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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 16: RP
His fingers twitched, searching for the blanket, but instead of wool they encountered skin. Nerves slowly came to life, sending his brain a message of what they felt: someone was holding his hand. It was the first solid feeling to really register within the haze of sensations swirling lazily around his arousing mind, because it was so unusual: soft velvet skin against his callous and dry tissue, long slim fingers wrapped around his broken and aching digits... A woman's hand, his brain supplied.
He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite match a face to the memorable fragrance. He tried to open his eyes, wishing to see who was the mystery woman holding his hand?
Waking up completely was a difficult task; even more than usual. At least a ton of weights was holding him down, refusing to let him rise to the surface. He ordered his eyelids to open. They throbbed and fluttered as they lifted; he imagined them groaning under the strain. Harsh light poured into his sore eyes. His breath hitched fearfully and he snapped them shut again. Light meant pain. It meant that his torturer was still there, waiting with another series of prying questions... wishing to pick on whatever was left of his soul like vultures descending onto a rotting cadaver. He moaned and turned his head away from the cruel white light.
The hand holding his tightened its grasp.
"Heero?" a female voice spoke softly; "are you awake?"
The question was simple, harmless. It wasn't the Voice speaking, trying to drill into his soul and pluck it out. No, this voice was familiar... safe?
Still fuzzy, he reopened his eyes and turned towards it carefully. His vision was blurry. He blinked, trying to focus on the woman sitting next to his bed. Relena..? He wondered dimly. She didn't leave him? Even after what he had confessed?
He blinked again. His vision gradually adjusted to the light, clearing. He stared at the woman, gaping meekly at her white and freckled face. No, not Relena, he realized sadly. Relena wasn't there, his muddled mind surmised. This was the first time in years that he woke up in a hospital and she wasn't by his side. His heart shuddered dreadfully. She left him, didn't she? She left him because the Voice was right... about everything.
The young woman sitting by his bed, looking at him worriedly, was Agent Shaw. The redheaded agent was wearing her Preventer uniform. Her red hair was braided into a slim plait resting over her shoulder. Heero gaped at it drearily. His mind buzzed. Something was wrong. The braid was just wrong; out of place. Where was Duo? He had been there, right? Or was it just another dream? Is this a dream? Was he safe, or was he still tied down to that chair, dreaming?
No, not a dream, he decided. He never would have dreamt about Shaw.
Glancing up warily, his eyes met Shaw's bright green gaze. She smiled at him softly; a small, friendly gesture to hide her discomfort. He studied her pale pink lips until his vision blurred. He recalled trying to kiss her and a wave of dizziness assaulted him, making him feel nauseated. He closed his eyes, feeling faint, and only opened them again when heard her voice speak to him:
"Hey there, partner," Merida greeted, letting go of his hand. "Welcome to AC 205," she opened with a small joke, smiling nervously.
Heero blinked a few times until his eyes focused on her. He stared at her blankly until his eyes glazed over. Shaw's smile slowly faded, vanquished by the heavy tension hanging in the air. She sighed and leaned back into her seat, allowing her eyes to wander while she tried to think of what to say next. She studied the monitor above his bed; it was registering a slow heartbeat.
She cleared her throat awkwardly and turned to face him again. "I, uh... Your doctor said they'll be waking you up today," she explained her presence, even though there was no question in his eyes. There was nothing in his eyes.
"So I stopped by on the way to work," she added, casting her gaze down, afraid he might mistake her compassion for pity. There was no reaction. Heero didn't say anything, he just... stared. His silence was not unusual and yet, severely disturbing. It was a thick, unbearable silence. He studied her quietly, no light in his Prussian blue eyes. The fierce fire she was so used to seeing in her partner's eyes had been tamed. It was as if he wasn't even there. Heero's bleary blue eyes were fixed on a vague, distant point beyond her. His features were pale, his expression bland.
His hair, usually a rich and lively chocolate-brown mane, hung lifelessly from his head, flat bangs obscuring his eyes and forehead. White morning light washed over his gaunt face, emphasizing its hollow and sunken appearance. He had been starved.
His lips were split; healing scabs tarnishing pale pink skin. Bruises marred his handsome face, as well as his bony wrists – welts. He had fought against his bonds.
Cuts blemished every visible patch of his whitish skin, the largest one peeking under his patient scrubs – a thick red gash slicing him from the throat down. He had been tortured with a knife.
Six of his fingers on both hands, three on his right and three on his left, were held in splints. They had been broken, the joints yanked brutally out of place. Merida's gaze lingered to the abused digits, her gut convulsing sickly. She tried not to wince and looked up, contemplating whether or not she should reach for Heero's hand again, to pull him out of his trance. His meek staring was very unnerving.
"I uh... I brought you something," she mumbled nervously and reached into her jacket pocket. She pulled out a small green pack of Skittles and presented to him with a soft smile. Heero didn't even turn to look at it; his gaze seemed far away.
"Since they probably won't let you smoke in here..." she attempted a joke, though her voice wavered. She released a nervous chuckle and placed the Skittles on the nightstand by the bed. She turned to him again, but he was still looking straight past her. She sighed, dejected.
A sudden noise came from the corridor just outside the door. Heero blinked and his eyes darted towards it. Someone walked by, talking loudly. A cart rattled as it was pushed and then silence fell again. He stared at the door for a moment longer, before casting his gaze down. Merida's heart cringed with a pang of sympathy. He was waiting for someone to come...
"They uh... left," she mumbled, staring at the floor for she couldn't bear looking him in the eye for this. "Senator Darlian left the night you were rescued and..." She dared looking up again, her green eyes shining with compassion. "Duo left the next day," she finished quietly, sighing. "I don't know why..." she added helplessly, "I'm so sorry, Heero. I don't think they're coming back."
He turned to look at her, moving his head sluggishly. His pale, unshaven features were completely expressionless. The blankness was ten times more unsettling than his usually fierce glare. He just lay there silently, accepting the news of their abandonment. The sight was gut-wrenching. Shaw shifted her weight from side to side, uncomfortable.
"You've been unconscious for a week," she decided to update him; she had to keep talking or else she'd surrender to the burning feeling that kept nagging her to bolt out of the room. "The doctors kept you under so you won't have to suffer through withdrawal..." She cast her eyes down uneasily; she felt bad for mentioning the torture he had endured. "You've been drugged for so long that your body became addicted to it," she added quietly and dared looking up, meeting his numb blue eyes.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked sympathetically, reaching for his hand again. It was cold and limp. "Should I get a doctor? They could probably fill you in better than I can... There's also this thing about your heart... should I get someone?"
Heero gave no response. He just... stared. His hand felt completely lifeless in her grasp. She let go and it fell back against the bed. She leaned back into her seat, smiling awkwardly. She felt that she should say something more, anything, but what did one say to a man who's been through Hell and back only to find out that he's been abandoned by the only two people he seemed to care about?
"I can't really stay long..." Merida mumbled apologetically, and only then it occurred to her that that was the wrong thing to say. The exact opposite of what she should have said.
She strained to offer a remorseful smile.
"It's been kind of crazy lately," she tried to explain; "IA has been all over us ever since we figured it was... well..." she stopped and studied his face carefully for a reaction, but there was none. Heero was simply laying there, his head turned towards her, but his eyes gazing numbly into the distance.
She cleared her throat again. "Anyway," she continued; "I won't bore you with the details."
Heero shifted his desolate gaze to the ceiling. He studied it mutely. She felt compelled to look up as well and noted that he was staring at a large stain on the ceiling, directly above his bed. It was just a big brown blob, which apparently was more interesting than her at the moment. She sighed and lowered her head down again.
"I uh... I brought you a new cellphone," she declared just to break the troubling silence. She pulled a small device out of her Preventer jacket and placed it on the small night table by the bed. "Nothing fancy," she added in apology, "just some old thing I had lying around, but it will get the job done until you can get a new one."
She studied his face for a reaction, thinking perhaps she was referring to a very touchy subject, but there was none. She cleared her throat and forced on another nervous smile.
"Davis from Tech helped me set it up with the same number and I asked him to transfer all of your contacts and data from the old phone. I hope I that's okay... I didn't think you'd want to lose the data when ECU [[i]] took your phone."
She stopped, daring to meet his eyes again. Heero was now watching her intently. She finally said something that mattered. She noted that his fists were clenched, gripping the blanket tightly even with broken fingers.
"I made certain that all of your photos are there," she assured him, smiling sadly for she felt heavily burdened by his heartrending history. She had snooped through his phone a couple of weeks back, curious about him, but never imagined what kind of tragic tale hid behind the photos he kept on his phone. He never told her about his daughter, but now she knew. She knew a lot more than she was supposed to know about him; things he had kept even from the person closest to him, but now everyone knew, since the call he had been forced to make was tapped. She could tell that he was slowly realizing it too, because a moist sheen of tears now glistened in his sorrowful blue eyes. He closed them sadly and the salty droplets overflowed, sliding silently down his unshaven cheeks. He inhaled deeply, his breath shuddering, and opened his eyes again. They were flooded with tears. He turned his head the other way, staring at the wall through a blur of tears, uselessly trying to hide his disgrace.
Merida bowed her head down mournfully. She shouldn't see this. She shouldn't even be here... They weren't close that way. They weren't close in any way, but if she left he would have no one, and she won't be able to live with herself for leaving him in a time of need. He didn't deserve such cruelty. He didn't deserve any kind of cruelty, not after the atrocities he had suffered throughout his life. She wished she didn't have to know those things about him, but now she did. She knew all of it, after reading Sloan's notes. They found a bunch of them in the basement where he held Heero, in a locked desk drawer in his office, as well as a draft paper on his computer. The psychopath wrote the fucking book on Heero. He was composing a paper about his compulsory patient. Sloan has taken compulsory psychiatric treatment to a whole new level, and she was the one who had to compile the detailed report about it before handing over the case to the DA's office.
Tears welled in her eyes. She hurried to wipe them away.
"I'm so sorry, Heero," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I should have listened to you that night, at the bar... I'm so sorry. I... It never would've occurred to me that it could be him... No one even considered Sloan... Duo was the one who figured it out."
He turned back to face her, his tearful eyes wide with surprised.
"Yeah," she mumbled; "I don't know how... but he did. He was the one who got you out of there, but then he... he left. I don't why... I'm so sorry."
For a moment, he just stared at her dully, before turning back to face the opposite wall. He nodded faintly, accepting her apology, and closed his eyes. More tears overflowed, tracing his stubbly cheeks. He was breathing heavily, trying to stop the tears.
She felt so sorry for him. She knew that she shouldn't show it, that he didn't want her compassion, but she couldn't stop herself. Knowing his pain so intimately yet being unable to comfort him was just too much. She felt for him, but she also felt powerless to help. She wasn't the person he needed by his side right now...
"Is there anyone else I could call?" she suggested carefully, also on the verge of tears. "Anyone at all?"
Heero grimaced, shaking his head, eyes still closed.
Discouraged, Shaw cast her gaze down to the floor. She took a deep breath, trying to overcome the painful angst thudding in her chest. She looked at him again.
"Is there anything I can get you then?" she asked instead; "Do you need anything?"
For a while, he didn't even move. He laid still, eyes closed and fists clenched. Gradually, his breathing calmed. He opened his eyes, blinking away the last of his tears, and resumed staring blankly at the wall. She thought he had ignored or dismissed her question, but then he reached a bandaged hand up slowly, testing the skin on his face with the tip of his broken fingers. He rubbed them against the thick stubble on his tear-streaked cheeks and then turned around to look at her. Merida smiled slightly, getting the message.
"A razor?" she asked just to confirm, mildly amused because they've had this sort of conversation before.
He nodded, lowering his bandaged hand to the bed again.
"Sure," she hurried to say, "I'll get you some toiletries before I go, okay? I think there's a shop downstairs," she said and offered him a soft smile. "Maybe you wouldn't mind talking to me after you brush your teeth?" she suggested in good humor, chuckling tensely.
Heero turned to lie on his side, facing the opposite wall. The blue wool blanket twisted around him and slid off his shoulders as he turned, exposing a muscular arm under his short-sleeved hospital gown. His arm was marred with scabbing red cuts, the deeper ones seamed with black stitches. She studied his injuries quietly, feeling sick, until he pulled the blanket back up to his neck, hiding.
Shaw sighed and cast her gaze down again.
A few minutes passed in heavy silence. Glancing up carefully, she stared numbly at his hunched backside. He looked so frail under that blanket... so beaten. Her heart twitched painfully.
"I'll go tell the doctor you're awake, okay?" she finally said, her voice faltering slightly. She stood up slowly, stalling for she hoped for some kind of a response, but there was none. She sighed and stepped out of the room, mumbling under her breath: "They should be ashamed of themselves..."
*     *     *
Once the door closed, Heero curled further inwards, holding the blanket up against his neck. Feeling the sting of tears, he closed his eyes in a useless attempt to stop them. It didn't work. With his back to the door, he curled deeper into himself, pulled the blanket over his head, pressed his face into the pillow, and wept silently, stifling his cries. The only evidence of his sorrow was the movement of his back under the blanket as it quaked with suppressed sobs.
*     *     *
A mass of gray buildings blurred into a concrete-mash; a dense urban setting speeding past a car window as it drove down a busy street. Duo sat in the back of a cab. His small duffle bag rested by his side on the back seat. His hair had been trimmed. It no longer hung as messy and uneven stands of cropped hair dangling down to his shoulders, but it was cut and styled into a trendy medium-length layered-cut reaching down to the nape of his neck, complete with bangs. He had a lot of time to kill while waiting for his connection on the moon, so he stopped by a barbershop at the terminal's shopping center.
His black leather jacket hung open, revealing the simple gray shirt he wore underneath and the plain silver cross dangling from a thin chain around his neck. He sat with his hands in his lap, fumbling with a small metallic object, bouncing it between two nervous hands. It was a key; Heero's key. He stared at it dully, an abject expression on his somber face as his thoughts drifted.
Instead of heading straight home, the first thing he did when he arrived at L2 was go to work. The guys had cheered when he entered the station. He was a walking legend – the L2 detective who caught the psycho terrorizing the utopia below. They found the irony terribly amusing, but he couldn't share their joyful sarcasm. It was hard feeling like a hero when the man he loved was the one who had to pay the price.
Even the Chief was pleased with him for once. He had wrapped his heavy arm around his shoulders proudly and praised him in front of the whole God damn station. It made Duo sick. He just wanted to get out of there already. He turned to the Chief and asked to speak with him privately in his office, where he then tendered his resignation. The man was stunned beyond words.
Duo's cellphone rang, tearing into his reminiscing. He ceased shuffling the key and pulled the phone from his jeans' pocket. The caller ID read 'Relena' and he frowned. What the Hell? Why was she calling?!
He took the call, scowling as he pressed to phone to his ear.
"You play dirty, Maxwell," she snapped without even giving him the chance to say hello.
"Da fucking is that?!"
"I trusted you, but it wasn't one day before you left!" she accused poisonously. "You thought that if you went back to space I'll come back, didn't you? That way you'll be off the hook. According to my book, that's playing dirty."
"What?! No!" he hurried to defend himself. "I didn't—"
"Don't bullshit me, Maxwell. I know you went back to space. You took a shuttle flight out of New York the day I left. You left him to wake up to an empty room, Duo – why!"
"Heero woke up?!" he called out anxiously, his face paling; "Already? When?!"
"Today!" she barked; "Shaw called me and gave this whole lecture on how I should be ashamed of myself for leaving! I told her I left him to you and then she told me you cashed in your return ticket days ago! She couldn't even get a hold of you, you bastard! You left and dropped completely off radar!"
"I was in fucking space!" he exploded heatedly; "It was a 72 hour round-trip for fuck sake! I wasn't avoiding nobody! I was en route!"
"Why on Earth would you leave at a time like this?!"
"So I could wrap things up, pack my shitty little life into a damn box and rush back here before he woke up! Jesus... I got back here as soon as I could! I just landed... He wasn't supposed to be up yet!"
"Well he is!" she snapped; "God, Duo, couldn't you wait a few days?"
"I wanted to get it over with so I could be here completely when he wakes up," he moaned miserably; "Shit, I... I didn't wanna leave afterwards... when he's awake. I just had a few loose ends to tie up and then I came straight back here. I was up there for about a day, that's it. They said they won't wake him up 'til after the New Year... I shoulda been here on time!"
Relena was quiet for a change, taking it all in. She sighed. "Well you must have forgotten to account for the time difference, because it's been five days here. It's January first, Duo. They woke him up this morning."
"Jesus..." Duo sighed heavily, shaking his head and running a hand through his long bangs; "Jetlag got me all messed up... fuck." He winced, feeling terrible. He had let Heero down again. Dammit!
He turned to look out the window. The taxi had just passed the Williamsburg Bridge over the East River and was heading into Manhattan. He looked down at the key he was holding in hand, grimacing disappointedly. He thought he'd be able to stop by Heero's place first, tidy it up a bit, maybe freshen up after a 36 hour long flight from L2, but it looked like he had to make a change of plans.
He returned his attention back to the phone.
"I'm on my way there now," he assured Relena. "I swear to God I am."
"Fix this, Duo," she warned, "or I see your visa revoked – permanently. Screw this up and you won't set foot on Earth again – got it?"
He scowled darkly. He didn't take threats too kindly.
"I will get it right this time. And then you set me up with permanent residency so I can stay with him – deal?"
"You mean it?"
"Yeah, I do. Deal?"
"You'll stay with him, no matter what?" she still pressed on; "Even when he acts like a total jerk? Even when he gets so fucking frustrating you can't stand being in the same room with him anymore? You'll stay this time... through all of it?"
"Yes! Okay – yes! I'll take whatever he'll throw at me, okay? But I won't be able to do all that if I haffta go back to space every couple of months! Now – do we have a deal or do you want this in writing first?"
"We have a deal," she finally agreed and he could actually hear the smug smile in her voice. She liked getting her own way, didn't she?
Duo snapped his cellphone shut, clicking his tongue in annoyance. He leaned forward to speak to the cabbie. "Change of address," he told him; "Get me to Bellevue Hospital."
*     *     *
Dressed in a plain blue hospital gown reaching down to his kneecaps, Heero stood in front of the sink in the small bathroom adjacent to his private hospital room. The gown's sloppy wide collar slid off his slumped shoulders, exposing injured skin and his prominent collarbone. The twill-tape ties that fastened the gown in the back were loose, revealing his smooth backside and a hint of his firm buttocks. His toned calves were covered in cuts, as were his arms. The injured skin around his wrists and ankles was raw and red. He held a small navy-blue toiletries bag over the sink, rummaging through it with splinted fingers.
He pulled out a razor and a travel-size bottle of shaving gel. After staring at them dully for a moment, he glanced up at the mirror and gaped at his unkempt and ashen reflection. Two weeks' worth of thick stubble covered his pale cheeks and chin. His face itched. He looked like a damn monkey. A nurse had offered to shave him but he had pushed her away. He didn't want anyone to touch him. He could do it himself. He didn't need anyone. He was used to fending on his own. He didn't need anyone. He didn't need them. He didn't.
His hand trembled strongly as he dipped the razor into the lukewarm water filling the sink. It wasn't easy holding it steadily using only his thumb and middle finger, but he managed. Soon the water filled with floating bristle and foam. He shaved carefully, focused solely on this one, simple, mechanical task.
His mind gradually emptied and the void left room for memories to creep in. They stirred in the back of his head, simmering to a boil, threatening to overwhelm him. He shoved them aside forcefully, trying to ignore their obstinate presence. They resisted and he pushed them back with all his might. It wasn't enough. They pushed back harder, intended on drowning him. He tried to escape, but they piled up and towered over him, blocking his path and intimidating him into submission. His knees gave way and he collapsed, buried under a pile of harrowing nightmares. His mind crumbled. His sanity... gone. The darkness swallowed him and he was sent spiraling into a bottomless pit, screaming in terror.
He felt a sharp sting in his cheek and recoiled back, gasping as he snapped out of his daydream. He looked at his reflection and saw that he had cut himself shaving. The right side of his face was clean shaven, but the left was still covered in foam. Blood sheeted down his foamy left cheek. He allowed his cheek to bleed and stared at it numbly, unable to feel even this small pain. It didn't matter. Nothing did or ever will again. He was dead, murdered... butchered by a madman. Not just his body, but his very soul has been raped. He wasn't sure which was worse. It didn't matter; he was dead either way. And yet, life still clung to him like a disease, refusing to let go even though he was already decomposing inside. There was nothing left of him now... nothing. He was forced to go on living as an empty shell. But that was okay. There wasn't much life in him to begin with.
He reached his hand, the one holding the razor, up, and tugged the gown down until he could see the small horizontal scar just under his left collarbone. He stared at it desolately until his eyes watered. He didn't care enough to stop the tears. They slid slowly down his cheeks, mixing with blood, bristle and foam.
He didn't want such measures to be taken in order to save his life. It was not worth the trouble. He did the damn paperwork... why was he still alive?
His cursed flesh still pulsed with life, burning and aching as blood pumped through his veins. He was only alive because his heart was still beating, because someone had fought to revive it and then implanted something inside to keep it beating. It was just an empty husk pounding in his chest due to technological aid. Without it, his heart would have been still and he wouldn't have had to suffer through the agony of listening to its persistent thudding echo unbearably loud in his ears. He never realized before just how loud it was. Suddenly, it was all he could hear.
He touched the scar carefully, tracing the tip of his broken fingers over the rough line of raw skin.
His wounds will heal with time; they always did. He had recovered from wounds far worse than these. They will heal and he will carry on living with the scars; an empty life... a routine that will wear him away and escort him to his grave. He will get up in the morning and go from one mechanical task to another: he will brush his teeth and shave; he will force some food down his throat three times a day; he will make it through the day somehow, shower and brush his teeth again before he will go to bed to fight off nightmares, just so he could start all over again in the morning. This half-life kind of existence was the only way he could go on living, decaying exponentially until there was nothing left of his physical being. That was okay. No one wanted... needed... him alive anyway. No one cared. The Voice was right. No one cared. Why should they?
So he will go on living as though dead – rewarded with another chance at a life he didn't truly deserve, while being punished for his unwarranted survival. It will be a compromise between life and death; the only way to atone for his iniquitous existence.
He looked away from the pacemaker scar, his eyes slowly traveling up to look at the reflection of his bleeding face. He froze. There was a second reflection in the mirror. For a second he was certain that he was hallucinating again, but even after he blinked the reflection was still there. Someone was standing at the bathroom doorway, directly behind him, peeking hesitantly inside. It was Duo: a tall, broad-shouldered and older Duo; his features sharp, the fool's smile gone, his cobalt eyes broodingly attentive. He was not the sprightly teenage boy Heero remembered from years ago. This Duo was older; somber, guarded... mellowed down. His hair was shorter, much shorter. This strange version of Duo was standing at the bathroom doorstep, looking at him with quiet apprehension in his soulful cobalt eyes.
Heero could smell the heavy scent of cigarettes and leather from across the small room. The strong scent meant that this Duo was real. He was real and he was back... why?
Their eyes met through the mirror.
His body wavered; his knees shaking. Some doctor had said that he was still suffering from withdrawal symptoms; the shakes were a part of it. He reached a quivering hand to grab the sink, steadying himself. He felt so weak... he couldn't stand. He was so tired of the fight to keep standing... what was the point?
His heart thumped wildly, hammering in his chest; so loud... too loud. He turned around, slowly, but not all the way to face Duo. He couldn't face him, not like this. Not while he felt so... damaged, so dirty. Duo knew about the museum, didn't he? Everyone knew about it now. The Voice was right about that too. That's all they'll ever see in him now, the unwanted filth. He could never wash it away.
Standing with his profile to the door, he bowed his head down, ashamed. His cheek was still bleeding; he could feel the sting. He reached a hand up, slowly, and wiped it away with the heel of his palm. He stared at the blood meekly as he stood hunched down in defeat.
"I, uh... I didn't know it was Tuesday already," he heard Duo say, and it didn't make any sense. The real Duo never made any sense. He looked up from his bloody hand, frowning in confusion. He studied Duo from behind the shelter of his messy bangs, trying to decipher his strange words; the first words he has spoken to him in over eight years and they meant nothing. Words meant nothing. He had nothing left to say. No more words.
"It was the time difference, see," Duo continued; he seemed nervous. "I meant to be here on time... really I did. I wasn't tryin' to leave or nuthin'. Not this time. I was gonna be here, but it got screwed up... my bad."
Oh, it was an apology of sorts, Heero realized. He raised his head up fully, leveling his gaze with Duo's. He was still holding his bloody hand up, but his bleary blue eyes were on Duo. He waited.
"Guess we have this bad habit of starting off on the wrong foot, huh?" Duo let out with an uneasy chuckle.
Heero gaped at him in a stupor, his body turned only halfway to the door; caught between the impulse to cringe away and the urge compelling him to run straight into Duo's arms. Was he apologizing because he felt sorry for him? Was that it? Did he feel sorry for him because of the filth?
The Voice was right about that too. It was right about everything.
"I'm here to change all that," Duo promised, smiling helplessly, nervous. "I wanna start over. You... you tried to call me. I... I didn't think you would and I... I... I'd like to think that it means something and, uh... you're... not... talking to me... are you?" he realized slowly, shaking his head in dismay. "Right," he sighed, his shoulders slumping tiredly. "What else is new?"
He studied Heero carefully, but the young man still hasn't moved away from the sink. He just stood there, with the left side of his face covered in shaving-foam, his cheek bleeding, a bright sheen of tears in his dull blue eyes and his bloody hand raised up to his chest, frozen in mid-motion. Duo shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. Heero seemed so brittle under that big sloppy gown. He recalled how terrifying it felt holding Heero's frail, nude and bleeding body, fearing he might exhale his last breath in his arms. Tears stung his eyes and he fought them off with a big fake smile.
"Need any help with that?" he asked with a cracking voice while gesturing forward with his head. Heero was still holding the bloody razor in his other hand, dangling lifelessly at his side. Only then Heero seemed to realize that he was still holding the razor. He lowered his head down sluggishly and stared numbly at the razor held limply between the only two working fingers on his right hand. He curled his fist around it tightly and looked back at Duo again, his expression hard with resolved.
He stepped over to the door.
Duo felt relieved. Heero was willing to make this first small step, which was good. They'll take it one step at a time... baby steps, he decided, reassured, and when Heero reached the doorway, Duo gave him this big smile, trying to convey all that hope in a single expression.
Heero stared back blankly, and then shut the door in his face.
Duo recoiled back a step, blinking in a daze. He stared at the closed door, feeling like an ass. "Great," he sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
*     *     *
Minutes passed. The bathroom door remained closed. Dense silence filled the room. Duo didn't move away from the door yet. He stared at it dreadfully, a million and one horrible scenarios running through is head. What was Heero doing in there... with a razor?
Then after a while he heard the sound of running water. Heero was taking a shower. That must be a good thing, right? First a shave, now a shower... he'll feel like himself again in not time, right?
Feeling drained from his long commute, he slumped into a chair by the bed, throwing his duffle bag between his legs and waited. He ran a hand through his short hair, still surprised by how short it was, and fluffed his short bangs out of his eyes. He resumed staring at the closed bathroom door, listening to the sound of water still running in the shower.
He must have dozed off at some point because suddenly he jerked awake, gasping quietly. He straightened up in his seat, looking around.
The bathroom door was still closed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. It's been over twenty-five minutes.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath and jumped out of the chair, leaping towards the door. He pounded on it anxiously.
"Heero?" he called; "You okay in there?"
There was no answer. He didn't expect one.
"I'm coming in," he announced as he reached for the handle. "No funny stuff," he added and opened the door. Steam drifted out. He opened the door fully. It was like a sauna inside. A thick cloud of hot steam hovered in the air, obscuring everything. Duo stepped inside, looking around fearfully. The moisture plastered his short bangs over his forehead. He shoved them out of his eyes and reached a hand forward blindly until he encountered the shower curtain surrounding the stall. He yanked it aside.
As the steam dissipated slowly, he saw Heero sitting on the wet floor, his knees drawn up to his chest and his broken hands cradling his head. He sat huddled in the corner under a hot and powerful shower stream. His drenched hospital gown clung to his scrawny frame. His eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly ahead. His face was smooth except for a small cut on his left cheek. The water must have been scalding, because Heero's skin was screaming-red, almost as red as the welts around his wrists and ankles. The hot shower wasn't just meant to cleanse, it was meant to hurt.
"Jesus Christ!" Duo hissed and hurried inside to turn off the faucet.
"Help!" he hollered hysterically as he took a knee next to Heero, gathering the catatonic young man into his arms. The hot water soaking the hospital gown stung the bare skin on his hands. It burnt.
"Oh my God!" he gasped, mortified. Clutching Heero protectively against him, he whirled his head towards the door, screaming: "I NEED HELP IN HERE!!!"
*     *     *
"It's called Reactive Psychosis," a doctor explained to Duo as the two stood by Heero's hospital bed. The young man was laid on it, naked, only his privates covered by a blanket pooled around his waist. Two nurses tended his burns with ointment and gauzes. Heero lay passively still, staring at the ceiling. He was gripping a pinch of the blanket in each hand.
"It's a short-term illness with psychotic symptoms that usually occur as a reaction to a very disturbing event," the doctor elaborated and Duo turned back to face the older man.
"You mean he lost it?" he asked, grimacing.
"It's too early to tell," the doctor said; "RP can last from a few days to about a month, but the longer it takes for the symptoms to subside, the more likely it is that we're dealing with something else and we have to commit the patient to psych."
"Jesus," Duo sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second or else he would lose his cool. He looked over to the bed again, studying Heero's expressionless face with a pair of pained blue eyes. The nurses had just finished treating his burnt skin and were packing up.
"Luckily the hospital has a TMV installed in each bathroom to ensure safe water temperatures," the doctor continued; "if he hadn't been there that long, the scalding wouldn't have been this bad," he said, sighing. "We'll need to keep him under close observation from now on."
Duo turned back to the doctor, scowling threateningly. "You mean like commit him? Didn't you just say this RP thing will go away on its own?"
"Hopefully... yes," the older man confirmed, though he didn't look very reassured; "but we have to take some precautions."
Duo frowned. "Like what?"
One of the nurses suddenly yelped in alarm. Her cry was followed by a loud racket of rattling chains. Duo whirled around to face the bed again and his eyes widened with horror when he saw what was going on: the two nurses had just restrained Heero's limbs with soft padded cuffs around his wrists and ankles; medical restraints, which Heero struggled against in frenzy. He thrashed crazily, tugging at the cuffs so forcefully that the bed shook. His blue eyes were wild, haunted; sheer panic raging in his eyes. He was letting out these horrible little cries, mute screams that came out as nothing more than quiet distressed screeching sounds, like a wounded cornered animal. It was awful.
"Da fuck are you doing?!" Duo called out and launched at the bed, shoving the nurses aside. "He don't need that!" he shouted at them while fumbling with the cuffs' buckles, untying them hastily. "You're only makin' it worse!" he accused heatedly as he freed Heero's jerking arms from the restraints. Once free, Heero tried to push him away, flinging both his arms around violently.
"Heero! Heero! Calm down! Calm. Down!" Duo pleaded fretfully as he tried to grab his arms. He managed to get hold of the young man by both his wrists. Heero fought him, trying to yank his arms free and Duo had to use force to bring his panicked thrashing under control.
"It's okay, it's okay..." he kept whispering over and over, as though gentling a wild animal. He pulled Heero to sit up so he could embrace him; his ankles were still secured to the bed. He trapped Heero's arms between them, thus immobilizing him, and wrapped his arms around Heero tightly, pulling him even closer. The young man jerked in his arms, his body twitching uncontrollably, trying to push off of him. He rocked Heero back and forth, holding him tight, one arm around him and his other hand on the back of Heero's head, pressing him against the hollow of his shoulder.
"Shush..." he whispered softly, rocking back and forth and caressing the wet hairs on the back of Heero's head; "I'm here to help," he promised, "I won't let 'em tie you up. I won't let anyone touch you. Shush... Just breathe, Heero... c'mon... just breathe with me. Just breathe..."
Leaning against Duo's broad shoulder, Heero stared unseeingly ahead with wide unblinking eyes. Duo kept rocking gently until the jolting subsided. Gradually, Heero's body stilled in Duo's embrace, docile once more. He stared ahead dully.
A nurse approached, holding up a syringe.
Heero's eyes darted towards her, locking on the needle. He watched her step closer and his breath shortened, hyperventilating. The panic was back in an instant. He tried to push away from Duo, writhing violently in his arms, struggling to free himself from the tight embrace.
Duo turned to look over his shoulder and immediately spotted the source of Heero's renewed distress.
"No needle!" he shouted, straining to contain Heero again; "Don't anybody touch him!" he threatened nastily and the nurse froze, frightened. She turned to look at the doctor.
"He needs to be sedated," the man told Duo sternly.
"No," Duo countered harshly; "what he needs is for you to get da fuck outta here!"
He turned back to Heero, grabbing him by his face to stop his crazed thrashing. He held Heero's head between two hands, forcing the distraught young man to look at him. Wild Prussian blue eyes darted back and forth across the room, looking anywhere but at Duo.
"Heero, look at me," he ordered firmly, shaking Heero's head. "Look at me, Heero! Look. At. Me!"
Heero turned his eyes to look him. His body was extremely tense, but no longer jerking violently. Duo looked him square in the eye, still holding his head on both sides.
"Ain't nobody gonna touch you, okay?" he promised, speaking slowly, as though addressing a frightened child; luckily, he's had a lot of practice with Tomás. Suddenly, it made perfect sense. He had been chosen to take care of the boy so he would one day be able to take care of Heero. It was all part of a bigger plan he would never be able to fully comprehend.
"I ain't gonna let anyone touch you, got it? I'll fuckin' kill anyone who tries, okay?"
The nurse with the needle turned to look uneasily at the doctor. The older man motioned her to step down and she lowered the syringe, taking a step back. Glaring at Duo, the doctor gestured with his head for both nurses to leave the room. They were more than happy to oblige and scrambled hastily out of the room. Heero watched them leave. Once they were out the door, the doctor gave Duo this look and then left as well.
Held in Duo's arms, Heero stared at the empty doorway. His harsh panting gradually calmed and he slumped heavily against Duo. He rested his head on his shoulder, staring numbly into thin air.
*     *     *
"That was completely uncalled for!" Duo snapped at the doctor the minute he was out of Heero's room. The young man was lying curled on the bed, the blanket drawn up to his neck. He was staring dazedly ahead in the general direction of the door, where the two were standing.
"Do you have any idea what he's been through?!" Duo demanded angrily. "Da fuck were you thinkin' restraining him like that!"
"It's for his own good," the doctor insisted.
"Da Hell it is! You scared da shit outta him! I'm taking him home. You got no business treatin' him this way."
"He's already displayed harmful behavior. He might injure himself or others. Our protocols are very clear on this."
"Fuck protocols! No more damn restraints!"
"He is clearly a danger."
"Believe me, if he was any real danger, you'd be dead."
"He doesn't belong in this ward," the doctor scolded; "He is violent, uncommunicative and frankly, I think he'll be better off in psych."
"He is communicative!" Duo exclaimed in despair. "He just... hasn't talked yet. You don't know him... it's not that unusual. He's in there. He just... doesn't wanna talk yet. I get that. You should too."
"Look, there is nothing physically wrong with him," the doctor tried to explain; "nothing that requires keeping him here. He belongs in psych."
"Don't you fuckin' tell me where he belongs! You're gonna take him up there and pump him full of shit and he'll never be him again and I won't have that!"
"Considering his history, I think that's our best option."
"What fuckin' history?!"
"He's been committed before," the doctor said, looking confused as though he was expecting Duo to know this. "Two years ago. His record says he spent two months in a psych ward in DC. He was catatonic then too, treated with high doses of benzodiazepines... even shock treatment."
"Jesus..." Duo let out, stupefied. Why hasn't Relena mentioned anything?! She did say that Heero had a total breakdown, but she never said anything about him being committed! Shit! She was trying to defend Heero's dignity, he got that, but she should have said something! How did she expect him to take care of Heero when she was the one with all the information? Or maybe that was the point. Maybe she wanted him to find out on his own, to get to know Heero for himself without her acting as their mediator. But Goddammit... she should have said something about the fucking shock treatments!
"No way," he asserted firmly, glowering at the older man with a dangerous sheen in his eyes. "No shock treatment. I won't allow it."
"It's the best course of treatment at this stage," the doctor insisted; "ECT is the most effective treatment for catatonia, as well as for most of the underlying causes, like psychosis. It's his best chance, before this gets any worse."
"Hook him up to an ECT machine and I rip your heart outta your throat – got that?"
"It's not your call."
"Then whose call is it?! He obviously can't make it on his own!"
"It says in Heero's healthcare directive that he has designated Ms. Darlian as his medical power of attorney."
"So she gets to decide course of treatment?"
"Yes."
"And if she wants to get him outta here?
"That's her call, though I would advise against it."
"Well isn't that just fine 'n dandy..." Duo muttered bitterly, pulling his cellphone out of his jeans while glaring at the doctor. He dialed Relena's number. Why did it always have to come back to her? It felt like there will never be a 'them', without her – God damn her!
*     *     *
Duo parked Heero's black SUV in front of his East Village apartment building and turned to look at the quiet young man sitting in the passenger's seat, the blue wool hospital blanket draped over his shoulders, wrapped around him. He sat still, staring numbly out the windshield, clutching the blanket closed around his chest with a broken hand. He refused to part with it even when the nurses protested. Duo had to shut them up and pay a God damn fine.
Heero's posture was slumped, demure. His other broken hand rested limply in his lap, holding a small green pack of Skittles between splinted fingers. It was the only thing he took with him when they left the hospital other than the blanket.
He had given Heero a change of clothes from the meager belongings he had packed into his duffle bag. He had no shoes to give him, so he went out to buy him a pair of plain sneakers. The man had dressed silently, avoiding eye contact, and Duo did his best not to gawk at the hideous scabbing all over his body. After nearly two weeks without proper nourishment, the clothes hung sloppily from Heero's scrawny frame. The jeans barely held onto his unhealthily slim waist and the baggy black sweatshirt sagged from his slouched shoulders. Although finally fully dressed, Heero had wrapped the blanket around him again.
Heero's SUV was still parked in the hospital's parking lot, right where Duo had left it on Christmas. He still had the keys with him. Heero stood passively in the middle of the underground parking lot, the blanket hanging from his shoulders, and stared dully at the car. Duo had to guide him towards it by placing a hand on Heero's bony back, nudging him forward gently so he'd walk. He opened the passenger door and waited patiently until Heero decided to go in.
He studied Heero silently, giving him a moment to observe the familiar street, to realize that he was home, safe. It wasn't snowing for a change and the skies were rather clear, partly cloudy. The sun was out, shining down on tall red-bricked buildings, colorful shops and green trees, making the dense street seem a little less gloomy. For the first time since he's been here, Duo could see that it was actually a very nice neighborhood. Things always looked better once the storm has finally passed.
"I'll be stayin' in town if you need anything," Duo said quietly, looking at Heero carefully for a reaction. The young man didn't even turn to look at him. He gazed out at the street, his face blank.
"Or I can stay, if you want..." he suggested timidly; "whatever you need. I won't push it, so... just say so."
He looked hopefully at Heero, giving him a minute, but there was no response.
"Right," he muttered, disappointed. "Well... you have my number," he said and pulled out Heero's cellphone – the one Shaw had given him – from his jeans' pocket and placed it on the dashboard. Heero glanced at it briefly, before fixing his eyes out the windshield again.
"Okay then," Duo sighed and opened the driver side door. He left the keys in the ignition. He had hooked Heero's apartment key in the car-keys keychain as well. He took his duffle bag from the backseat and stepped out of the car. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and leaned in, looking tensely at Heero.
"I'm s'posed to be keeping an eye on you," he muttered sullenly, "so try not to kill yourself or anything, cuz I signed all these papers sayin' I'm responsible for you 'n shit, so... if you die I go to jail."
No reaction. Heero just sat there, staring at the street. He was still holding the blanket tightly against him.
Duo fought down a frustrated sigh. He felt that he should probably say something, anything, but for once in his life he was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to make Heero ask him to stay.
"Right then," he grunted and closed the door, slamming it loudly. Heero flinched, shrinking into himself. He watched Duo walk down the busy street, hailing a cab. He lowered his gaze down sadly, gawking at the pack of Skittles in his hands through a blur of tears. He blinked them out of his eyes and they dropped onto the colorful candy pack. He looked up again, but Duo was gone. Just like Brussels.
*     *     *
Standing with the blue blanket dangling from his slim shoulders, Heero held his keys between the only two working fingers on his right hand and tried to guide the key steadily into the lock. He was sweating profusely – another infuriating withdrawal symptom – and the key kept slipping between his unsteady moist fingers. His hand tremored badly, but after a few attempts he managed to get it right. He clutched the blanket close so it won't slip off and stepped warily into the small apartment. The door closed behind him on its own momentum.
The living room was dark. Dim stripes of afternoon sunshine filtered in through closed blinds obscuring the large living room window. They fell on various surfaces, revealing weeks' old layers of dust. A thick sheet of it covered the dark hardwood floor, on which two sets of footsteps could be made out – one male, one female. Heero stared at the footprints dully, feeling nothing.
The place was a mess. A pillow and a blanket were left in a messy heap on the couch; he vaguely remembered leaving them there. That blanket was his. He walked towards the sofa, shedding the blue hospital blanket to the floor on the way. He picked up the one from the couch and flung it around his shoulders, wrapping it tightly around his chest. That felt so much better.
He turned to stare at the coffee table. Two coffee mugs and plates have been left on the small table. The stench of rotting food was in the air; scrambled eggs by the look of it – those were not his. A bottle of Jameson whiskey lay discarded on the floor by the sofa, empty but surrounded by a large stain blemishing the hardwood floor.
Holding the blanket fastened over his chest, Heero walked slowly towards the bedroom, wandering like a ghost, a stranger, through his own apartment. His bedroom was even worse off than the living room. The bed sheets were all messy, tangled and falling off the bed. The room reeked of alcohol, cigarettes and sex. He spotted his Preventer jacket on the floor and stared at it dully. It wasn't hard to tell what had taken place in his room, but he was too numb to feel the anger their betrayal entailed.
His room used to be his sanctuary, a place of refuge at the end of the day. He had put over two salaries into it, choosing nothing but the most luxurious of comforts: from the frame and headboard, to the mattress, cushions, blankets and linens... He had built himself a cozy little nest. His bed was the only fixture in his apartment to have been given so much consideration. It was the most comfortable, comforting, place he knew. Now it has been violated as well. Everything was tainted beyond repair.
He turned away, heading towards the kitchen.
There were two empty coffee mugs on the kitchen table, as well as two glasses of water stained with whiskey leftovers at the bottom and an empty bottle of Jameson there as well, next to a plate full of cheesecake crumbs. It looked like somebody had a party in his own house but neglected to invite him, probably because he was preoccupied with being tortured at the time. Usually that would hurt, but he didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered.
He sighed and turned away from the table, facing the worktop. He reached a hand into his – Duo's – jeans' pocket and pulled out the pack of Skittles from the hospital. He walked over to the small Skittles drawer; it was ajar. He threw the Skittles inside. He then spotted a pack of his cigarettes by the sink, right next to a single prescription bottle, and stopped.
In a sudden streak of resolve, he opened the cabinet door under the sink, where the trash can was stored. He swiped the pill bottle off the counter and threw it to the bin. He snatched the cigarette box next, flipping it open. The blanket slipped off his shoulders since he was moving too much. He froze, panicking, and hurried to pull it back up. He spotted the burnt cigarette butt in the sink, black ashes staining the smooth white porcelain surface. This was not his smoke.
He stared at it for a long while before snapping the cigarette box shut. No more, he decided, and threw it to the bin as well, He slammed the cabinet door shut and secured the blanket around his shoulders again. He snatched the Skittles back from the drawer and plopped down tiredly to the floor, holding the blanket close.
He sat leaning against the closed cabinet under the sink and struggled to yank the pack open with four fingers, two on each hand. It crunched loudly until it finally tore. A few candies fell to the floor, rolling noisily around the kitchen, scrapping against the hardwood floor. He shook a few more into the palm of his hand and stared at them drearily: one red, one yellow, one green and one purple. He shoved them into his mouth, tilting his head back against the cabinet, and chewed on them gracelessly, obnoxious just for the heck of it. It was a small and insignificant way to show his dismay of the world, but it was all he could muster.
"I went 'bout it all wrong," he suddenly heard Duo's voice and nearly choked on a Skittle. He coughed and leveled his head down again to look at the kitchen doorway. Duo was standing there, holding his duffle bag and looking flustered. He must have entered the apartment while he'd been struggling with the noisy Skittles pack, so he didn't hear him.
"What I shoulda said was that I ain' leaving," Duo continued, breathless, and threw his bag onto the floor. "See, since you ain't talkin' no more, there's nuthin' you can say to stop me, right?" he said, smirking, and walked into the kitchen. He settled down on the floor next to Heero. The young man inched away, pulling the blanket up to his neck for it had slipped off his shoulder.
"I figure that why you didn't stop me when I walked away," he said, smiling sadly. "I was being an ass again, like I was in Brussels. Fucking stupid. Took me two blocks to figure it out. Better late than never, right?" he chuckled nervously. Heero stared at him, stupefied.
"Right," Duo let out with a small sigh, straining to smile. Heero's tense silence was making him even more nervous if at all possible.
"So here I am," he mumbled and lowered his gaze, having nothing more to say. Heero bowed his head down as well, staring at the pack of Skittles in his broken hand. They sat side by side, separated by a wide chasm of stretching silence.
Duo studied the mess Relena and he had left on Heero's kitchen table. How incredibly insensitive of them leaving this mess for Heero to clean up! He should have stopped by to do some cleaning before he got Heero out of the hospital, but he was so anxious to get Heero out of there before the damn doctors made things worse...
He sighed, bowing his head down shamefully. He fumbled nervously with his fingers, staring at them until words finally managed to come out:
"I slept with her," he said, grimacing guiltily. "On your bed..." he added, glimpsing carefully up at Heero. The young man was still staring at the pack of Skittles in his hands.
"We were... we were really drunk," Duo added quietly, feeling like a piece of shit. He studied Heero's face cautiously, but it remained completely blank. He was sure he'd get at least something for his confession, but there was no reaction; none that he could see. He always had a hard time reading Heero, but now it was downright impossible. The young man's expression was completely barren, his eyes empty. There was no telling what went on inside.
"We were both thinking 'bout you while we were at it," Duo continued making his confession nonetheless. He had to get it off his chest, to put all the cards on the table from the very beginning. It was the only way this would ever work.
He smiled sadly. "Sick, huh?"
The Skittles packet rustled quietly as Heero shifted it between broken fingers. He was staring at it with hurt, miserable, eyes.
"Yeah, I know," Duo sighed ruefully, answering his own rhetorical question. "We regretted it the second it was over," he said as earnestly as he possibly could, observing Heero closely. "Are you mad? No? Good." He smiled at his own stupid joke. "This not talkin' thing is kinda working in my favor here, huh?"
Heero shook a colorful Skittle out of the pack, a green one, and stared at it dully. Duo's smile faded. He cast his gaze down, sighing.
"She didn't leave cuz she wanted to," he mumbled after a while. "She really loves you, yanno? I never realized just how much. She just... well... I dunno," he shrugged helplessly, "She thinks she's doing the right thing... giving us a chance, I guess." He looked up again, his eyes seeking Heero's face. The young man's head was bowed and he was still gawking at the green candy in his hand.
"So I'm not leaving," Duo stated; "Not this time. Not even if you beg me to, which would require you talkin' by the way," he finished with a wily smile.
No reaction, none.
"Nothing? Really? Good! Then that settles it," Duo muttered jokingly and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the cabinet. "I ain't leaving 'til you tell me to," he proclaimed confidently, nodding his head curtly to assert his own words. He turned to Heero, studying the silent young man with humble blue eyes; he was still staring down at the Skittle in his hands. Duo sighed, dropping the pompous act.
"I'm just kidding," he added softly; "It's entirely up to you. I'll accept whatever you decide... really."
The Skittles pack rustled again as Heero shook more candy out. A red Skittle joined its green predecessor in Heero's hand. Heero gawked at the two Skittles stoically. He picked the red one up with two careful fingers and brought it slowly up to his face, studying it closely as if it was some sort of world-wonder. Duo watched, feeling helpless. He leaned back against the cabinet, sighing, and titled his head up, gazing wretchedly at the ceiling. He listened to the Skittles bag crackle every now and then as Heero continued eating candy in silence.
"So the docs say I gotta get you talkin' by February or it's back to the loony bin for you," he finally said, breaking the heavy silence. He turned to look at Heero, his eyes falling on the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He wondered why Heero needed it so bad.
"I figure it's doable," he continued. "I mean, I've beat lousier odds. Plus," he smirked teasingly, "I could be breaking a personal record, yanno?"
He looked at Heero quietly for a second, hoping for some kind of a reaction to his deliberately tactless joke, but there was none. Heero was staring at three colorful Skittles in his hand: one red, one yellow and one green. He picked the red one again and ate it. Duo could not even begin to fathom what kind of weird game of chance he was playing. He watched Heero continue whatever he was doing, pouring more Skittles into his hand: one purple, one orange and another green one. No red. He studied them for a moment before shaking three more out of the pack: one yellow, one green and one red. He picked the red one up with two splinted fingers while holding the Skittles pack between the non-broken ones, and ate it as well. Then he shook three more out of the bag: one orange, one purple and one yellow. Duo watched him continue this strange game, a pile of colorful Skittles forming in the palm of his hand, until he found a red one again, and ate it.
Duo sighed, slumping against the kitchen cabinet once more, and stared ahead with a wretched expression. This docile, beaten and broken person sitting next to him was not the same boy he had enjoyed coaxing into talking all those years ago. He was so quiet. It was a different kind of quiet; a sad, lonely one. His old tricks to entice Heero into talking probably won't work this time. Heero wasn't being a prick like he was back then. He was... wounded, so terribly wounded... and Duo didn't know what to say to make it better.
He wished he could go back to being that careless boy, the one who talked endlessly without really saying anything; the boy who didn't care what he said or if anyone was listening, just as long as he was heard. His words could have been stupid, tactless, insulting, ignorant and harmful. It didn't matter... they were just words. Nothing he said ever meant anything; he never put enough thought behind his words to make them matter. He just talked so he wouldn't have to think, so he could distract himself and everyone around him from all the shit they had to deal with on daily basis.
He had grown much quieter over the years. Words ceased to matter altogether. No one was listening. Now all of a sudden his words were crucial. They were the only salvation he could think of, for both Heero and himself. He had to say the right thing in order to remedy years of silence and/or empty words. People weren't mind-readers; his words had to be precise, genuine. They had to really mean something this time, bridging gaps and overcoming misconceptions. The next words out of his mouth were to be his penance; he had to get it right.
Duo chuckled bitterly, amused by the irony. He turned to Heero again, smiling wistfully.
"You know what the first thing you ever said to me was?" he asked, watching Heero's face closely. The young man was still playing with the Skittles.
"You told me to shut da Hell up," Duo answered his own question, knowing he wouldn't get a reply. "To keep it down a little or sumthin' cuz I was talking your ears off while you were working on Wing... remember that?" he asked, smiling, "Took you three days to come up with that pearl of wisdom. I fucking shoot you, rescue you, and patch you up, offer to help out fixing your suit 'n all that jazz, but not even a peep outta you. I was beginning to think you're a damn mute! Three days and not one word, then you tell me to shut my trap – classic you. So I'm not worried here, yanno? Not one bit. You'll get talkin'... if only to tell me to keep it down again..."
He finished with a tense chuckle, looking expectantly at Heero, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment. But Heero remained still, seated with his head bowed down, staring at the Skittles. He picked up another Skittle from the pile in his hand, a purple one, and carefully returned it into the packet. He picked a green one next and dropped it back into the bag as well. After exhausting his supply of red Skittles, he returned the rest into the bag one by one.
"I useta nag you all the time with my endless chatter," Duo kept talking. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, or if Heero was even listening, but he had to keep talking. He figured that if he just let words out, something meaningful will come out eventually.
"Just kept talkin' 'n talkin'... shooting in the dark... hoping not all of it will miss your heart. Maybe I'll hit the mark sometimes, yanno? Get you talkin' back. Remember how I useta bug you with that question all the time?" he asked with a helpless giggle, shaking his head in self-reprimand. "I kept naggin' you to tell me why you wanted me so bad... but I never tried to answer my own God damn question."
Heero still had a few Skittles in his hand, but he stopped his efforts to return them to the bag and looked up at Duo. Apprehension shone quietly in his glassy blue eyes. His body tensed readily, as though preparing to take a punch to the face. He studied Duo quietly, waiting for him to keep talking. Duo smiled softly, to signal that he had nothing to fear.
"So to answer my own dumb question," he said, chuckling nervously, "Well... I... I wanted to be with you because... well... because I thought... I still think... that you're the most beautiful thing in the whole fuckin' world. And I mean on the inside, yeah? The outside too... fuck yeah, but I... but I'm talkin' 'bout the inside now."
He paused for a moment, simply gazing into Heero's stunned blue eyes. He was getting through to him. Somehow, that made the rest of what he was going to say all more difficult to articulate.
"I uh... I grew up with a lotta ugly, yanno?" he mumbled, glancing down uncomfortably. "I know all about ugly... and what it does to people, but it didn't do it to you." He looked up again, meeting Heero's eyes. He smiled sadly. "Don't get me wrong," he said, "there's ugly in you too, just like there's ugly in me, but... but there's still so much more beauty in you... despite all the shit. I was drawn to it, I guess," he shrugged his shoulders offhandedly; "A moth to a flame, they say? Yeah, that it. I saw this light and I just couldn't look away even though it might kill me. And when you fucked me that light shone so fucking bright... so bright that I could finally see you through all the darkness and I... I loved it. I loved what I saw. That why I couldn't get 'nough of you, see?"
He smiled softly and reached for Heero's hand, placing his palm over Heero's limp hand, covering the Skittles. He was sweating so bad, nervous, that he was sure the colorful candy was staining the palm of his hand, but he held on even tighter, squeezing Heero's hand and never breaking eye contact. He held Heero's gaze with his own, trying to convey the importance of what he was struggling to say.
"You make the world seem like a better place... at least for me. You did some horrible shit... and I know you've been through even worse, but still you... you can still put beauty in all the ugly. You did make the world a better place. You fought for it. You gave people things they hardly deserve and don't even appreciate and you did it not because anyone told you to, but because you believed in what you were doing. You sacrificed yourself for other people's sins. You took on all the bad, absorbing so much evil, and you came out intact. Wounded, but intact. And still beautiful... still compassionate, still capable of so much love...
"It didn't make you weak, it didn't make you uglier. It only made you stronger. You hurt more, I'm sure, but you are so much more beautiful now. I still love what I see... maybe more than ever before and... and I... Well... It just feels like... It feels like I can purify all the sins that I committed in life if I just stay with you. You make me better too, see?" he smiled helplessly; "Heh... it sounded way less selfish in my own head," he laughed quietly. "I didn't mean it that way. All the damn talkin' that keeps pouring outta me you'd think I'd know how to say things right, but I don't. So just bottom line before I mess this up even more, okay?"
Heero gave no response, just kept looking at Duo intently.
"Right," Duo let out, stalling. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself, and released the air with a long sigh. He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze back on Heero's.
"So bottom line is that I love you. It's as simple as that. I love you for every single thing you've ever done, for every awful thing you've been through and still came out on the other side. I loved you back then, and I love you even more now. Not because I feel bad for you, I do, but that ain't it. I love you more because I can... I couldn't back then, I think. I don't think you could either. We had to learn... the hard way, like always.
"And I think you feel the same way too. I think you tried to call me after you called her because you feel the same way. And that you didn't leave a message like you did for her because you would rather say those words to my face, or not at all. Saying them because that fuck told you to woulda tainted them somehow... so you kept quiet. And you're quiet now because you feel that you should keep at least this one thing to yourself. This one thing that will always be yours. I get that. I get a lotta things I didn't get back then. And you know what? It's cool. You don't have to say it. You don't have to say anything. God knows I can do the talking for both of us, but there's still one thing I do need you to say, because I dropped everything and left a life behind to be with you and I... I just need to know one thing to make sure it's okay. Just one thing, okay? One thing and I'm off your back for good."
He paused and licked his lips nervously, looking anxiously into Heero's eyes. Heero stared back blankly. Duo was still holding his hand.
"I need you to tell me to stay," Duo said simply. "I need to know I ain't pushing you into anything just because you can't say 'no'. I could never live with myself if I force things on you like others did. I don't want to be that guy. I won't force myself on you... ever. Not ever, okay? So just... just this one small thing, Heero, please... Can I stay?" He asked and then let go of Heero's hand.
Silence fell again. Heero studied him quietly. Duo held his breath. His mind was reeling after a heartfelt monologue. His heart hammered loudly in his chest. This was his end game move, the only move he had left. The ball was in Heero's court now. He waited to see what he would do.
After holding Duo's gaze for a tense moment, Heero bowed his head down to stare at the Skittles again. There were five Skittles left in his hand, the same sweaty palm Duo had held a moment ago. The warmth of their shared body heat had melted the Skittles' colorful crust. His hand was stained with fuzzy circles of yellow, orange, green and purple. He turned to look at Duo, hesitating, and slowly raised his hand up, offering him what was left of the melted Skittles. Duo gaped at them, puzzled, and then smiled gently. They weren't much to look at anymore, but he knew that they were still good.
"Okay then," he said and offered his open hand up. "That'll do," he said, smiling, as Heero poured melted Skittles into his open hand. Heero shook a few more candies out of the bag and the two sat together on the kitchen floor, sharing what was left of the Skittles.
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[i] Evidence Control Unit
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