After two years in solitary confinement, Duo was a mess. He was emaciated from the great amount of weight he had lost from the malnutrition and abuse. His once lean and muscular build was reduced to a little more than skin and bones, and the dark circles under his eyes exaggerated the gauntness of his cheeks. The cell he was kept in was cold and damp. No blanket was provided for him, and after many torturous months of laying on hard cold steel, Duo was sure he was running a fever, and he hoped every day to die. He shivered.

His walls were all steel, and he had no window. The only light was from the tiny window on the door, there was no light bulb. He had a bucket to do his business in, and there was a flap door, too small even for a child, on the bottom of the door where they slid in his food.

He only got two meals a week, and once a week the guards would come and interrogate him for the information that they kidnapped him for two long years ago. Duo just wanted to go home. He ached from the numerous scars and fresh healing cuts, and numerous cracked or badly healed broken bones. The pain never stopped. These men who kidnapped him weren't afraid to torture their victim, in fact, they enjoyed it very much. Once, maybe twice a week, for two years added up to a lot of pain.

It all started when Duo was given some important information two years ago. It was a Preventers classified mission, and he had been given the chore of hiding it somewhere safe. He was able to persuade Une into giving him the money to open a bank box in Switzerland, which is the safest place on earth to hide anything.

Some how it had leaked that Duo was the one with the information, but they had gotten to him one day too late. When he was kidnapped, the papers were already in the bank, where it could stay for years. He didn't recognize the people who kidnapped him, the people who interrogated, or the men who beat him once a week.

It was Hell.

When he was first kidnapped, he was confident that after a week or so, his fellow Preventers would come and get him out. That first week came and went. Then the first month, then the first year.

Where were they? He constantly wondered to himself. Why hadn't they come for him?

He had given up hope. After the first year, a year without a bath, he stopped caring about his braid. His beautiful chestnut hair that he always took care of, just hung in a tangled dirty mess from his head. Until one day the guards came and threatened to cut it all off if he didn't talk. He didn't say a word, so they shaved his head, and broke his wrist for good measure. It had grown back, but it barely reached his shoulders.

All day long Duo sat along the wall of cell or lying on the flat cold ground, mumbling to himself. "Where are they? Where are they?"

Was he losing his sanity? He tried at the beginning to keep him self occupied so he wouldn't go down that road. But with nothing to read, watch, and no one to talk to, for two years, reality was slowly starting to slip by him. And now, a fever was taking a hold of him, making his small, sad reality more warped.

Staring mindlessly at the wall, Duo came out of his stupor when he felt the building shake. Was that a hallucination? He wondered, and started retreat back to his fever dreams when he heard an explosion and the building shook again. Out of fear, he scooted, with effort, to the far corner away from the door, brought his knees to his chest and curled into a tight ball. His cell was mostly sound proof, but he could make out the sounds of gun shots and vibrations of running men. Voices were incomprehensible as they rushed past his was another explosion, this time right outside his door, and smoke poured in as the door nearly flew off its hinges.

Having more time in isolation than in contact with light and sound the last two years, Duos eyes and ears were now very sensitive. His ears began to ring after the explosion, and the smoke burned his eyes. The unbearably bright light didn't help his visibility.

He couldn't hear any voices, but he could barely make out a black figure in the smoke as is came closer to him. The figure reached down and touched his arm.

"No, not today!" he yelled, pleading as he pulled away and tried to curl up even tighter, "Please not today! Don't touch me!" he covered his head, as he screamed the words. He could barely hear himself say them, but the ringing was beginning to fade. One of the figures touched his arm gently...such a soft touch...and Duo heard a familiar voice. It was distant, but there was no mistaking that voice.

He hadn't heard it is two horribly long years.

"Duo," it said, "Duo, it's us!" the voice called out to him, and he moved his arms from his head to look up. The smoke had settled, the ringing had died, and all that was left was the faces of his old friends. Heero was knelt down next to Duo, his right arm stretched out, touching Duo lightly on the arm.

Heero had a worried but happy look on his face, the others did too. Quatre, Trowa, even Wufei stood there all with the same face. Relief.

It took a while, as Duo stared at their faces looking for any signs that they were a figment of his imagination. When he finally took Heero's hand, the look on his face was indescribable.

Pain, anger, betrayal and confusion.

Heero pulled Duo to his feet, but Duo just collapsed forward into Heero's arms. They quickly realized how weak their friend had become. He was just skin and bones, barely the man they once knew.

Trowa and Heero carried Duo out to the van they had waiting, while Wufei and Quatre covered them.

"Where were you?" was the only thing Duo said to them. He repeated it over and over again. They tried explaining to him, but no words seemed right.

The only thing he heard was "We're so sorry Duo. So sorry,"

*NOTE- This is not the original. I've re-written this chapter, so its better.*