CHAPTER EIGHT

"Yes Cathy."

"Well how long?"

"I don't know. Longer than I had thought."

"What's going on Trowa?"

Trowa sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest and phone resting between his shoulder and ear. "A lot of," he paused and shifted as Heero nodded at the cabinet he was blocking, needing to get a pot out of it. "there's problems that need to be dealt with. Nothin-"

"You're fighting again!?" Catherine cut him off, getting ready to let the tears fall, before Trowa could reassure her that it was nothing like that.

"No. We're dealing with-personal issues now."

She thought for a moment, not sure if this response called for teardrops. She was glad to hear that he wasn't fighting again, but she wasn't sure that these 'personal issues' were any better, especially if the issues involved the other pilots. "Well, what kind of issues?"

"Cathy, I have to help Heero with dinner. I'll call you in a day or two."

"Trowa, don't you dare-"

Trowa ended the connection and he and Heero exchanged glances. Shaking his head, warding off the frustration and headache threatening him, he moved to see where the plates were at, and Heero began to boil a pot of water.

Quatre came down the stairs and saw that Heero and Trowa were fixing dinner. He grabbed his suitcases and placed them against the stairwell. They could wait to be unpacked. "What are you making Heero?"

"Pasta." He moved to the refrigerator and removed a half-full jar of spaghetti sauce.

"Sounds good." Pasta was easy and fast enough to make, if using store bought sauce, and it filled a lot of plates. Quatre grabbed three glasses out of the cupboard besides Heero, and placed them on the table next to the plates Trowa was setting. A sizzling sound filled the kitchen as Heero slid the noodles into the boiling pot.

This would be their first meal together since the Eves War. Of course now the war was over and they were eating in Heero's home, rather than on the Peacemillion. But Quatre had a feeling that the same silence that had accompanied them back then would join them once again tonight, like a ghost coming back to its old haunting grounds.

It was a bit funny, Quatre thought, he had imagined them together after the wars had ended, sharing meals and reminiscing. He saw them, like a hallmark commercial crowded around a table, laughing while friendly bickering was being passed amongst them. He had always been the dreamer of the group. He placed the fork down on top of the napkin Trowa had folded. No, he hadn't been the only dreamer; Duo had been one too. Quatre couldn't help but think that Duo had wanted the same hallmark commercial as he had.

Heero placed the large bowl of pasta in the center of the table and Trowa placed the sauce beside it. Quatre pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, Heero and Trowa doing the same. "It looks great Heero." Heero offered a grunt in thanks as he dished some of the salad into his bowl.

They silently passed the food around. 'Hallmark commercial, ha. Prisoners talked more than this in the mess hall.' Quatre thought as he asked for the sauce. A short sequence of beeps stopped him from grabbing the dish out of Trowa's hand. He pulled out his communicator, a small, thin, circular shaped object, about the size of a compact. He pushed a small button in the middle of it and a ray of light escaped it and a moment of static. The light formed into an image of a person.

"Winner, you have explaining to do." The small image of an aged Wufei, his raven black hair still tightly pulled back, but with a few strands escaping his band and falling in front of his face, showing its length to be about mid-back now, stared Quatre down. His eyes were in slits, holding back the rage inside of him, but conveying it nonetheless. His vengeful eyes failed to hide the small lines that were forming below them. Smiling supposedly caused wrinkles, but Quatre highly doubted that that's where his came from. A smudge of dirt, possibly blood, was smeared across his left cheek and his clothes, a black classic kung fu suit with large white cuffs and fastens, revealed a skirmish had taken place between him and the men Quatre had tracking him. He stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry to have to track you down Wufei." No response. "There are some problems," he paused, "if it's at all possible, we'd like for you to come to here."

"What problems?" He asked, his tone soaked in irritation.

"It's Duo, he needs our help. He tried to kill himself."

"Weakling."

In the past, Quatre would have let the low remark go, but not now. "Weakling!?" He shouted the word, causing Wufei's eyes to widen in surprise, and had Heero and Trowa staring at him. "How many times have you picked up that knife or gun? How many times have you knotted that noose in your mind?"

Quatre sighed, his shoulders lowering as he gained control. "I never kept track." His voice was soft again. He was like a young boy who could only stay angry for short spans of time. His eyes fell to the floor briefly. "Wufei, you're needed here." He looked back at the projection of him. "You haven't found your place yet, maybe it's because you're looking in all of the wrong places. You need to be here just as much as all of us do. You can't keep doing this to yourself Wufei." He sighed once again. "The sins we often regret are the sins we never commit."*

Wufei starred at the boy who had become a man in such a short amount of time. His words struck him like daggers. Quatre knew exactly what he had been doing these past years, punishing himself for the death of his colony.

"What colony?"

Heero grabbed his towel and rubbed it over his face, then back and forth on his hair, sending droplets of water through the air. He briefly wiped the beads of water off of his arms and legs, then wrapped the towel around his waist and pushed open the shower curtain, taking all of the warmth away with it. With a slight shiver that felt like a bug's tiny legs scurrying across his back, he stepped out of the tub and walked over to the sink. With the palm of his hand he rubbed the fog off of the large mirror, leaving a small circle, like a porthole on the side of a ship, so that he could see himself.

He looked into the small portion of mirror and saw Duo behind him, lying in the bathtub with his one arm hanging over the side, blood coating it and creating a dark pool on the tile floor below.

Heero's eyes widened at the reflection and he spun around to face the tub. His feet slipped on the tile floor and he fell back. His hands reached out to grab onto the counter but he missed, resulting in his head smacking into the sink. He slid down to the floor, his back against the cupboard, as his vision began to slip in and out of darkness.

"Duo?" Heero knocked on the bathroom door. Duo had been in there well over an hour, and Heero called out his name, only silence answered it. Becoming annoyed, Heero banged on the door, causing its hinges to tremble in fear. "Open the door!" Nothing.

"Shit."

Heero took a step back and with his left shoulder he rammed into the door and as the door flung open he flew forward onto the bathroom floor. He could feel himself lying in a puddle of water. He pushed himself up to his knees and found he wasn't lying in water, but blood. It covered his hands and legs, and its all too familiar smell, like rusted metal, caused his nostrils to flair. His mind jolted back to Duo.

He looked to see Duo, unconscious in the tub with his wrists slit. "Duo!" Heero dove towards him, his knees slipping in the pool of blood. His mind immediately clicked into soldier mood, like a computer changing its software program, as he took hold of Duo's hands. He stayed in that mood until Duo was at the hospital and in the hands of the doctor, where there was nothing more for him to do.

Heero grabbed the back of his head and hissed as he touched the tender bump forming. He slowly opened his eyes, knowing he was still a bit out of it. The room drifted around him and then slowly began to escape from the blurs and take form. He carefully grabbed the counter behind him and eased himself up.

He stood still, gazing at the mirror; slight traces of fog still covered it, revealing that he hadn't been unconscious long. He looked at the reflection of the empty tub and shook his head.

The door complained about being interrupted from its duty, by releasing a click and a slight moan. Heero slid into the room and found a chair to sit on. He was like a sleek cat, silent, watchful, and went unnoticed. He waited a moment, partly as a test, and the other reason, because he wasn't sure what to do.

It was like hearing an alarm clock go off while asleep. The sound rushes into your mind and dreams like a title wave. It knocks you down and drags you under for one last glance at your dream, then flings you on shore, wide awake. The alarm Duo was hearing was a warning that someone was watching him.

He grabbed his covers and flung them up into the air as a decoy, as he rolled off of the bed and quickly made his way into the shadows. His fingers yearned to be wrapped around a gun or knife. His mind raced through ideas, like thumbing through the pages of a book, trying to think of anything he could use as a weapon.

Heero didn't try to stop the grin slowly coming across his face. Well, Heero thought to himself, Duo passed the test; his reflexes were still in tune. He thought about torturing him a little while longer, but decided it was best not to. He didn't want to end up being attacked. From experience he knew what it was like, being trapped in the darkness while the shark circled around you. You find whatever means there are to strike first, and to strike hard.

"Duo."

Duo's mind stopped, like pulling the lever of a train and forcing it's reeling wheels to come to a jarring halt. 'What the hell? That was Heero's voice, right?'

"It's me." Heero stood up from the chair and waited for Duo to come out of the shadows.

Duo wiped the beads of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand then walked over to Heero. "You prick!" He lightly shouted with a smile gracing his face. He sat down on his bed and wasn't asking himself why Heero had broken in, but why hadn't he broken out? He pushed the discomforting thought aside and looked at Heero as he sat back down.

"What's wrong?" Duo asked, knowing that Heero wasn't going to say anything.

Heero glanced at Duo's bed and was glad to see there were no restraints. It had been an issue, one of several. Heero strongly objected to allowing them to restrain Duo and thankfully he had Quatre's money backing him up. He could understand why the restraints were wanted though. More than once he was forced to wake Duo up while they lived together. But he couldn't allow them to do it; it was a matter of Duo's safety, not theirs.

Duo patiently waited for Heero to answer. He bent down and picked up his blankets from off of the floor and plopped them next to him.

"Why?"

Heero didn't have to clarify what he was asking, Duo knew. He scratched the back of his head. "Do you want the fluffy answer that will make you feel better, or the truth?" He lightly joked, but the graveness in his voice wasn't completely masked.

"Duo." Heero crossed his arms.

"I know, I know." His hand fell from his head and landed in his lap. "I'm not sure if I know the answer yet, Heero." He looked at his friend, knowing that he would understand.

"Bullshit. Answer the question."

Duo released a surprised laugh. He pulled his legs up from over the side of the bed and crossed them underneath himself. "Okay, I can answer the question, I just don't know if I'm ready to yet."

* "The sins we often regret are the sins we never commit. "

-C. Constantinides