I feel like this bit got a little dramatic...but I suppose we all inevitably have a big blowout of some sort with our significant other. ^^; And they do tend to be dramatic in nature. I don't know. I'm afraid it got out of character, but I needed certain things to happen for plot purposes. I might change it later. Thank you for sticking with me this far! :D

The elevator opened directly into our penthouse overlooking central Tokyo. We'd bought it after we'd finished our second tour, kind of like a reward, I guess. It was in a pretty convenient location and had great security. We were well protected from our fans, (a strange way of putting it, I know), and had complete privacy, for the most part, from paparazzi. You had to go through a security gate to enter the complex, but every now and then, I have no idea how, someone would sneak past the 12 foot fence and I'd see a bright flash from below when I stepped out on my balcony to read the paper. If Heero was around, he'd grace them with a few good shots. He said he admired their spunk. I just called security.

The twinkling lights of the city glittered in the large, bay windows on the far side of the room, but I was in no mood to admire their beauty. Wufei and I had been at a meeting with WM practically all day, and the Chinese man was not my best friend, lately. But, as Heero had decided to pull another disappearing act for the day, an event which was becoming increasingly common, he needed at least one other member of the band to be present. Trowa had an interview with a teen magazine, and Quatre, although old enough now to participate more fully in matters of business, was usually busy with his own budding solo career and "social obligations", as he liked to tell us. So that left me, and Wufei was not pleased in the least. Amidst the curt comments and glares, I think the only way he could have made it more clear was if he went ahead and punched me in the face like I knew he wanted to. But he held it together for the sake of conducting business. It was nearing the time to renew our contracts again, and Wufei was even more prepared with facts and figures than our agent as to why we should have ridiculous percentages. I tried to back him up by looking as unyielding as possible when they disagreed, side-stepped, outright begged us to sign on their terms. Of course, Wufei was having none of that, so we left that day, once again, richer than when we'd walked in. I didn't care, honestly. I already had more money than I could possibly know what to do with, even after I invested in Wufei's various business ventures. He was so savvy, that it usually just resulted in more money getting dumped on my lap. Picking out charities became a chore, and I'd long ago paid off all of my parents' debts and bought them both new cars. I supposed I could always save up for an island. It was all so useless. I was not a happy camper, lately.

The whole thing with Wufei had started when I woke up to one of his angry phone calls one bright and early morning, a few weeks back. We'd just got back to town, and I was utterly exhausted from the lack of sleep we'd endured the past two months. My legs were so tangled up in the sheets, I almost fell flat on my face when I went to answer the phone. Every muscle in my body hurt, like I'd been running a marathon and not sleeping at all. In fact, I wished I hadn't gone to sleep. I'd had horrible nightmares all night; things that I wanted nothing more than to forget . But that's the thing about dreams. They're inescapable. I think you still dream, even when you take the big sleep. Heero was nowhere to be found, not even on the couch. I wrinkled my eyebrows, and blinked wearily. He usually didn't run off so early in the morning.

"Hello?" I answered, somewhat groggily. Why did it seem like the world could never wait until I had coffee?

"Listen, you mother fucker!" I startled, quickly holding the receiver away from my ringing ear. Wufei's static ladened rage continued. "I don't give a flying fuck what you've been through! I don't care if your whole goddamn family was shot right in front of your fucking face! If you ever, ever, hit him again, I will kill you!"

Well, I was certainly wide awake now. I brought the phone back to my ear. "Wufei, calm down," I began, almost stuttering in my surprise. What on earth was he talking about? "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't you fucking dare!"

"Dare what?" I almost yelled. "What the fuck are you talking about? Tell me, now! Is it something about Heero?" I felt apprehension creeping up my spine and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Yes, it's about Heero, you absolute, fucking waste of a human being!"

I was immediately up and pacing. "What happened?" I asked, trying to hide the rising panic in my voice. I think my tone threw Wufei off. It was a moment before he answered.

"You should tell me! I showed up at the studio and he was already here, black and bloody! He insisted that he was fine, that he got in some kind of tiff with a man at a club last night and took things a little too far."

"Heero doesn't go to clubs..." I said, absently. And I knew he was home last night.

"I fucking know Heero doesn't go to clubs!" Wufei spat. "So, care to explain to me why my friend's face looks like a god damn train hit it this morning?"

"I honestly don't have an answer for you," I said, sliding into my jeans and buckling my belt. "Is Heero there now? Can I speak to him?"

"No! He was trying to sneak out the back door before I even saw him! Don't think you're getting off the hook for this. I want an answer," his voice dropped to a low and menacing growl.

"Get off my back! I'm in the dark here, too!" I didn't try to hide my exasperation. I wanted to find Heero, to make sure he was alright. The last thing I wanted to do was go round and round with Wufei.

"I'm watching you."

He hung up, and I threw the phone against the far wall in frustration. The hard plastic shattered, and sent pieces flying across the wooded floors. Ever since then, Wufei had it in for me. I eventually did find Heero, the next day. His face did look pretty awful. One of his eyes was almost completely swollen shut, and he had cuts on his lips and cheek bones. I could see faint, dark prints were someone had grabbed his throat, and I was twice as angry as Wufei had been. But I couldn't get the truth out of him, no matter how many times I asked. I could barely get him to even look me in the eye. I shadowed him everywhere for a week after that, not really knowing what to do, and trying the best way I knew how to make sure it didn't happen again. That soon backfired.

"Look," Heero stood in our doorway with his car keys dangling from his hand. He hadn't been able to disappear all week with me constantly following him around. "I appreciate your overwhelming concern, but it was just a fluke. It's not going to happen again. I don't need a personal bodyguard, though you make a very handsome one." He said the last part with one of his sly, evasive smiles. I wasn't biting.

"You're not going alone," my tone left no room for argument. I saw his expression darken for a moment before the smile masked his emotions again. I would go as far to physically keep him there, and he knew I could.

"You're treating me like a damn woman," he chuckled. "Like I said, I dig the whole knight in shining armor bit, I've enjoyed all the attention, really I have, but I need you to take it down a couple of notches today." I said nothing, but my look conveyed my determination. He sighed heavily, and leaned against the door frame, folding his arms. The light from the windows in the other room spilled behind him, framing his slender silhouette. Heero had always been small, but now it seemed like the light almost engulfed him completely. When had he gotten so thin? And why was I just noticing it now? I suddenly felt very defeated, and looked the other way, my eyes burning with anger at something unknown. I'd been fighting the enemy for a long time now, but it had no face and no name. I never asked Heero many questions about his life or what he did when he vanished. Far be it from me to pry into people's personal business, right? He would tell me everything he wanted me to know, wouldn't he? That's why I didn't ask about the envelope he had almost completely hidden beneath his arm at that moment.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice hollow. I felt the mattress tremble ever so slightly, and I knew he was sitting next to me. I didn't turn my head.

"Duo," he said at length.

"What is it?" I asked, still avoiding his gaze.

"Do you ever miss your family back in the states?"

"Where did that suddenly come from?" I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced at him. He was scratching Aisha's head as she climbed into his lap. Traces of the damage done to his face still remained, but the swelling had gone down, significantly.

"I don't know, you don't talk about them much, and you never go visit them."

"When would I even have the time for something like that!" I exclaimed a little louder than necessary. "And I call...once every two weeks."

"I didn't mean it like that," he quickly explained. "I just mean, well, do you think family is...important?"

"Sure," I shrugged, still not certain where this conversation was heading. "Is this about your parents?"

He said nothing. I remember his parents being mentioned back when I first met him, and I got the impression that they weren't on the best of terms, but I didn't really think there was any more to it than that. I never really bothered to ask the reason why.

"It's not...not exactly," he finally said, his voice so low I could barely hear him. "It's just that, lately, it's hard for me to forget some things." Something within my chest twinged. He suddenly looked up at me, smiling, but there was little joy on his face. "I'm sorry, I must be driving you crazy with this nonsense. All I really want is for you to be happy, and I don't seem to be doing a very good job helping with that, lately."

I felt like something was tearing my heart out. I didn't know how to answer, but as if of their own accord, my arms reached out and folded around him, drawing him in and crushing him tightly against my chest. I buried my face into his neck, and he let his chin rest on my shoulder, and we stayed like that for a long time. My nose was buried in his skin, drinking in his scent. I felt every small and delicate breath that passed through his lungs, my breathing unconsciously mirroring his own. When I finally let him go, he smiled the way he used to, a long time ago. I let him leave after that, alone, the raging storms within me having somewhat calmed just as they began outside. I laid in bed for a while and listened to the rain, while I thought about our relationship over the past year. I tried to pet Aisha, but without Heero around, she spat at me and ran back into the living room. Things had kind of gotten off track somewhere along the way, but that didn't mean it was beyond repair. Maybe we needed to quit the band, retire, and move somewhere far away. Maybe we could even live in the states for a while, or move to some tropical island and live out the rest of our lives in tranquility. Maybe then, we would be happy. An hour or so later, I finally got up to fix myself some lunch. Visions of romps with Heero in white sand amidst the palm trees were dancing around in my head, when my bare foot stepped on something that crinkled. I looked down to see the small white envelope Heero had been holding, lying on the floor. I retrieved it, and something rattled around and fell to the corner. It was unsealed, and curiosity getting the best of me, I unfolded the flap and peered inside. The shine of silver caught my eye, and I carefully reached in and drew out a tiny, heart shaped locket. It felt ice cold in my warm hands. Why would Heero be carrying around something like this, I wondered. I inserted my thumb nail and popped it open. Inside were two, very small pictures. I had to squint to even make them out. The one to the left was of Heero, and the one to the right was a young and beautiful blond woman. She had a sweet face, but there was definitely something mischievous lurking behind her large, blue eyes and her smile was more of an impish smirk. I stared at the picture for a very long time, studied it. I felt like I was on the verge of understanding, and if I gazed at the locket just a little longer, it would all suddenly make sense. But the epiphany never came, and I closed it with a little snap, placing it back inside the envelope.

I never confronted Heero about the locket, and as the weeks wore on, I tried to control my increasing paranoia. Suddenly, everything Heero did or said was colored with some sort of hidden meaning, and I could see those damn, blue eyes, mocking me. She knew. Whoever she was had him all figured out, I was sure of it. My head ached from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. On top of it all, the regular world was not accommodating my current stresses. We were busier than ever: working on the new album, going to interviews, shooting music videos. The list of things to do was always never ending. I was so preoccupied in my own thoughts all the time, I barely noticed the new girl Trowa always had hanging around, and I barely noticed how listless and despondent Quatre was growing. He was nineteen now, and had long ago stopped dressing up in women's clothing. Trowa had taken it as a step in the right direction; he thought it was for the best that the teen try to attain some level of normalcy. Well, as normal as an ultra popular music star could be, I guess. He'd released his own solo album a few months back, and it was pretty well received. He was becoming his own franchise, and only had additional appointments after the band's had concluded. In addition to that, he spent most of his free time throwing outrageous parties in his condo that were a little more wild than anything I'd ever experienced. I only ever attended one. There were more kids there than you could shake a stick at. Well, I'm hoping they were around Quatre's age. It was hard to tell, most of them were wearing masks, and there was so much smoke and flashing lights everywhere, I was constantly bumping into half naked, intoxicated people. Quatre was perched in a small balcony overlooking the festivities, his hand loosely holding a half empty bottle of wine. He wasn't dressed up, or wearing a mask. For once, he was the most normal looking person in the building. He gazed at the ongoings beneath him with large, glassy eyes. I remember asking him why he wasn't down there having a good time. After all, it was his party.

"I enjoy it best from here," he said simply, taking a swig from his bottle. "I enjoy watching them have a good time."

As for Heero, the music he'd begun composing of late became increasingly chaotic. I think he knew I was cross with our situation, and all that came to his creative mind was a complete jumble of discordant noise, almost physically painful to listen to. Heero never acted any differently towards me, but all of the lyrics he wrote were either downright angry or utterly depressing. I watched the circles under his eyes grow darker and darker and felt utterly helpless. My face wasn't looking so good, either. My dreams became increasingly troublesome, and what sleep I did catch was spent tossing and turning. There were times towards the end of the day that I felt like I couldn't breathe, and I would cough excessively. What I'd been able to so easily stuff down in the past kept breaking the surface of my consciousness at the most inopportune times. A car backfiring almost sent me into a panic. I had to use ear plugs for the construction next door. Once, Trowa walked up behind me when I had headphones on, and I almost knocked him out. Always quick, he swiftly sidestepped my elbow, catching it with his hand.

"Just me," he said quietly. "Calm down." I hated the sympathy in his voice. I coughed in response. I would have been much happier if he'd just swung back at me. The last thing I wanted was pity, although it would have been nice if Wufei gave a little give in his unrelenting, new found hatred of me. All these things were swirling around in my mind when I entered the apartment that night. How Soon is Now by The Smiths drifted through the tall rooms, and I knew Heero must have gotten home sometime while I was away. He was stretched out on the couch, one foot dangling lazily to the floor. His shirt lay crumpled up on the coffee table, and his hands were draped across his bare stomach. He gazed up at the ceiling, barely noticing I'd come in the room. I could tell by his completely vacant stare and unresponsiveness that he was completely high on whatever drug of choice it was this week. I spied the puncture marks on the inside of his arm, and it was all I could do to control my rage. Of course I knew Heero used drugs, but we'd always had an unspoken agreement of sorts where he kept that part of his life completely hidden from me, and in turn, I looked the other way. There was nowhere to turn that night.

I threw down the satchel I was carrying, not caring about the amount of clatter it made against the hard floor, as the contents scattered across the room. I hoped it hurt his head as much as it did mine. He startled badly, naturally, and his eyes flickered towards me, his head following a moment later.

"Oh, hi there," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. I flipped on the main light switch, and light flooded the room. He hissed, shielding his eyes tightly from the onslaught. "Fuck," he breathed in irritation.

"Hi," I said flatly. "Glad we happened to bump into each other, today." There was absolutely no humor in my voice. "Do you know where I've been for the past four hours?" Heero didn't answer as he continued protecting his eyes from the offensive light. I coughed harshly, and I felt a little light headed. I was not liking the light much either.

"Oh my, you're angry," his speech was uncharacteristically slow and dripping with sarcasm. "So, what else is new, hm?" I glared at him and coughed again. "Let's see, where were you? Ah! I know! I made you sit at a boring meeting all day while I sat around and did absolutely nothing except drink and get high. Does that sound about right?" He narrowed his eyes at me and languidly sat up on an elbow. "Oh, I'm pissing you off now. Good." he let himself fall back down. "What are you going to do about it? Lecture me? Punch me in the face? You know, you do that a lot in your sleep."

I do what?

"What?" I managed, wheezing a little.

"It's sad, but I actually like it when you're mad. It's the only time I know you're here."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I ground out. All I could think was that he must have taken some seriously hard stuff and was babbling incoherently. "I'm always here! You're the one always taking off to fuck knows where!" It was all almost impossible to take in at once. I'd never dreamed that I could be this angry at him. For possibly the first time, I looked at Heero as his own being, someone completely separate from myself, how I should have been looking at him all along. When you love someone, sometimes it's difficult to distinguish where one ends and the other begins in your mind. Where one goes, the other goes, and you may not agree about everything, but one usually bends without any hesitation, so that there might as well have never been any altercation at all. Then, little by little, the other begins to act on their own once more, and you become puzzled, then angry. It's as if your right arm won't respond to your commands, and occasionally reaches up and slaps you in the face. Then you realize that things really aren't like how you'd always perceived them to be. Maybe that was all love really was, a transient faze, an eclipse that comes along ever so often, but from then on is ever shifting out of position. What had happened to my constant? How would I tether myself now?

"You're not even fucking listening to me!" Heero's near screaming and hitting me in the face with a throw pillow instantly brought me back to the moment. It had a circular pattern of beading on the front, so it kind of hurt. I guess he'd been talking the entire time. "Never mind! It's useless! This whole thing was just useless!" He ran a hand through his messy hair and quieted. "I don't know who you are. I thought I did. I really thought I...," he shook his head, his eyes wide and vacant. He slowly walked toward me. "I can't compete with a memory. At first, I thought it was Hilde, but no. It's something else. I've tried," he inhaled deeply, "so hard to understand. I know it hurts you. I never brought it up because I know it hurts you. I see it." He looked me in the eye for a just a moment before turning away. I stared at him, dumbfounded by it all. I had no idea he'd felt that way all this time. I blinked at him, at a complete loss for words. This was really him and not the drugs talking. What did this mean? As if to answer my question, he reached up and tapped a scar at the base of my neck with his fingertip; a tiny, insignificant thing, really. I had a few of them on my body, but I didn't think he'd ever noticed. "Well, where do we go from here?" he asked, suddenly stepping back and folding his arms, the distant look leaving his eyes. "You tell me. You fucking say something!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger toward me.

I'd been silent throughout, my mind a complete blur. I coughed again and looked inward, searching for the answer I knew he was looking for. But it was to no avail. Inevitably, it all led to that foreboding, black box in the far corner of my mind, and I could not open it. Every time I tried, I was met with a raging river of fear and anger, things I didn't want to feel. But I was sure feeling them then, anyhow.

"Fuck it," I mumbled, rubbing my temples. I felt very cold.

"What?" Heero glanced up, ears straining to catch what I said.

"I said 'fuck it'!" I thundered so loudly, I think the glass in the room vibrated. Aisha had been padding past my feet right then, and she pressed her body flat against the floor, hissing loudly at me with her ears flat against her head. I don't know why I did it, there was no thought involved with my current mental state. I reached down, grabbed the stupid thing by the scruff, and veritably flung the cat in Heero's direction. It let out a terrified squeak as it hit the couch. "Get that thing away from me, now," I commanded, before erupting into a fit of coughing again. Heero quickly gathered the rattled and frightened creature in his arms, and took a step back from me, staring in disbelief.

"Duo," his voice shook a little, as if he were actually afraid. I couldn't stand it.

"You're killing me," I said between deep breaths, calming myself.

Heero looked at me with his stormy blue eyes misting. "You were dead long before I met you," he whispered. Then he left, taking his cat with him. I watched him walk out the door like I was having an out of body experience, and I knew he wouldn't come back. Hilde hadn't come back, Solo hadn't come back, and Heero wasn't going to come back either. My knees bent of their own will, and I slowly sank down against the wall. I don't know how long I stayed like that. Was this really going to be the story of my life?

No...

I heaved myself up to my feet and raced to the elevator. I mashed the ground floor button repeatedly the entire way down. The wind was howling outside, driving the rain almost sideways as I ran to my car. He couldn't have gotten far, and there were only so many places I thought he would go. I could fix this! There had to be a way to fix this!

When my car didn't start, I punched my side window in frustration and let my head fall on the steering wheel. I eventually got out, but I couldn't bare the thought of returning to an empty apartment.

"There has to be something!" I whispered, wincing as I tugged at the zip cords that bound my hands behind my back one more time. We'd just been thrown on a dirty mattress, in a small, empty room of a building that looked like it might have been a home once upon a time. "We've got to get out of here!" Solo opened his eyes and lifted his head.

"Patience, Maxwell," he whispered back with a lopsided grin that came off more as a grimace. I could see the many cuts and bruises all over his head and torso from our capture and transport. Dried blood covered his face and neck, and I wondered if I looked similar. They'd been much harsher on Solo, though. I think they must have realized he was the leader of our squad. Even so, Solo had remained calm through it all for my sake, and his eyes shone brightly behind his swollen lids. "We'll get a chance. I need you to stay quiet and follow my lead, okay?"

"Hooah, Sarge." I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and tried to calm myself. I eyed the two men standing guard at our door, wearily.

"You're gonna make it," I looked at him, wide-eyed. "Don't give up, Maxwell. When have I ever let you down? I promise, you're going to get out of here. And when you do," he locked eyes with me, "You fucking live, private."

I nodded slowly, and then one of the men at the door turned and spat at us, angrily. I had no idea what they were saying, but he gestured to his partner and pointed at us wildly. Maybe he'd heard us talking. He aimed the barrel of his AK-47 directly at my nose, mere inches away from my face. Staring down the barrel of a gun gave my stomach the same sensation of falling off a tall building, and a flush of prickly and hot dread swept over my body. At some point, Solo had brought his hands from behind his back and slid them under his feet. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it away, glaring at the man angrily. He stared them down so fiercely, they paused for a moment, gaping at his nerve. However, they soon recovered, and the man quickly brought the butt around, smashing it against the side of his head.

"Hey-!" was all I got out before I met the same fate. The next I awoke, I'd been moved to, the best I could tell, a very deep, covered pit somewhere outside the village. The dirt felt unusually cold against my legs, and there was a pounding in my head that was a whole new level of pain I'd never experienced. I groaned and dry heaved. They'd taken my watch and pretty much everything else on our persons, so I had no idea what time it was. It was so dark, that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. The temperature continued to drop to the point where I began to lose any feeling in my limbs. In a way, it was a mercy, as it helped sooth some of the aching in my muscles and bones. After sitting a while, in blind misery, it seemed like I didn't even have a body anymore. I could no longer tell if my eyes were open or closed, if I was breathing or not. I was just a spirit, hovering in the darkness. A cough from a few feet away drew my attention and I heard someone curse and shuffle about. I guess I wasn't alone.

"Who's there?" I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.

The man breathed heavily for a moment before answering. "Friendly, I was translator for the U.S. Army. You American, no?"

"Yes," I croaked, feeling my legs to make sure they were still there. "Can you tell me what's going on? What are they going to do with us? Where's the soldier that was with me?"

The man let out a dry cackle that sent shivers up my spine. "You do not want to know what they are planning, you trust me in this. They forced me to interrogate your friend. That soldier, he is a brave man. He never said a word, no matter what they did to him."

"They tortured him?..." I whispered, feeling sick again.

"Yes," he made no effort to hide it. He was probably used to seeing it by now. "I'm sorry, but I don't think your friend is long for this world. Don't worry, though. You'll be meeting him in heaven very soon."

"Just shut up!" I growled, staggering to my feet. I felt the cool, dirt walls with my palms and traced the perimeter. The man shuffled out of my way as I limped along. The best I could tell, we were in some kind of large, old well, but there was no way out. There was no way out, but I kept circling all the same. I must have made a thousand circles before there was a noise above our heads. They lifted the cover, and there was a blinding flood of light. I crouched, covering my eyes. They were trying to water, but I was so dehydrated, there was just pain. There was a thud, some conversation I didn't understand, and we were once again plunged into darkness. I heard something between a cough and a sickening gurgle.

"Sergeant!" I crawled over to where the noise had come from, feeling my way across the dirt with my hands. "Sergeant?" My outstretched fingers touched something wet and sticky and hot, and I choked back a sob. There was so much blood, the scent of it overwhelmed my senses, making me gag.

"Is not good, not good," the man clicked his tongue.

"What did they say?" I demanded of the other man in our well.

"They say...you will be next." Little sympathy was in his voice. Well, that was just fucking peachy. I took of my shirt and pushed it against a large wound I felt in Solo's chest. I might as well have not bothered. After a quick run down from the back of his head to his legs, my hands were covered with blood and god only knows what else. It was as if they'd put his body through a meat grinder. My body mustered up enough water for one tear to slowly roll down my cheek, blazing a trail through the mud and blood that covered it, and I shook with rage. I startled when a bloodied and warm hand gripped one of my wrists.

"Maxwell," I could barely recognize his voice as he choked through the blood in his throat. I turned him on his side, hoping to help clear his airways. "I'm okay...I'm okay...," his voice was growing fainter and fainter.

"You're not okay!" I almost screamed, still trembling. "Just be still!"

"Maxwell, I'm sorry," he was practically whispering now and, and he had to take long pauses to breathe. They were raspy a labored. I was afraid he had air getting into his lungs from a puncture, but I could do little about it in the dark with no supplies. "If I had...waited for security...we wouldn't..."

"Shut up! It doesn't matter anymore! Just shut up!"

He didn't respond. I think he must have passed out.