Gifts in Return: Chapter One

"Is he dead?"

"He looks it."

"Yeah, you're 'prolly right. Lets ditch the body."

"Where? Why can't we just leave him here?"

"Dummy, then the commander will want to know why we are here and why we aren't at the meeting!"

"Oh… I suppose you're right."

"Here, help me lift him."

"Woah, he's really heavy for a kid his size."

"Yeah, no kidding! Here, shove him down there."

Heero felt his body being dragged across the brushed steel floor and then the hiss of a hatch being pried open. A heavy boot pressed against his stomach and shoved him back with a rough kick, sending his limp, useless body tumbling down a chute of some sort. The weight of his body left the surface of the metal and for a few seconds he was weightless, air rustling through his hair and against his face before he crashed against a wall of metal with a sickening thud. He could hear a few bones snap upon impact, the sound quickly followed by a surge of extreme pain. He would have flinched but it seemed as if the connection from his brain to his body was severed, and his body disobeyed all commands to open eyes, move legs and arms.

My body is getting me back for all those years of neglect, he mused. Then he thought on this and was disgusted at his own morbidity. The weight of his own useless appendages pressed heavily on the floor and his autonomic response of breathing seemed labored, as if there were someone sitting on his chest. He had landed on his back on top of his right arm, which was the source of the cracks. His other arm was draped crookedly across his chest and the sensation of his legs lying in disarray across the hard metal floor slowly crept through the pain to greet his disoriented mind. He reached through the haze of throbbing pain and searched his surroundings with his other senses. He realized he was very cold. The freeze of space seeped through the metal below him.

No insulation, I must be in a storage unit.



The scent of oil, dust, and the lingering acidic odor of fuel. A garage. They must have shoved me into one of the transfer chutes that leads to the holding cell for shipments. His brain immediately sprang forth a photographic image of the blueprint of the small trade satellite he had infiltrated. His previous position was only 50 feet above where he estimated he was at. If I can commandeer one of the forklifts and can go to sector 12-P before th-

Then he realized with frustration that he was unable to do anything. It was a stroke of bad luck that had placed him in this situation. He had done research on this mission and all of the soldiers and workers at this satellite station were supposed to be at a monthly "teamwork building" meeting this afternoon. He hadn't factored in the possibility of a random sexual encounter occurring in his path. He knew it was careless on his part. He had gotten too comfortable in his missions and wasn't on his guard. So when he came around the corner both parties were startled and the nature of the act being performed by the two officers had stunned Heero just long enough to stop him from guarding against the blow to his stomach which had sent him tottering forward, and by then it was hopeless for him to prevent the final blow to his head.

If only the guys could see me now…

He felt vulnerable, a gnawing feeling that chewed on the inside of his chest and eclipsed all his other thoughts and sensations. Someone could kill me right now, and I wouldn't be able to do anything. However, this sort of vulnerability wasn't entirely new to him. He began to reflect on a similar situation Duo had freed him from.

He felt something vibrate from beneath him, the sensation focused in his pocket. His cell phone. It pulsed violently, making a loud buzzing sound against the floor below him. Then it stopped.

That must be Duo. He is probably wondering where I am. Somehow that thought was a comfort.

Again, it went off, and his earpiece chimed once, then twice indicating the caller had left him a voicemail.

His mind raced for solutions, but all required the use of his body, which at the moment was definitely out of commission. He was at a loss. Under normal circumstances he would discard that which was of no use to him and continue on his way, improvising. Obviously his mangled, paralyzed body couldn't be discarded and there was no way for him to transcend the situation without it.

Guess there is one thing to do… he decided smugly; Sleep.

--

Heero had not anticipated that during his little nap he would have slipped into unconsciousness. He had finally begun to surface from a deep hibernation and though he still could not open his eyes he could feel his brain booting up gradually, all of his senses flaring to life, searching for data to process.

He was warm now, wrapped tightly in what felt like a fleece blanket against his skin. All of his skin. His flight suit had been removed and he was very aware that his naked body was sunk into a soft mattress. His right arm felt heavy. A cast or a brace had been wrapped around it to set the broken bone. His head was heavy against a soft pillow. An ache came from his groin and he realized a catheter had been inserted there. Various other things were connected to him as well. Stickers clung across his chest from what he assumed were attached to a cardiac monitor and the faint sensation of something stuck to the tip of his left index finger also caught his attention. The scent of rubbing alcohol, rubber, plastic, iodine, linen, and newsprint greeted his nose.

Just as soon as he was aware of its existence the newspaper crinkled loudly as if someone had folded it in their lap. A soft shuffle of a chair being pushed back and then slow, even footsteps sounded from across the room. The footsteps approached Heero, paused, then turned and gradually faded away. There was a soft murmur of voices to Heero's left. The words were indiscernible and the tones sounded as if they were from behind a door. The conversation was short. Suddenly a door had been flung open with a loud smack, and the loud shuffle of heavy, clumsy footsteps approached the bed. The bed lurched to the side as the person slammed into it and suddenly Heero felt a hand grab both sides of his face. Two thin, callused fingers pressed hard against Heero's eyelids before forcing them up, revealing Duo's grinning face hovering dangerously close to Heero's nose.

"Hey look! He is looking at me!" Duo chirped happily. Heero noticed that the Deathscythe pilot's face was unusually pale, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. Heero first reaction was to shove Duo out of his personal space, but his arms just lay motionless at his sides. His aching eyes shifted to the right, looking over Duo's shoulder at Trowa, who was holding a folded newspaper at his side. A small, satisfied smirk perked the corner of the Heavyarms pilot's mouth.

"Did ya see that! He moved his eyes!" Duo exclaimed. Heero's eyes reverted back to the grinning young man in front of him and instinctively attempted to glare at him, but his facial muscles failed to respond and he stared forward dumbly.

"A good sign." Trowa said, inspecting Heero with one visible green eye.

"Hey buddy, you were out for a long while, we were worried about you." Duo said quickly, readjusting his fingers to keep a tight hold on Heero's eyelids. "We pinged your cell phone and traced you to that satellite you were on. Lucky, too, your phone only had on bar of power left." Duo said happily, the smile never leaving his face. Heero 

realized that the look was more of relief than happiness. He studied Duo's face as he spoke, noting how his eyebrows shifted upwards and then gathered at the center of his forehead. He also noticed how straight the other pilot's teeth were. It was difficult not to notice these things due to the close proximity of Duo's face. His eyes began to water for lack of blinking and Duo let go of them abruptly, letting them snap shut. The smell of coffee drifted across his face as Duo let out a soft cursed before prying his eyelids open again, this time being gentler with them.

"Duo found you passed out cold in one of the hanger bays. We brought you here to Astoria-9. Formerly this used to be a refueling and maintenance station for cargo shuttles, and it was scheduled to be dismantled. However, Quatre managed to pull some strings. You will stay here until you are recovered." Trowa stated flatly. Duo nodded in agreement. Heero felt a heavy, unfamiliar emotion in his chest. Guilt.

The knowledge that Quatre had quite possibly spent a chunk of his family fortune on a run-down piece of space rubble to keep Heero safe made him feel guilty.

Why would he even bother… the thought hit him hard. Duo had begun telling him the tale of how he rescued Heero from the clutches of the evil satellite sanitation workers, but Heero couldn't focus on the other pilot's words. His throat began to get tight and an ache began to run through his chest. Duo, Quatre and Trowa each had come from their individual assignments to take care of him. Quatre had provided him an entire facility to have privately for recovery. Medical supplies weren't cheap either, and from the feel of it Quatre had wasted no expense in making sure Heero was completely supported.

He felt guilty and almost ashamed to have been such a burden on them. He knew, deep down, that he would not have done the same for any of them. He would have cared, he supposed, but if he had work to do he wouldn't have thrown it all aside for an ailing comrade.

That thought alone hurt and his eyes began to water again, this time not because of the lack of blinking. Duo had noticed this and stopped in mid-sentence and stared down at Heero. He looked confused, and then intensely worried.

"I think he is in pain." Duo said flatly, glancing over his shoulder at Trowa who stood unwavering, watching Heero with an analytical stare. Duo's demeanor slipped from cheerful to serious, something Heero knew the other young man to be capable of. The Deathscythe pilot let Heero's eyelids close slowly. Then Duo's weight left the bed and Heero could hear him fumbling for something in a drawer nearby. Plastic was ripped and tossed in the garbage. Duo's uneven gait approached the side of the bed once more and then suddenly Heero felt a burning sensation in his left hand. At first it was intense, making his hand tingle with a curious numbness. Then the feeling slowly crawled up the inside of his arm, settled in his chest, then crept up the side of his neck.

"There ya go, buddy. That will help." He could hear Duo's smooth tenor muttering to him.



"This must be hard on him." Heero heard Trowa say softly to Duo, as if in reassurance. Heero wondered absently if Trowa was a psychic.

Heero could hear the almost faintly audible beep of the heart monitor over his head. It was steady at first, but as the tingle took over his body and numbed him the beep began to slow. He could hear the rustle of his own breath in his chest and became very aware of his own body. A naso-gastric tube ran through his nose, down his throat. A hum of a machine beside the bed corresponded with the gradual dumping of some sort of warm liquid into his stomach. His muscles had relaxed but ached to be moved. A barely noticeable pressure came from what he gathered wan an IV attached to his left hand. He was receiving fluids. He realized that his forehead was hot but his fingers felt cold. His heart beat in sync with the faint beeping of the monitor, occasionally halting for a millisecond before tripping back into rhythm.

Duo and Trowa left the room together. Heero heard them speaking from behind the door, but he couldn't make out their words. However, he knew he was the topic being discussed. The door opened again and he could hear Trowa's even footsteps approach the foot of the bed.

The newspaper opened with a crinkle.

--

It was difficult to keep track of time in space. Time didn't flow the same way it did on Earth. Depending on your position, the sun could rise over the moon, over Earth, or over a colony. Being asleep for days at a time as well as being in space made Heero feel hopelessly lost. If it weren't for Duo he would never have known how long he had been in bed.

However, there was an established routine. Duo would come in every morning and announce that it was "so-and-so-date, and 8:00 AM. The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and the world is a wonderful place to be!" Everyday without fail. At first Heero was annoyed with this greeting but after a few days he began to look forward to it. Duo would come in every morning to bathe Heero. At first this was intensely humiliating to the WingZero pilot. However, it was a necessity and in his mind he consented to it, only because Duo was his friend.

Or was he? Heero had never really needed friends before now. He always considered Duo a comrade in the battle for their cause, but never did he confide in the Deathscythe pilot anything personal. He had never confided in any of the other pilots, really, but then again what was there to share? They had similar lives and though the words were unspoken, all of the pilots could understand what the other was going through.

Currently Duo was chattering about something he had seen on the news and was rubbing some sort of hair product in Heero's scalp. He would have told Duo not to bother 

if he could, but then he realized how relaxing the message actually was. He could feel his eyes rolling back beneath his closed eyelids. He focused on the gentle pinpricks that flowed from Duo's fingers and traveled down the back of his neck. If he could have, he would have shuddered.

"Heh, that must feel good!" Duo said in his perky voice. "Your heart rate just dropped like 20 beats." The Deathscythe pilot hummed a little diddy to himself, cleaned out Heero's ears, grabbed the Japanese boy's head and tilted it around to stretch out his neglected shoulder muscles and then began to do something with Heero's feet.

Heero had learned a lot about Duo from this experience. Before he had known very little. He knew he was American and from the L4 colony cluster. He knew the stats of Deathscythe, how much vernier fuel his tanks could hold, how the stealth mechanism worked. He also knew that Duo enjoyed eating pizza, drinking Royal Crown Cola and that the other young man could make friends with just about anyone.

Having spent the past two weeks under his care, Heero began to notice other things he had overlooked. For one, he never knew Duo smoked cigarettes. Occasionally when Duo would come in the faint smell of menthol and smoke would be on his clothes.

Duo also liked The Beatles, and would sing their songs when he thought Heero was asleep. Duo was very interested in world politics, had a vast knowledge of mechanics, and knew all of the recent gossip about popular actors and actresses.

He never knew that Duo could speak Japanese, either. This knowledge had actually surprised him the most. Maybe it was the American's carefree demeanor that led Heero to believe that the other pilot was somewhat uneducated. However, one night Duo was assembling something at a desk near his bed. He could hear the American boy getting frustrated with it, crumpling the directions and slamming things down in annoyance. Finally, fed up, Duo dialed a number on his cell phone and spoke to the manufacturer in Japanese. The conversation was along the lines of "I have this part that is missing such-and-such a piece" and "you will replace it or I want my money back".

Of course, the Japanese wasn't perfect, but Heero was very impressed.

He noticed other things about the Deathscythe pilot as too, like that Duo was very nervous when handling Heero. He could feel Duo's hands tremble when he washed him, and could hear the faint quickening of the other pilot's breath when he accidentally dropped Heero's leg or bumped into his casted arm.

No matter how happy Duo sounded, Heero could always tell that it bothered his fellow pilot to see him like this. Sometimes he could hear Trowa and Duo talking in the hallway outside his room. Duo's voice would be somber and monotonous, but when he entered Heero's room his voice would inflect higher and higher, and the American would seem to be the happiest person in the world. Insanely happy. Creepily happy.



The fact that Duo went through such an effort to put up a mask and protect Heero from the severity of his situation touched the Japanese boy. He would never forget all that the other pilots did for him, and if and when he recovered he would make it up to them, especially Duo.

--

"Duo, maybe you should wake him first?" Heero heard Quatre's voice say with a note of hesitation.

"Nah, he'll be ok." The American said. Heero felt his eyes being taped open as he resumed consciousness. Duo was standing at the side of the bed, grinning excitedly and Quatre was standing at the foot of the bed holding a folder of paperwork. Trowa stood in his customary spot behind Quatre's right shoulder, his one visible eye twinkling with its own understated excitement.

After a silent moment Quatre cleared his throat and gave Heero one of his automatic diplomatic smiles before flipping open the folder he held in his hand. Heero was surprised to see Quatre back so soon. During his stay in his makeshift hospital he had only seen Quatre once, the third day after his arrival. The blond had to take his leave of them for a few weeks due to his work but promised he wouldn't return without a solution to Heero's problem. Heero felt an excited knot beginning to tangle in his stomach. This meant that Quatre had news.

"I corresponded with a few neurologists and specialists my sister happens to be a colleague of and I found out that there is an experimental procedure that is being performed on Earth by a specialist named Martin Watts in Sydney. I have been told it is very effective in reversing damage to the spinal chord. Now, I am not sure if it is one hundred percent effective or that you will be magically cured but it is a start." Quatre said matter-of-factly and then closed the folder and looked down at Heero with a sigh. "The only problem is we will either have to take you to Earth and jeopardize your identity, or bring Martin Watts here. If he is a busy man, he may not consent to travel to space, seeing as it would take up a lot of his-"

Duo shifted uneasily in his spot and began clenching his fists in what Heero perceived to be frustration. "We will have to bring him here." Duo said flatly, rubbing the back of his head suddenly. His amethyst eyes downcast to the floor as if in deep thought before shooting back up to look at Quatre with more determination than Heero had ever seen. "If he won't come, I'll make him!"



"Now Duo… we can't just-"

"No. No no no. If he won't come, I'll make him." Duo reiterated. "Don't you worry about that. I'll take care of it personally." A wicked grin began to creep across his face, and those perfect teeth flashed brilliant white behind his curved lips. Heero began to feel uneasy. Unfortunately he could neither protest nor consent to any of this and just lie there helplessly. His eyes shifted from Duo to Quatre then over the blonde's shoulder at Trowa who gave Heero a small shrug.

Duo was gone for five days, having left a long list of things of things Trowa should remember to do in his care of Heero. The days were long, and Heero felt as if they would never end. Trowa wasn't as talkative as Duo, which left the Japanese pilot sinking deep into his own thoughts. He reflected on his life, what little childhood he had, formed opinions on things he had never had time to reflect on before such as the current political state of the Earth Sphere Alliance and on the relationship Quatre and Trowa seemed to share.

While Duo was gone Quatre stayed on Astoria-9. Heero had nothing better to do so he began to observe how Quatre and Trowa interacted. He never seemed to notice before. Perhaps it was because any other time they were all together there were battles or life-threatening situations that posed a great distraction.

One night Heero relaxed in bed and let his heart rate slow as if he were asleep. He could hear the blond move closer to Trowa at the small desk at the foot of the bed and hear him speak just barely above a whisper. Quatre would speak and Trowa would have a way of making affirmative statements without words. He would make small grunts or go "hum" under his breath, and Quatre would respond with another statement, as if Trowa had inquired for more information. They seemed to be speaking in their own private code. Heero admired their mutual, mysterious understanding of each other.

"I hope Duo doesn't do anything rash." Quatre said softly, worry gracing the high notes of his voice. Heero could hear something shift, like a chair dragging across the floor.

"I've missed you." Trowa's voice sounded soft, and it surprised Heero to hear any emotion from the Heavyarms pilot. It was a pure sound. Quatre let out a loud sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for minutes.

"I missed you too." The blond whispered.

Heero felt guilty for intruding on their personal, intimate moment and within minutes he slipped into sleep, hoping to give them privacy away from his wandering thoughts.



When Duo arrived back on Astoria-9 he had a guest with him. Heero supposed the better way to describe the arrival was that of a triumphant warrior with his prisoner. Duo had a gun pressed between the shoulder blades of the poor Martin Watts and led the frightened man through the corridors and into Heero's room being less than gentle. The man's face was flushed and his eyes were owl-like behind half-moon spectacles. He still had his white lab coat on with a few badges dangling from the lapel. When they entered Quatre jumped to his feet and scolded the gun out of Duo's hand, led the shaken surgeon to sit in a chair and smothered him with pathetic apologies for the American pilot's hasty behavior. Heero found a great amount of humor in the situation. He watched as Quatre gave the man his credentials and reassured him they weren't going to kill him.

"Wh… what do you want from me then?" Martin Watts stammered, his eyes darting from Quatre to Duo before settling on Heero. Understanding flickered across his face. "You took me hostage to save him? You could have just made an appointment."

Duo chuckled and walked over to the bed and gave Heero a little wink. "How are ya doing, pal? Hey! Trowa hasn't been washing your face very well…" The long haired pilot reached down and plucked some sort of chapped skin from Heero's lower lip, his finger lingering for a moment before pulling away to dig in his pocket. Duo smothered Heero's lips with cherry chapstick before turning back to the doctor who was staring in awe at Heero, whose eyes were taped open, staring right back at him.

"Doctor, I assure you, we would have liked to have done this per protocol…"Quatre began, but before he could continue the man jumped up from his chair and pointed a finger at Heero.

"That is a Gundam pilot!" The man exclaimed. "I saw him on the news two days ago! Miss. Relena Peacecraft is searching for him. He is a terrorist!" Then the frightened man stumbled backwards, his eyes searching all corners of the room as if he were about to be shot for saying such a thing aloud. "And because you are harboring him, you are all terrorists too!"

"Heh, I guess we are. Terrorist… I like the sound of that." Duo said with an evil grin on his face. He approached the man slowly but his prowling was interrupted by Trowa's hand firmly placed on his shoulder.

"Sir, if you could please follow me… I believe you are owe an explanation." Quatre said sweetly. The man looked down at the blond and couldn't help but trust in those clear, watery blue eyes. He nodded and followed Quatre out of the room, steering clear of Duo who had tried again to advance on the man. Once they were gone Trowa released the braided pilot's shoulder and shook his head, a rare smile forming on his face.

"Was the evil act necessary?" Trowa asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Duo laughed and nodded vigorously.



"Let him think Quatre is the good guy. I want him to fear me, because if he messes up on fixin' Heero I am going to arrange a date with his maker." A cackle erupted from Duo's throat and he flopped lazily on the edge of Heero's bed and looked down at him, spinning his handgun on one finger.

Trowa snorted softly to himself and relaxed against the foot of the bed. "Hopefully Quatre can convince him to help Heero, especially after your executioner performance."

"Of course he will, Quatre can talk anyone into anything if he wants to." Duo stated plainly, holstering the gun at the side of his thigh. Heero hoped Duo was right.

--

When Heero woke from surgery it felt as if he his back has been cut to ribbons. He was lying on his stomach, his face pressed against a headrest with a hole in the center. He was facing down at the floor, the tiling white with pepper gray spots scattered across the surface. His head ached and his eyes burned. A sharp pain throbbed behind his eyes and his eardrums pulsed violently with heavy thuds. His own heartbeat drummed from within his head and nearly drowned out the surrounding beeps and hums of machinery and monitors. He closed his eyes and then opened them again.

Then he blinked. He could move! Well, his eyelids anyway. His excitement swelled and overtook the pain temporarily and he began to take inventory on his entire body. He twitched his arms, and with great effort could move his toes. He tested opening his mouth and closing it again, finding that the muscles burned even after such small exertion. He was weak, but he could move. Feebly he began to croak out a cough, the jerking movements making pain race up and down his spine and cause his vision to cloud with dark, blotchy spots.

Suddenly those uneven stomps that were so obviously Duo approached him and the American pilot crouched down near the floor and peered curiously up at Heero's face.

"So you live! How do ya feel?" Duo asked with a smile. Heero closed his eyes for a moment, stifled a groan and let loose a long, slow sigh.

"Aweful." He grumbled, his throat raw from disuse. Heero swallowed deftly and felt his eyes watering from the excruciating pain that swarmed over his back. Duo didn't didn't seem to notice.



"You were in there for over 10 hours. Quatre looked like he was about to pass out and I have never seen Trowa so nervous! He couldn't hold still." The braided boy said, grinning up through the little hole in the headrest at Heero's face.

"What is it with you and chapped lips?" Duo chirped, digging into his pocket to retrieve his cherry Chapstick.

"I don't want any of that." Heero growled in protest, peering sideways at the other boy, a scowl forming on his face. His facial muscles were weak, so the scowl lost some of its intensity.

"Fine. Have crusty lips." Duo said softly, rolling his eyes in defeat. Heero snorted, and then suddenly wished he hadn't.

"What did they do to me?" Heero asked in a hoarse voice, holding back what occurred to him may have been a sob from the back of his throat. He had been through many things in his short life, but this was by far one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.

"Well… here, lemme show you." Duo scampered away, only to come back under the table with a handful of pictures, grids and charts. He held one up in particular. It was a sketch of a torso, and what Heero thought to be a spine. From a spot just below the neck was a drawing of some sort of object with tubes or wires, which were scribbled all over the spine itself.

"The Doc. installed a transfer device while allows your spine to communicate as it once had, and maybe even better than it had before. I don't know all the details, but here is the paperwork if you want to read it." Duo said excitedly, beginning to spread the charts and graphs out on the floor under Heero's face.

"Maybe later." Heero mumbled. Something had begun to burn his thigh and then that familiar tingle and numbness began to travel across his body. The pain began to subside beneath this new sensation and he let out a soft sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and slept.

--

Recovery taken a month and Heero stayed on Astoria-9 with Duo and Trowa. Quatre had left to continue his work but before he had departed Heero pulled the blond aside and thanked him for what he had done. Somehow the Japanese pilot felt that words were just not enough to relay just how grateful he was to Quatre. The Sandrock pilot had paid for everything, and even paid off Martin Watts to keep him quiet about the ordeal. 

Not only had Heero been a financial burden on him, but he had also wasted a lot of the blond's time he could have been using for other much more important matters.

Quatre must have seen the anguish beneath Heero's cold exterior and before he left he had taken Heero's hands within his own, nodded, gave him a gentle smile and told him not to worry about it.

But the Japanese boy couldn't help but worry about it.

This was very unlike him to be so engrossed in a wide array of emotions, let alone feeling guilt. He had done many things before that should have induced such a feeling, but he had never experienced it until now. Perhaps it was because he had been such a problem for his comrades, other Gundam pilots, who he respected far more than any enemy soldier or random victim who got in his way. He could relate to them, and therefore their opinions and thoughts on him mattered.

The very last night on Astoria-9 he was sitting across at a table playing poker with Duo and Trowa. He watched as Duo twirled the tip of his braid between his fingers in thought, while Trowa stared placidly at Heero waiting for him to take his turn. Heero looked down into his hand of cards, found nothing appealing and then placed the hand face up on the table.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me." He forced himself to say, the sound of his voice sounding foreign and distant. Trowa didn't react and Duo looked over his poker hand in surprise. There was a long, awkward moment of silence before Trowa spoke.

"You would have done the same."

Heero forced a small smile and looked down at his cards.

"Yeah." He lied.