Warnings: Slight language.

AN: (Edited March 07)

Settling In

I'm different.

I glance over at Heero.

He's across from me, studying the nails he's driven into the wall with a critical eye. He has one of those bulletin corkboard things leaning against his legs. It seems strange to me, imagining him going into a store and buying one, to all appearances your average teenager who's going to put up pictures of supermodels, maybe, or girlfriends. Or maybe they'd think he's more of the angst-ridden creative type, putting up tortured poems and stories…

I blink and shoo the imaginings away before they completely take over. Hard to say where that sort of thing will lead and it's the last thing I need right now.

He's crouching down, looking more relaxed now that the nail alignment has met his approval. I'm vaguely amused by this as he lifts the board carefully and places it evenly on the nails, and then steps back to inspect his handiwork. He relaxes a little more and the small box of nails and the hammer are placed back in the toolbox at his side. Heero certainly does seem to be prepared for everything.

I'm hiding something about myself.

I look back to the window, trying to keep myself from getting lost in my musing. This is not the best time for me.

The ground outside is covered in a light snow, a white blanket reaching back to the thick green trees. The snow seems so perfect resting against the ground, the waning light of the sun making it reflect just enough to catch your attention, but softly so, not blinding. Out of the corner of my eye I pick up the tracks we made getting to the cabin, first of the jeep and then our feet as we moved up to the steps. That breaks the perfection. I look away, focusing on the curtains for a moment.

Lack of perfection. The human condition. And here I am, with my secret. Yes, even bigger than being a Gundam pilot.

I look again to Heero.

He's placed neat stacks of papers on the small coffee table in front of me, covering most of its area; the majority of them printed sheets or diagrams. I'm surprised I didn't notice all the movement. I need to make a better effort of paying attention to my surroundings. It's too easy to let my guard down around Heero.

For the moment he's turned away from me, facing the board again. He's hanging something that looks like some sort of heavy cloth. As I watch him I absently reach out and adjust one of the stacks of paper, lining it up neatly with the others instead of at that ever so slight angle to the nearest stacks. My hand does this very carefully (but casually, always casually). Just the lightest of taps. More of a fingernail twitch. I know from experience that anything more can throw it in the other direction, or the action might touch another pile and then that piles out of place, and then suddenly I'm on my knees, shuffling and placing the papers over and over again until I'm exhausted from the mental effort.

Best not to think about papers and perfect edges. Best not to think about edges. I think I need a bit of a nap.

Hands clasping together, oh so carefully, fingers interlaced just so, arms held against the body just the right way, casual, always casual, but careful. I look away from whatever fiddling Heero is doing. The window seems a lesser evil at the moment.

The other pilots don't know. Probably don't even suspect. I'm just neurotic. Nneurotic Duo Maxwell. Just fine by me. Just fine by me and the circus. We're all good.

I feel Heero's eyes on me, questioning even though I know if I turn and look they'll still be cool and detached. I know that look; I've seen it on my own face in the mirror. And I know what he's thinking. Or I have a rather good idea of what it might be. He's wondering why I'm not chattering away, why I'm not bugging the hell out of him, touching and talking and 'helping' out. It's out of character. But today I'm out of character.

Something wrong with me...

Heero crouches by the table – I look over at the sudden nearness – and he picks up one of the stacks of paper, studies it for a moment, and then he stands smoothly and moves over to the board. Carefully, precisely, he places the papers up in some predetermined order, making efficient use of the limited space. I'm thankful for small favors. He repeats the process for each small stack of papers, and then begins to unroll the two maps he brought. Curious, I turn fully to watch this, swinging my legs out to settle squarely on the worn but well-kept carpet. Ah. The maps go onto the cloth, pinned in every 3cm or so.

Definitely something wrong with me. Quite seriously. Just not saying my mood is off or that I'm having a bad day and can't figure out why, though unfortunately that happens to be true as well for the most part.

Heero checks his watch and then goes to work on the second map, repeating the process undertaken with the first. It's actually oddly fascinating to watch.

I can think of more fascinating things though.

"Duo."

I blink at him.

"Don't just stare at me stupidly. Do something."

I sigh and pick up the duffel bag that I've brought with me, kicking the smaller second one between my feet as I walk down the hall. A part of me protests at this action, the haphazardness of it, but I ignore it as best as I can. The first door comes up on my right, worn with age and partially open, revealing the room inside.

I push the door open fully, reaching out to flick on the light. In the center and against the wall there's a bed, covered with a faded dark blue blanket. Beside that stands a small wood table, a lamp sitting on it and off to the side. There is a desk almost directly across from me, pushed against the wall, a fine layer of dust covering its surface. Likewise, a fine layer of dust covers the surface of just about everything in the room.

Ignoring the evil dust for the moment I place the large bag directly inside the room by the door, against the wall, nudging the bag with my foot to line it up the best I can. That done I place the second bag atop the first. Very important, that.

The single window beckons and I cross to it, trying not to study the room any more than I have to at the moment. I pull the shade slowly, pleased when it moves smoothly. Even more pleasing is the sight that greets me through the more or less clean glass – and hey, that's pretty damned pleasing too at this point. Fresh, unmolested blankets of white stretch out to the trees edging the property. Absolutely lovely. I eagerly push the window up, grinning when it moves up just as smoothly as the shade. The air is fresh and cool and crisp and I spend a good minute or more just leaning out the window, breathing in deeply. There's just something amazing about snow.

The grin settles into a quieter smile when I pull back. Despite the drop in temperature in the room I leave the window up. Hopefully the closed up smell and taste of the room will have faded by the time I'm chilled enough to close the window.

Feeling refreshed and readier to tackle the room I turn back to it.

First order of business is the bed. Need a nice 'safe' place to start with.

When the jacket comes off I shiver a little but hardly pay it any mind. I set into the room almost eagerly. Mustn't be too happy with cleaning, who knows where that'll go.

It's a rather systematic process at this point. Everything currently on the bed gets rolled up into a more or less neat little bundle that I place on the carpet at the foot of the bed, pillowcases folded atop sheets folded atop the blanket. Really, the sheets were probably fine, no naughty little dust monsters or worse waiting to attack, but logic so rarely factors into the life of Duo Maxwell. I smile a little bit more as I set the last of the pillowcases atop the little cloth tower I've been building.

After that I lift the edge of the mattress, this as silent and efficient as every other action taken thus far. Pulling the mattress toward me I slide it back some on its frame, not looking down to see if the frame shows the floor under the bed or not. With ease I lower the mattress down onto the other side and push it in place. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. It's just that easy.

I pause a moment as I move to pick up the smaller bag, listening closely for any sounds out of the ordinary. Nothing from the Heero front, aside from the occasional little rustle of paper. Fabulous.

The little combination lock on the bag is easily dealt with and soon enough I've got it open and I'm able to remove several carefully wrapped packages from within. These are placed atop one another over my jacket, in an order that could only make sense to me, and I set to opening them carefully with my pretty little pocketknife. I do so love that thing. All rainbow pretty. But that's beside the point.

What comes out first is a cotton liner for the mattress. But only after making sure my hands are clean enough to actually touch it. Cotton liner goes in place, tucked in nicely, followed by nicely soft midnight blue sheets, tucked in just as neatly and fastened with handy little sheet fasteners. That done I decide the other things can wait until I shake out the pillows. They ought to be fine, having been covered by the pillowcases and the blanket. But only once given a proper shake.

Picking each up by the corner I move from the room quietly, walking directly past Heero without even glancing over. From the corner of my eye I see him look up when I come in, and know his eyes track me from one side of the room to the other to the door. I leave the door open and move down the three steps of the porch to give the pillows a couple fierce shakes. I head back in, tap the door closed with my foot, and head past Heero again. Can't imagine what's so interesting that he hasn't looked away from me since I came out with the pillows. I'd think this is one of the more normal things he'll have seen me do. I can't help but toss a grin over my shoulder at him as I disappear down the hall toward the room I've claimed.

But once back in the room I silently close the door and twist the lock, not grinning any more. Not sure why his interest is suddenly so unsettling.

Like some dirty secret, huh?

I swallow, nervous and unsure bubbling up inside from somewhere. Once the pillows are carefully on the bed I find myself rubbing my palms against my pants until I can feel the burn of the continuous energy creating heat friction. I force my hands to stop. My arm hurts again, a dull throbbing ache, but that I ignore as well as I set about pulling pillowcases on pillows and arranging pillows on sheets.

Less than two minutes pass and I have the bed made again. I've searched the closet looking for a blanket that's been hidden under others long enough that dust hasn't touched it, given it a good shake all the same, and that's been added to my masterpiece. And with that done it's fine to settle both bags on the bed.

A safe zone.

I perch on the edge of the bed, sighing, weary again. Not even the crisp, clean air of the room can keep me pepped up. Every move is made natural to me through habit – stripping, changing, cleaning – but I never enjoy doing this work. I. But I have little choice when times get like this.

None at all.

If I don't the consequences will be harsh.

But harsher than the action.

Yes.

I push away from the bed with a will not my own, wanting nothing more than to leave the room and settle myself elsewhere, doing nothing at all. If my arm had been hurting before, now I'm outright miserable. Every little odd movement sends a little shock of pain down my arm. It'll only get worse.

Too deep. Too soon. This is dangerous.

I force away those thoughts as I move to the desk, surveying its top. Keep moving, that's the key. Once momentum has me it'll get itself done.

A light film of dust covers it, telling the tale of several years gone by without a visitor to settle something upon its surface. I step away from it, to the door, and from there my path takes me to the kitchen. There should be something in the small room that I can clean with, and I am rewarded with a cupboard devoted entirely to cleaning supplies.

I wish that didn't bring such relief.

Pulling out the few I can carry I pass Heero. I have his undivided attention now, which is just freakishly ironic. All those times I've tried so hard for it and when I actually want his indifference I'm suddenly the most interesting thing around. I ignore it for the moment, intent on getting the cleaning things back to the room, but when I come back out to locate the vacuum – yay, hall closet, people are so predictable – I can't ignore his staring any longer.

I give him my most annoying, cheerful, unrepentant grin. Yes, I practice them. "I spilled something."

"All ready?" he asks, irritated, no doubt disgusted by that fact. Here not ten minutes and I've already made a mess.

If only he knew. Go me.

I force out a nod I know will make him avoid me, all insane energy. Works too. He looks away as I meander back down the hall and back to the room.

Still, even with my bit of well applied mania and the promising gleam of mischief I directed at him it's hard to say how long it'll keep him away. I finish up the room as quick as I can. Thank god there's so little in here, makes less cleaning, and soon enough everything that can be cleaned easily has been. Already the room looks more inviting, and there's not a trace of stale air left in the room. I leave the window up, though. I'm not quite shivering yet.

Besides, it's set up time. Smaller bag again. There's the beaten stack of mangas taken from a zipper baggy. Keeps them together and in a somewhat reasonable condition, especially should I find myself in some sort of sticky situation.

Heh, sticky. Marmalade and honey and caramel. Yeah. Now's not the time to start craving weird stuff.

Mangas. Followed by a video game from its own protecting plastic bag. These are pretty safe things, even Duo predictable at this point. They go on the beside table, beside the lamp. Next is the new notebook, as of this moment still unopened even. And the pens of course that go with the notebook. Pretty ordinary stuff at the moment so I go ahead and leave it out. The center of the bed, up at the head right between the pillows, is pride of place for the beaten and worn teddy bear that comes out next. He's a rather sad thing, a large patch on the stomach keeping the stuffing in and missing an eye. I'm still not sure where he came from; I just know there's no getting rid of him now that he's a part of Duo Maxwell.

Those items taken care of I bring out two books, one on some sort of marine science and the other a serious study on the possibility of extraterrestrial life. These go in the beside table's little cubby drawer. I prop a gun up against them, hidden from casual view. Not that anyone here would care, and not that anyone else would have chance to see it, but it's 'the way things go' and there's no point in breaking a habit that works.

And now for the most important thing. For me, at least. The CD player! It's battered and scratched, but it still works like a dream. I plop down on the bed with a little settling sigh, snap the headphones on and hit play as I lean back into the pillows, eyes closing.

That wonderful escape of music greets me and I slowly begin to relax, drowning out the commotion that is ever present. I think I just may be able to get that nap in.

//Sitting on the bed, or lying wide awake, there's demons in my head and it's more than I can take, I think I'm on a roll and I think it's kind of weak, saying all I know is I gotta get away from me//

I snigger at the CD in the player. Wonder who's trying to tell me something…

Just as I'm beginning to drift away comfortably, lost in the music, a loud knock on the door startles me from my peace. I jump, reaching out and smacking the CD player to shut it up, and then listen carefully just to make sure I'm not imagining it.

It wouldn't be a first.

It comes again, this time much louder. Or perhaps it was that loud to begin with and the music blasting dulled the sound.

I push the CD player aside and swing my legs over the bed, move to the door on socked feet.

No shoes allowed.

I open the door slightly, peek out, and I'm greeted by the special scowl that Heero seems to hold just for me. I widen my eyes slightly, not sure if I can trust my words to not betray me just yet, and give him a look of 'yeah, whadda ya want?'

"The other two are here. We're bunking together. I need to put my stuff away."

Dread settles as a block of ice in my stomach.

"What? The other two are in on this?" I ask numbly, mouth working as if it were stuffed full of cotton.

The usual hum in my mind has gone silent.

"Yes." Heero answers in that precise, clipped tone that he adopts when he feels that someone is ill informed by fault of his or her own.

I scowl, gripping the door tighter. I'm so not in the mood to deal with that shit on top of everything else. "Why wasn't I told?"

"You weren't sent the necessary information?"

Apparently not.

I echo the snarky thought. "Apparently not."

Obviously.

Duh.

How unorganized.

Heero eyes me for a moment. "Yes. A second part has been added to our directive. Two people can no longer carry out the mission. The time has extended, as well. We can expect a week here together. This isn't debatable and I already know you don't have anything else that you need to attend to that will interfere with the extended time. Would you open the door so I'm not standing in the hall with my bag?"

I swallow, the soft hum returning slowly. Right. I give a slight nod; hold a finger up to tell him 'give me a moment', and close the door before he can even frown, twisting the lock securely. I pick up the teddy bear and toss it into the small bag, eyes darting around the room to make sure that I've gotten the rest of the stuff that would seem out of character.

I wince as Heero tries the door, finally pushed past his patience with my actions. I move back over to unlock it and step away, toward the bed.

He comes in, scowling even more. I wonder if it was worth putting the bear away. So hard to be sure.

Which is the lesser of two evils?

I give a mental sigh.

Heero's eyes take in the room, the uncanny awareness of his surrounding remind me of a hawk stalking his prey. I try to look nonchalant, bringing the tip of my braid around to brush it lightly over my lips, looking up at the ceiling. Oh good, the ceiling is clean.

"Conference, now. You lack information you need. From now on I suggest you keep yourself better up to date." He tosses his bag on the bed and moves out of the room.

I stare after him long after he has gone, trying not to frown.

Sometimes I just want to smack him upside the head.

Sometimes I just want to poke him repeatedly in the forehead.

And sometimes…

Great, you've blown it. If anything goes wrong in the mission it's your entire fault now. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Can't you do anything right?

"Shut up," I growl, glancing around the room one last time. There is tightness in my chest as I click off the light.

Damn it all. I don't ask for much. Just a little break.

Can we survive?

No. He fucked this one up, he did, he did, he did. Just sit back and watch it all tumble around us.

Why do you sound so happy about this?

"I said shut up."

Make me...

Can you make me?

No, you can't... and you know it.