A/N - The redeeming part about my personal life getting angsty is that I have flowing inspiration for this fic. There is a lot of dialogue in this chapter, sorry about that, but I think it will help move the plot line forward! :)

Chapter 12

Heero rode his motorcycle towards the mountains and into the rising dawn. The sun rays reached for him, bring warmth to his chilled body. He was hours away from his old retreats in the mountains, but Heero intended to find new ones. The part of him that would have called him cowardly was far too exhausted to object to Heero's present actions.

The sound of bottles clinking in his luggage rack filled him with anxiety. He had stopped at a spirits mart on the way into the mountains and bought as much hard liquor has he could take from the store inconspicuously. His body thrummed with anticipation and need. Still, Heero postponed the moments of wasted bliss. A corner of his mind nagged him about Enson's need for his help at the shop today. Heero had a fondness for the old man, and knew it was not Enson's fault that he was dragged into the mess of Heero's life. Abandoning Enson after Enson had moved his whole life for Heero's sake felt like a most cruel way to repay him.

Heero didn't want to hurt Enson, or anyone; he just wanted to be left alone to burn out in peace. Peace Heero thought bitterly. All my problems seem to stem from that idea, an inability to live in universal peace, and a longing for personal, permanent peace that no one will let me have.

The nagging about Enson grew louder in Heero's mind, and more persistent. Being this selfish was difficult for someone who always put everything before himself. With a deep sigh Heero turned his motorcycle around, away from the promise of drunk solace in the mountains, and toward Enson's shop.

Heero arrived not long after he would have originally with Wufei dropping him off. Still, Heero knew that Enson knew of his flight because Duo's car was parked in front of the shop. Heero's heart filled with dread at facing Duo; he had not anticipated that turn of events, and he didn't like it. Heero was just about to turn around and leave, when Enson noticed him out the window and motioned for Heero to come in. Fuck, no turning back now.

Heero rode his bike into the garage, and sure enough, Duo was standing there next to Enson. Heero deliberately ignored both of them, parked his bike and began working on the nearest car. He was painfully aware that the contents of the brown bag still tucked in his bike's baggage compartment were not missed by Enson or Duo. Heero wondered if either would have the balls to look if any of the bottles were open. A spasm of regret in Heero's chest hit so strongly that he fought against physically doubling over at it's weight. Here he was, hurting the people who mattered most to him, again.

Heero worked on in silence, aware of the constant and watchful gaze of both Enson and Duo who still stood where they had been when Heero arrived at the garage. Enson made no attempt to help Heero in his work, or address Heero in any other manner, and neither, to Heero's great surprise, did Duo.

After a few hours Heero began to feel his movements lag with the lethargic stamina of malnutrition. He couldn't pin-point when he had eaten last. His stomach groaned with a twisted yin-yang of hunger and nausea.Why has my stomach decided to take up residence in my throat?!

Around lunch time Enson came over with a sandwich and a glass of water for Heero. Heero looked up, his eyes meeting Enson's chin, as a mark of respect without direct contact with Enson's piercing gaze. "Thanks, but I can't; it will just come back up again."

"Well then feel free to use the rubbish bin in the corner if you have the need" Enson said kindly and sternly, a combination that Heero couldn't imagine anyone else achieving. Heero's rashness has obviously upset Enson. Heero could also feel Duo's rage fill the space between them. Heero nodded, and returned his attention to the vehicle he had been attending.

Enson left the sandwich there on a small work table by Heero, and again took up his stance by Duo. Heero kept working on the cars, intermittently glancing at the sandwich. After an hour, Heero took a small nibble of the crust. The bread sat on his tongue for a long time before his throat would swallow it. Throughout the afternoon Heero had more nibbles until half the sandwich was gone, and he was thoroughly feeling sick. Heero was determined not to be ill, and swallowed hard every time bile fought it's way up his throat.

Heero finished the last car as the sun dipped into twilight. Wordlessly Heero walked towards his bike to leave. As he climbed on Enson's voice came from behind him. "Where are you headed, Heero? Are you going to give those bottles to me before you leave?"

"I -" Heero didn't finish. Part of him was still cherishing the idea of getting wasted in the mountains until the chilly fall air froze into winter's deathly embrace.

"I need you here tomorrow, stone cold sober. There will be more to care for, and I am too old to do this work alone. I need your help, son. If you and those bottles leave together I don't think that's going to happen."

Heero thought of the many times he had come to work drunk, without consequence. Still he could not deny this time was different. Heero now understood that he actively wanted to die, and he couldn't unlearn that. Those bottles, he knew, were a means to that final end.

Heero sat on his motorcycle, paralyzed with indecision. He was aware of Duo standing off in the background, watching this exchange. More guilt swelled in him as Heero thought about how he had hurt Duo, again, by leaving this morning. Duo probably felt like Heero had ignored their whole exchange the night before.

Heero's muscles ached from the long day's work, and he felt so mentally and emotionally drained. Quietly he climbed off his bike, throw down the kick stand, and slid down the wall to the floor in a heap of dejected man. He pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head on them, looking away from Enson and Duo. After a few minutes of silence Enson walked over to Heero's bike, picked up the brown bag of bottles and disappeared out of sight. As Heero heard Enson's footsteps move further away from him, Heero felt numb and defeated. Most of him still wanted those bottles, but he didn't have a right to die on purpose if it hurt others, he wasn't worth it. Soon, soon this daily agony would kill him all on it's own.

Heero remained sitting on the floor for an unknown amount of time. At one point Enson came over again and this time took a seat next to Heero. Enson spread a soft grey blanket around Heero's shoulders, and wrapping a similar one around his own. The two men sat in silence, a salt and peppered man, next to a one with a mane of chocolate brown hair.

"I was a sloppy drunk once, Heero." Enson said with a deep sigh.

Surprised by the man's declaration, Heero turned his gaze towards Enson, reading defeat and sadness in his eyes. He sat quietly, curled into himself, and listening to Enson's offered account.

"After my wife left me, I didn't know what else to live for. I came home from the war and she was gone. I have never felt so defeated. I didn't want to think or feel or face reality - so I drank and drank and drank the humanity out of myself. When I wasn't drunk I wanted to be. I lost my job, and was on the verge of losing my house, too. Then one day the old bar tender at a club I frequented, Mr. Tristan Arfield, refused to serve me alcohol. I was furious and threatened to report him to his manager. With a smile, Tristan told me that he was the manager, and thanked me for the report."

Heero let out a sounds almost like a laugh, and then quieted.

Enson smiled to himself and said, "Yes, it is certainly rather amusing now, although I can assure you it wasn't then. I had all of these broken feelings that I didn't want to feel, and this. . . jackass was refusing to let me be numb. It got worse when the man started taking me to sobriety meetings, gave me a job, and refused to sell alcohol to me ever again. When I would plead and beg and swear at him, he would always just take it with unwavering resolve. I could have gone somewhere else to drink, and a couple times I did, but Tristan always came to find me. Sometimes he would show up at my apartment and pour out all of my alcohol. He had an incredible talent for finding all of my stashing places. It took time, and a lot of relapses, but with Tristan's help and friendship, I climbed out of my hole, one labored step at a time."

"Don't you miss the numb?" Heero asked, in an almost reverent tone.

"Yes, for long while I did, which is why I struggled so much with relapse. Overtime I processed through my feelings of loneliness and hate and sadness and fear. Overtime, with Tristan, I built a life, a reality, that was worth living for. Tristan and I started this auto body shop together when it became clear that I couldn't stay sober for long while working at a bar, even his. I will love that man forever for returning my life to me when I no longer wanted it."

"I don't want to process through my feelings. I don't want to feel. I just want to be done" Heero almost groaned out as he turned away and covered his face in his hands.

"That, Heero, is an understatement, but not an understatement that I don't understand. I don't claim that our situations are the same. Though my wife's loss was the worst single event in my life, every human being is given a different ability to endure hard times. I could not withstand your struggles and the demons you run from, but I am made of far weaker stuff than you."

There was an extended silence between the two men as the sat together for almost a half an hour. Then Enson cleared his throat and said, "I confess when I first began to understand the extent of the hold alcohol has on you, I saw myself as your 'Tristan'. I saw it as a chance to repay my debt to Tristan. But now, now Heero you are like my own son. I am here now because I love you and I want you to succeed in life. I believe that after all the battles you have won, you will not fail here, not permanently. You are made of tough stuff, tougher than this trail, though I don't doubt it will be the most painful you have faced yet."

"Why does it matter? Why does it matter whether or not I succeed or fail? Why won't you and everyone else just let me go?" Heero asked in an almost inaudible whisper, with a sincerity that was almost too painful to hear.

"You have become a hero to so many people, and not just because of your achievements as a soldier. Though there seems to be a regrettable trend in society to tear our heroes down, no one wants to stand by and watch their heroes fall for good. We need our heroes to stand as a reminder of what a good person is and should be."

"I can't be a hero anymore, I have nothing left to give."

"That's fine, you don't have to be right now. Perhaps just start by figuring out how to be Heero and then go from there?"

Heero felt overwhelmed by the task Enson was setting before him. "I just want to sleep" Heero said, the tired resonating in his voice, and through his bones.

"I understand that you do. Can you understand why I can't be okay with the kind of sleep you are talking about, the permanent kind?"

"I guess I would regret not stopping one of my brothers-in-arms from doing something similar, but I just. . . fuck. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep living like this. I can't. I won't."

"You keep saying 'can't' and you are right, you can't keep living the way you are, or yes, you will die."

"Enson, I appreciate what you have done for me, all of it, and I can never repay you. That's why I turned around and came back here to help you today, because I felt guilty returning your kindness so badly. Now I understand a lot more where you are coming from, and I wish I could do what you want me to, but all my strength is gone. I used it up trying to pretend everything was okay for so long. I even convinced myself for awhile. I used it up trying to keep being a hero. I can't anymore, I just can't. I can't fight an addiction that I don't want to give up. I can't face this life without numbing the nightmares and the emotions and the memories. It's not perfect, but alcohol persevered my sanity. I can't give it up. To hell with the consequences, I don't want to be alive anyway. If this is my end, then I welcome it" Heero finished with resignation.

"Ok. I understand that you feel that way. But go back with me for a second. You said that you used up a lot of strength pretending everything was okay. I assume you mean pretending for the sake of those around you, like people at work and the other pilots?"

"Everyone. Everyone who expected me to always have it together."

"You said you were able to pretend for a long time. When did you really first notice things were not okay?"

"I -" Heero started, but realized he had to think for a bit. "I don't know. I have never thought about that before. I know I started feeling tired with war and my part in it when the whole thing with Mariemaia happened. I started being haunted by the memory of those I killed. I. .." Heero paused, fighting the urge to run away rather than be vulnerable again. Enson put his hand on Heero's shoulder, whether to steady him to keep him from getting up Heero wasn't sure. Heero swallowed his discomfort and continued, "I felt like I was just a killing machine, and I hated realizing that. I was so relieved when I thought I didn't have to kill anymore and yet. . . I guess I didn't realize that I didn't know how to be anything else but a killer."

"So you joined the preventers?" Enson prompted.

"Yes. I joined the preventers because that's all I'm good at."

"But then things got worse, with the nightmares and flashbacks?"

"Yes." Heero grunted, his eyes squinted shut, trying to focus on breathing and not letting his anxiety spin out of control.

Enson give Heero a moment before continuing his questions. "The drinking, not eating, and not sleeping started as ways for you to handle the nightmares?"

"Sometime like that" Heero responded, his eyes still closed.

"But then things changed?"

"When I met you, there was more to it. It's like I'm back in Zero's cockpit, finger on the self detonation device, and I want to push it again, but this time without Trowa to save me. Once I made that decision, those things, the not sleeping or eating, and the drinking and stuff, gained a life of their own. I'm just along for the ride."

Enson noted Heero's addition of "and stuff" in his list of struggles, but decided not to press the issue right then. "How do you feel about talking about this?"

"Awful. I feel so like a stripped down mobile suit. I'm surprised I haven't thrown up, since apparently that's what my body does these days" Heero said the last with disgust.

"Do you feel bad because you still feel like you have to hold up some kind of front?"

"I don't want to be remembered this way. When, if I go, I don't want to be remembered as this damn weak" Heero finished, his fists clenched in frustration.

"You'd better come up with a better reason to kill yourself than that, Heero. I don't think anyone thinks of you as weak, just a little fucked up right now" said Duo, walking over to their spot on the floor and sitting on Heero's other side. "You are the strongest guy I know, like fucking Evil Knievel, remember? You have done some damn hard shit. The rest of us cracked sometime over the last two years, most of us more than once, but you didn't. That's why we all wanna help you, you know? In our own way we have been there already. I don't think any of us are whole anymore. I know I am not, and fuck you know I don't lie. . ."

". . . because that's you in a nutshell, Duo Mawell. . ." Heero finished, trailing off. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed someone, Duo. I am glad someone else was" Heero said softly.

Heero felt a cool hand on his chin pulling it up to meet deep purple eyes. "I am glad to be here for you now, and so are the others. Please, give us a chance. We learned there was a problem and then you left before we could do anything to help. Won't you give us a chance to do that before you go again?"

Duo's eyes were pleading. Heero tried to look away, but Duo held his face steady and Heero didn't have much energy to resist. He felt so damn tired. Duo's hand moved slightly to brush something off of Heero's cheek. "Am I crying?" Heero asked in wonder.

"Yea, just a little. It's okay to cry, Pal. That whole 'real men don't cry' shit is just that, shit. So what do ya say?"

Heero sighed, feeling like there was only one answer he could give, "I can try. I will try".

"Thanks, Heero. We won't let you down" Duo exclaimed as he enveloped Heero in a bone crushing hug.

Enson smiled kindly, "Why don't you boys stay here for what's left of the night. I can phone the mansion and let them know where you are".

"What time is it?" Heero mumbled sleepily.

"After 1am."

"Damn. No wonder, no wonder I am so. . . tired" Heero said as his eyes flickered shut.

"Heero, you might want to at least get to the couch before-" Enson was cut off by Duo.

"I got him. He's as light as a feather these days" Duo said sadly.

Enson suddenly pulled Duo into a fierce hug and said, "You did good, lad. Together we brought him home."

"Yea, the road's going to be long though."

"Of course. But I can't imagine anywhere else I would want to be traveling, except the way this lad goes. He changes people, inspires them, moves them to act. I want to go where he goes. He will get through this. We'll see to that."

Duo yawned loudly. "Yea, and that's a promise. Goodnight, Enson. Thank you for everything. Heero and I will see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, lads."