Quatre was the one who noticed it first. Seeing, after any missions that required Gundams and killing and mass destruction, that Duo would disappear afterward. He didn’t mention it, thinking that it was really none of his business, but once he had noted it, he couldn’t help his curiosity.

The first time, he realized that Duo didn’t come back to the safe house with the rest of the team, but ‘went for a walk’ even though the night was rather chilly. But he didn’t think much of it and went to bed and Duo came in some time after that, undetected.

But having come to his attention, he began to watch, and the next time it happened, he waited up and it was hours before Duo came in, hunched and shivering with cold, going straight to his bed with little more than a grunted ‘good night’ to his friend. The next day everything seemed normal, but Quatre couldn’t quite put it out of his mind.

By the fourth time, he succumbed to his curiosity and followed his teammate, careful not to be seen and knowing that there was something seriously wrong here for him to even be able to tail Duo, the stealth master, undetected.

It was full dark, a pale half moon in the sky, and the night was very cold. Quatre was surprised when they ended up on the beach. He hid under the boardwalk and watched as Duo walked out onto the beach and stood for a while at the waters edge, staring up at the moon. He was even more surprised when Duo began to strip, carefully folding his clothes and piling them neatly on the sand back from the water where they wouldn’t get wet. He was wearing swim trunks under the clothes and Quatre almost gasped out loud as he realized that Duo was planning on going into the water, not only that, but had been planning it since he had dressed that morning. It was late November, and though the temperatures weren’t below freezing, it was far, far too cold to be going for a swim.

Duo walked back to the oceans edge, seeming not to notice as the icy water swirled around his ankles. Slowly, he pulled his braid around and unbound his hair, sifting it through his fingers until it was a loose fall around his body, dancing on the evening breeze. He waded into the breakers until he was thigh deep in the water and dove in.

Quatre slapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle the cry that bubbled up and tried to come out passed his defenses. Gods! How could he stand it? The water had to be ice cold!

Duo swam straight out, as though trying to follow the silvery path the moonlight made across the water, and Quatre soon lost sight of him in the dark. The water was fairly calm, and for a while he could hear the sound of Duo’s strokes splashing in the night. The minutes ticked by; what the hell was going on here? Quatre took a faltering step forward. What should he do? He couldn’t possibly find him in the dark. What was he intending? More minutes ran by, and Quatre began to panic, frozen between running for help and going into the water after him. Was this some kind of bizarre suicide attempt? Where was he swimming? What was he doing? Quatre was making the first moves to run back and find a phone to call for help when he heard sounds that indicated that Duo was coming back.

With a choked whimper of relief, he ducked back under cover and watched as Duo emerged from the water again, rising up from the depths like some strange, fey sea creature, his hair floating on the water around him, plastering itself to his body as he surfaced. You would not have known from watching that the water had to be the temperature of an icebox; he walked out of the surf and up the beach as though stepping from the shower. He turned and faced the moon again, standing for a bit, his pale skin silvered with the moonlight, and then slowly…he began to dance.

Quatre couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no music, at least not outside Duo’s head, but he began to move in time to some unheard melody, just standing there at first, swaying in the moonlight. Then moving up the beach, turning and swaying, arms sweeping in graceful arcs. The cold night wind pulled his hair from his body and as it dried, it began to fan around him.

Quatre was enthralled. He couldn’t have moved from the spot he was in had his life depended on it. It was beautiful. Duo was beautiful. He worked up and down the small stretch of sand, the dance becoming faster; adding leaps and twirls and incredible stretches. The cold night wind dried him quickly, and Quatre couldn’t understand how he wasn’t shivering and grabbing for his clothes. He could have danced on any stage in the country; Quatre knew that just watching him. His own upbringing had taken him to all the finer theaters in his homeland, and Duo rivaled any dancer he had ever seen. Though he obviously lacked formal training, he more than made up for it with raw talent.

Completely dry now, Duo danced as though partnering the wind, leaping high into its waiting arms, seeming to hang in the air for whole heartbeats, his hair furling about him like dark wings. Though Quatre didn’t see how, the tempo of the dance only seemed to increase and soon Duo’s skin was sheened again, this time with sweat. Quatre could see him panting even across the distance. He started a run up the beach, heading back toward where he had started, and suddenly leaped as high in the air as Quatre had seen him, his arms spread wide, his legs straight behind him and were he coming off a diving board, it would have been a perfect dive, but seeing as there was nothing in front of him but the sand and his pile of clothes, Quatre couldn’t understand; the move seemed almost as though he expected someone to be there to catch him.

At the last minute, just before he would have crashed into the ground on belly and chest, his arms and legs came down in an almost knee-jerk reaction, and he came to a bone jarring halt right over his pile of clothes. He just knelt there for a hand full of minutes, panting so hard, Quatre could hear him, and then slowly, he seemed to just keel over sideways and he fell in the sand.

The shivering began then, and Quatre watched long enough to make sure that Duo was able to drag his clothes back on before he slipped away, wanting to get back to the safe house ahead of his teammate.

Quatre made it with ease, and was in his room with the door cracked open, watching the hall when Duo finally arrived. Quatre saw him coming, shivering and still struggling to regain his breath, his arms wrapped around his own chilled body, one hand pressed tight to the center of his chest. He passed from view, and Quatre heard the other mans bedroom door open and close, and not long after, the sound of the shower running.

Quatre shut his door and went to ready himself for bed, not sure what to make of the evenings events. Knowing, in the back of his mind, that this was really none of his business at all, but at the same time, feeling strongly that something was very wrong here.

Morning found Duo in high spirits, coming into the kitchen and actually offering to help Trowa and Quatre make breakfast. They let him chop the onions and peppers for the omelets, though after watching him for several minutes, Trowa threatened to make him eat anything he got blood in.

‘I know how to handle a knife.’ Duo smirked at him, but Quatre had to confess to himself that watching the flashing blade was making him a little nervous as well.

Quatre was grating the cheese, and found it to be a mindless task that allowed him to steal glances in Duo’s direction. He caught him rubbing surreptitiously at his chest several times, but nothing more than that.

Heero and Wufei came in not long after, and Duo brightened immediately, throwing out the first volley in what promised to be a lengthy war of wits if Quatre didn’t miss his guess. Duo just seemed to be in that kind of mood; bubbling and eyes bright with mischief. The kind of mood that usually set Wufei off before Duo even had a chance to open his mouth. It delighted the braided pilot that he could so easily affect the Chinese man, and he never missed a chance to poke sharp, verbal sticks at him.

‘Trowa,’ Wufei intoned with a heavy sigh, ignoring Duo’s barb, ‘please tell me you are not letting Maxwell help cook?’

‘We aren’t letting him near the stove.’ Trowa informed him without cracking a smile.

‘Hey!’ Duo grinned at them in mock injury, ‘I am perfectly capable of cooking!’

‘Just not anything we’re capable of eating.’ Heero interjected, with a wry almost-smile, and everyone glanced up in surprise, hearing the normally quiet pilot join the match.

If anything, Duo brightened further, flipping his knife in the air to deftly catch it again before resuming his mass murder of helpless vegetables. ‘Nothing I have ever cooked has killed a single one of you.’ He pointed out logically.

‘Now there’s a glowing endorsement for your culinary skills; has not yet killed anybody.’ Wufei moved passed them to take down plates and began setting the breakfast table.

‘Hmmm…I could open a chain of restaurants and use that as my tag line: ‘A hundred served; no one dead.’

Wufei grimaced at him as he came back for the silverware, ‘That would certainly entice me to eat there. I’m sure you’ll do well in your new endeavor.’

Duo was standing in front of the silverware drawer, and as Wufei approached, he reached out and gave Duo a playful shove, touching the center of his chest. Duo flinched, his breath hissing sharply, and stumbled a step backward. The room was suddenly quiet, and every eye in the place was on him.

He flushed, ‘Damn Wufei; don’t sneak up on me like that.’ He stammered, and they all knew he was covering something, but for a frozen moment, no one spoke.

Quietly, Heero rose from the seat he had taken at the table and came back across the room, ‘What’s wrong with your chest?’ He asked, his voice seeming a little loud in the sudden silence.

If anything, Duo blushed harder, attempting to return to the cutting board, but Heero came around the counter, calmly walked up to him and slowly began unbuttoning his denim shirt. Uncharacteristically, Duo lowered his eyes and just stood and let him, sighing heavily and blushing furiously.

Heero unbuttoned the first three buttons, and gently pushed the shirt open. In the center of Duo’s chest, was a nasty gash, centered over his breastbone, weeping fresh blood from Wufei’s touch, obviously only hours old.

Wufei frowned, moving up to stand beside Heero, ‘Maxwell, I’m sorry…I did not realize.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Duo waved them away, trying to move out from under everyone’s gaze.

‘This looks like a knife wound, Duo.’ Heero’s intense stare was making Duo squirm.

‘A knife wound?’ he cocked his head and looked up at his partner through his unruly bangs, ‘Get serious. My…my toolbox came loose in Deathscythe during the fight.’

Heero frowned, ‘Tool box?’ he questioned, looking skeptical, his fingers gently probing the wound.

‘Ow! Watch it, Heero!’ Duo winced and pulled free, ‘Yeah, I had tools flying all over the damn cockpit, I’m not sure what hit me.’

Quatre moved closer, looking around Heero’s arm at the gash. That had not been there last night on the beach. He would have seen a cut that large even from where he had been crouched in hiding. He was positive Duo’s chest had been unmarked last night after the battle. He held his tongue and went back to grating cheese.

‘Well,’ Trowa tossed in with a raised eyebrow, ‘Whatever it was, you should tend to it; looks deep.’

Wufei and Heero had Duo backed up against the counter, one on either side.

‘Maxwell,’ Wufei almost growled at him, ‘This goes to the damn bone!’

‘Guys!’ Duo wailed, pinned and cornered, ‘Lighten up, will ya!’

‘Duo, it needs stitches.’ Heero had removed the knife from Duo’s hand, laying it on the cutting board and the two darker pilots took him by the arms, one on each side and began to usher him out of the room.

‘Don’t be such a big baby about getting a couple of stitches, Duo.’ Heero was telling him, ‘You shouldn’t hide things like this from us.’

Then they were gone, and Quatre never did hear what Duo’s retort was, but he knew the gash had not been kept a secret because of any fear on Duo’s part about having stitches put in. He himself had seen Duo sit quietly through far more painful procedures than suturing. No, he was sure the secret was where the mysterious wound had come from. He was positive it had not been there on the beach. It did not come from any accident during the heated Gundam battle. What could have happened to Duo in the time between the beach and arriving at the house? He had not been ten minutes behind Quatre, hardly enough time to have gotten into some sort of fight.

‘Something wrong, Quatre?’ Trowa asked, looking up from his task of browning sausage quizzically.

Quatre hesitated, thinking that it would be nice to talk to someone about what he knew, but feeling embarrassed to admit that he had followed and spied on one of his own teammates. He wasn’t sure how Trowa would take that.

‘Uhmmm…that just seemed rather…odd, don’t you think?’ He compromised, thinking that they might still discuss it without him having to admit anything he didn’t want to.

‘Duo?’ Trowa raised an eyebrow and glanced after the departed trio, ‘Yeah, I suppose so. Don’t know why he’d bother to hide something like that.’

‘I don’t remember seeing any blood on his clothes after we got back, do you?’ He watched the taller man closely, gauging his reaction.

There was a moment of silence while he considered it, then, ‘I…don’t remember that I saw Duo after we got back.’

‘He went for a walk.’ Quatre informed him; again watching for a reaction, but all Trowa did was shrug and turn back to the stove.

The whole thing was just not all that odd if you didn’t know what Quatre knew, but didn’t want to tell. He gnawed his lower lip in frustration, but decided to just drop the subject before Trowa got suspicious.

After breakfast, during which Duo was much more subdued than he had been, Quatre decided, on a sudden inspiration, to volunteer to do some laundry.

‘I have to run some clothes through; anybody got anything they want to throw in?’ He asked the room at large, and, as expected from a group of young men who really did not like housework, there was a chorus of gleeful acceptance, and Quatre found himself with enough clothes for several loads of laundry.

As soon as he was alone with the washing machine, Quatre dug through the pile until he found Duo’s clothes from the night before. While he found the front of Duo’s shirt blood soaked, he also found it totally unmarred; there was no hole in the material from whatever ‘tool’ supposedly inflicted the wound.

So, the gash had definitely happened while Duo was on the beach, after he got undressed to go swimming, but before he got dressed again. In point of fact; while Quatre had been watching him. He was sure he had seen no sign of blood while Duo had been dancing, and the only window of opportunity had to have been at the very end, when Duo ran up the beach, jumped into the air and fell. After that, Quatre realized, he had not seen Duo’s chest again. He had fallen over in the sand and gotten dressed not long after. Had he fallen on something? No rock or stick or other beach debris would have made such a clean cut. Not even a piece of glass. Quatre shook his head, not able to puzzle it out, and set to doing the laundry with a sigh. It had just become an all day job.

A week passed before there was another mission that involved Duo and Deathscythe. Heero was sent to destroy a new base attempting to gain a foothold in the inner solar system by setting up a station orbiting Mars. Duo, as his partner went as backup.

A simple search and destroy. The kind of mission Duo hated the most. His imagination painted personalities and families and whole damn life stories behind the soldiers they were forced to cut down. The warrior in him told him that this was war; they came here knowing exactly what they were getting themselves into. They would not hesitate to kill him or anyone else who got in their way, and it was just their sorry damn luck that it happened to be his job to get in their way.

It went quickly and well, and if Duo was unusually quiet on the trip back, Heero attributed it to the weariness that came from a long haul through space, and found no reason of his own to break the silence. He worked on his mission reports, his own way of dealing with the stress and guilt and gave no thought what so ever to how Duo dealt with it.

They landed and secured their Gundams but when it came time for the walk back to the safe house, Duo just shook his head and waved Heero on.

‘Go ahead, man; I think I’ll go for a walk first.’

Heero frowned at him, taking in the jeans and t-shirt attire, ‘It’s damn cold out to be walking around dressed like that, isn’t it?’

Duo ducked his head and grinned at his partner, ‘Cold doesn’t bother an old street rat like me.’

Heero’s frown deepened; he hated hearing Duo refer to himself like that, but he just grunted and watched as Duo turned on his heel and walked away, hands stuffed in his pockets. He watched the figure move in and out of the pools of light cast down by the streetlamps with an odd pang. For a moment, he considered calling for him to wait up, but discarded the notion; Duo obviously wanted some privacy. Then his senses told him he was not alone and he whirled to find Quatre standing not far up the path that led to the street and back to the house.

‘Is something wrong, Quatre?’ He asked, surprised to find anyone waiting for them.

Quatre moved closer, his eyes fixed on the spot where Duo was quickly disappearing into the night.

‘Follow him.’ He said simply.

‘What?’ Heero frowned at him as though he had grown a second head, and Quatre finally turned his gaze on Heero and the look on his face was disconcerting.

‘I…I can’t explain right now…but I think you need to follow him.’ His voice was soft, but very serious, and Heero cast a glance behind him again, just in time to see Duo step clear of the last pool of light and vanish into the dark. It decided him somehow, and with a last, puzzled look at Quatre, he turned and jogged lightly after his partner.

He moved quickly, but silently, and soon caught sight of Duo again, he had the same odd sense that he should not be able to shadow Duo like this, that Quatre had felt, and like Quatre, was equally surprised when Duo’s walk brought them to the beach. The moon was near full now, and Duo, just like the time before, walked to the waters edge and stood staring up at it. The night was colder, though Heero couldn’t know that, and the wind was blowing hard enough to lift and pull at Duo’s braid.

Heero took the same hiding place that Quatre had employed, under the boardwalk, though Heero dared edge closer, settling himself behind a large support post with a bit of scrub brush growing around the base.

He watched aghast, just had Quatre had, as Duo moved back up the beach and stripped to a pair of black swimming trunks. He carefully arranged his clothes and gear in a neat pile and Heero felt it had a faint, ritualistic feel to it. His heart was in his throat as he watched Duo slowly unbind his hair, threading his fingers though it and freeing it for the wind to take up and spread around him. He stood for several minutes, turning his face into the wind, eyes closed and silver-pale in the bright moonlight. Then he walked out into the icy ocean and dove in.

Heero stood up from his crouch and almost called after him. He couldn’t believe Duo wasn’t scrambling back out instantly, pulling his clothes on and yelping with the cold. The moon cast a white frosting on the surface of the water, and Heero could easily make out Duo’s dark form knifing straight out into the water, swimming hard and showing no signs of turning back. Heero inched forward, a sudden fear moving his body without his conscious thought. Had Quatre known about this? Is this why he thought Heero should follow Duo on his ‘walk’? Damn! Why hadn’t he given him more information? What in the hell was happening here? Duo just kept swimming; Heero could just barely still make out the shadow of him on the water in the distance. Why the hell didn’t he turn back? How far was he planning on going? In his chest, Heero’s heart began to pound painfully. He knew that Duo was too far out for him to reach in time even if he saw him get into trouble. Gods! Didn’t sharks feed at night? He couldn’t remember if he had heard of any attacks in this part of the country. What was Duo thinking?

Just as Heero reached that panicky state that Quatre had been in the week before; torn between going into the water and running for help, the small, dark spot that was Duo stopped and after bobbing in the water a moment, turned back, seeming an impossible distance out. The sweep of the arms was more sporadic, the strokes uneven, and it took a lot longer for Duo to make the return trip than it had for him to swim out. A sign of the cold and his tiredness for sure. Heero slid carefully back under cover and watched the shadow on the water grow in size as it approached, his heart not calming until it was apparent that Duo was far enough in to stand.

Again, though he didn’t know it, he was treated to the same vision of Duo rising from the depths of the icy ocean, wearing the mantel of his own sleek hair, that Quatre had seen.

Relief flooded through Heero as he saw his partner return to the beach, looking oddly not like the Duo he knew so well. There was a strange unrealness to him; he moved with an unconscious grace that drew Heero’s eyes to aspects of his form he had never noticed before. He had never seen Duo with his hair down like this. Oh, occasional glimpses after a shower while he combed and then braided it, but never like this; with the wind tugging at it, wreathing his body in the slowly drying strands. He had never noticed how …strikingly beautiful his partner was before. As that thought crossed through his mind, out on the beach, Duo raised his arms and slowly began to sway where he stood, and then…to dance.

Heero forgot to breathe.

He could almost hear the music that must be playing in Duo’s head, as he swept and turned and drifted up the sand. He moved almost slowly at first, arms weaving intricate patterns in the air, feet ghosting across the sand, sometimes seeming to barely touch the ground. The wind was drying his hair as he moved, and the silken strands began to loosen their strangle hold on his body, swirling around him like a cloak.

Heero was chilling in his crouch under the windbreak of the boardwalk, and couldn’t understand how Duo was bearing the icy wind on near naked, wet flesh. The dance progressed up the beach, the tempo increasing, Duo adding leaps and turns to the gentler movements he had been making. Heero was captivated. He couldn’t have pulled his gaze away from the sight in front of him had the boardwalk collapsed on his head. Duo was an absolute vision in the bright moonlight, his movements unbelievably graceful and fluid. Heero had not known his teammate could dance like this. He lost himself in the sheer beauty of it for a time, forgetting for the moment about the cold, about the fear he had felt watching Duo swim out into the ocean as though he wouldn’t turn back, about the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here, effectively spying on his partner.

Clouds brushed at the edges of the moon, gentling the light bathing the beach, giving the whole scene a surreal aspect. He could have been watching some elven creature from mythology dancing through some pagan ritual in the sand.

The dance became more frantic, the pace increasing, the leaps so high that sand began to fly under his feet as he vaulted and landed. Heero had no idea how long the dance had been going, but he could see the panting movement of Duo’s chest, could see his body starting to coat with sweat. Heero couldn’t fathom how he was standing the cold. Each time he thought for sure that Duo would give way to exhaustion, the tempo of the dance only increased. He was starting to be able to hear the gasping breaths whenever Duo drifted towards the boardwalk.

Perhaps that was what brought Heero back to reality, the realization that Duo was driving himself to collapse. When he forced himself to look with a more clinical eye, he could see that the perfect, flowing motions weren’t so perfect now. The steps were a little faltering; the leaps weren’t landing as gracefully.

The soldier took over his mind; began to evaluate the scene a little closer. Something wasn’t right. Duo’s face, when it turned where Heero could see it, was pained, the eyes glazed. The hard swim in the icy water right on the heels of a long, hard mission. The dancing itself; it all seemed a deliberate effort to push the body past the limits of fatigue. Just what the hell was going on here?

Something about the dance suddenly seemed to change, and Duo, who had leaped and twirled his way some distance away, was running full out back toward the boardwalk. At first, Heero thought he had been seen, then realized that Duo was running more toward where he had started, toward where his clothes were piled. In that moment, three things happened; the clouds completely cleared the moon, Heero spotted the knife blade jutting up from the pile of clothes, and Duo made his diving leap.

Had Quatre seen the knife blade the week before, it might have solved the puzzle for him, but it also might have changed the whole course of events, for he surely would have screamed. And though Heero wanted to scream, the mind of the perfect soldier put the pieces together in an instant and realized that this was where the gash on Duo’s chest had come from. That he wasn’t intending to impale himself on the knife, and that if Heero screamed out, or otherwise distracted his longhaired partner, that might just be the result. So he bit his tongue and watched the scene play out, watched Duo arch his back and fling himself into a perfect swan dive, aiming unerringly for the pile of clothes. At the last moment, his hands and knees came down, almost seeming to jerk out of his control, and he landed hard on the sand right over the knife blade.

Heero was moving the instant it was over, his heart hammering in his ears, his hands shaking, his mind yipping in little circles in his head. Whatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehell!

He pitched himself down beside where Duo still hung, suspended above the wicked looking knife blade, his arms were shaking and his breath was wheezing in great, erratic gasps. Heero threw his arms around Duo’s waist, shocked at the chill of the flesh under his hands, and jerked him away. Knocking the blade free and away with an almost angry backhanded swat.

Duo went limp in his arms then, collapsing completely, and Heero’s heart almost closed his throat off as he realized how close the trembling pilot had come to stabbing himself. He pulled him into his lap, rubbing icy skin briskly; not even coming close to understanding what in the hell had just happened.

‘Duo?’ He shook his partner, hard, and for a moment, the violet eyes met his and that familiar lop-sided grin sprang forth.

‘Guess Shinigami forgave me again, huh?’

Heero blinked down at him, his fear giving way to anger.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ He snapped, knowing the grip he had on Duo’s arms was too tight, but not able to let go.

Duo was starting to tremble, the cold pouncing on him hard now that he had stopped moving. His body began to shake almost convulsively, and Heero fought off the urge to pull his partner into his arms, reaching passed him for his clothes instead.

Duo pulled away from him, his disconcertion giving way to an anger of his own. He jerked his clothes out of Heero’s hands and sat up to begin pulling them on. There was fresh blood on his chest.

The breath hissed sharply through Heero’s teeth, and he reached out to check the wound, but Duo pulled away.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He snapped, trying to get his shaking hands stuffed into uncooperative shirtsleeves.

‘What am I doing?’ Snapped Heero, ‘What in the seven hells were you doing?’

The shirt was on, pulled down and covering the wound, and Duo was struggling with the pants, ‘None of your damn business!’

Heero couldn’t take his eyes off the center of Duo’s chest, watching the white t-shirt as it spotted slightly with red. ‘Duo! You damn near…You almost…Don’t you ever do something like this again!’

Their eyes locked for a moment, and Heero realized that Duo was flushing darkly, the blush standing out starkly on his pale, icy skin.

‘Don’t tell me what to do, Heero.’ He growled, clutching the rest of his gear to his chest.

‘Damnit, Duo!’ Heero forced his voice to stay steady, ‘What were you thinking?’

Duo was pushing away from him, staggering to his feet and he hissed darkly, ‘I said; none of your damn business.’ And he stumbled away, leaving Heero kneeling in the sand, watching him go.

He stopped, a hundred yards or so up the beach and struggled into the rest of his clothes before resuming his drunken wobbling trek to the street level.

Heero watched him go, absolutely baffled by the whole incident.

He shifted in the sand and hugged his knees to his chest for warmth, his eyes still seeing the lithe, graceful form, his heart still hammering in his ears. He had determined ages ago that his attraction to his partner was something that stayed locked strictly in his own heart. That kind of complication was not something either of them needed in the middle of a stupid war. In Heero’s mind, there existed a gallery of images that he kept to ward against the darkness. All remembrances of Duo; the flash of that bright smile, the swing of that damn braid, those hands on the controls of a shuttle, strong and competent; piloting like no one Heero had ever seen. All memories that brought a pang to his heart, making him want to reach out and offer more than just friendship. This new image, though; Duo on the beach dancing in the wind…that brought a pang to his body…filling him with a desire stronger than he had ever known. Making him want…things.

But that final image; Duo and the knife blade. That brought a stinging, clinching fear to his gut that left him trembling and afraid, not sure what he should do now.

He thought about the wound he and Wufei had tended to the other week, realized when he thought hard, that there had been other scars scattered across that smooth skin; some not so bad, some worse. How long had this been going on? What in the hell, exactly, was going on? How long before he didn’t catch himself? Before he fell on that knife with all his weight and…and…Heero shook his head sharply before that image could lodge itself permanently in his brain.

What had he said? ‘Guess Shinigami forgave me again, huh?’ What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why hadn’t Quatre warned him what he was walking into? And that prompted Heero to finally pull himself up out of the sand and head back for the house. He needed to go talk to the man who sent him on this trip.

When he entered the house, he didn’t need to go in search of Quatre, he was right inside the front door, fairly bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for him.

‘Well?’ He didn’t wait for Heero to speak, but grabbed him by the arm and drug him into the kitchen, ‘What happened?’

Heero glared at him, feeling like he wanted to shake the hell out of him, ‘Where’s Duo?’ He hissed.

‘In the shower.’ Quatre let go of his arm, seeing the warning on his face, but didn’t back off, ‘Did you follow him?’

‘Yes, damnit!’ Heero growled at him, ‘Why the hell didn’t you warn me?’

Quatre quailed, taking a step back from the stark anger, ‘I didn’t know what to say.’ He cocked his head and looked faintly confused, ‘Heero…I think maybe you didn’t see the same thing I did…what happened?’

Heero’s anger drained away in the face of the honestly confused expression on Quatre’s face, ‘I’m not sure exactly what the hell I saw.’

Quatre nodded in some understanding, ‘Did he go to the beach again?’

Heero grunted, nodding.

‘Did he…did he dance?’

Heero looked hard into Quatre’s eyes, ‘Yes he did. And damn near ran himself through with that Gods damned hunting knife of his.’

Quatre’s eyes flew wide and the last clue fell into place, ‘That gash…that was the night I followed him! But I didn’t see the knife, how did he…?’

‘It was wedged into the pile of his clothes.’

The picture was complete, or as complete as it was going to get, and suddenly, Quatre’s knees felt weak. His eyes left Heero’s and lost their focus as that night replayed in his head.

‘Oh Gods. Oh Gods. When he leaped…Oh my Gods.’ He was only vaguely aware that Heero had hold of his arm and was leading him to the kitchen table and was easing him into a chair. His hands began to shake.

‘Heero…I was so scared. I didn’t know what to think. I was so embarrassed that I had followed him in the first place, just because I was curious about where he went. I didn’t see the knife…I couldn’t figure out where the wound came from. Oh Gods; if I’d known, I would have said something a week ago. I’m so sorry.’

Heero took the chair next to him and awkwardly patted his shoulder, ‘It’s Ok, you didn’t know. I never would have guessed.’

‘It was darker that night, and I never thought to look at his clothes. I couldn’t hardly take my eyes off…’ Quatre blushed furiously and ducked his head, ‘I mean…I wasn’t…I didn’t…ah hell.’

Heero snorted a soft laugh, ‘He was rather distracting, wasn’t he?’

Quatre’s head jerked up again and he looked at Heero, eyes bright, ‘I never knew he could dance like that!’

Heero just grunted.

‘Heero, what are we going to do?’

‘I’m not sure.’ And he sighed heavily, ‘Make damn sure he doesn’t go for any more walks for one thing.’

They could hear, through the kitchen pipes, the faint sound of the shower shutting off.

Heero looked up at the ceiling, as though he could see his partner through the intervening floor and walls, ‘I think,’ He said hesitantly, ‘I’m going to go check on him.’

He left Quatre sitting in the kitchen, and forced himself up the stairs; his steps uncertain, and his heart in his throat. He didn’t deal with emotional confrontation well.

He paused outside the door to Duo’s room, trying to get his thoughts together, trying to figure out what to say. He could hear the sounds of Duo moving about inside. He knocked lightly and all sound from within stopped dead. There was a long wait and then the soft sound of Duo’s voice, ‘Come in.’

Heero opened the door and stepped inside. Duo was sitting on his bed, wrapped in a layer of blankets, combing his wet hair. Heero could see his hands still shivering, though he tried to hide it.

‘Duo…’ He wasn’t sure what to say.

‘What do you want, Heero?’ Duo’s voice still held a hint of anger, and it decided Heero on what he should probably say next.

‘Duo, I’m sorry I followed you. I…I didn’t mean to spy.’

The admission made Duo’s face soften, and he looked away, resuming the work on his hair. ‘Excepted.’ He said simply, and Heero could tell he was hoping the conversation was over.

But Heero found himself moved to go and sit on the bed beside his partner. ‘You…scared me.’

Duo didn’t speak, still clinging to the hope that Heero would drop it. His skin looked deathly white in the harsh light of the room, and his whole body was trembling slightly. Heero reached out and gently laid a hand on his bare shoulder.

‘Gods!’ he muttered, ‘You’re still ice cold!’

Duo stiffened, and a flash of the anger came back, ‘I’m fine.’ He said flatly, and Heero withdrew his hand.

‘How bad did you cut yourself?’ He went doggedly forward, figuring Duo was already mad; he might as well get that question out of the way.

Duo slapped the comb down on the bed, turned his face away and blushing furiously, jerked the blanket away to bare his chest, letting Heero touch and probe until he was satisfied the cut wasn’t deep.

‘Happy?’ Duo hissed, still not meeting his eyes, ‘Now leave me alone.’

Heero recoiled, a little stung, ‘Duo, I was worried; that’s all. I don’t understand…’

Duo’s eyes came back around as he pulled the blanket up again, ‘I told you, Heero. It’s really none of your business.’

‘You’re my partner.’ The anger was slipping back into Heero’s voice as well now, ‘Of course it’s my business.’

‘Please…just leave me alone.’ There was a note of defeat in his voice, fatigue finally laying claim to him.

‘Not until you promise me you’ll never do that again.’ Heero pressed hard, seeing the weakness and meaning to exploit it.

There was a long silence and finally, an almost imperceptible nod, ‘Fine.’ The voice was small and resigned, ‘I promise. Now go away.’

Heero rose and left the room, wanting only to stay and hold the shivering body of his partner, wanting to warm him and protect him and find the answers to the questions raging through his head. He paused at the door and looked back, only to find Duo already lying down, curled up almost invisible under the pile of blankets. Heero turned off the light and shut the door behind him.

Quatre was down the hall, standing in his doorway watching for him. He quirked an eyebrow and Heero shrugged, shaking his head. Quatre touched the center of his chest and Heero nodded reassurance. They both went to their beds, but sleep didn’t come easy that night for either of them.

Morning made the whole thing seem like a dream as Duo bounced and laughed his way through breakfast, acting as though nothing had ever happened. Quatre maintained the illusion that he didn’t know, and Heero was forced to keep his mouth shut.

He and Quatre talked about it between the two of them, Heero relaying what had passed between himself and Duo the night before. Quatre filling in the gaps and telling Heero his theories that the beach episodes corresponded with the rougher missions.

Heero found himself dreading missions even more than usual. Several weeks went by, with only a few simple hacking jobs coming in, and Heero began to relax a little. After all, Duo had promised; and he never broke a promise.

He discovered after the first several days, that Quatre had taken Trowa into his confidence, and though he was a little irritated, he accepted it; he should have know it was coming. The two were partners, just as he and Duo were, and normally shared everything. He was only a little surprised that Quatre had not told him before now. He himself decided to speak to Wufei, not wanting their other teammate to be the only one left in the dark.

So it was four hearts in throats, and four minds in turmoil when Duo was assigned another search and destroy.

It was Heero, Duo, and Wufei, tasked with finding a shuttle convoy attempting to deliver supplies to an outpost. There would be heavy defense, since the Gundams had wrecked havoc on the supply lines over the last several months, and the outposts were getting desperate.

It was a nasty affair. They completed the mission. They did what they came to do. The battle lasted hours. The screams of the dying echoed in their heads much longer than that. There was no radio chatter on the return flight.

Heero and Wufei docked and disembarked first, moving as one, without discussion, to stand at the base of Deathscythe, waiting for Duo. It took him long minutes to shut down and dock. Longer still for the hatch to sigh open on his Gundam, and when he climbed down, it was a slow, weary climb, with none of his usual style and grace.

He turned to meet their eyes when his feet were on the ground, and Heero could see written on his face the understanding that there were no secrets here, and he flushed faintly.

‘Let’s head back and get dinner.’ Wufei suggested lightly and they moved to flank their teammate without any real conscious plan to do so.

Duo gave Heero one odd, almost pleading look that he could answer only with confusion and Duo himself broke the eye contact, defeated. They turned and made the walk to the safe house, there was none of Duo’s usual talk, he simply walked between them, shoulders slumped and head hanging.

He took overly long in the shower, and only picked at his food later at the dinner table. Heero found an excuse to brush his arm, and found his skin cold to the touch, knowing that the shower had been in icy water. He didn’t understand and he didn’t know what to do. There was something wrong with his partner that he didn’t know how to fix. Bandages and stitches wouldn’t do it this time; he was at a total loss. All he could do was hover, offering his company, hoping that eventually Duo would talk to him.

They tried. They all tried. Heero just by being there, never leaving his partner alone for long. Quatre cooking like there was no tomorrow, plying the unusually quiet pilot with all the things that he had ever even once exclaimed over. Trowa did his best to bring home distractions, renting old movies and offering board games that Duo normally delighted in playing to pass the hours. Wufei decided to teach him some of his simpler katas, dragging him out in the early morning hours to the back yard. Duo tried as well, rising to each new offering with his patented grin intact, complimenting and eating Quatre’s food, playing the games and sitting with the group laughing at the old movies. He attacked Wufei’s teachings with a vengeance, throwing himself into the ritualistic routines with a concentrated will that took Wufei by surprise and forced him to escalate his training to some of the more complex forms. Heero took to watching them, never far from his partner’s side.

He seemed to be the only one who realized that this was all on the surface. That if Quatre had looked passed the smiles and the compliments; Duo wasn’t really eating half his normal fare. Though he laughed and played the games, it wasn’t with his usual exuberance; where once he would have led the group, dragging the games out and pestering everyone to play, now he followed, coming to the table only when sought out. And the hours of practicing katas with Wufei were only a pale replacement for the ritual of his dancing. Though it was an outlet that he threw himself into with all his will, it somehow left him almost frustrated and angry.

And it only got worse with each mission that came. Heero began to fear for his partner; he was becoming more reckless with each passing day, tackling more than he could handle; seeming to almost deliberately antagonize his opponents, drawing the fire of every gun on the field. He seldom communicated anymore during battle, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary, and when his voice came over the comm, there was the blare of screaming rock music in the background, as though he could drown out the sounds he didn’t want to hear.

Heero began having nightmares, dreams where he watched Deathscythe self-destruct, that left him shaking and shivering in his bed. Dreams that drove him to cross the hall and crack Duo’s door open in the middle of the night, because his heart had to see his partner safe in his bed.

The end of the week found another mission. A base infiltration with a two-man team, Wufei and Duo. Heero didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He went to Wufei’s room while he was packing his gear.

‘What’s up, Yuy?’ the Chinese man greeted his arrival, lifting an eyebrow when his teammate shut the door behind him.

‘I need to speak with you…about Duo.’ The more Heero thought about this mission, the worse the idea seemed.

Wufei simply continued pulling on his gun harness, and waited patiently for him to continue.

‘Have you noticed how he’s been lately? In battle?’ Now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been that many missions that Duo had been on with anyone but Heero himself.

‘I don’t think I know what you mean; I have noticed nothing out of the ordinary.’ Wufei frowned at him, concerned.

‘Listen, Chang; this is important. The last several missions, Duo has…he’s getting reckless.’ He wasn’t sure how to get across his point without making accusations.

‘Are you saying he’s suicidal?’ Trust Wufei to cut right to the hearts blood of the matter.

Heero blew out his breath and ran his fingers through his hair, ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Something’s happening inside him…he won’t talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on.’

Wufei stopped his preparations and turned his full attention on Heero, ‘What are you telling me?’

‘I’m not sure I know!’ Heero was beside himself with frustration, ‘He’s not acting like himself! We stopped those damn trips to the beach, but now…somehow, things are building up inside him…I’m…worried, Chang.’

‘I could have wished you would have brought this up before now.’ Wufei glared at him.

‘How the hell can you not have noticed?’ Heero growled in exasperation, ‘He hasn’t been himself since I confronted him!’

Wufei seemed to deflate a little, ‘You’re right. I think I saw it and…didn’t want to see it.’

‘Suicidal is a damn strong word, Chang. But…I’m not entirely sure it isn’t accurate. Watch him. Watch him close.’

He left the room, feeling a horrid helplessness and wishing that he could just cancel the mission. If Duo hadn’t already known about it; wasn’t suiting up for it right now, Heero would go in his place and never tell him. But all he could do was stand in the living room and watch them slip out together into the dark and wish he knew how to pray.

He stayed there, where he could see the front door, and waited for their return even though it would be hours and hours before they came back. He knew there was no point in trying to go to bed, he would never be able to sleep, would only toss and turn, listening for the sounds of them coming in. The installation was only a couple of hours away. They should be back by morning, if all went well, but somehow, Heero doubted all was going to go well. The longer he sat, the more sure he was that he had made a grave error in not calling the mission off. He shouldn’t have let this go on so long; he should have confronted Duo when he first started noticing that something was bothering him. This was his partner, and he was letting him down. The whole point to having a partner was to have someone to watch your back, someone to be there when you needed help. His thoughts spiraled and twisted in on themselves while he sat alone in the dark, until finally, near dawn, he heard sounds that indicated someone was on the porch. He fairly leaped from the chair he had been in all night and ran to throw the door open. He surprised them, as Duo struggled to get the door open and hold Wufei up at the same time.

His wide, amethyst eyes met Heero’s, full of pain and despair and something darker and all he said was, ‘Help him.’ In a whimpered voice that sounded lost and panicked.

Heero moved in on the other side, and pulled Wufei’s arm around his shoulders. They hauled him into the house, and Heero kicked the door shut behind them. Trowa and Quatre came thundering down the stairs and there were shouts and questions and Wufei wavering in and out of focus. They had trouble prying his fingers away from Duo’s jacket but finally succeeded, and Heero and Trowa carried him up to his room where they were able to strip him out of his clothes and examine his injuries. They found a gun shot wound in the meaty part of his thigh that was bleeding profusely.

‘We’re going to have to take him in.’ Trowa hissed, working over it, ‘This looks bad; he’s lost a lot of blood.’

‘Duo?’ On the bed, Wufei’s hand groped out, reaching, and Heero took it.

‘You’re all right. Duo got you back, we’re going to have to take you in to the base, Ok?’

‘Where’s Duo?’ Wufei panted, trying desperately to keep his focus.

‘It’s all right, Chang.’ Quatre reassured him, 'Duo got back with you.’

‘Then where the hell is he?’ He yelled, his anger helping him stay aware.

Heero looked around and suddenly realized that Duo hadn’t followed them into Wufei’s room.

‘What happened?’ He demanded tersely; this wasn’t like Duo at all, and Heero was suddenly afraid.

‘I got hit because he froze.’ Wufei gasped out, finding Heero with fearful eyes, ‘He’s a mess. Go find him.’

Quatre squeezed Heero’s arm, ‘We can take care of Wufei, Heero. Go.’

It was all the reassurance he needed, and he bolted out of the room, checking first in Duo’s room, not really surprised to find it empty, then leaping down the stairs meaning to check the ground floor. But the first thing he saw was the front door standing wide open, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt he had closed it.

He started running, thinking to check the hidden Gundams first, but on a sudden inspiration, heading toward the beach. His heart was racing; his gut was churning, and his mind near to whiting out with terror. All his foreboding, all night long had come to this. He was afraid of what he was going to find on that beach; couldn’t move fast enough, it felt like one of those dreams where you ran and ran and didn’t get anywhere. He vaulted down stairs and leaped over benches, pushing his body to its limits, trying to get to the beach as fast as possible. His minds eye saw Duo swimming out with the tide and not turning back. Finally, he reached the boardwalk, running out its length, his feet pounding on the wooden slats. He threw himself against the rail, the rough board biting into his hips as he hit it almost at a full run. Below, he could see something dark on the sand near the place where Duo had gone into the water all those weeks ago. With a cry, he hurled himself over the railing, landing in the sand with a bone jarring impact, staggering up and running toward the dark shape. The moon was not out tonight, the only light coming from the lights up on the boardwalk and the street far above.

‘Duo!’ He reached the dark, unmoving shape, and pulled the limp body of his partner into his lap. ‘Gods Duo; what have you done?’

His body was lying at the waters edge, the surf rolling up and pulling at his legs, soaking into his clothes, the water diluting the blood into a pink foam.

His wrists were slashed, and his life was bleeding away into the ocean.

Heero moaned his anguish even as he levered himself up, hauling Duo up into his arms and stumbling up the beach, heading up to the street where there was a pay phone.

The sand made the going difficult, especially under the extra weight, it was all Heero could do to make his way through it until he reached the hiking path and started the climb to street level.

‘Duo can you hear me? Please, Duo; wake up. Stay with me, please stay with me.’ He talked, rambling nonsense, not half hearing what he was saying, just hoping to get through to his partner; his friend.

There was a faint stirring in his arms as they reached the path, and Duo’s voice, faint and slurred, ‘S’rry. Tell ‘Fei I’m so sorry.’

‘You’ll tell him yourself, damnit.’ Heero whispered in response, his arms tightening around the shivering body he clutched to his chest.

He wasn’t sure Duo even heard him, ‘Screwed up this time. I screwed it all up.’

‘You did not. Everything’s fine. Wufei is fine. Trowa and Quatre are taking him to the base. He’s going to be all right.’ He hoped that were all true, he didn’t want to lie, but he needed to comfort. The cold seawater and the blood were soaking into his shirt and making him feel the cold, he could only imagine what Duo was feeling.

Finally, finally, they reached the top of the path and Heero lay his precious burden down on the ground while he grabbed the phone and made the call, giving the codes and the directions that would bring help as fast as possible. He was amazed how steady his voice was, how the soldiers training took over and made his brain work to do what had to be done even while his hands shook and his heart ached and Duo’s life blood oozed across the pavement at his feet. Message delivered, he hung up the phone and knelt down beside his shivering partner, turning the wrists to the light. The cuts were deep, probably delivered with that same damn knife that Duo always carried, the one he had nearly thrown himself on. Heero viciously hoped the Gods damned thing had washed out to sea. He tore his own shirt off, and ripped it down the middle, doing his best to bind up the gashes and slow the bleeding. Duo was deathly pale and shuddering beside him.

‘Duo, can you hear me?’ He asked gently, wanting some reassurance that he was still aware.

The eyes didn’t open, but Heero saw his mouth work, tongue slipping out to lick at dry lips. It took several tries before a sigh of sound came to him, ‘S’rry…so sorry.’

Tears stung at Heero’s eyes, and he blinked furiously to keep his sight clear so he could see what he was doing, ‘Damn it, Duo! Stop fucking apologizing.’

There was a tiny ghost of a grin; little more than the twitch of his lips, ‘I screwed up really bad this time Heero.’

‘Damn straight you did.’ Heero growled at him, his voice getting husky despite himself. He had Duo’s wrists bound as best he could, and shifted him to get his head below heart level, holding his arms up above him, hoping to slow down the flow of blood. ‘But help is coming, you have to hang on, Duo. Just hang on.’

Duo’s eyes came open and he seemed to be fighting a great drowsiness, ‘Mean ‘Fei; almos’ got him killed. Screwed up. I can’t do this any more.’

Heero lay down beside him, trying to give him some of his own body heat, curling one arm around his head and pulling him into his shoulder. ‘He’s all right. He’s going to be fine. You may have made a mistake, but damnit, Duo; this isn’t the answer.’

‘Can’t…can’t endanger the others.’ His eyes were slipping closed again, ‘This is…best.’

‘No!’ Heero couldn’t help the rise in his voice, and the tears broke passed his control and streamed down his face. ‘You stay with me, damn you! Don’t you do this to me!’

Duo’s eyes opened again, searching for his partner, his face taking on a look of wonderment, ‘Heero? Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’

‘Gods Duo; why the hell didn’t you talk to me before it came to this?’ He leaned his head down, touching his forehead to Duo’s.

‘I…I didn’t think you cared.’ Came the breath of a reply, ‘You guys are all so…damned strong.’

Heero pulled back and looked down into the chalk white face next to his own; the amethyst eyes were closed again. In the distance, he heard sirens and wished to hell they would hurry.

‘Duo; Gods, of course I care. We all care. You can’t leave us like this. You can’t leave me. Please…Gods…please don’t die.’ His voice was a broken thing, gruff and frightened.

Duo drew a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open again; to Heero’s gaze they looked dull and flat and he wasn’t sure he was even seeing him any more, ‘Heero? Favor?’

‘Anything.’ He whispered, willing the sirens to draw nearer.

There was a hesitant silence and then soft as a sigh, ‘K…kiss me goodbye?’

It hit Heero like a blow, and he jerked upright, staring down into the face beneath his.

‘No!’ The cry ripped from his throat, catching him by surprise with its fierceness, and Duo flinched beside him. ‘You want my kisses, you live for them!’

Duo said something then, but there didn’t seem to be breath left to get the words passed his lips and Heero leaned down and kissed his forehead and his cheek, alarmed by the feel of the icy skin, ‘You hear me, Duo Maxwell? You live and I’ll kiss you every day for the rest of our lives! But I won’t say goodbye!’

Duo smiled softly, but didn’t speak or open his eyes again. The transport truck roared up at long last, sirens blaring, and the medics leaped down and Heero found himself shoved out of the way while they set to frantic work. Then they were both loaded into the truck and Heero remembered very little else for some time. His eyes only saw Duo’s still form, ghostly pale and fragile looking on the gurney on the floor of the truck, with, it seemed, a dozen hands working over him. Heero could only draw hope from the frenzied activity and try to stay the hell out of the way. Someone threw a blanket to him, but it didn’t register that he was supposed to be doing something with it, and someone else came and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. He heard the work ‘shock’ and one of the attendants came and tried to talk to him, but he only shoved the man back towards Duo with a warning growl. After that, they left him pretty much alone.

The ride seemed to take forever, another one of those nightmare runs that didn’t gain any ground. Heero tried to take heart from the continued attention to Duo’s limp arms. If he died, they wouldn’t still be working on him, would they? He found himself rocking to and fro and forced himself to stop.

The tears had stopped flowing when Duo had stopped talking to him, when they had pulled him out of his arms. His emotions felt wrapped in cotton; dulled and far away. As long as he could sit and see Duo across the truck, and knew that he was still alive; he was content to just sit and stare. He was rocking again, and he didn’t bother to try to stop this time.

At long bloody damn last, the truck was pulling into the emergency bay at the base hospital with the sound of screaming tires and a sudden, hard lurch. The gurney Duo was on was hauled out the back almost before the truck was completely stopped. Heero clambered down, following behind, blanket falling away unnoticed. Someone appeared in his line of vision, attempting to draw him to the side, but he snarled dangerously and that person got the hell out of the way. He followed the gurney into the depths of the emergency room, not letting his eyes leave the pale, pale form. Several people made to touch him, to move him back to the waiting room, but one look into his icy blue eyes, and they backed off quickly. He stayed carefully out of the way, and eventually they stopped bothering him.

He watched them cut Duo’s clothes away; he watched them start the IV, finally beginning the transfusion. He saw them working on the gashed wrists, saw heads shake, saw eyes flicking his way. It finally soaked through to his muddled brain that they were prepping Duo for surgery.

Panic began to pry its way around the numbness as he realized they wouldn’t let him go with Duo. Suddenly, familiar hands were on his shoulders and Trowa and Quatre were there.

The heat of Trowa’s hands resting reassuringly on his arms seeped into him, working passed the cocoon his heart was wrapped in and he began to shiver and he did something he never would have thought he could manage. He turned around to find his teammates and threw his arms tight around Trowa’s chest, burying his face in the comfort offered him, letting go to the tremors that attacked his body. Quatre came in behind him, and the two sheltered him from prying eyes as the attendants wheeled Duo away to the waiting operating room.

Someone came up to Quatre and spoke to him in low tones, and again Heero heard that word; ‘shock’. There was an exchange between calm, reliant Quatre and the faceless intern, and Heero felt vaguely that there was important information being passed, but he couldn’t seem to focus enough to hear more than one word in twenty. Trowa’s arms were tight around him, solid and strong and like an anchor in the fog he seemed lost in. Quatre’s hands were firm and gentle on his back, and between them, they got him moving, and he went, unresisting, not caring in the slightest where, as long as it was away from the glaring, unforgiving lights and the sight of Duo’s blood-soaked clothes in a pile on the floor.

They were granted an empty room; it was apparently a slow night, and he let his teammates take him there. A sink full of warm water was run, and he realized when they began to clean him up, that he was smeared with Duo’s blood. His arms; his hands; his chest; his face. Quatre gently bathed him with the stark, white hospital washcloth that quickly turned a sickly red. The protective wrapping around his aching heart slowly unwound as the blood was cleaned away. Washed away.

Washed away by the cold ocean waves. Swept away by the cold, dancing wind. Blood rinsed clean by the grace of the only God Duo could believe in; Shinigami, the God of Death. In that moment, Heero understood what he had taken from Duo when he had denied him his dancing on the sand. Absolution. Shinigami’s forgiveness. He danced in the moonlight and threw himself at Death, and if the God refrained from taking him, then he must be forgiven, right? ‘Guess Shinigami forgave me again, huh?’

‘What have I done?’ Heero whispered, and his pain came home to roost in full measure and his knees buckled and the tears came, and could he have seen the horrified, shocked looks his teammates exchanged, he wouldn’t have cared.

If Duo died, it was all his fault.

They cleaned him, and they dried him, and Trowa took his jacket off and slipped it on his chilled body, and the still warm garment was a comfort that finally let him regain some control. He did his best to explain, but he wasn’t sure they understood.

They took him to a waiting room then, hovering over him like two mother hens; Quatre dealing with the people, deflecting questions and turning aside the curious, Trowa, an intimidating presence that stayed close and watchful; protective of his tenuous privacy.

Quatre went and found a blanket, tucking it in around his legs in the still wet jeans. Disappearing again, only to return with a cup of hot tea from the Gods only knew where, that he pressed into Heero’s trembling hands. It helped. It all helped. Just their being there helped. His focus began to come back, and his brain to process.

‘Where’s Wufei?’ He said at last, voice gravelly.

‘He’s in surgery as well.’ Trowa told him gently, one hand resting on Heero’s back.

‘I’ll check.’ Quatre told him soothingly, and went to speak in low tones with the nurse at the desk. Heero was surprised to see her darting almost fearful glances his way, and beside him, Trowa rumbled a deep-throated chuckle, ‘You have to stop scaring the hell out of the hired help, Yuy.’

It was such a normal thing to say, and Heero appreciating the effort, quirked a half-hearted grin at him. It faded quickly and his eyes returned to the doors that led to the surgery arena.

The hand on his back made small circles, ‘It’s good it’s taking this long. He’s tough, Heero, he’s going to make it.’ It might have been more comfort if Trowa hadn’t sounded as though he were trying to convince himself.

Quatre rejoined them, ‘Wufei is out of surgery and in recovery. They said one of us could go in to see him when he wakes up.’

Heero nodded, excepting the news with a great deal of relief, not only for Wufei’s sake, but for Duo’s as well.

It was an hour before someone finally came out of those damned doors and wearily approached them. Heero stood to meet the man, obviously the surgeon, blanket forgotten.

The man smiled faintly, his face otherwise unreadable, ‘Your friend is doing much better.’ He told them gently.

‘When can we see him?’ Heero demanded, not waiting for the rest of the man’s prepared speech.

A frown crossed the tired face, ‘I’m afraid that in the case of self-inflicted wounds, we have a policy of waiting until the psychologist has had a chance to evaluate…’

Trowa cut him off smoothly, his voice bland and firm, ‘I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, Doctor. Our two teammates were on a…covert mission. All injuries were a result of their capture and subsequent escape from the enemy.’

The man looked somewhat skeptical for a moment, looking first at Trowa, and then at Quatre, who nodded sadly, backing up his partner’s statement. The Doctor looked angry then and muttered something about damned Oz bastards.

‘As soon as he’s awake then.’ He told them gently, seeming only glad that someone had arrived to take the frightening Heero Yuy in hand, ‘He’s very weak and will need to rest.’ Then he turned and went back the way he had come.

Heero sank back down into his chair, knees feeling like they might fail him. He granted his two teammates a quirk of a smile, ‘You two could sell swamp land for a living.’

The two exchanged mild, innocent smiles; as pleased with Heero returning to normal, as they were with the success of their deception.

It wasn’t long before a nurse came out with the news that Wufei could have a visitor. Heero wanted to go, but was afraid that Duo might wake while he was in with their Chinese partner. In the end, after an odd exchange of wordless glances, Quatre went.

Heero suspected they had made a conscious decision to leave the taller, more intimidating Trowa with him as a buffer between Heero and the hospital staff. It embarrassed him. He had not lost control of himself like this in…well, he wasn’t all together sure he had ever lost control like this before. He couldn’t quite believe the depth of his feelings. He had always been fond of Duo, had harbored a secret attraction even, but he had found to his shock, in that moment on the beach when he realized what Duo had done, that he loved the man. Loved him like he had never loved anything in his entire life. Had it been within his power to take Duo’s wounds onto his own body, he would have done so without a second thought. He would have died on the beach if it would have meant that Duo would live.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he still saw the crumpled body lying at the waters edge, the icy water lapping at his legs, his braid looping across the sand like some exotic sea snake.

What had he done? Dear Gods; this was all his fault. What had he gone and done?

‘You Ok?’ Trowa asked him gently, his hand still resting on Heero’s back.

‘Hmmm? Fine…I’m fine.’ Heero answered, leaning to rest his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his hands and rubbing at tired eyes.

‘You got quiet again.’ It was a question, meant to draw him out, and Heero knew it but couldn’t really be irritated.

He sighed heavily, ‘I was just thinking…trying to figure out how I should have handled the whole…beach thing.’

‘Heero,’ His friend said, lowering his voice for privacy, ‘You couldn’t have let it go on. Sooner or later…he would have…slipped.’

‘I didn’t understand. I didn’t realize what it did for him; how it helped him cope.’

‘He has to find another damn way to cope.’ Trowa’s eyes glinted dangerously, ‘If you’re thinking of letting him…’

Heero looked up at his teammate with a dark scowl that firmly answered that question, and Trowa didn’t bother to finish.

‘Of course I’m not.’ Heero told him, verbally backing up the look, ‘I just don’t know how to help him.’

Trowa looked at him strangely, ‘Heero…we help him by getting him out of this hell. We report him unfit for duty and stop this right here.’

Heero sat up and turned stunned eyes on Trowa, ‘No.’ His voice was low, but firm, ‘He did this because he felt he’d failed us. If we pull him off active duty, it will only reinforce the idea that we don’t trust him.’

‘Wufei said he froze.’

‘You’ve never frozen, Trowa Barton?’ Heero glared at him, ‘Never? I have. I know Quatre has, I’ve seen it.’

Trowa lowered his eyes and finally had to nod.

‘I’ve never seen Duo falter before. He’s never broken like this.’ Heero leaned closer to his teammate, partly for privacy, partly from the intensity of what he had to say, ‘We never talk about what we feel, about what we’ve done. He called us strong; he thinks that none of us has ever lost our nerve.’

Trowa looked up at him again, his eyes admitting that Heero spoke the truth, ‘So what are we going to do?’

Heero sat back again with a defeated sigh, ‘I don’t bloody well know.’

There was a long silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until finally Trowa spoke, looking off in the distance at nothing.

‘Well…how the hell do you deal with…it?’

Heero didn’t answer at once; it was something he had been mulling over in the back of his mind since he had pieced the whole thing together. ‘I don’t know…I just lock it down. I don’t think about it. I keep it in terms of objectives and missions and goals.’

He sat and stared off in the same middle distance for a while, not really satisfied with the answer, before glancing sideways, ‘How do you?’

Heero saw a muscle work in Trowa’s jaw, ‘Quatre…helps me.’

He grunted and considered the thought. He wasn’t sure what Trowa was saying and wasn’t about to ask for clarification. He thought about the two of them; the way they acted around each other. They complemented each other, supported each other, understood each other. He could picture them, working in the kitchen or repairing a Gundam; working side by side, finishing each others sentences, passing each other tools without having to ask. Knowing each others needs without being told.

He wanted that. So suddenly and so badly, his chest hurt.

‘I want to…help Duo like that.’ He breathed, and couldn’t look at his teammate to gage his reaction.

Suddenly he growled low in his throat. ‘Enough of this. I’m not waiting any more.’

He shrugged out from under Trowa’s hand, and tossing the blanket aside, went to find Duo. Trowa, sensing that Heero was completely back in control, didn’t even think of getting in his way.

Heero strode straight through the doors that the Doctor had used earlier and began a systematic search of the recovery rooms. A nurse started to approach him, met his eyes and turned abruptly on her heel, pretending she hadn’t seen him. The next nurse who crossed his path visibly quailed, but approached him anyway.

‘Sir, can I help you? I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here.’

‘I need to see the wrist laceration patient.’ He told her, guessing that she would be better acquainted with the condition than the name of a newly admitted, unconscious patient. Her eyes flicked involuntarily to the left, and he brushed passed her.

‘Debriefing.’ He muttered as she started after him, ‘Covert Ops.’

That stopped her, and she hesitated in the middle of the hall while he made his way to the last room on the left.

The lights were glaringly bright, making Duo look all the paler against the white sheets. Heero’s breath hissed as he approached the bed and looked down. The skin looked almost translucent, and Heero could see the pulse in his neck beating painfully hard. The heart monitor by the bed beeped a reassuring counter-point. Both wrists were swathed in stark bandages, and there were several bags hanging from the IV stand.

Heero just stood looking down for a long moment, watching the shallow rise and fall of Duo’s chest. He wanted to take and hold one of those limp hands in his own, but was afraid of hurting. He settled, finally, on resting one hand on Duo’s shoulder. He realized after a moment, that the blanket draped across Duo’s body had been heated, and remembered how cold his partner had been. It swept over him then, just how bloody damned close he had come to losing this person who had slipped inside his guard while he had been unaware, and stolen his heart right out from under him.

The Doctor had said he would live. Would recover.

Carefully, gently, he leaned down and softly brushed his lips across Duo’s. They felt parchment dry against him, and he soothingly slid his tongue out and moistened them, trembling as Duo unconsciously responded.

‘That’s one, my love.’ Heero whispered softly to the cherished face, his fingers stroking the pallid cheek.

Looking around, he found a chair and snagging it with his foot, drug it over and sat down, preparing to stay as long as it took for his partner to wake.

He didn’t for a moment believe that Trowa’s way was the answer to this mess. What Heero had stolen from Duo, all unknowing, was what had allowed the young man to live with himself and what the war had forced him to become. It was nothing more than a ritual, and Heero knew damn well that Duo was well aware of it. How in the hell it had all started, Heero couldn’t even guess, but it had obviously developed over time into some sort of bizarre answer to Duo’s need. Duo was a much more sensitive soul than Heero felt himself to be, more imaginative, more…aware. He couldn’t just ‘lock it down’ the way Heero was able to. Couldn’t categorize it, organize it, and dump it into the most detailed mission reports ever written to purge it from his system. Duo, somehow, needed someone else to tell him it was all right; someone to let him know that he was forgiven. Even if it wasn’t really true, it apparently was enough to let him go on.

And Heero had taken it away from him. Left him floundering in his guilt and confusion, lost in that place where the screaming and bloodletting never stopped. Until he had finally faltered somehow; allowing a teammate to come to harm, and that was the one thing he couldn’t live with.

Heero let his hand cup the smooth cheek, tracing the line of Duo’s jaw, ‘I’m so sorry, Duo. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t realize.’

A soft sigh escaped from his partner’s lips, and his eyes struggled open. Those beautiful amethyst eyes that always startled Heero with their vibrant color. He blinked slowly, and Heero saw pain flicker across his face, and confusion, and then a hint of fear.

‘I’m here. I’m right here.’ Heero whispered, and those eyes turned his way, finding him and he saw the fear fade away.

‘Heero?’ the voice was hoarse and weak, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

‘Yes, I’m with you. Everything’s all right now.’ He soothed, gently squeezing the shoulder under his fingers.

‘What…?’ Heero watched the confusion slowly fade as the memories came creeping back. ‘Wufei…Oh, Gods.’ Pain welled up in those eyes then, that had nothing to do with the physical world, and Heero heard the steady rhythm of the heart monitor lurch.

‘Shhhh…He’s all right.’ Heero reached to stroke soothing fingers across Duo’s forehead, ‘Calm down. It’s all right. Everything’s Ok. Wufei is fine.’

Tears began to seep from the corners of Duo’s eyes, washing unheeded down the side of his face. ‘Oh Heero, I messed up so bad!’

Heero knew it was partially the drugs that had eroded his loves self control, knew that Duo would hate this if he were fully aware of his actions. But it shredded his heart all the same and he couldn’t help easing up to sit on the side of the bed where Duo could see him without having to turn his head uncomfortably.

‘No you didn’t.’ He whispered fiercely, ‘You made a mistake. A simple, single damn mistake, that’s all.’

Duo blinked up at him, wide eyed and looking stunned, ‘Didn’t Wufei tell you?’ He whispered, tears streaming all the harder, ‘I froze, Heero. I…I couldn’t pull the damn trigger and I got Wufei shot!’ Behind him, Heero could hear the pulse of the monitor escalate again.

‘Hush; hush now. Stay calm or they’re going to come throw me out of here.’ Heero tried to smile reassuringly, stroking his fingers over Duo’s hair.

His partner took a calming breath, letting his eyes fall closed and he frowned slightly, his concentration on the monitor and it slowly settled to normal. For a moment, Heero thought he had fallen back asleep.

‘You’re not hearing what I’m telling you, Heero. I almost got Wufei killed.’ His voice was soft and a little ragged. Heero found water in a pitcher by the bed and fished an ice cube out, gently tracing Duo’s dry lips with it until Duo opened his mouth and took it from his fingers. Heero found himself reluctant to lose the touch, and let his hands continue to caress cheek and forehead. Duo was just muzzy enough from the drugs that he didn’t find this at all odd, occasionally turning his face toward the calloused hands, as though asking for the contact, the warmth.

‘Duo…we’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all lost our nerve.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’ The eyes snapped open and the heartbeat lurched.

‘I swear to you, I’m not.’ He leaned down, stilling his hands and bringing his eyes close to stare straight into Duo’s, ‘We were just damn lucky that none of us got hurt. Do you remember that mission when I brought Quatre back in Wing and we had to go back later for Sandrock?’

There was a tiny spark of uncertainty in Duo’s eyes, and he nodded, ‘You hid Sandrock in the mountains?’

‘Yes, that was the time.’ Heero smiled softly, allowing his fingers to resume their soothing path over Duo’s face, ‘We had been out for a week. We were both very tired; hadn’t slept in days. In the middle of a fight, surrounded by mobile dolls, Quatre…forgot how to pilot.’

Duo looked horrified, eyes going wide, ‘He…what?’

‘He just…went blank. He…froze. If I hadn’t been there…’ He left the sentence unfinished.

‘You guys never said what happened…why didn’t…?’

‘It’s not really the kind of thing that you like to talk about.’ Heero flushed a little and looked away, sorry now that they hadn’t. Wishing desperately that they had talked about it, brought it out in the open. Maybe if Duo had heard the story…

‘This is different, Heero; Wufei is never going to trust me again.’ The pain, the guilt, the shame were palpable things.

‘I learned to trust Quatre again. The first thing Wufei asked about when he regained consciousness at the house was you.’ Heero told him with a sad smile, ‘He was afraid for you, realized before the rest of us that you were missing and sent me after you.’

A strange look crossed Duo’s face, a bastard mixture of hope and despair, ‘I wish you hadn’t found me.’ He murmured, so faintly, Heero almost didn’t hear.

He felt his own heart stagger in his chest, ‘Don’t say that, love; please don’t say that.’ His hands came to rest on Duo’s shoulders and he squeezed hard, ‘We need you…I need you.’

Finally, the touches, the endearments, the love in the eyes of the man sitting beside him, seemed to soak through the drug induced fog cloaking Duo’s brain. He looked up into Heero’s face, eyes searching hungrily. His hand rose slowly off the bed, not without a faint grimace of pain and came to rest on the back of the hand holding him.

‘Heero?’ He sighed, his features wearing an aching hurt and the monitor told Heero what little else he needed to know.

He leaned slowly down, ‘Calm; heart of my heart, stay calm.’

The lips that rose to meet his were trembling and soft and yielded to him completely. Heero took the invitation, but gently and softly and with the greatest care, stopping when the keening of the heart monitor told him to.

‘I will kiss you hello, my little one.’ He breathed next to Duo’s ear, ‘I will kiss you good morning, and I will kiss you good night. But I will never, ever kiss you good bye.’

It all seemed too much for Duo, who just lay still, his hand resting light and shaking on Heero’s, the tears flooding down his face unnoticed, his eyes never leaving Heero’s face.

‘Duo…say something.’ Heero pleaded after a few moments under that stare.

‘Heero…oh Heero…please…hold me?’ The tone was desperate and hungry, the voice small and lost.

Heero smiled warmly, ‘I’m not sure how, love.’ He said with no little frustration, trying to find a way past the wires and tubes. Duo squirmed over with some difficulty, the simple act of sliding his body across the bed three or four inches leaving him panting, but Heero was able to ease onto the bed beside him and work his arm around him, and Duo collapsed into him with a sigh, burying his face against his partners chest.

‘You’re warm.’ He mumbled, once settled, and Heero drew the blankets back up around him.

‘Rest now, my love. Go back to sleep, I’m here.’ Heero carefully straightened the bandaged arms back out on the bed, making certain nothing was touching the site of the wounds.

There was a very long stretch of silence, while they settled and relaxed into each other, the heart monitor steadied and slowed, and Heero thought for a while that Duo had dozed back off, but then his voice came, soft and strained,

‘Heero…what am I going to do?’

‘You’re going to go on.’ Heero told him, having found the answer when he came into this room, ‘You’re going to go on because I can’t go on without you.’

His only answer was a shuddering sigh, so he continued.

‘You are going to rest, and you are going to get better.’ Heero brought his fingers up to stroke softly along the side of the face pressed against him, ‘We’re going to get you out of here, and we’re going to go on…together.’

‘I…I don’t know…’ Heero could hear the self-doubt in the anguished voice. I don’t know if I can, the voice said. What if I freeze again? What if someone else gets hurt because of me? What if that someone is you? I don’t think I’m strong enough. I’m tired and I’m cold and I hurt, and I’m not sure if I haven’t reached the end of my rope.'

Heero heard all that and more in the simple, aborted syllables that were whispered and left hanging on the air.

‘I’ll be there to help.’ Heero kissed the top of the head that nuzzled below his chin, ‘You can dance for me, and I’ll wash you clean…we’ll wash each other clean.’

Duo raised startled eyes to look into Heero’s face long and hard. He saw true understanding in the gaze that met his unflinchingly. Understanding and acceptance, and he knew the dancing wouldn’t be the wild flirt with death that it had been, but could feel that Heero held the power of absolution in his heart.

‘I…I would like that…very much.’ Duo answered him, and allowed himself to drift back to sleep, safe in Heero’s arms.

End

 

 

Sunhawk's Fics

Fiction : GW :