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The Road to Kindness	By : shinigamiinochi Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7934 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Road to Kindness

Chapter 8

Part 18
　

Duo felt a jolt of anxiety when Name and the therapist came back into the room. He didn't know what he had been expecting; a frown, a look of embarrassment, or a shake of her head, some sign that his mother was annoyed with him. But she only smiled at him, the same way that she always did. A little bit worried, perhaps scared, but still full of love.

"Can you give us a couple of minutes alone?" Name asked the doctor, her voice just shy of pleading.

"Of course," Stephenson nodded and left.

Name walked slowly to the bed and sat down next to Duo, not as though she were hesitating or like Duo was some skittish, wild animal, but like she was unsure what to do now. SHe put her hand over Duo's and he was grateful. His hands felt so cold. Heero was brimming with all of the questions he wanted to ask his mother about her talk with the psychiatrist and he kept having to remind himself that it wasn't his place to ask any of them. This wasn't about himself. He knew all of the things that Duo wanted to ask his mother and wanted so badly to voice them for his friend, to try to help. but he coudln't. He didn't dare.

He would never allow himself to become nothing more than Cuo's crutch, something to make things easier, a short cut. It was hard enough to get Duo to type down all the things that were bothering him, if he just relied on Heero to say what he thought was important, he might sink into not communicating at all, like a bad habit. So he didn't say a word and just watched his best friend and mother. Several minutes went by and Heero was worried he had made the wrong decision. He was terrified that Duo's muteness was going to make him with drawn and disconnect from them, that he would eventually decide that just not typing or writing anything at all was easier. But eventually, Duo picked up his tablet.

'What is going to happen now?' he asked.

Name kept her smile, but her expression became pinched and Duo knew that she wasn't happy with any of this.

"I signed all the forms. You'll now be under Dr. Stephenson's care. You're listed as an emergency patient, which means that you'll be released when your criteria is met, namely when the doctor determines you are no longer a threat to yourself."

Duo nodded. The therapist had told him that bit. Again he felt a stab of guilt that he was putting Name and Heero through all of this.

"The psychiatric ward is on the first floor. It is part of the children's ward, so you'll be with others under 17 years old, no adults. You'll be getting your own room and Dr. Stephenson told me that you won't be restrained in any way except for when you are sleeping. She is also going to allow you to keep Quatre's computer, but you're going to have to be very vigilant that no one steals it," Name told him.

Duo's relief was a palpable, physical thing, something that was visible on his features and how his body stopped tensing even to the casual onlooker, let alone to Heero and Name, who were used to reading his subtle body language. Obviously, the knowledge that he wouldn't be strapped down all the time and coupld keep the computer was welcome, but he hadn't realized how frightened the possibility of being surrounded by strange, mentally unstable adults had been making him fee. People his own age weren't completely safe either, but right now he coudln't stand that reminder of his time trapped in the closet or on Wes' bed. And best of all, if he did get overwhelmed, he could retreat to his room. He wondered if that was standard for risk patients like him, or if Name had pulled some strings.

"We're going to go down with you," Name continued, giving his hand a little squeeze, "and Dr. Stephenson will show us around. You should make a list of things you would like for us to bring you from home. Your doctor said some things will be restricted, but books should be ok."

She didn't say that they would be leaving him once he was situated, and would bring him his things the next day. She didn't need to, Duo could hear her reticence in her tone.

'Can you visit?' he typed.

"Of course," she said softly, brushing one lock of hair that had escaped from his braid behind his ear. The motherly motion made him blush a little, unconsciously, "We'll be here every afternoon. But if you are feeling overwhelmed or want some time to yourself, you aren't obligated to let us visit, Duo," she said, remembering what the therapist had said about his anxiety towards trying to please them. To her relief, Duo nodded in understanding and didn't look like he had taken her words the wrong way.

"We won't be allowed to stay with you the entire time, " Name confessed, "They have a lot stricter visiting hours than the rest of the hospital, but I promise you that you'll be safe. I'm going to make sure that Wes can't come within a hundred feet of this place."

Her voice was fierce, like a warrior anticipating a long battle, but also full of confidence. Duo almost blured out that she didn't need to worry, he had taken care of it. Wes wouldn't be coming after him anymore. Those thoughts made his insides go ice cold, like he had drank water from a glacier. Knowing those things brought him absolutely no relief or comfort. Even if he got his voice back, he could never tell her those things. For one, she would press him to explain what he meant and he couldn't do that. He had decided that those words could never escape his lips, not if he wanted her to continue loving him, and he needed that love.

The second reason why it was pointless to allow his mother to believe that they were all safe from Wes was that they weren't. Wes was dead. Not even the Boogieman could survive several inches of steel stabbed into his throat. He could have suffocated, bled out, aspirated, or drowned from all that blood going into his lungs. No matter which way he looked at it, Wes was dead.

'Because you killed him.'

Duo nearly shuddered and immediately shoved those thoughts, feelings, and memories deep down, locking them away like he had before, back when he had first moved into Name's home. But no matter how hard he discarded it, one memory remained, rooted through him completely, like a tree made of poisonous cancer. The image of Wes' cold, dead gray eyes staring at him, accusing him, laughing at him in mockery. As if Wes' last action in his life had been to boast, 'See? It's like I always told you. You can run as far and as fast as you like. You can move on with another family. But you will never escape from me. You can be something, get an education, go to college, but a part of me will always be there inside of you. And when you're pressed against the wall, it'll be me telling you what to do, how to react. Me and no one else.'

A very strong tremor shot through him and he suddenly felt very sick. He went incredibly pale, bloodless, as Wes' voice rang in his head like a siren.

"Duo..." Name said in alarm as the teenager nearly doubled over, looking like he was about to vomit, "Honey, it's ok. I won't let him hurt you anymore."

She misread what had upset him so much, but that didn't matter. As she wrapped her arm around his back and drew him closer to her, her warmth was inviting either way and he buried his face against her, fighting his tears. He was stronger than this. He had survived, hadn't he? So why wast his so hard... why did it hurt so much? He felt weak and faint all the time, like a ghost. Like he was dream walking. He wasn't safe. Not in his head and not in reality.

They would come for him. Wes' partners, enraged at his death and worried he would tell the police about them. And his enemies, looking to pick up the pieces of his empire and eager to get rid of any loose ends, to send a message to their rivals. For now, he had peace as all the vultures scrambled to clear the information from the rumors and get some kind of control over the situation. But eventually, they would chase after him, just as Wes had done. Not with his resources or tenacity, but they would still want him dead or tied to them. What better way to show dominance and control in Wes' shadow than to use Wes' number one whore the way that he had?

He couldn't claim safety in the face of animinity, he wasn't that naive. He had left behind everything, every clue, and it wouldn't take a genius to put it all together. He would have some time, but someone was going to find Wes' body eventually. Probably the only reason why nothing had happened to him during his stay here, beyond any measures Name might have taken, was the location. Wes had cherished his privacy and hand't done that much business out of the apartment. Duo was also sure that Wes had kept the kidnapping a secret. If anyone did know, it would be Chris. And even a man like him that was more accustomed to taking orders would piece it all together.

The strands of wire and cuffs Wes had used to bind him with. The blood and semen on the floor. The lack of a forced entry and that it had all taken place inside of a closet, instead of a room... It would be obvious that Wes had been keeping someone captive, one of his whores or someone he had recently abducted, and that person was either a witness or, infinitely more obvious, his killer. The very first person Chris would suspect would be him. And if not, with Wes dead, his second hand man would be all too happy to go gunning for him anyway to shut him up.

Wes didn't have to be alive for the same threat to exist, but strangely, Duo was not frightened. He had lived in a constant state of fear for as long as he could remember. But now, knowing that his actions had to have huge repercussions, and every member of the mob or other groups of organized crime, or a gang member wanting to be initiated or rise through the ranks, was going to come after him, he wasn't scared. Wes had exposed him to that world of crime and power, but at the same time, he had kept him safe from it. Now that he was dead, that net was gone and he was vulnerable. Yet he felt... calm. He was terrified of his memories and what he had done, but not this.

After living in such deep fear of Wes finding him, of him coming back into his life, that now that he was gone, something that filled him with cold dread, it was as if he felt like nothing could touch him. He had survived the worst thing in his life and he was still struggling to come to terms with that. It was like being devout your entire life, surrendering everything you are to one belief, only to learn one day that God was not real. Wes killing him, either intentionally or through neglect, had been the one inevitability for him. That he had not only survived him but outlived him was an impossibility. That he might eventually have to deal with more thugs trying to own or kill him didn't even faze him.

Not even the thought of being separated from Heero and Name terrified him like it would have in the past. It used to be that he would have a panic attack if he was alone in the house. That seemed like such a long time ago, he had to keep reminding himself that not even a year had passed since he had met Heero. He was scared of being apart from them. He had almost lost them forever and he still felt clingy and paranoid. But he also felt confident that they would remain in his life, that he would continue to see them when he needed to, that this was a temporary thing.

Was he finally accepting this strange new turn his life had taken? Had he finally found some confidence in himself and the people he loved, finally shedding that scared child inside of him and getting stronger? Had Wes' death allowed him to do this, to put at least a couple of his mental demons to rest, along with his one physical one? Or was he just becoming numb to all of it? Had his actions shocked him so thoroughly that not even his fears of being shut away in the dark again could touch him? Duo didn't know. He didn't feel numb.

He felt tired. Logically. Duo knew that a part of it was that his body was busy trying to heal itself, but his mind was working even harder. What he had just gone through... emotional stress just didn't touch it. He felt raw and scattered, trying as hard has he could not to remember all the things he had felt when Wes had kidnapped him, to only remember the things that had given him strength and resolve during those dark moments. But that just wasn't possible. He couldn't adequately separate the good from the bad. He had realized some very vital, but disturbing, things about himself. Necessary things.

But he had only been able to see those bare truths through all of the lies he had built up around himself because Wes had driven him to the brink of insanity and desperation. And in the midst of all of that, he was trying, with such intense effort and need, to not remember the horrible thing that he had done with his own hands, and more importantly, to keep Name and Heero from finding out.

Every time they looked at him or spoke to him, Duo felt this thrill of fear and paranoia. What if they had guessed? What if, eventually, they found out the truth? They were going to ask him at some point how he had gotten away. They had to be suspicious. He didn't know if it was because he was trying so hard to not remember any of his grisly actions that day, but he was missing huge gaps in his memory from the time Wes had foiled his last escape attempt to when he had woken up in the hospital.

Truthfully, most of his memories of being trapped in that dark place were fuzzy, like he had dreamed it all. Towards the end, he had been so scared and so feverish, he supposed he was lucky to have remembered anything. But Heero had told him a little about finding him in his room, how he had been covered in blood. He had to know that that blood wasn't his. He had to want to ask about it...

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was too busy being terrified of himself and losing his family over his own actions to be scared of being institutionalized.

'I'm ok,' he typed.

Name didn't look at all convinced, but didn't press him. She wasn't an idiot. She knew that there was something wrong, something more than Duo worrying about Wes coming for him again. She was used enough to seeing that fear on Duo's face to recognize that this was something different. But she knew that if she tried to force him to tell her what it was, he never would and he would just become withdrawn. He wasn't ready, she could see that as clear as day, just as she could see his weariness.

She hated the circumstances that had led them to this, but the more she watched him, saw his reactions and how he looked and communicated with herself and Heero, the more Name realized that the doctor was right. Duo needed this and this was the right decision, even if she had lacked the strength to decide on this herself.

"Are you ready?" she asked him gently. It didn't matter to her if Duo took hours, the doctor could wait.

Duo nodded. He wasn't going to get any more used to this by putting it off. For a moment, he felt like all of this was ludicrous, like it was happening to him in a dream, at the same time as he felt like everything that had happened to him in his life had led him to this one moment, like it had been waiting for him. A mental institution. He had always felt insane, between his panic attacks, the hallucinations, nightmares, voices in his head, and the mental breakdown he had had when Wes had chained him up in the dark of his room. He was sure that if the therapist knew about those things, his chances of going back home to Name eventually would be very, very slim. It was already going to be a tall order trying to break through this... unconscious self-abuse.

He was being overly dramatic, and he knew that. At the same time that he felt hopeless, the thought of trying to heal whatever was wrong with him without giving away anything to the therapist that he didn't want to seemed so impossible, he clung to it. It seemed like a small thing compared to all the other shit in his life. If he didn't get through this, he wasn't going to go home. And now, that home was all that he had. He had made his choice in that closet, now he had to fight for it.

Name stood and did not let go of his hand. She left her grip loose, so he could get out of it if he felt that she was being too clingy or it embarrassed him. He didn't let go. He was aware of how childish it looked, him letting her lead him, but for the moment it was what he needed. Heero wasn't quite that bold, but he stayed close to his best friend's other side, as though they were a guard leading a valuable witness. Stephenson didn't seem at all bothered by their display and walked with them to the elevator. Their destination was just five floors down, the trip not nearly long enough for Duo's tastes, but long enough for the musak to give him the first prickling warning signs of a headache. Or perhaps that was just the stress.

The elevator let out, not to the waiting room on this floor, but to a hallway that Duo assumed was on the other side of the hospital. The walls of the lobby and hallways in pediatrics had been various different shades of orange, yellow, and pink. He had always hated them, beyond the reminder that he was there because he was hurt. They were just... too joyful, he supposed? They were the same pastel shades that one would find in Easter eggs and cheap wallpaper.

The walls here and in the guard station that they found themselves in were a mix of mint green and light blue shades which were quite soothing. Which, Duo thought, was probably the whole point. A long time ago, he had read in some book that certain colors could invoke emotional responses. Some colors like bright orange and red could make people anxious or alert, and there were even certain shades of green, brown, and yellow when, mixed together, could actually make someone feel physically sick. Blue, he had read, was naturally soothing and calming. He wondered if all mental institutions used these shades for the sakes of the patients, and if there was any credence to that color theory, why the waiting room in the emergency room was a vacuum of white. You would think that would be the one place that would need the most 'soothing'.

The guard station was quaint, just a small booth for the two guards sitting there, a metal detector, and a single door leading into the main part of the ward. There was a clipboard on the counter to sign in visitors and little else.

"Afternoon, Rich," Dr. Stephenson greeted one of the guards and introduced Name, Heero, and Duo.

Duo promptly tuned them out. He didn't make eye contact with either guard and was happy that neither of them tried to make conversation with him. They were probably used to patients who were too shy or embarrassed when they first came here. It wasn't entirely that. His instincts, trained by his time on the street and living with Wes, who at his best could be described diplomatically as militant, had him examining everything. The baton and stun pistol on the guard's belt were like bright red flags and made him a feel a bit better. At least they took their security seriously.

The bolts on the door leading to the main part of the institution were heavy and reinforced, the window incredibly thick and crosshatched with bars. It wasn't the prison door he had been expecting, but it was better than nothing. It would take a great deal of force to break through it, and would take a lot of time to unlock if you didn't have the key. Dr. Stephenson signed Duo in, continuing to talk to Name, and the guard opened the door for them.

Duo didn't know exactly what he had been expecting the ward to look like. His only real experience with mental institutions were from stories like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and other books he had read in school. When he had thought about his stay here, he had envisioned stark walls, bars on every window, patients loitering in the hallways, babbling nonsense or banging their heads against the walls.

It was vastly different from all of that. The walls had flowered wallpaper on them where they weren't painted with a powdery blue. The windows had no bars. There were screens behind them, and to most people they would look exactly the same as the sort of screens you would put into your window during the summer to keep the insects out. Duo, however, knew the difference between those and ones that were made with durastell, a synthetic material that was very easy to create in different sizes in shapes, like plastic, that was also very strong.

Regular screens had warnings on them not to let babies or small children near the screens, as they can break even at a small weight. Durastell screens could only be broken with a great deal of force, like sawing at them with a sharp knife. They were perfect for a place like this, so the windows could stay open for some fresh air, giving the patients a feeling of normalcy, without risking that one might try to jump out one and go some place they shouldn't. Since the ward was on the first floor, there was no risk of anyone trying to jump to their deaths. Wes used to make and sell restraints and trip-wire explosives with the stuff since it was easy to use, hardy, but easy to obtain, so Duo easily recognized the white-silver shine to the screens as the sunlight reflected in them.

There were a few patients around, especially when they got to the main sitting room, but if he had been unaware of where he was, they wouldn't have looked any different from any other kid that he went to school with. The sitting room had a few tvs, books, toys, and chairs and sofas to sit on. One girl was reading a book, and smiled up at him. There was a large scar across her face, with some smaller one scattered about the edge of it, telling Duo that it had been made with glass, probably a broken bottle. Not one that had been thrown at her, but raked across her face. One of the scars came dangerously close to her right eye.

Though she was smiling, there was a shadow in her expression. Duo recognized the familiar expression intimately. He smiled back at her and she returned to her book. They moved on to the cafeteria, which was more or less what Duo had expected out of such a place. It was like a cross between the cafeteria at school and a fast food restaurant. There were tables and chairs instead of the long bench style seating arrangement at school, and a buffet type of food line. But it also looked like you could order something that wasn't being offered at the buffet if you wanted to. The menu was actually a lot more extensive than he had thought it would be, but what made him happiest was when he saw that they didn't just serve hamburgers and fries or pasta, but also fairly fresh fruits and vegetables, and even the greasier foods looked pretty good. The patients here ate better than he had when he had been in the hospital.

The ward seemed to have two areas; where the patients could eat and socialize, which was also where the classes and therapeutic appointments were held, and the more personal areas that included their rooms. The two areas were connected by a sort of 'bridge' that consisted of a long corridor, the walls made of thick glass that allowed them to see the outside. It had a kind of greenhouse effect, which was probably wonderful in the winter, but now that it was summer they had air conditioning going full blast. Duo could glimpse hints of flowers and trees through the heavy glass.

There were a few rooms in this portion of the ward that reminded him of school; a few art rooms where he saw a couple of teenagers around his age painting and sculpting, a music room, and, to Duo's immense relief and interest, a library. It made him feel a pang for his school, and a little bit of guilt for having missed the last few days of this semester. But that guilt was just a drop in the ocean of everything else. Stephenson explained that there were classes that anyone could take, not like at school, but more like activities to keep him occupied, and therapists in the guise of teachers. He didn't have to take them, if he didn't want to.

Eventually they got to a set of large, windowless doors. Across them was printed 'Atrium' in print that was neither institutional or artistic. The sun when Stephenson opened the doors was blinding, and the outside air was almost mockingly warm and peaceful. With a word like 'atrium', he had been half-expecting another sitting room, bigger and more open, or a tiny sports court perhaps, all paved ground with a chain-link fence and some benches. Courtyard or park would have been a more apt word to call the area. The green and hints of flowers he had seen in the path between the two areas of the ward had belonged to this place.

There was a fence wrapping around the area, but it was tall and painted a clean white. It was too tall to climb, and the wood too thick to break through with anything but a chainsaw or a truck, but the fence gave more an impression of privacy than containment. There were a few long benches and cobbled paths across the lush grass. It almost looked like the park closest to home, the one he had gone to see his cats before Name had followed him there. But there were a lot more flowers here. With this smaller space, it was probably easier to maintain them, plus no dogs or rambunctious little kids to tromp all over them.

As Stephenson explained that this area, also, was someplace any one of the residents here could visit whenever they liked, Duo watched two boys play Frisbee.

�Let�s go see your room,� Dr. Stephenson said with a soft smile, happy to see that the teenaged boy was taking this so well so far. He did look a bit pale, a bit distant from them as though he were walking through a thick fog, but in her profession, she had seen much worse reactions to a teenager or child suddenly finding themselves here, separated from their families.

Most of the patients she treated came from troubled homes, and were either brought here by social services, themselves, or a guardian outside of their immediate family. It was nice to see that Duo was not one these children, that his family was still by his side, supporting him. It would go along way to helping him get better. That both Name and Heero did not stray from the longhaired boy�s side did not escape her notice, strengthening her resolve that the best thing for Duo was not to allow them by him at all times, nor was it to cut him off from them entirely.

Duo�s room was not all that far away from the atrium, and it was more spacious than he had envisioned. There was a large window, screened like the others in the institution were, and a cheery amount of sunlight streamed through it. There was a desk with a lamp, a dresser, closet, and a bed, not as nice as the one he had at home, but better than the one Wes had provided him for all of those years. The bedroom had the similar theme of soothing colors instead of stark, void ones. It wasn�t his bedroom, but it wasn�t a prison cell either.

�The closest bathroom is further down the hall to the right,� the psychiatrist told him and lightly touched his arm, �Do you have any questions for me?�

Duo shook his head. His mind was totally blank at the moment, not so much a beehive of thoughts as a snowstorm of white nothingness. He was going to have plenty of time alone with Stephenson to ask her any questions he could think of.

�Thank you for the tour,� he typed.

�I�ll be right outside,� she said to Name and left the three of them alone.

Name looked at Duo, and for a very brief moment, she lost control of herself and looked like she might cry. She quickly composed herself enough to just hug him tightly.

�Oh, Duo,� she murmured, resting her cheek against his head, and feeling suddenly helpless, an emotion she had never enjoyed, �please tell me what you need.�

It was as close as she would come to asking him if he wanted her to take her home, to fight against Dr. Stephenson and Dr. Stark�s recommendation, even though her good sense screamed at her that this was for Duo�s benefit. Duo felt an aching pit in his heart at her embrace and had to remind himself very forcefully that this was not the last time she was going to hug him. They were not locking him away in some dark closet, or cage with iron bars. Even if he never got better, even if they never released them from this place, he was not going to be abandoned. Just that thought, those words in his head, made that pit ache and something inside of him flare red hot.

�She�s all you have left,� that cruel voice in his head spoke up. It had been suspiciously quiet during the tour of the facility, �the only road left.�

That should have filled him with terror, but he only felt sadness, guilt, and a strong love. Somewhere, deep inside, where the true consequences of what he had done would never leave him, he missed Wes. He could tell the rest of him that nothing had happened, that the sickening sound of that knife going into his neck had only been a nightmare, but that part still knew that he was gone. He was dead and murdered and would never come back into his life. And that part of him missed him deeply, even as it was still frightened by his memory.

In the closet, he had wondered if he would just choose Wes, if the man would truly stay with him, or he would get tired of him and toss him away. He would never know now what sort of future he could have had with Wes, but he knew, without any doubts in his heart now, that Name would never leave him. The voice might be right. He was old enough and mature enough know that there was no such thing as �the only choice� but if this road was the only one for him, the best road, at the very least, he could see it stretching a long way ahead and, unlike his turbulent life with Wes, he did not wonder if tomorrow morning he would wake up all alone, in some strange bed, or not wake up at all.

He tugged on Name�s sleep, to get her to let go of him and when she did, he typed on the pad.

�Can you come back tonight?�

He wondered if she would understand that he was asking for more than just them to visit him tonight. He already knew that they would, to bring his things. He didn�t need to ask, though, or to wonder. She smiled and kissed his forehead.

�Of course, sweetheart,� she promised.

�I sent you the list of the things I�d like you to bring,� Duo typed and showed to Heero, �if it�s not too much trouble.�

�Of course it isn�t,� the blue eyed boy scoffed, and pulled his best friend into his own hug, tighter than his mother�s. Duo eagerly hugged back, clinging to him like his life depended on it. If he had begged him to right then, Heero would have dragged him out of the hospital, fighting tooth and nail. He half-hoped that he would, but Duo just squeezed him tightly.

�You have my phone number, and my email address. You can contact me whenever you like, no matter how late it is, ok?� Heero rasped, his voice tinged with desperation.

Duo nodded against his shoulder, and was immensely thankful that the doctor had let him keep Quatre�s computer if only for that reason. Heero was reluctant to let go of him, but he eventually did. Both Heero and Name looked like there was more that they wanted to say to him, so much more, but knew they had to leave him at some point. Watching them go, Duo felt his stomach ache. He wanted to yell at them to come back, that he didn�t want to be left here, but he knew he was just panicking. He had wanted to prove to Heero, and to himself, that he could be independent and strong. This was his chance.

He sat down on the bed and stared at the wall. He could think something like that, but he was scared. Scared of his thoughts, and unsure about what was going to happen now. He could hear Name and Dr. Stephenson talking out in the hallway, but eventually their voices faded until Duo understood that Heero and Name had finally left. He felt very cold. He had survived Wes when all sense had told him that he would die at a very young age from the man�s savagery, especially when he had kidnapped him this last time, so why did this make him feel so hopeless? He had a way to contact Name and Heero and the rest of his friends. He had books and television and games. He could go outside and breathe in fresh air, turn on as many lights as he wished when it got dark. And yet he had that feeling again, like he was being pulled away into some dark space.

He realized that he should get up, explore the ward further, do anything to keep his mind occupied, but he just couldn�t muster up the ability to leave the spot he was sitting in. For the first time, his thoughts weren�t on Wes or his guilt or even how much he missed his family. He missed his room and yearned for his own ceiling, he ached to feel Toby�s warm body pressed against his leg, Shiva�s familiar weight on his lap. This room was nice, better than he had thought it would be, but there was no warmth here. It was like the opposite of a hotel room where you knew you were sharing the bed with at least a hundred other people, that a thousand fingerprints besides your own, most if not all of them strangers�, were on the remote, on the door knob, on the shower head. He couldn�t envision a single other person sitting on this bed.

After some time of him just sitting there, involved with his somber thoughts, he heard a knock on the door. He blinked owlishly at it and pondered getting up to answer it before the person realized how foolish it was to wait for permission from someone who couldn�t talk and just came in. He was relieved to see Dr. Stephenson and not some orderly or worse, another patient eager to meet the new admission.

�Hello, Duo,� she said with a soft smile, so unlike the nurses that had taken care of him in the hospital, but not indifferent or sterile-professional, and she reminded him of his mother for a moment.

She sat down next to him on the bed and Duo realized that they were talking to each other, one on one, for the first time, like two people instead of doctor and patient. It was refreshing. He had never met another psychiatrist and wasn�t sure what they were supposed to be like. He had thought of them as cold and clinical, always with a pen and a pad of paper, jotting down your thoughts and feelings without actually hearing them or feeling them, kind of like how Stark treated him, just without the constant underlying disdain. But Stephenson actually seemed to care about him beyond her bottom line or whatever it was therapists strived for.

�How are you?� she asked genuinely.

�I don�t know,� Duo typed the honest answer. In the time that it had taken to walk here, he had resolved that for the things that he could tell her, he would tell the absolute truth to make up for the things he didn�t dare to, �I don�t know what I�m feeling right now.�

She seemed to understand and touched his hand.

�That�s alright. I know this is all probably very overwhelming for you. Is there anything I can do for you to make you more comfortable?�

He shook his head.

�When is my first session with you?� he typed.

�I think we�ll wait on those for a few days, until you are more used to this place,� she said.

He almost huffed at that. He wanted to get this over with, he wanted to go home as soon as possible. But he knew that it wasn�t like that. He wasn�t even sure if she could help him. When she left him, he laid down on the bed. It was comfortable, but alien to him. He put the computer on the bedside table and rolled over onto his side. Duo touched his leg lightly. Even through his pants, he could feel the bandage there, over the punctures he had made in his leg. He didn�t need to roll up his pant leg and take off the bandage to see the wound. When Stark�s nurse had cleaned it, he had studied every inch of it, forcing himself to do so as if that could break through to the damaged part of himself that had done that. It would scar, a constant reminder of how crazy he was. His brow furrowed and he stared at that spot on his leg with hatred.

�Why?� he demanded himself, but there was no answer.
*****
Despite Stephenson�s assurance that a schedule would not be forced upon Duo, in the week since he had first been admitted, he found himself falling into one. He even came to rely on it, to keep himself from really feeling the isolation and separation from the life that he had so desperately clung to and yearned to return to during his kidnapping. He always had breakfast at ten, always something different but he did enjoy the omelets and waffles that the cook made for him at his request, and never once batting an eye at having to read his tablet.

There were a few �classes� he liked to join in; painting, music, and a sort of book club thing. Painting was very soothing to him, and the �teacher� had stopped trying to get him to paint his feelings after the first couple of times. All of the teachers kept trying to get him to open up like that, to express his feelings in some way, especially about the kidnapping, but never really pressed him too hard. He didn�t know how to tell them that no one wanted to see his feelings and memories expressed in any kind of art form, and he didn�t want to relive those things like that. He had enough nightmares at night, he didn�t need them during the day.

He couldn�t sing or play any sort of instrument, but he went to the music classes to watch the other patients. They kept to themselves mostly, or stayed in close knit groups of friends, people that had been there much longer than he had, just like at school. There was one girl named Ella who always took music classes, and had quite a talent for the piano. Her mother had splashed her in the face with some bleach in a fit of rage and she was blind in one eye. Duo didn�t think that she had even told her therapist that and found that quite a few patients that were normally quite and skittish opened up to him easily, probably because he was mute. But he never opened up to them about his own past, just mundane things.

Book club was his favorite. He couldn�t read out loud, but the other patients in the club were patient enough to read what he typed on his tablet and agree to his suggestions. He spent most of his free time reading in the various rooms and atrium of the institution and the small, but cozy library that they had quickly became his favorite place.

He would go to dinner around five or six and then go to bed at ten. If he slept, it was sporadically, just three to four hours at a time. After the first couple of nights he had learned to go to bed early or he wouldn�t get any kind of decent sleep. He had an hour and a half session with Dr. Stephenson every day. Duo was amazed that, after five sessions with her, she hadn�t gotten completely frustrated with him yet. After spending seven and a half hours talking to her, he had never broached the subject of Wes or his kidnapping.

He told her what little bits of his childhood he was comfortable talking about; how lonely he had been, how few friends he had had and growing up poor without any kind of nurturing, parental presence, his cats, being bullied by Zechs. And he told her about his current life at the Yuy household, how much happy he was and how much he loved them, how he thought of Name now as his mother and how grateful he was to her.

He never once talked about any kind of sexual abuse or being a prostitute and Stephenson did not ask about it. She didn�t ask about the kidnapping, either, except for their third session when she asked him if he believed that his experience with it was affecting his sleep at all. He had confessed that he was having nightmares, that those nightmares involved his fear of the dark and being confined. To his relief, they had talked about this fear at a great length without actually revealing anything in detail about the kidnapping or the other times he had dreamed those things.

Duo felt like he was making no progress, and he knew it was his fault. Every time he walked into Stephenson�s office, he wondered if he should divulge more details to her, that he should actually talk about Wes, but something always stopped him, something other than his fear of talking about the murder or getting Name into trouble. How could he help her get to the root of why he was mute and self destructive if he couldn�t even talk about the reason why he had become mentally broken? Every time he left one of those sessions, he felt hopeless, like he was doomed to be here for the rest of his life.

He wished he could understand it himself, but he couldn�t even think about it. About Wes� body, about the feeling of that knife sliding into his neck, and that he had been the one to do it. He couldn�t come to terms with that, even as he taunted himself in his nightmares about it. On some level, he knew that this self abuse was him punishing himself for doing the one thing that he had always believed he could never do, that one level of Wes that he would never sink to. Perhaps his inability to speak was a part of that, or maybe he was still in some kind of subtle form of shock. But if he understood those things, why couldn�t he get over them? Now that Wes was dead, he wanted to move on with his life.

�Do you, or are you just running away?�

The voice hadn�t stopped. It was pretty constant now, a bully in his head. A tormentor, like one of the furies from greek mythology, a vulture in his chest. Maybe he really was clinically insane, and that voice was a hallucination. His one reprieve was when his family visited, then it was easy to ignore the voice. Name and Heero visited him every day. The second day he had been here, he had refused to let them visit him. He had just been so ashamed of himself and had stayed in his room all day, not wanting to speak to anyone. But by the time the third day had come, he had been miserably lonely and aching to see them. Quatre, Trowa, and even Wufei visited him and it was in those times that he felt the most normal. He felt bad that they had to come to a place like this, but he was just so happy to see him that the guilt was muddled and rather pointless.

He was the most surprised that Wufei�s mother was a frequent visitor. Stark saw him every other day to assess his physical health and he though he was never happy to see his doctor, he was glad that he didn�t gloat about recommending his stay here. At first he thought that Dr. Chang was only seeing him because she was gearing up to be Stark�s replacement, once the forms went through (which had made the man as belligerent and petty as anyone would imagine), but she seemed more concerned as his friend�s mother than a doctor.

Dr. Chang kept him updated on the process of getting him switched over to her care, as well as the goings on in Wufei�s life that weren�t an invasion of his privacy. When he was feeling depressed after a session with Stephenson, she would simply sit with him and tell him stories of the village in China where she had grown up. The ward was like a black hole, a chasm or microcosm of it�s own. Duo felt isolated, not just from the lives of his friends, but the rest of the world, so he welcomed her visits.

He had actually fallen into this routine he had concocted for himself very easily. Those first two days had honestly been the worst. He had been overjoyed to see Name and Heero return that night with his things that Stephenson had approved, and equally saddened when they had left. Heero had given him a box of his things from home; some books, games, and the orb from his desk that lit his room at night.

Duo also found a plushie, grey wolf in the box. It was a little bit tattered, one of it�s yellow eyes missing, but it smelled like Heero and he recognized it as the same one that sat on his best friend�s desk in his room. He wondered if it was something from his childhood, because he didn�t seem like the type that would collect stuffed animals. Duo hadn�t had any himself growing up. Sister Helen had tried giving him a teddy bear once, but he hadn�t understood what he was supposed to do with the thing. He had ended up splitting it open to hide things in before closing it up again, but had lost it quickly.

When he had gotten older, it had just been another thing he had understood was normal for other kids, but not for him. He had been curious if holding something like a teddy bear really helped you sleep, but hadn�t been dumb enough to ask Wes about it. He still didn�t know about holding a stuffed animal while he slept, and he wished that they didn�t have to strap his hands down at night. It was hard enough trying to fall asleep like that, flat on his back, unable to adjust. But it was something of a comfort, having the wolf by his head on the pillow, that familiar smell� at night it was all he had, besides the equally familiar glow of the orb.

That first night, the straps had proven to be completely pointless, he hadn�t fallen asleep for a single second. In that dimly lit room, he had felt invisible eyes on him, had heard familiar breathing that could not possibly have been there, and a voice that hadn�t let him drift off, like it was punishing him. At some point in the night, he had realized that it was the first night he had been away from Name since Boston that hadn�t involved kidnapping or a hospital stay. For some reason, that thought had upset him enough to keep him awake and restless. He still didn�t sleep that well, but during the day he made sure to keep so busy that by the time he laid down for the night, he was too tired for his thoughts to run wild.

The last few days, Duo had spent most of his free time in the atrium. The summer air, already becoming hot and humid but not unpleasantly so, was helpful in forgetting where he was. He watched a simple, small yellow butterfly float from flower to flower and had to pull himself out of an almost-doze. He was all alone out here and the stillness, the quiet and peace made his mind wander into nothingness, his lack of sleep catching up with him. He had just come from one of his sessions with Stephenson. She had made him talk about his cats, the connection he felt with Trowa, a connection he had not been anticipating in their friendship, and his closeness with Heero.

He told her pretty much everything; how he had never felt this close to another person in his entire life, how Heero could make him do things and feel things he never would do or feel otherwise. He even told her how scared that made him feel sometimes. But he didn�t tell her about his suspicions that he was in love with his best friend. Stephenson had seemed very interested in this course of discussion, but Duo had felt frustrated. How he felt about Heero had nothing to do with his recent problems. They were his issues and his alone, he had caused them. All of this was his fault. And he couldn�t even tell her that. It made him realize just how much of a waste of time this was.

Deep in his thoughts, Duo felt himself start to drift off again, but this time couldn�t muster the ability to jerk himself awake. It was so nice and warm out here, the sunlight so different from the dark shadows of his room�
*****

"I�ve done terrible things. I�ve stolen from kids that were just as sick and hungry as me, I�ve had sex with guys ten times my age in horrible, disgusting ways, I�ve been filled with hatred, I�ve lied, cursed, I�ve sold drugs for Wes, I even lost hope in my own existence and tried to kill myself more than once� sometimes, I wonder if one day, I�ll look at myself in the mirror and I�ll see Wes there� but the one thing I can cling on to is that I would never kill someone, I would never take that last step in being him. After everything I�ve done, I don�t know if I can ever be proud of myself, but I�ve never taken a life. And I�m glad for that. If I did� if I took that last step, the one thing that separates me from him� if I took that step, even because of revenge, I would cease to be human.�

　

　

End Part 18
　
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The Road to Kindness