Infirmary

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't ask, don't tell.

Pairing: 1+2 / 2+1

Warning: Drabble, complete fluff/sap. No point whatsoever.

Author's Notes:

This takes place between episodes 19 and 20 in the series, where Heero comes to 'kill' Duo and instead they end up escaping together. This is a scene I had in my head of what transpires essentially between those two episodes.

Heero gently navigated the shuttle he'd commandeered in to dock at their destination. Here, he knew they would be safe for the time being. Cobalt blue eyes turned to the pilot he'd just rescued, who seemed to not have registered the fact that they had arrived.

As the adrenaline of making their escape let off, the pain it had blocked out seeped into Duo's senses, revealing the true severity of his wounds. His face noticeably paled.

"How are you feeling?" Heero queried, having noted the change in his companion.

"Like I should've let you shoot me," the American joked with a wry smile.

"I'll remember that next time," the Wing pilot returned flatly.

Duo chuckled a bit, wincing at the pain it caused him. "Who says there'll be a next time?"

Sliding upward along the seatback, the Deathscythe pilot gingerly rose to his feet. Heero moved to assist him, pulling Duo's left arm over his shoulders as he had before, helping to carry some of his weight.

The pair exited their hijacked shuttle, with the Japanese boy instinctively steering his injured fellow pilot toward the colony's nearest infirmary.

"You can let me go," Duo insisted, "I'm not helpless, y'know."

Heero obliged, and released his hold on the long-haired boy. Duo took a step, then another, and then stumbled; the Wing pilot was fortunate enough to be at his comrade's side in time to catch the boy before he fell.

"You were saying?" Heero deadpanned.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Duo dismissed with a roll of his amethyst eyes, but didn't object when Heero resumed his previous position and began supporting him once more.

As they continued down the corridor into the medical wing, the long-haired pilot vaguely noticed that his companion's hold was a bit firmer than it had been; an arm had discreetly curled around Duo's waist for extra support. Or at least that was what the American assumed its purpose was.

Seeing the braided boy being helped into the area, those staffing the colony's bustling infirmary rushed to his side, and whisked him off to one of the many patient rooms. Heero followed closely behind.

With a little assistance, Duo gingerly climbed up onto the examination table and a member of the staff removed his top, exposing a torso that was more contusions than normal flesh.

Heero was certain they had tortured him; by the looks of it, extensively. Multiple blows to his ribcage had cracked two of his ribs, but there wasn't much to be done about that beyond making sure they would heal normally and didn't require surgical intervention. To determine that, a short-haired female doctor was called in, pulling on a set of gloves before going to work palpating Duo's heavily bruised midsection. The Deathscythe pilot couldn't help but flinch and recoil from the pressure of the touches, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth to avoid crying out.

Heero meanwhile stood stoically by his side with his arms crossed neatly over his chest, his eyes never once leaving the braided boy. Though he'd never admit it, seeing the pained expression on the American's face tugged at him in a way he couldn't explain.

Come to think of it, he couldn't explain why he hadn't been able to kill Duo, either. He had had every last intention of doing so: carried the loaded gun to his cell, switched off the safety, and aimed it precisely where he needed to. Duo had even laid himself open before the Perfect Soldier, willing to die by his hand.

And Heero couldn't do it. He couldn't pull the trigger. Why? It just didn't add up. Between that and the strange sensation clawing at his chest as he watched Duo's face painfully contort, the Wing pilot was beginning to wonder if his mental health needed to be re-evaluated. Maybe it was a matter that could be resolved with simple retraining, but regardless, something wasn't right. He wasn't the same as he had been before.

Duo hissed once more and flinched, hard enough to jostle the examination table he sat upon.

"Ow, dammit! Do you have to press so hard?" The American spat.

"Yes," the doctor answered sternly, not missing a beat. "Brace yourself if you must, but I can't have you moving."

Duo grasped the edge of the examination table he was placed on and held his breath as gloved hands continued to harshly probe at the darkened patches on his midsection, carefully surveying the internal damage. The American's eyes wrenched shut, his jaw locked tight as he fought back the whimper he could feel building in the back of his throat.

Heero couldn't bear to see the pained expression on the braided boy's face anymore. The feeling in his chest was intensifying; pulling, tearing, and tugging at the very core of his being.

Reaching out, he gently placed a palm over Duo's whitened knuckles. Violet eyes opened, meeting a pair of depthless blue.

Duo's pain vanished.

~OWARI~