/You're never safe

'till you see the dawn

If the clock strikes past midnight

The hope is gone/

Chapter Ten

A quarter past midnight, - one week after I hit that water - my world stopped.

Everyone has a breaking point. I'd passed mine a few days before. This was different. This was giving in, admitting defeat. This was my surrender.

I hate that word, even now.

I actually had a plan… But there were a few steps I had to take first.

"A walk." Heero repeated in a totally disbelieving voice. As if he didn't think a walk was a reasonable thing to ask for.

"Yeah. You know. Go outside, one foot in front of the other around in a big circle until you-"

"I know what a walk is." I knew it was on the very tip of his tongue to ask 'what the hell do you want to go on a walk for?' but he only lapsed into silence.

"Ice creeeeeeam." I prodded Heero with the business end of Stick. Quatre had given me a cane that I was supposed to use to get around with and I had promptly and very appropriately named it Stick. "C'mon, please? Everyone else is busy."

"So I'm a last resort?" He grumbled, getting to his feet.

That's how it was going to be, too. Heero's always seen right through me and all of my masks. He knew something was different in the bad sort of way but he wasn't going to mention it. Waiting was something he did better than anyone I knew. He guessed that I would tell him when I was ready. His silence on the whole matter was only tolerable because I knew it was better that way. If I was the only one who knew then I would be the only one to blame when I left.

"If you want to be gloomy about it." I retorted, whacking Stick against the doorframe as I turned around.

He grabbed the back of my shirt before I could leave the room and pulled me back. I let him. His forehead rested gently against the back of my neck, his hands barely touching my shoulder-blades and we stood like that for a moment before he spoke.

"Are you really okay?"

The concern in his voice gave my heartstrings a good, hard wrench but I forced a smile onto my lips and nodded. "I'm feeling better." When he didn't respond, I dropped my shoulders just the slightest bit and gave him my best attempt at an exasperated sigh. "Really. I just want a walk, all right?"

He shoved me forward and I stumbled half a step with a grin when he snorted amusedly. "Yeah, whatever." He didn't believe for a second that there was nothing wrong, but he let it drop. "Don't fall walking across the main room, they're-"

"Tearing up the floors and putting in a new one. I know. I'm blind, not deaf. You could have heard the racket they were making a mile away."

The walk was pleasant enough, all cards on the table. I've always loved being outdoors on Earth. I mean yeah- the colonies had climate (though it was controlled), they had grass and trees (carefully constructed by humans), they had wind, water, and all those things but… here on our planet things were different. Things were natural. Earth was alive like nothing else could ever be. Earth was Real.

Autumn had settled comfortably on the land. Everywhere we stepped leaves crunched and crackled. I remember the year when we were on earth for the fall. All the trees had turned the color of fire and sunsets, making delighted rustling noises as the breeze swirled through their tops. The skies turned a hazy golden color, clouds puffy and cheerful above us, crisp, clean air nipped at any available patch of skin, kissing it red with cold. I found that if I held the memory of what it had looked like in my mind I could almost see what my world would have looked like.

The colonies could never compare.

I enjoyed the time outside here, because I didn't know if I would ever feel it again. Heero, beside me, shuffled in companionable silence, though I could practically feel his eyes burning holes into my head as he patiently waited for me to tell him what was wrong. I never did.

You see, in my mind… I'd already made the decision. I had to go.

Returning to the house was harder than I had anticipated. My feet trudged more slowly, my body resisting what my mind had already decided. I stalled on the porch as I trailed to a stop, remaining there for a few more precious moments. Resting my hip against the wrought iron, I leaned upon Stick and closed my eyes. Heero's footsteps stopped in the doorway, waiting for me. As the wind coiled around me with icy fingers though, even his stare was forgotten. I let the promise of the coming winter cradle my existence in shapeless arms, whispering silent comfort through the tips of the trees. The city faded to background noise in the distance, insignificant in the great plans the universe lay before me in that moment. I wondered if I would miss all of that, everything I had ever known, or if the case would be that on the other side of existence would be something far more enrapturing than this life.

It was only when Heero lay a gentle hand on my arm that I was startled from my reverie. I don't know when I had begun to cry, but he had obviously been watching. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my freezing nose in the crook of his shoulder in a tight hug. He was warm and safe and… home.

If there was anything here to miss… it was Heero. I could only hope that in the end he would understand why I'd had to do it. Out of everyone he was the closest to being able to comprehend it. He'd been there. He knew.

After a hesitant moment, he returned my embrace, and we stood in the cold for several long minutes until I was ready to return to inside. I bade the outdoors a silent farewell and entered The House, Stick grasped firmly in my right hand.

"Back already?" Quatre called from the hallway.

"It's cold!" I whined, shrugging out of my coat. Heero snorted and took it from me without comment.

"Trowa's making dinner. Is it all right if everyone stays?"

My stomach felt like someone had filled it with rocks. Everyone? Here? For that whole time? "Yeah, I… Yeah." I sounded far more sure than I really was. "Does he need help?"

"Why don't you ask?"

Without responding, I swung Stick to my right until it gently clicked against the wall. Finding it with my hand, I followed it to the kitchen doorway and slipped inside. The pounding from the other room seemed to echo in a muffled way there, and I heard Trowa stop stirring something when I entered. A utensil clinked against what sounded like the side of one of our glass bowls, and then clattered inside the sink.

"Anything I can do?" What a crappy attempt to sound hopeful.

Something soft hit my chest and I reflexively grabbed at it, dropping Stick in the process. Momentary panic faded quickly as I discovered I was only holding oven mitts. Bending down, I felt around for where I had heard Stick fall, and picked it up again. I was confused, but very, very curious.

"Oven mitts?"

"Yes." He stated simply. "Take the casserole out when the timer chimes."

"From the oven?"

"Is there a problem?" Heero asked from the doorway behind me. His tone suggested that there had better damn well NOT be a problem.

"Heero…" Trowa took on a reprimanding tone, but I interrupted him before he could continue.

"It's fine. No problem."

There was a brief pause before Trowa picked up the bowl of stuff he had been stirring and I heard a spatula scraping the sides. I waited a moment to see what Heero was going to do, but he made no further protest. Without speaking, he walked to the counter and began chopping something. I settled myself quietly in a chair at the table while wondering if anyone else felt the tension. How could they not? It was practically thick enough to cut.

Of course, thinking that and listening to Heero hacking away at something on the counter brought a silly grin to my face.

The clock hanging on the wall broke the silence as it tolled six o'clock, scaring me senseless. Out of sight, out of mind, apparently. I was going to have to get used to hearing it chime on the quarter hours, or it would continue to startle me every time. I hadn't heard it much at all because I spent my time in my room- the only two places in the house you could hear it were the kitchen and the front room.

When he brought it home, Heero had assured me it was a beautiful grandfather clock, and that the melodies it played were perfect for the both of us. I hadn't given him an opinion when he asked if I liked it or not.

Truthfully, the clock made me sad. When I lived at the Maxwell church there had been a clock very much like this one- old, beautiful, and utterly haunting. Sister Helen had had to chase me away from it on numerous occasions, sure that I would find a way to break it. I wouldn't have dared- it was too dear to me. I loved the way it chimed. It tolled like in old western movies, when they hung the bandits at high noon. It tolled like the haunted clocks in ghost movies, eerie and moving. It tolled like death, and I loved it because it sounded exactly how I felt. It sounded like Shinigami incarnate.

This one was a miniature, jaded, copy but… its bells still gave me chills.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my heart and find a safe topic. "Have we taken Noin's van back to her yet?"

Trowa coughed, discretely trying to cover a laugh, and Heero's steady chopping halted. Wrong topic…? "Not yet."

"Don't you think we should?"

"Be my guest." He growled, his knife resuming its former pattern.

"Heero, that's-" Trowa started.

"I don't want to hear it from you." Heero snapped, the knife stopping again.

"Put it down." Trowa requested calmly.

Was he pointing the knife at Trowa? I began to panic. Suddenly wanting my hands free, I lay the oven mitts on the table. The chair squeaked shrilly as I stood. I don't know what good I thought I was going to do if they started a fight. I suppose I could have called for Quatre's help. God, I didn't want to always have to ask someone for help. Why were they acting like that?

"I'm going to my room." The words tumbled off my lips before I could think about what I was saying.

"Oh Duo, I'm sorry, we weren't-"

"Don't include me in that." Heero interjected scathingly.

"You know, removing that stick might help." Trowa snapped, clearly through with being interrupted every time he tried to speak.

"Please." I managed, before they could continue. "Please don't. Don't fight."

Gripping Stick tightly in my hand I made for the door, disappearing down the hallway. I was beginning to think that the house would not be as hard an obstacle as I originally thought. Someone jumped to the side as I swept down the hallway, but they didn't greet me. Footsteps picked up rapidly and jolted to a stop at the edge of the front room. I heard Quatre give quiet orders to leave me a lone, for which I was grateful.

I shut my door against the noise of people scrambling to get their work done before dinner, and felt for the edge of the bed. It was peaceful in the solace of my room. There was a split second where I thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, that perhaps I could make it through the ordeal with my dignity intact. That ideal shattered when I fell over the side of the bed as I misjudged the distance. I couldn't see it ever getting better than stumbling around, stubbing my fingers and toes on every protruding obstacle.

Sleep had almost entirely claimed me by the time Quatre finally came to fetch me for dinner. I yawned, stretching out my hand to find Stick. I think I was becoming rather attached to that pole- it was the only thing that had been more help than harm so far. Padding softly after him, I joined the others at the table, greeting everyone with sleepy smiles in their general directions.

The casserole was good. Apparently Heero had been cutting up fruit, because several large bowls of fruit-salad passed through my hands. Trowa had been making some of the most delicious biscuits I have ever tasted and I snagged a second when I realized the basket was close enough again. One of the Maguanacs joked that I was a bottomless pit, but the joke fell flat when someone else mentioned that I hadn't eaten much of anything in days.

I chuckled somewhat tensely, wishing everyone would just relax. I hadn't suddenly become a completely different person just because I couldn't see. "You win some, you lose some." My tone was much lighter than my heart.

"Which room do you want to do next?" Quatre quickly changed subjects. "Yours, Heero's, or the bathroom?"

"Bathroom." I grinned. "I want it done as prettily as the front room is."

If I had been able to see them I would have reveled in the deer-in-the-headlights looks I could imagine them wearing. Just barely containing a laugh, I choked down a piece of fruit and listened to the shocked silence. Struggling to find some polite way of asking if I could see, Quatre made a few quiet noises before falling to silence again. I hear a snort of laughter from Heero, but it was so quiet I couldn't be sure if anyone else would have caught it for what it was. At least I knew one person had understood.

"Oh lighten up, the lot of you." I finally gave in. "I don't have to see the room to know you've done a bang-up job. Am I wrong?"

"N-no!" Quatre cried, obviously wanting to rectify the situation. "No, we've- It's really very nice."

"Very dark." Heero added solemnly. "Too much black for me."

"Heero," I said very seriously, "You can never have too much black. There is no such thing."

"They could have used a better accent than bright green." He commented offhandedly.

"What?" I was too shocked to give a proper witty return. Quatre had used Deathscythe's colors to paint the front room. My throat was suddenly tighter than it had any right to be. I turned in Quatre's general direction. "Did you really?"

"Is that bad?" He asked timidly.

"No!" I said hastily, shaking my head to emphasize. "That's great! I wouldn't have thought about that. I bet it's nice."

It was a perfect opening for Quatre to begin to explain about his plans for the rest of the house. I settled back into my chair and let the new conversation wash over me as I quietly picked at the rest of my dinner. He had really thought this through and was planning everything so very carefully. Would I really be able to just disappear? Guilt crept over me, slowly, but it only seemed to further my resolve. Quatre was going through a lot of trouble that he wouldn't have to go through. It would be best, still.

A few minutes later, I turned my attention back to what was being said. Most of the Maguanacs were in deep conversation with Quatre about the house, and Trowa was adding comments here and there. Heero seemed to be the only other silent person, leaving me to wonder if he were even still at the table. Just when I was about to ask, he snorted disapprovingly at a suggestion.

I made some loud, mostly obnoxious comment about paint colors before returning to poking at my food. Heero was watching me, I knew. I could practically feel his eyes on me, observed the very motionless way he held himself, heard the lack of any sort of eating on his part. I berated myself for my behavior- I was being erratic and inconsistent. I wasn't acting like myself in the least.

It was all making Heero rather suspicious. He saw through the façade, the various layers I was wearing to keep everyone from guessing what was going on inside my head. To keep them from figuring out what I had planned. He knew. Maybe he didn't quite KNOW, know? But a part of him had already puzzled it out and it was NOT pleased with me. Not in the least. Still, there was a connection missing somewhere at that point so he let it slide in favor of finishing his food.

"Is it all right if we come back tomorrow?" Quatre asked suddenly.

"Yeah, sure." I replied, licking a strawberry to make sure that is what it was.

"It may be the last day we're all free for a bit."

"I know, that's fine."

"We may not be able to make it back."

I didn't get the chance to be upset for myself. "He said it was fine." Heero growled.

"I was just making sure." Quatre defended.

"Well now you're sure."

"Excuse me for caring. Some of us do." Quatre returned tartly, clearly displeased. Trowa shifted in his seat next to me.

Heero snarled something nasty, but I didn't catch what it was as I stood and spoke over them "Thank you for dinner. It was very good."

"Duo-"

"I'll be in my room." I ignored them both. My room was becoming a safe haven more than anything. I turned, walking out of the kitchen before anyone could protest.

I heard Quatre and Trowa take up with Heero, snapping quietly. Heero growled angry responses to everything they said. I couldn't make out a word of it, but I didn't like their tones and I knew they were discussing me. I wish they would stop fighting on my account. Things didn't have to be so different.

Everyone was so tense around me. Heero and Quatre especially. They had always held differing opinions, but I had never seen it come between them. Heero's most recent temperament was setting even Trowa, whom I know he cares for a lot, against him. It was all because of me. All the animosity was my fault. All I had to do was go away and things would be better for everyone.

Quatre caught up with me in the hallway. "Duo, wait." He pleaded, gently brushing my arm.

"Waiting." I slowed to a stop and turned to face him.

"Are you okay?"

Placing a skin deep smile on my face, I nodded. "I'm fine." I was really getting tired of being asked the same question every time anyone spoke to me. I was more tired of having to force myself to answer politely.

"I'm sorry for fighting. We're sorry."

"I understand." Because I thought I did. They didn't want to upset me.

"The guys are cleaning up and then we'll be heading home for the night.'

"Okay." My voice sounded a million miles away, like I was watching myself talk. It was an eerie sort of detachment.

I held out my hand, waiting patiently while he took a few tentative steps forward and hesitantly took it. I pulled him into a hug that he instantly returned. His worry was etched into every tightened muscle, every stiff movement he tried to smooth. I felt bad for being angry with him over the ordeal. I hated making anyone hurt, especially Quatre.

"Thanks Cat," I whispered sincerely, "For everything. You don't have to-"

"I want to!" He protested before I could finish. Pulling back a few inches, he took a breath. "It's nice to spend time with you guys without having to worry who we're going to have to kill next. Without worrying who is going to die." He finished gravely.

Panic welled up inside me. Did he know? Had he guessed? Would he- but I drew a breath of my own and calmed myself. Hopefully before he noticed, I had recovered. He couldn't know. He was talking about the war. Of course he was talking about the war. Our lives had consisted of little else.

"Yeah." I offered a nervous chuckle. It sounded forced, hollow, tinny to my ears but if he noticed he didn't mention it.

He gave me another hug and slipped away silently.

I retreated to the bedroom and walked carefully to the dresser. The wood was rough beneath my hands, though it felt as though it had been polished and beautiful a long time ago. There were smooth spots on top- just the right length apart for someone's hands. The previous owner must have spent a lot of time standing on front of it, hands splayed on those very spots. I wondered if they had been forced to give up the memories that came with the dresser when they sold it because I could almost sense the past when I touched the surface.

Reaching inside the top drawer, I pawed underneath the clothes and felt for what I knew was there. It was further back then I remembered putting it, and that irked me for some reason. I think I felt that someone had purposely moved it, like someone had found out and knew I still had it. The others still had theirs; I had no doubts about that. I pulled my gun from the drawer and made my way back to the bed.

There was only one place I could go where they wouldn't try to follow.

I shoved the weapon under the pillow and lay down to wait until I had heard everyone leave and Heero was asleep in his room.

He surprised me, however, by coming to my room instead. I should have planned for it, should have known that because he knew something was wrong he wouldn't leave me alone. He never had before and I don't know why I expected him to now. He stood in the doorway, most likely watching me as I lay, hands behind my head, legs crossed at the ankles. I made no move to greet him or otherwise acknowledge his existence. Maybe he would decide to leave.

With a little exasperated sigh, he took the two steps to the bed and kicked off his shoes, crawling up to the pillows as smoothly as if he did so every night. Neither of us bothered getting under the covers. I felt as if too much movement would ruin the moment. He hadn't come to keep me company at night since the four-hour shower mishap. I missed it.

Missing his company, however, did not keep me from panicking. If he was in the room it was going to be so much harder to leave. Not only would I now have to leave the room, which meant getting away from him, but I would be combating my own emotions the entire way. He had a way of doing that to me, whether he meant to or not.

"Goodnight." He whispered tiredly as his arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close. He buried his nose in the nape of my neck, breath raising a trail of goose-bumps down my spine. "Will you let me brush your hair out tomorrow?"

Tomorrow. I didn't want to think about tomorrow. I didn't want to lie. "If you want." I replied, whisper cracking just slightly. If he still wanted to brush my hair out tomorrow, who was I to stop him? I turned just slightly in his grasp, a motion of habit which would normally have allowed me to feel as though I were looking at him. "Heero?"

"Hn…?" His response was inarticulate enough to tell me that he was already half asleep.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, closing my eyes again and turning around once more. He tightened his hold on me, and I brought my fingers down to twine carefully in his. I didn't get a response as I lay there, trembling just the tiniest amount.

I listened to his breathing, eyes closed as I kept myself under control. I would have to wait until I could feel the tell-tale relaxation of his muscles before I even thought about moving. In the beginning of our time in the war, he had never really slept. We took shelter in safe-houses, our Gundams, anyplace that seemed remotely friendly and a few places that did not. Always, he would only allow himself a half-sleep, a slumber he could snap out of at a second's notice.

As we moved through the war, found better protection and longer times between attacks, I had seen him change. He relaxed, let himself sleep. Maybe it was for the best, maybe not. All I know is that when he finally brought down those ever-present barriers it only opened him up to the nightmares. He never told me, not outright, and we never spoke of them. After all… he wasn't the only one who had them.

I remember the first time I knew I wasn't alone. I had been sleeping quietly in my own room when I heard him thrashing, heard him cry out. Confused and worried that we were being attacked, I snatched up my gun and bolted across the hall to the other bedroom. There was only Heero, laying curled on his side, hands clutching the blanket so hard his fingernails had pressed through the fabric and into his palms. I stood there, dumbfounded, completely floored at his terrified expression.

Quickly enough I had come to my senses, gently setting down my gun and all but collapsing by his side. 'Never touch a Nightmare.' Sister Helen always told me when the other kids were screaming in their sleep, 'You can't tell if it will make it better or worse.' Her advice, although I suppose well founded, was not comforting. I knew what my own nightmares contained and I can't remember a time when I wished someone hadn't woken me. Heero whimpered, and I knew I had to do SOMEthing.

Stretching out close beside him, I cradled my head on my folded arm. Tentatively, I drew a finger down the bridge of his nose. He had fallen silent, seeming to relax just the slightest bit. His eyes squinched tightly and then ever so slowly cracked open the tiniest bit. In the moonlight from the window I saw him searching my face for an explanation. I only offered him a soft smile.

"I'm here." I whispered, running feather-light fingers down his jaw before meeting his eyes again.

That was the first time we slept curled up together, comrades in arms on more than one battlefield. We never spoke of what we dreamed, afterwards. We didn't need to. We both had our demons to worry over, and the support from someone else who knew what it was like was enough.

When my mind finally decided to return to the real, present day world, Heero's grip had become slack. I couldn't tell how long I had been thinking about the past. With a big intake of breath, I started to wriggle free. He twitched, but didn't seem to awaken when I stood. I splayed one hand on the bed and reached under the pillow with my left, feeling for my gun. Just as I had turned to find my way out of the room, Heero grabbed my hand.

'Ohshitohshitohshit' I believe were my exact thoughts. I stifled a startled yelp and twisted to look at him, gun whipped behind my back. Were the lights on? Had he seen it? Was he going to try and stop me?

"Where are you going?" He asked sleepily.

"Bathroom." I replied weakly, the first excuse that came to mind through the relief flooding through my entire body. It was a reflex. I leaned on the bed and stared hard at about where he should have been. "I think I can handle it without a chaperone." I said sarcastically.

He released my wrist with a snort, curling up again. "Fine. Getting cold."

I sidled as discreetly as I could out of the room, listening to him toss blankets around as he snuggled under them. I didn't want the last thing to come out of my mouth to be a lie. I had said I was going to the bathroom, and it would be a real shitty way to go, breaking my oath after so long. Without Stick, the journey seemed to take quite a bit longer than it should have.

I stood, leaning on the bathroom counter, forehead pressed against the cool glass of the huge mirror. From what I had seen the first time visiting the house, the mirror took up most of the left wall, a beautiful old iron frame wrapped protectively around it. The cold of the surface was seeping into my skin, chilling. I wondered… if I stood here long enough would death claim me? Would the gun be necessary at all?

My fingers tightened on the grip, dead weight settling in my stomach and making me nauseous. I couldn't do it. I had to do it. I wanted…

Fuck, it didn't matter.

I was going to do it.

Pulling away from the mirror, I reached over and flushed the toilet. Under the cover of its noise I padded softly into the front room, fingers trailing along the wall to guide me. Why hadn't I brought Stick?

Alone. I had to be alone.

I sat heavily on the new couch, appreciating its deep-set cushions. I absently ran my fingers over the soft material. The clock in the kitchen tolled for forty five after, though after when I wouldn't know for another fifteen minutes. It still sounded like the old Maxwell clock. I shuddered, retracting my hand so that both settled against one another on the gun.

Death couldn't possibly be as bad as anyone had made it out to be. This was on my own terms. It was my choice now. I was not on some battlefield with faceless enemies and cold machines screaming for death. Always for death. Someone always died. Machines didn't care who.

Could I really pull the trigger? I wouldn't be able to do something like take a knife to my forearms. I'm such a pansy when it comes to pain. It had to be something quick and effective. Something I would fear but wouldn't feel. My handgun, my baby. Colt .45. Beautifully deep black, smooth, the word 'Shinigami' engraved in elegant script on both sides of the barrel.

Shinigami. God of Death. I'd believed it at one time. That I held sole power over death itself. Hell, it had been true back then. The sheer number of people who died at my hands was staggering. It was insane. I was insane. So much blood, so many lives lost… One more life wouldn't make a difference. It could be my apology.

I closed my eyes, my stomach flopping over, tying in knots.

It's not like life from now on would be worth much. Woohoo, I could conquer maneuvering around my own house. So fucking what. I could learn to navigate the neighborhood, maybe even find a way to visit the city. After all of earth and space had been my domain for my entire life, two towns and a house became shitty restrictions. I didn't want that. I didn't want the pity that would come with it, either.

I couldn't even make my closest friends, my fucking family, understand.

The cool metal was warming in my hands. Wistfully I bade it remain cold and lifeless a little longer. Stay a machine, so that it would not care whose life it took. My baby wouldn't want to know it was me. I didn't want to know it was me, I didn't want the reminder that I was still here.

The clip dropped into my hand, my fingers searching out the final bullet. One left, only one. Shoving it roughly back in, I grimaced. At least I knew I wasn't going to steel myself for this, only to find out it wasn't loaded.

My throat tightened and I forced myself to calm down.

The gun slipped back and forth between my hands by my knees. I had to go through with this, I was procrastinating. With a sigh, I drew the gun to my lips, placing my teeth gently around the muzzle. I tasted a metallic sourness mingled with gunpowder. When had I fired her last? Only a week ago? Seemed like minutes.

The clock struck midnight.

Fitting enough- it reminded me of the high noon hangings in the movies.

Midnight was death's high noon.

This was it.

"Don't."

The word startled me into nearly dropping the gun. My fingers hadn't found the trigger yet, or it would have fired. Heero was standing somewhere to my left, very close to the doorframe. I closed my eyes, silently begging him to leave and let me do this in peace. My nerves were already frayed; I didn't need him to be there, too.

"Have to." I replied forlornly around the muzzle. The gun felt like a dead weight in my hands. I could still pull the trigger before he got to me.

I heard him push away from the wall with a sigh. His footsteps echoed eerily in the dead silence. He trailed to a stop in front of me, gently reaching down to grasp my elbows. I let him pull me to my feet, protests lost as his hands traveled to my own. To my surprise, he pried only one hand off of the gun as he moved it to the side, away from me. He didn't take it.

I wish he had.

Pulling me close with an almost reverent air, he whispered something I didn't catch. His nose trailed all too lightly over my shoulder to the crook of my neck. His lips were over my collarbone, so very, very close to me and still too far away. I shivered when he spoke, his warm breath rolling over sensitive skin. No, I didn't have to hear him to know.

Love doesn't have a sound, anyhow.

Gentle fingers slid along my jaw and my breath caught in my throat as he pulled away, only a few inches. He was so close I could hear his heart beating, or maybe it was my own, I couldn't tell. Did he have to… god, my thoughts turned incoherent.

Our foreheads touched, just slightly. I knew he was staring at me, hoping to find some trace of denial, something that would tell him that I didn't want to do this. His hand dropped back to mine, caressing the soft back before our fingers twined delicately together.

"Don't." My resolve wavered at the plea.

"Heero…" I whimpered, trying to find a way to explain it to him. He had to understand. Of all people, he had to understand, he had to know, he had to… he…

He laid one single, tingling butterfly kiss from his eyelashes along my jaw as he moved his face down again, close to my shoulder, nose ghosting my throat. I shivered.

"Then… if you're going to leave…" His breath chased chills along my skin as he whispered, "Send me first."

He pulled away and his hands traveled to the gun, drawing it up along with my hand. I felt the barrel rest firmly against his skin, and I screwed my eyes tightly shut against what he wasn't saying aloud. What he was asking me to do. Telling me.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Drop the gun or shoot me."

It was a simple choice.

I knew what he was doing. My breath was caught somewhere between my lungs and my lips, my heart frozen in its cage as if it, too, awaited my answer. I couldn't kill him, not after our past. Not after everything.

Drop the gun.

Pull the trigger.

We stood silent, neither daring to move first.

It was my choice.

"Fine." I choked.

A quarter past midnight, – one week after I hit that water – my world stopped.

The clock struck 12:15.

My finger flinched on the trigger when it tolled.

The gunshot was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the quiet thump of a body hitting the floor.

Oh God.

/End Chapter Ten, Through the Storm/