"It's good work, Duo. I can't see the burns at all. The eye regen must have cost a fortune," Hilde said very close to Duo's face.
Duo snorted and backed a little away. "Jeez! Back off. Did you have onions for lunch and garlic?"
Hilde snickered. "That little place on Van Nyse. I'm addicted to their salads."
"You need to eat more than salads, skinny Minnie," Duo grumbled.
"Talking about my weight is sexual harassment, Captain Maxwell," Hilde pointed out with false annoyance, but then added, "and you didn't see all the ham and cheese on the thing either."
"No, didn't SEE anything," Duo agreed and was pleased when Hilde laughed instead of falling into the usual guilty silence that everyone else did. He could always count on Hilde to treat him normally.
"So, how long are you in for?" Hilde wanted to know.
Duo shrugged and tried to tamp down on a roil of emotions. He wasn't going to wallow in depression. He wasn't going to indulge in anger. He wasn't going to launch into yet another tirade about the mission that had taken his eyesight, and the green agent that had set the chemical bomb off. It had taken Duo months to stop thinking that burning to death, in a chemical spray, wasn't enough payback. Getting past the anger, to understand that the man had blocked that spray, to protect Duo from his stupidity, had been a major step forward in his healing process. It hadn't been enough to spare his eyes, or part of his face, but keeping him alive meant much more now, than it had when he had first come to in a hospital bed, in his own complete darkness.
"What do they do in there?" Hilde pressed.
Duo frowned. "Evaluate my progress. They ask me questions, a doctor gives my eyes a looksee, and then they all make notes, that keep my insurance paying out and the treatments coming."
"They wouldn't stop treatments for any reason?" Hilde asked, voice ready to be outraged.
Duo smiled and reached out to grip her thin arm. "Okay, mom, relax. No, they wouldn't. It's just bullshit paperwork. I just wish that they covered my training."
"Why doesn't it?" Hilde wanted to know. "How else are you going to get back to work?"
"The government pays for the basics, but the extras have to come out of my pocket," Duo revised. "I mean, how many civilians need to know how to shoot blind? How to navigate on an exercise course? Do martial arts? It's not like I'm ever going to be a full fledged agent again, in the field, but I'm not leaving myself without any skills, either. I'm not going to be that guy tapping around with a cane, looking for a chess partner in the park."
"Well, there are a hell of a lot of jobs in this place, that don't require eyesight," Hilde told him with a sigh. "You'll never be out of work as a consultant, either."
Duo nodded. He heard a door open. "That's for me, Hilde," he told her. "Why don't you go back to work? I can find my way out to the front, and the bus line, now, all by myself."
Hilde was quiet for a moment and then she said, "They all think you're just covering up, you know? In denial and ready to fall to pieces, sooner or later."
"Does Heero think that?" Duo wanted to know and couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.
"If you'd let him visit you, you'd know the answer to that," Hilde pointed out.
Duo felt his gut tighten. "He did a lot of visiting when I was in the hospital getting the regen, but he never said a lot. I want to be handling things a lot better before I get with the guys again."
"Ready, Captain Maxwell?" a man's voice asked impatiently.
Duo grunted. "Yeah, let's get this going. I'm supposed to be at the West street dojo in an hour."
"Later, Duo," Hilde called as the man led Duo by a hand on his shoulder.
"Later, Skinny Minnie," Duo replied with a grin.
"I'm reporting you!" Hilde retorted back with mock anger.
_________________________
There was always a tension, bordering on fear, when Duo stepped onto the sidewalk, and used memory alone, and a cane, to get him home. Without any visual clues, he had to rely on other senses to get from point A to point B. It was hard to explain, to worried friends, that he could tell the difference between Fifth and Grove street, because there was a gap in the buildings where the echoes of the busy street against store fronts, changed, or that he could re-affirm his position by reaching out and feeling the rough texture of the Forest Street bank. Karsen's coffee shop heralded the turn onto his street, with the smell of brewing coffee, and his apartment building had a stone facade that he could follow to the front entrance. Still, despite his quick mastering of basics for the blind, he couldn't shake the expectation that he would run into trouble, or the image of himself, begging the people on the street to help him and getting no response, even when they had proven, to the contrary, to be very helpful when he had sometimes lost his way. He supposed that fear, might always be there, like a trapeze artist always fearing that he might miss his mark and fall, despite hundreds of perfect executions.
'Get a guide dog,' Hilde had begged him, 'or hire someone to help you get around.' Those were crutches that wouldn't get him through life, Duo had realized. After the deep depression, and the bitterness, had faded, though not gone away altogether, he had thrown himself into programs full throttle, needing his independence, needing the knowledge that he could have back, at least some of the life, that his blindness had robed him of.
Entering his apartment, Duo switched on a light automatically. They had taught him not to forget those sorts of habits for several reasons, but one reason had made him feel the bitterness even more. Visitors were not a consideration, at that point in his life. Gone were the days when he invited everyone over to watch the game, a movie, or to simply hang out and talk. He had been far too busy finding his way in the darkness. He wanted a job, confidence, and the ability to make it on his own, before he let anyone back into his life. They weren't going to see him fumbling, weak, and needy. He didn't want their pity.
Duo switched on the vid, needing the sound to fill the empty spaces, as he slipped off his coat and hung it up on a coat rack. His questing fingers found the answering machine and he hit the playback switch. As he ghosted into the kitchen, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, he frowned as a therapist admonished him for missing an appointment, an insurance adjuster questioned a form sent in by Preventers, a man wanted to sell him burial plots, and Heero Yuy asked plaintively, "Why won't you talk to me?" The last had Duo stiffening in the act of unwrapping a frozen dinner.
"Because," Duo muttered as he popped the tray into the microwave and hit the buttons with the force of his anguish and frustration. Because, you'll only feel sorry for me, he thought. Because, I can't be your partner, any more. Because, the guy you liked, as a friend, feels a hell of a lot more for you, and can't stand the thought of you... Duo scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. He didn 't want anyone's pity, anyone's uncomfortable attempt to remain friends with him, when he was clearly never going to share their world again. They were all friends with Duo Maxwell, kick ass top field agent, of Preventers, not cane tapping, blind, soon to be, office worker, Maxwell, who would never stand toe to toe, in a fire fight, with them again. It was too much of a come down for them, and himself. Heero, especially, shouldn't need to pretend that things could ever be the same between them again, even if he had never realized a quarter of what Duo had really felt for him.
The microwave chimed and Duo gingerly took his tray to the large dinning table. He had bought it, and some other oversized items, with the intention of accommodating his friends. With his lonely lifestyle, now, it was making him feel that loneliness all the more keenly.
The news started and Duo listened with half attention to topics that he would have been avid for in his previous profession. Trouble had always meant possible Preventer involvement, and following the ebb and flow of Earth and Colony news, had been a necessity. Now it gave him a feeling of helplessness, and he wondered if most people felt that way. Unable to effect anything, he could almost classify himself as a 'victim' of the times that he lived in.
Duo finished his meal, unable to identify whether it had been fish, chicken, or other, and promised himself, once again, that he would start labeling the things, or learn how to cook. There was always that elusive need, ever present, that grasped at any talent that might make him useful, that might make it easier to believe that his friends could find something to admire, again, in him. Being an excellent cook, as a reason, made him laugh, but the echo in his apartment made him get that stopped. It was too much like talking to himself and that could start making him feel pathetic.
Duo cleaned up the remains of his meals, checked his apartment to make certain that things were in their place, and then set his alarm clock. Gone were the days when he would spend long stretches of time doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself. He had a full schedule planned for the next day, that would have him all over the city. He knew that there was a bit of the neurotic in his passion to learn every inch of it, and common sense that told him that his goal was impossible, but he wasn't a normal man, he reasoned, and he had abilities that just might make that crazy dream a reality. He couldn't not attempt it, not grasp at as much independence as he could manage.
Duo turned out the lights, crawled into bed, and touched the alarm clock to double check that he had set it properly. The brail numbers were nubby against his fingers. Satisfied, he settled down for sleep, and hoped that he wouldn't be plagued by the nightmare, again, of that fateful day, and the agony of having his eyes and face sprayed with chemicals. Instead, he hoped for visions of how he used to see the world, wanting, at least in dreams, to see the sun again.
---------------------------------------
"Do you need help?"
Duo's attention was on the sound of the street, and the people around him, his foot and cane feeling around the curb. The voice was distracting.
"No, thanks," he replied. He didn't refuse the help out of pride. He was in the process of making a mental map of down town, and he didn't want anyone steering him around obstacles that he had to remember, later on, as being there.
The walk signal announced, in several languages, that it was safe to cross, but Duo knew better. Cars could make a sharp turn, ignoring pedestrians. Even when he had been able to see, he had nearly been run over, several times.
Duo heard people move forward on both sides of him. That and the sound of idling traffic, was even more reassuring. He found a manhole with his cane, a bump in the pavement that jarred his hand, and the step up onto the opposite curb. Running into a metal sign, with one side of his face, made him flinch and swear.
"Are you okay, mister?"
With one hand to his bruised face, Duo swallowed curses, realizing that the voice belonged to a child.
"Didn't you see the sign, mister?" the young girl persisted. Duo's imagination painted an image of a young girl in his mind and even estimated a height based on the direction of her voice.
"He can't see, honey, don't be rude," a motherly voice whispered.
"He's blind? Why doesn't he have a blind dog, then?" the girl asked innocently.
Duo heard a shush! and then mother and daughter were gone in a rising tide of sounds from footsteps and traffic.
"They shed," Duo muttered, and tried to get his bearings.
His mental map was growing with every step, but there were gaps, empty mental air that held, still, a great many unknowns. When his hand reached out for the offending sign post, he found the button that made it tell him, in an unsexed, mechanical voice, which street he was on, in several languages.
"Are you all right?" a man's voice asked.
"Hm?" Duo had been busy trying to smell his destination, but his nose seemed wet. He wiped at it and something smeared across his cheek.
"You nose is bleeding," the male voice told him. "Can I call someone for you? Get you some help?"
"Any kleenex?" Duo wondered with a grimace.
There was silence, long enough for Duo to wonder if he had been talking to thin air, and then the voice said, "Here." Soft things were pushed into Duo's free hand.
"Thanks," Duo said as he wiped at his nose and cheek. His face felt bruised badly. "Did I get it all? I mean, it's bad enough I have all the scars..."
"You got it," the man replied. "Accident? The sunglasses hide your eyes, but I can see white lines every where. It looks like a tattoo really, but done in white. You had a good surgeon."
Duo shrugged, but then couldn't help asking, "What kind of tattoo?"
"Like... a spider web, really thin, though. Mine's a lot worse."
"Yours?" Duo's mind was already trying to make an image to put with the voice. The man sounded young, tall, easy going.
"Yeah, mine," the man replied. "I was hit in the face with shrapnel. They had to bridge some gaps. Wasn't much to work with, I guess."
"I'm sorry," Duo replied, automatically, and then winced. He hated when people said that to him.
The man chuckled. "I'm used to it, and so is my wife. Some women don't care about looks, luckily."
They didn't talk for a moment and then the man asked, "Know where you're going?"
"A deli, close by," Duo replied and touched his sore nose. "I used to go there, with friends. I thought that I could smell my way there, but..."
A hand touched him tentatively and turned him to the right. "That way," the man told him. "Five doors down, one access road, and two more doors."
Duo remembered it then and grinned. "Thanks again."
"Welcome. See you later," the man said.
"Have a good one," Duo returned and then started walking. There were several surprised sounds, and one curse, as people moved to avoid his cane, and then he was free to probe for obstacles and feel for doorways.
The deli had been his reward, his carrot on a stick, to get him that far. It hadn't occurred to him that old friends might still like to visit there.
"You can't eat all of that yourself, Maxwell," Hilde's voice said.
Duo clutched his bag and glared. "Are you following me?"
"No," Hilde replied. "I was getting a pathetic salad. Now you've gone and ruined it with your soup, perogi, baklava, and gyros. You have enough to feed an army. If you're having a party, and not inviting me...?"
"I want it to last a few days," Duo retorted.
"I don't eat much," Hilde pointed out, and then leaned in closer and insisted, "Come on, Duo. I'm your best friend. Stop shutting me out with everyone else."
"I'm taking the bus home," Duo told her. "You will not help me, understood? You will not talk. You will not warn me. You will not tell me where to go next. Got that? I'm trying to learn it by myself."
"I'll walk five steps behind you, o master Gundam pilot," Hilde snickered, but then more seriously, "If it will get me into your inner sanctum, I'll do whatever you want."
"My what?" Duo snorted. "You do remember that I'm gay, right?"
"What a filthy mind," Hilde chided. "Lead on. Oh, and what the hell happened to your face?"
"No questions!" Duo insisted.
"All right!" Hilde sighed in exasperation.
She was true to her word, but once at the apartment, Duo heard her whistle behind him. "This is damned tidy! What happened to the packrat slash slob Duo Maxwell?"
They moved into the kitchen and she stood, uncertainly, while he put everything on the small table, there. He then began taking out utensils and plates, as he replied, "I got tired of tripping over things."
She made a sound that might have been agreement. "I'll get drinks."
His refrigerator opened, and then the freezer, and Duo felt a flash of irritation, and anxiety, as she asked,"Don't you organize so you know what's what? How do you know what's chicken or fish?" You could be getting orange soda, or coke, for all you know."
"Orange," Duo told her as he set the table. He'd not gotten orange the last two times that he had tried.
The refrigerator closed and Hilde put the drink into his hand. He sat down with it and popped the tab.
"So, what gives?" Hilde insisted.
"I order the food on the phone, the store brings it, but I don't ask them to stay and organize it." Duo replied testily.
"Why not?" Hilde wondered as she popped her own tab and took loud swallows.
Duo scowled. He didn't know. Embarrassment, maybe, or maybe a reluctance to have someone in his space for that long? Even Hilde was making him feel uptight.
"I'll bet there are some nifty gadgets, online, that you could order, that could help you out," Hilde said as she dished herself some food.
Duo's silence was telling. Duo heard her get up and he felt that bit of anxiety again, as he heard her walk into the living room.
"Don't move anything!" he called after her.
"I won't!" she called back.
Something did move, though, and Duo's irritation rose with his anxiety. "I said, don't move anything!"
"I'm not, I promise!" Hilde retorted, and then he heard her coming back. "Except for your laptop," she amended and he heard it settle on the table. The booting sequence went on along with the sounds of her eating.
"What are you doing?" Duo growled as he tried to get control of his temper. He covered it by beginning to eat as well.
"Duo, there are three inches of dust on this computer," Hilde replied critically. "You haven't even hooked it up to the braille pad, or turned on the sound. It will read everything to you, if you don't want the braille read out, you realize?"
"I'm not stupid. I just haven't felt like it," Duo grumbled around a mouthful of food. "I've been too busy."
Hilde was quiet a moment, and then she said, "See, here's a scanner that can tell you what you have. It reads the price chips on the products. Here's a talking labeler, too. A braille one. There's even a gadget for telling what color your clothes are. You can't wear coats all the time, Duo. When Spring hits, people are going to know you're color uncoordinated."
Duo pulled at his turtle neck self consciously. There were some clothes that he could remember, but others, he wasn't sure of.
"Glasses with proximity detectors," Hilde went on. "That could save you a lot of bruises. A sonar walking stick. It makes noise when you get near something. A GPS."
"And if all of that stops working when I need it the most, what will I do?" Duo asked acidly. "I don't like relying on machines... or dogs... or..."
"People," Hilde finished and then sighed. "I'm here to visit, not run your life, Maxwell. Let's eat."
Duo felt a pang of guilt, but then he cut that off. He shouldn't feel guilty for wanting his independence.
They made small talk and it was pleasant, but, after Hilde finally left, Duo found himself replacing the laptop to its original place and checking to make sure that Hilde hadn't moved anything else. His anxiety didn't go away until he was finished. It was better to stay alone, he concluded as, he cleaned up the remains of their meal, than to go through that all of the time.
____________________________________
"Ow!" Duo winced as something pulled at his scar tissue.
"Sorry, just checking the grafts," the doctor said softly, but continued to prod. "You've been taking good care of them, Mr. Maxwell."
Mr., not agent. Duo had to choke back a snarled reply, and said more evenly, "Not much else to do, lately."
"A sprained ankle does give a man some lengthy down time," the doctor replied. "How did it happen, martial arts practice?"
Duo didn't reply. He knew that the doctor was being critical. His admonition to take things slowly had fallen on deaf ears.
"Any visual?" the doctor asked.
Duo could imagine a light being flashed in his eyes as the doctor gingerly tilted his chin up.
"What do you think?" Duo replied petulantly. "We both know that the nerves behind these beautiful purples are melted."
"Things have been known to happen," the doctor said as he moved away from Duo. Duo heard things being handled and then a blood pressure monitor was put on his arm. It pumped up uncomfortably.
"Miracle things?" Duo snickered. "How likely is that?"
"As likely as anything else," the doctor replied.
"You just love the sunshine and fairy farts, don't you?" Duo sneered.
"Fairy farts?" the doctor chuckled, but Duo could hear his clothing move as he shrugged. "I like to keep an open mind."
"Excuse me if I don't wait for that bus," Duo replied.
The cuff was removed and Duo imagined the doctor making notes.
"So?" Duo prompted.
"Everything looks good," Heero's voice said near his elbow.
"Shit!" Duo exclaimed as he started hard enough to almost fall off the exam table. A firm hand steadied him, but then let him go just as quickly.
"Sorry," Heero apologized.
"You're not allowed in the exam room," the doctor said in a disapproving tone.
"I know, I'm sorry," Heero apologized again and then to Duo,"After you're done, Duo, can you please talk to me?"
Duo's face was hot with embarrassment. "What's there to say?"
"I've been worried about you," Heero told him.
"Now you know that I'm okay," Duo replied. "I've told you, and everyone else, that I need time... I'm not ready until I'm ready."
"I understand," Heero sounded as if he were barely keeping emotions under control. "I know how important it is to you to beat this thing."
Duo went sour in an instant. "I'm not 'beating it', Heero. You don't win against something like this. I'm learning to live with it... to function. I don't need distractions, even distractions like friends and partners."
The doctor muttered under his breath, about hard asses. Duo pretended not to hear.
"Duo..." Heero choked on something.
"Heero, whatever you want to say-" Duo started to cut him off.
"Duo, I need you to-" Heero persisted.
"Heero! I don't want your pity, your sympathy, or your guiding hand!" Duo exploded. "I don't need your guilt, either! Yeah, you could have been in front of me. Yeah, you could have gotten the stuff out of my eyes in time. Yeah, life sucks like that, but I don't need you trying to 'make it up to me', or anything like that."
"Shut the fuck up!" Heero suddenly exploded, panting with
emotion. "I'm trying to say that I almost lost you! I'm trying to say that
I care about you!I should have told you that a long time ago! It's not pity!
It's not guilt! I was afraid to tell you and ruin what we had. I was so sure...
I'm sure now, that you don't want any of that. I want to say it, though, and
have you know it, before it's too late again."
The door slammed as Heero went through it. He didn't want Duo's reply, so sure
of what it would be.
"Did I just hear Heero Yuy confess his love to someone?" the doctor sounded stunned. "I was so sure that he was asexual. I had a bet on it, actually."
Duo ran hands over his face, and then slid off of the exam table. "I want my clothes."
"Are you going after him?" the doctor wanted to know.
"No," Duo replied as he felt cloth put into his hands.
"Why not?" the doctor wanted to know. When there was a long silence as helped Duo pulled on his clothes, he finally answered his own question. "Okay, none of my business."
"You got it," Duo replied as he reached for his crutches and felt where he had left them against a wall.
Duo left the exam room and headed for the exit and the bus. It was hard, not using his cane, and relying on his crutches running into objects before he did. He couldn't think, couldn't wrap his head around what he had just heard his partner tell him. Heero Yuy cared about him? It couldn't be true. Heero was confused, somehow, mistaking his fear for a friend... for a partner... for something else. Duo couldn't let go of that belief. Heero couldn't care about someone who now failed to measure up so miserably.
TBC