" Relena moaned and gasped. Her fists gripped the bedcovers tightly. She thrashed beneath Duo, legs thrown up in the air as he fucked her thoroughly.
"Fuck, woman, you're insatiable!" he grunted, thrusting wildly.
The bed banged stridently against the wall. The mattress creaked noisily. The sounds mixed with her loud groaning and Duo's huffing grunts. The racket drowned out everything else, including the sound of Relena's cellphone which was tucked into her jeans, lying on the floor. So caught up in their attempt to escape the burden of reality, neither of them heard it and therefore they were not aware of the three missed calls registering on the smartphone screen, all of them logged under 'Heero'.
And since Duo had deliberately left his cellphone in the sink of his hotel bathroom, there was no way he could have known that it was currently ringing, and that the caller ID also read 'Heero'. Three attempts were made to call him, before Duo's phone also fell silent, the screen went dark and only a small beeping light signaled the missed calls.
*     *     *
Dr. Sloan released an irked sigh and disconnected the call. He put Heero's smartphone down, scowling angrily.
"He's not answering either," he told Heero, who was convulsing wildly on the chair, electrocuted. The young man's nude body was littered with bloody cuts, his flesh maimed by surgical knives. Fresh blood and saliva sheeted down his bristly chin and his lips were badly injured after he had bitten them in the midst of a violent seizure. He was barely conscious, but electric currents forced his eyes to remain wide open. He was looking at Sloan through tear-bleary eyes; tears streaked his hollow cheeks while he begged silently for the redemption he had been promised.
The doctor glared down at him accusingly.
"You're going to have to leave a message," he said snappily, preparing another shot of Magic. Heero whimpered weakly, closing his eyes and the needle plunged into his bloodied arm once more.
*     *     *
Duo pulled away and Relena slumped against the bed with a tired, satiated whimper. He sat up, turning his back to her as he settled on the edge of Heero's bed, his naked legs dangling to the floor and a blanket pooled around his naked waist. Relena rolled over, grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to her neck, hiding her nakedness. Duo reached for his cigarettes, resting on the nightstand. He lit one up and took a quick, nervous, drag. Relena lay behind him, the blanket drawn up to her neck as she stared at the ceiling in guilty silence. Her eyes spotted a stain on the ceiling, one that vaguely resembled a winged figure. She stared at it dully, a miserable shine in her blue eyes. What have they done?
Duo inhaled deeply and released a despondent sigh. "You're the second girl I've ever slept with..." he mumbled dully and took another puff on his smoke while staring miserably down at the floor. Relena kept her gaze fixed on the abstract figure on the ceiling.
"How'd I do then?" she whispered.
"I'm still gay, if that's what you mean," Duo grunted and she let out a short, bitter, snicker.
"I never thought otherwise," she scoffed.
Duo hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands, holding the cigarette between two fingers. "God..." he groaned into his hands, feeling awful; "This is fucked up."
"It didn't mean anything," Relena hurried to say. She closed her eyes sadly. "We miss him, that's all. It was the Jameson..."
"Yeah..." Duo sighed and straightened back up, running his free hand through his shoulder-length hair. "Sure. We'll go with that..." he finished with another sigh and stood up, taking a drag on his smoke. He grabbed his clothes and shoes off the floor, leaving Heero's Preventer jacket behind, and left the bedroom without another word. He walked into the bathroom.
After taking one last drag on his cigarette, he threw it into the toilet and relieved himself, watching numbly as the dark-yellow urine drowned the floating cigarette; black ashes stained the water around it. He gawked at the filth miserably, unable to shake off the terrible feeling brewing in his chest. No matter how drunk and desperate, he never should have fucked her. She was Heero's girl! What the Hell were they thinking?!
Angry, Duo hit the flush handle and then got dressed, slipping back into his black sweater and jeans. Next he turned to the vanity in search for some painkillers to ease the terrible headache forming between his temples. He searched the small cabinet until he found a drawer full of prescription bottles and rummaged through them one by one. Most of them contained psychiatric medication; SSRI scripts prescribed to Heero by Dr. Sloan. There were also a few over-the-counter drugs, mostly cold and migraine medicine, along with generic pain relievers. He chose a brand he recognized, popped one tablet out of the pack and gulped it down dry, tilting his head back as he swallowed.
He slammed the drawer shut and opened the faucet. Leaning over the sink, he splashed some water on his face and then applied some to his choppy hair, raking it back with his fingers. He straightened up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit: his face pale, bags under his eyes and his wet hair spiking behind his ears. The improvised haircut needed some tweaking, but that should be the last thing on his mind right now; the first should definitely be coffee. He needed coffee.
He put his shoes back on and opened the bathroom door. He immediately bumped into Relena. The young woman had just stepped out of the bedroom. She was holding a blanket wrapped around her nude body. He tried to move out of the way, but then she tried to do the same and they ended up blocking each other's path again. They stopped, looking at each other awkwardly.
"Coffee?" Duo asked uneasily, casting his gaze down to avoid her eyes. God... he never should have fucked her... and on Heero's bed too!
"Shower first," she murmured, also uncomfortable; she was thinking the same thing. They were going to Hell for this.
Duo nodded, stepping aside. She walked into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind her, while he headed to the kitchen.
He filled the electric kettle and waited for the water to boil, tapping his fingers restlessly on the countertop. He regretted leaving his smokes back in the bedroom and then he remembered the Skittles drawer. He pulled it open and reached deep inside, his fingers searching blindly behind the piles of open Skittles packets until they encountered the familiar feel of a cigarette box. Duo smiled, just a small and sad tug upwards of his lips, and retrieved a pack of Winston Blue. He used the stove burner to light up a cigarette and then leaned against the countertop, smoking.
Bored, he scanned the small kitchen, running his eyes over the counter. He spotted the three prescription bottles Heero had left by the sink. He picked one up, the cigarette in his other hand, and scanned over the label just to pass the time. It was an MAOI prescription, used to treat depression and social anxiety; he was familiar with the brand because he had researched such medication back when he still thought he needed it to get back to work after Joe died.
Slowly bringing the cigarette up to his lips, he took a thoughtful puff, frowning. He held the burning butt pressed between his lips and reached his free hand towards the other two bottles. His eyes skimmed over the prescription labels hastily and a wary scowl formed on his harsh face.
"This can't be right..." he muttered with the cigarette between his lips and then spat it out, throwing it into the sink. He raised both hands up, looking carefully at all three bottles, just to make sure his hung-over mind wasn't playing tricks on him. One bottle was the MAOI prescription; the second was a popular brand of antianxiety medication and the third was the same SSRI script he'd seen in the bathroom vanity, only in a higher dosage. Those should not be mixed – right?
He was no doctor, but he clearly recalled the fuss Dr. Gavin had made when he asked her from some antianxiety meds after Joe died. She claimed that she couldn't, because he was already prescribed with SSRIs and there was absolute contraindication in combination of SSRI and MAOI scripts, not to mention a severe to fatal physical effects, as well as substantial cognitive effects, when combining them with anxiolytic medication to treat anxiety. He had begged her for the damn drugs so he could go back to work as a semi-normal and somewhat-functional person, assuring her again and again that he wasn't using the damn SSRIs, and still she refused. She said that no psychiatrist in their right mind would prescribe such a dangerous – potentially lethal – combination based on mere assurances of a clearly disturbed patient. For all she knew he could be doing drugs again – which he was – and she would never risk it.
The water in the kettle reached the boiling point, bubbling loudly.
Duo slammed the bottles back on the counter.
Heero had been drugged; deliberately over-dosed on psychiatric medication. No wonder he wasn't himself. The symptoms Shaw had described suddenly made perfect sense: clumsiness, drowsiness, forgetfulness and poor judgment... even his inability to quit smoking – those could all be blamed on this wrongful combination of drugs. Duo could only reach one conclusion: someone was trying to get Heero to OD on those damn pills... He's been poisoned by Sloan!
"Jesus— FUCK!" Duo exclaimed furiously and punched the countertop. He shoved the MAOI and SSRI bottles into his pocket – the first solid piece of evidence in this whole damn case – and, moving hastily, he dashed towards the fridge and reached up to grab the gun Heero had forgotten there. He shoved it into his waistband and ran out of the kitchen.
In the sink, the cigarette burnt out, raising a last column of smoke.
Car-keys jingled loudly as they were snatched in haste.
Duo left the apartment in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. The small residence remained silent, aside for the faint sound of running water; Relena was still in the shower.
On the bedroom floor, her smartphone beeped to announce that a voice message has been received.
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