A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They were what made me decide to put another chapter out there. I decided to switch to Duo's POV for this chapter, and I'm hoping that he's not tooOOC. Enjoy.

I wasn't sick.

No, really.

Heero was simply mistaken. Not even the Perfect Soldier can be right all the time, you know. Really, I was the epitome of health if you were willing to ignore the mild fever, dizziness, and the fact that the mere smell of food maybe me feel like puking my guts out. What's that? Hey, denial is not lying. As long as I didn't accept that I was sick (because I wasn't), I couldn't really be sick. See how that works?

But Heero, that bastard, wasn't willing to go along with it. It figured that the one time he decided to play nice was the one time I wished he'd treat me the way he always did. Not that it wasn't wonderful sleeping in his arms - believe me, it was - but it made me feel things I wasn't supposed to be feeling. It was an issue, let me tell you, especially because the bastard was stronger than I was. And also, as it turned out, it's pretty hard to tussle with someone when every movement makes the world spin like you're drunk, except there hasn't been hours of alcohol consumption and there's no quick fix.

I have a sort of memory of him picking me up and saying, "Why do you hate the thought of being sick? It's natural. Baka."

Truth be told - because I always do - I wasn't used to being sick. Definitely wasn't used to admitting it. Solo had taught me and the gang a lot of things and that had been one of the most important rules. Do Not Be Vulnerable. Acting like prey gets you treated like prey. On a colony like L2, that was a rule to live by, along with Do Not Stand Out (impossible for Solo and I) and Do Whatever It Takes To Survive (short of selling yourself, because there were some things that Solo put his foot down on).

Do Not Stand Out was one of the reasons I ended up with Solo in the first place. He had blond hair, which was not so unusual, but he also had two differently colored eyes. One green, one blue. That not only made people remember him, it made him a target for the sick perverts who were after a boy or girl that looked a little more exotic. So when he came across me in an alley when I was roughly four years old and saw my eyes, he picked me up and kept me with him for two reasons. One, because he knew the kind of life that was waiting for me, and two, because he knew I would help keep the attention off of him. That may sound selfish, but this was L2, where no one does anything for free.

I'd never seen anyone else with two differently colored eyes until I saw that boy on L2 when Heero and I were on a mission. It was like meeting a younger version of Solo all over again. I gave him everything I had. I couldn't help myself. Call it temporary insanity, but I hadn't been able to save Solo the first time around, and I felt a compulsion to help that kid in any way that I could. The only thing I regret is that it made Heero watch me even more closely than before. I was very conscious of his eyes on me during the rest of the mission and even now, I know he watches me more than he should, and although I was a spectacular actor, I was worried that I might give eventually something away without meaning to.

That was another one of the reasons that I didn't want to admit I was sick. It meant Heero would hover more (he could be something of a mother hen, believe it or not, though no one could beat Quatre) and even though I craved the attention, I was also frightened of it, which is why I tried to act normally no matter how hard it got. Do Whatever It Takes To Survive and all that. I was used to that. Life on L2 had taught me that you did what you had to do, no matter what you wanted.

For example, although I would never tell the others, particularly Wufei, I had lived as a girl before. There are a lot of people out there who are more willing to give food or money to a little girl as opposed to a boy. I'd always been fairly androgynous, and as a child, it was even easier to make people believe I was a girl. And as it turned out, the perverts don't really care so much what sex you are, so being a boy wasn't always safer. Actually, there are some pervs who go for that. Not that you could explain something like that to Wufei. He was so obsessed with thinking that girls were the weaker sex. Obviously he'd never been on the receiving end of a pissed girl wearing a set of high heels.

Something cold touched my forehead, pulling me out of my dazed thoughts. I opened eyes I had no memory of closing and found myself looking up at Heero. He was leaning over me, searching my face intently. When he saw I was awake, he pushed two pills into my mouth and held a glass to my lips before I could protest. Cold water washed the pills down my throat and went a long way towards soothing the dry ache that kept threatening to make me cough.

"Feeling better?" he asked, setting the glass down.

"No," I muttered grudgingly. I didn't lie, and there was only so long that you could deny something before it crossed the line. My head was spinning even though I was lying still. It had been so long since I'd last gotten sick that I had forgotten how utterly miserable it was. I clenched my fingers into the soft sheets that I was lying on, belatedly realizing that I was in a bed. "Where are we?"

"Deer Lake," said Heero, sitting down on a chair that had been pulled up to the bed. "You guided us here when we were lost. Don't you remember?"

Shit. "No…" I repeated slowly, not needing to work at looking confused. Good thing it was true. Heero knew I didn't lie. The past few hours - hell, the last day - really was a blur to me. I remembered waking up that morning and being in Heero's lap, but even that memory is vague and disjointed, like it happened weeks ago instead of hours ago.

"None of us could read the map. But you knew exactly where we were." His deep blue eyes watched me so closely I squirmed. "You said that Gods always know where they are."

Fuck! Another reason to loathe being sick. Apparently I couldn't control my damn mouth. "I don't remember that," I said honestly, working a hand free of the covers to touch my forehead. The cold sensation was revealed to be a cloth that had been dipped in water. It felt good on my head, but I was still hot. I lacked the strength to push the covers away and it annoyed me.

"What did you mean?"

"What?"

"What did you mean?" he repeated patiently.

I squinted. "What did I mean about what?" It was getting kind of hard to think. I knew we'd been talking about something important, something that I had to be careful with, but the harder I tried to remember, the more the words slipped away from me. I felt my eyes slip closed and quickly forced them open, knowing that I had to stay awake. Heero rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head.

"Go to sleep, baka. You're fading out on me," he said. It must have been my imagination that was telling me there was a hint of affection in the normally stoic voice.

"'Kay." I let my eyes close that time. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I opened my eyes again, the light spilling into the room had changed position and grown a lot fainter. Heero was gone, and instead, Wufei was sitting beside me, apparently meditating.

"'Fei?" I mumbled.

"It's Wufei, Maxwell," he said, opening his eyes. "How are you? Can you eat something?"

Could I eat? My stomach seemed to have settled a little, possibly from whatever Heero had drugged me with. I hated turning down food. "I'll try."

He reached out and picked up a mug that had been sitting on the nightstand. I struggled up, propping myself on my elbows. I hated how weak I felt. My muscles felt like mush. I reached out to take the mug from Wufei and felt my throat tighten when I got a whiff of what was in the cup. It was a hot chicken soup of some kind. The smell was divine, but my stomach didn't appreciate it. Without warning, I threw up all over myself, the mug, and Wufei, who was just close enough to be in range.

"Fuck! Maxwell!" Wufei dropped the mug as he jerked backwards, looking disgusted. There was vomit dribbling down his white shirt and onto his pants. "You little - YUY!" I fell back against the bed and groaned with pain as the door flew open and Heero came in. "Look at this!"

"What did you expect, Chang? He's sick," I heard Heero say. Footsteps approached the bed. A cool hand touched my forehead and gently smoothed back my bangs. I couldn't stop myself from turning into the touch just a little. "He's running a temperature of 103 degrees. Look, why don't you go get cleaned up in the other bathroom. I'll take care of Duo."

Wufei stormed out of the room grumbling under his breath. Heero sighed and then there were impossibly gentle arms picking me up. I remained lax, only half feigning unconsciousness as Heero carried me into the bathroom and stripped my soiled clothing away. He wet a cloth and started running it over my skin, cleaning away sweat and vomit. I shivered at the feeling and couldn't help trying to pull away.

"Duo, stop it," Heero ordered, pressing the cloth to my cheek. "We can't afford to take you to the hospital and we have to get your fever down somehow. Hold still."

Some distant memory washed over me of Sister Helen telling me the exact same thing when I was a child. The orphanage couldn't afford to pay hospital fees. It was the last time that I'd gotten truly sick, and she had been so frightened even though I had sluggishly reassured her that no one could kill the God of Death. She hadn't taken much reassurance from my feverish ranting. At least now I understood why. I could easily die. Like this, I - we - were just as mortal as everyone else.

"Tell 'Fei 'm sorry," I mumbled.

Heero paused for only a second or two. "He already knows." He kept running the cloth over every inch of my body until I was shivering pretty much non-stop.

"How is he, Heero?"

I jumped and probably would've slipped off of the toilet had Heero not braced me with his arm. I really was slipping if I hadn't even heard Trowa come in. I squinted up at him through blurry eyes, noticing that he looked kind of tired. So did Heero, now that I thought about it. Guilt and frustration washed over me. Out of all the times to get sick, why now? Everyone was already tired from the war efforts and dumping this on their shoulders just seemed cruel.

"Still sick. 103 degrees," Heero said, picking me up again. "Could you hold him, Barton? I need to change the bed."

Trowa took me silently. It was humiliating to be carried and passed around like an invalid, but I doubted my legs would have held me. My whole body felt weak and I was so damned tired it was hard to stay awake. He brought me back into the room as Heero began stripping the bed and re-making it. I fought the urge to put my head against Trowa's shoulder and distracted myself by looking around. We were in a hotel, I realized, and a fairly pricey one, judging by the quality of the decorations on the walls.

"How's Winner?" Heero asked finally.

"Doing a little better. 100 degrees," Trowa answered.

Quat? Quatre was sick? I had a vague memory of hearing Heero say as much, though like everything else from the past day or so, it was disjointed at best. No wonder Trowa looked tired, though. It was no secret that he and Quatre were lovers, and he must have been freaking out, though he'd never show it. I searched for a way to comfort him and finally threw my arm around his neck so that I could tug on his shirt. His visible emerald eye looked down at me with vague amusement.

"Don't worry," I said. It was hard to talk. My tongue didn't want to cooperate. I had to form the words carefully. "Quat will be fine. Gods can't die, you know? Not really. We're im… im… we live forever."

His eye widened slightly. Heero stopped pulling the sheet over the bed to look at us. I smiled, satisfied that I'd done my job to make him feel better, and closed my eyes. I thought that my head might have fallen against his shoulder after all, but it helped to stabilize the world, so I didn't mind that much.

"Duo? What do you mean?" Trowa said, shaking me a little. "Duo?"

"Stop. I think I'm going to be sick," I moaned. The jostling was making my stomach churn all over again. Heero rushed over to us, grabbed me, and in no time I found myself bent over in front of the toilet, just in time for what little else there was in my stomach to come up. By that point, it was mostly liquid and bile and my throat burned with pain by the time I was done spitting and choking.

"Here." Heero held a glass of water to my lips so that I could rinse and spit. Then he pressed two more pills into my mouth and made me swallow them. I was so dizzy that if it had been up to me, I probably wouldn't have moved from where I was kneeling. Unfortunately, it wasn't. I was getting pretty tired of Heero scooping me up and carrying me around at will, but I didn't have the energy to protest. He put me down on the bed, which admittedly did feel nice and cool under my aching muscles, and dampened another cloth to put on my forehead. Then he and Trowa bent over me, one on each side. If I hadn't felt so miserable, it would have been pretty intimidating.

"Duo, what do you mean by saying that Gods never get lost?" Heero asked me. His blue eyes were burning a hole in my soul. I couldn't have turned away if I wanted to. "And by saying that Winner couldn't die because Gods can't?"

"You already know," I muttered thickly. Whatever Heero had given me was making me sleepy. Normally I didn't respond well to drugs, but knowing Heero, he'd found one of the few that would agree with me and make me do whatever he wanted. Like he needed a drug for that. "You just can't 'member."

I'm pretty sure that he said something else, but I crashed before my mind could register anything else. Unfortunately, it seemed that my nightmares followed me into sleep even when I was ill. On the whole, I don't remember a lot about the next few days. I have vague impressions of being held, of people speaking to me, of alternating between being freezing cold and so hot I wanted to melt to make it stop, in between nightmares about L2. Quatre later told me that I threw everything up, including medicine, and that for a while he and the others were truly worried about me. I could believe that Quat was concerned, but the others? Yeah, right. Though Heero had been acting suspiciously kind to me, I was certain that it was because he wanted Deathscythe's pilot up and running as soon as possible, not because of me.

But it didn't matter, because I didn't remember any of it. Maybe if I had, I would've made more of an effort to stop Shinigami from kicking in. I wasn't like the others. The God of Death could never truly be repressed, especially not during the middle of a war. It lingered below the surface. When he felt me slipping, the fever began to burn from my body - literally. I woke up exactly twenty-fours later, feeling shaken and weak but refreshed, and got the shock of my life when Heero Yuy, the Perfect Soldier himself, grabbed me and hugged me.

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