A/N - Ah, sorry, I updated this the first time without proof reading, and found a ton of errors. I am sure there are still some, but hopefully less. Thank you for your patience with my dyslexia (honestly).

Chapter 22

Heero began shaking soon after his left Quatre. It was cold. For a moment, he second thought his walk, but dismissed the idea. He did want air, and walking now was proof he wasn't running away from Quatre or the others. Walking was him trying to take care of himself, and ease this insatiable panic in his heart.

Quatre said it happened this time because I was hurt, like everyone else. Honestly hurts. Am I mad at myself for not being able to do the "right thing"? No. I am glad to be free of pretending otherwise. Their "whys" will come soon, wanting to know why I am "against" alcohol recovery, why I am rejecting their help? Duo will feel rejected. I can't control his feelings. I don't know why I won't give this up. Maybe that is what this walk is for, to learn why I don't want to stop. Don't want to stop, or don't want to commit to stop? I don't know that either. Life was simpler when it was just following orders.

Heero's pace increased while he went through the quiet forest. It went on and on, he knew, and it was likely he would get lost paying so little attention to where he was going. But. . . priorities, those drove getting lost from his mind. He must have climbed to a higher altitude, because frost began crunch under his feet and his breathe was becoming a little more labored. Maybe this was a sign he should go back. Being fussed over because he had hypothermia was not ideal. But, he still didn't have a "why" for the other pilots.

Divided in himself, Heero trudged on. Soon he rose above the tree line, and the clouded moon became clearer to him, watching him.

He sat on the grassy earth and immediately felt a deeper cold rush into him. Then it flashed before his mind. Another hill. Warmer in the sun, grass all around him. Flowers grew, too. Then she was there, her smile, her dog, Mary, and all the innocent joy Heero had never known. Her existence made him laugh with joy, laugh with hope that in this war someone like her could still exist.

The memory did not end with his joy. The smell of smoke, and blood, and metal. Her burned and tattered hat, the evidence of what he'd done in his foolishness, in his over confidence. He had stomped out that innocence he had just treasured. He had been wrong – in war, the innocent did not survive. At the end of this, if it did end, everyone like that little girl would be gone, and so many, at his hands.

The cold kept interrupting his flashback. It had not been cold that day. It was warm spring. However, his body was aching because of cold.

Cold. This isn't real. This isn't happening because I am cold. Not on the inside. My body is physically cold.

Heero blinked repeatedly. Blinked and blinked with this new information, and slowly the forest came into focus, and as it did so did the shocking pain in his body. He was not shivering, and that was not a good sign. He felt tired. His eyes were heavy. Also, a bad sign. Surveying his condition, the only thing to do was to get moving, get out of the cold.

Heero's training helped spur him into action, forcing his tired body to move. He knew hypothermia. He knew excessive movement was dangerous. He also had no choice.

If it were not for that damned flashback this would not have happened. The cold brought me back. These thoughts repeated in Heero's head repeatedly as he made his way through the forest. Being on the hill had helped him find the direction he needed to go through the forest.

His slow pace was infuriating, and it felt good to be moving towards a solution. Crisis. Survival. This is where his mind functioned best. In this moment, he drove towards survive. He deliberately chose not to pay attention to his breathing. He was sick of his goddamned breathing.

Heero made it back to the mansion, and walking up the hill saw most of the house lights on. He groaned. He did not want a lecture on taking care of himself. He did not want confrontation. He did not want fussing. He looked up to his window, remembering that in his panic he forgot to close it. Did climbing the house count as the "excessive movement" discouraged when someone is hypothermic? Absolutely. Heero sighed, and began climbing the house wall towards that window.

The climb was agony. I am tired of my body not working as it tell it to work. This cannot keep happening.

When he reached his window, he practically fell through it, stumbling unceremoniously to the ground. The warmth of the house stung his cold skin, and sent needles of pain through his body.

Stumbling, he fell his bed and wrapped himself in blankets. His shivering came back, a better sign. His body's own mechanism of warming itself snapping into action. He tried to calculate his next action, but it was difficult because his mind was so fuzzy.

Deciding he was warm enough, Heero groaned as he stood from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Next was a lukewarm shower.

More needles buzzed across his skin as the water covered him. A bath would be more appropriate in this situation, but he hated baths.

He had to keep adjusting the temperature of the shower, which was determined to get too warm or too cold.

Lukewarm is too high of a request from you, is it? Heero thought with a growl.

When the needles stopped racing across his skin Heero washed himself, and got out of the shower. The warm house lessened the shock to his body.

Walking into his bedroom Heero growled again, seeing a fire going in the half-forgotten fireplace. He scanned the room until he found Trowa standing against the door, green eye glittering in the fire light, face made carefully blank.

"Another suicidal attempt from the great Heero Yuy?"

"That wasn't the plan" Heero said, feeling his temper rising. "I came back. I wanted to go on a walk. I lost track of time. I was out longer than intended."

"Didn't your body going into hypothermia tip you off?" Trowa responded, his temper also rising.

Heero fought the urge to look down, and hide the shame he couldn't keep from his face. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to speak. His mouth had gone dry. He was so tired of talking about this. Regardless of what anyone said these flashbacks of memory made him feel pathetic. His chest tightened, and he demanded it come back into his control, directing all of his rage at his misbehaving body.

"No" Heero said quietly. "It did not."

Needing something to do, Heero suddenly recognized his wet towels were not good for his lingering symptoms. He went to his dresser, grabbed some boxers, and slid into the bathroom to put them on. Heero knew Trowa would wait. Trowa, the epitome of patience. He came out, took up his blanket, and settled by the fire, not stupid enough to get it go to waste.

Though Trowa moved closer, he mercifully did not come sit next to Heero.

"Because you were drinking," Trowa said flatly.

"No," Heero said, his rage past yelling, to that calm deadly place. "You are making assumptions based on second hand data. I imagined better of you. You would not like the personal things you share with Quatre to become common knowledge within 30 minutes, yet you justify it in my case."

"Yes" Trowa sighed, feeling the sting of embarrassment. "We did assume. Though in light of history it makes sense, our assumption was not fair as well. You were not using substances. Something else happened" Trowa reflected back, dropping into his well of patience.

Heero's explosion of anger failed to drown out the still churning panic in his chest. He wanted to look away, to be alone with this "episode". He was so damn tired of being on display, when he belonged in the shadows.

"You got lost in memories," Trowa guessed, moving slowly closer to Heero.

Heero wasn't sure whether or not he nodded to Trowa's question. His eyes closed, and panic took that as permission to take over. His body was too tired to go through this right now. The heat of the fire made his sensitive skin ache, and he focused on that heat and that pain. He let his blanket fall some to expose himself more to the heat, and let that anchor him to this moment. It worked. The pain and heat defeated his anxiety.

He felt a touch on his arm his body rushed to fend off harm. His arm shot out and bent Trowa's at the wrong angle, causing Trowa to gasp in pain. The gasp woke Heero from instinct, and he let go. The rush drained out of him as quickly as it came. Robbed of the last of his strength, Heero slumped against the fireplace.

"Heero, no, you'll get burned!" Trowa cried, pulling Heero from where he fell. Heero felt limp and too tired to care.

Still, Heero's desire for no more "caretaking" gave him one more burst of strength and he growled, "Let go."

Heero's icy tone surprised Trowa into doing just that, letting him go.

The room spun with his exhaustion, driving Heero to close his eyes as he pushed himself off the floor.

"None of you are entitled to unlimited access to my mind. That is my right to share, or not share. You have forgotten that. That does not build trust. It drives secrecy. No, I am not committing to stop drinking right now. I will not compromise plan B, until there is a plan A. That is my logic. Before you assume, I am working on a plan A. I don't care what you think of that. I don't care if I break your inflated expectations. No one asked me what I wanted. Now you know. Goodnight, Trowa."

Without saying more, Heero climbed into bed, and allowed sleep to take him away. Trowa could do what he wanted.

Heero slept well into the morning, a strong departure from his normal waking at dawn. Waking, he saw Trowa had left at some point. Heero was surprised that no one had come to wake him. Maybe is conversation with Trowa had meant something to them. He sighed, and prepared to contact Enson to explain he slept in, and would go directly to work. He paused in the middle of typing the message on his communicator, and for the first day in his relationship with Enson, Heero willfully chose not to go to work. He erased his first message. Heero wanted to say nothing to Enson, and saw the childishness in not reporting for duty without communication. Compromising he wrote, "I will not be in today". Heero almost wrote more, but he dismissed any explanations or apologies. He was not sorry. He did not feel like he was avoiding or running away. He was not drinking. He was just done.

Heero was tired of feeling betrayed, and tired of heavy conversation, and just tired. Constantly doing everything people kept demanding of him, and constantly failing to meet their expectations, he was exhausted with it all. He was exhausted at running into expectation he could not exceed. He felt exhausted by the loss of his prized perfectionism.

More uncharacteristically still, Heero closed the curtains over his windows, and went back to sleep. He did not feel like himself. He felt nothing. He slept on.

Heero woke again, shifting the curtains he saw he sun setting. He thought about getting up and going for a walk. Just the thought made him tired. He felt confident that after he used the bathroom and drank some water, he would be able to go back to sleep again, and so he did.

Settling back in bed he felt his stomach ache with hunger. Strangely, he felt willing to eat, except going downstairs seems not doable. Interacting with the fellow ex-pilots was not doable. More than running away from their reactions, Heero just did not have the energy for the inevitable confrontation. He could not hold their feelings. Even drinking did not seem appealing. Nothing did, except sleep. Heero slept on.

This time when Heero woke it was dawn again. His desire to face the world was non-existent, and he planned to keep showing them all he was no coward. He didn't feel anxious or angry. Just tired, and numb.

He put on a black pull over sweat shirt he hoped was clean, and a pair of jeans from on the floor. Even for a guy who liked tank tops, it was too cold to wear them.

When Heero walked it the dining room it became silent, like it always did these days. He didn't know what to say to any of them, and the feeling seemed mutual. In their eyes, he had betrayed their help. He assumed they thought he had chosen addiction over them. In his eyes, they had made choices for him about his future and he was trying to take his life back.

Heero didn't feel guilt, only heavy resignation, until he caught a glimpse of Duo's swollen face, evidence Duo had cried a long time. Heero recognized Duo's hurt, and also understood Duo would have to get support from someone not him to get over it.

You can't fix someone, when you're the one who broke them Heero reminded himself.

He caught Duo's eyes for just a moment as if to say I know you're in pain. I would have told you, but no one gave me the chance to try.

Maintaining the silence Heero put a stack of buttered toast on a napkin, and turned around, leaving the way he came. "As you were" he whispered sardonically to no one in particular.

"Heero wait" Quatre started, but Heero waved him off, and kept walking. No one followed him.

Heero didn't go in to make a grand entrance or start a fight. He was hungry for once, and he liked toast.

As he climbed on his motorcycle, the itch to drink scratched at his mind just a little. Letting him know it was awake. Heero recognized to himself that he had to figure out why the craving came. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the emotions he must have somewhere. As soon as he felt his chest tighten, he abandoned the effort. Maybe he could try late while he worked off the day.

Heero arrived at Enson's shop bracing himself for what he had come to say.

"Heero" Enson said wearily.

"I didn't come to talk. If that is your plan, consider me absent again today. I came to work."

"Where were you yesterday?"

"I was sleeping, as I am sure you already know" Heero replied, allowing ice into his tone. "I didn't feel well."

"Thank you for letting me know you weren't coming yesterday. We have work to do."

Heero nodded as response, and walked towards his side of the garage to start his day.

Enson brought over Heero's sandwich at lunch time. There was an awkward moment where he didn't know whether to pull up a seat, or leave the sandwich like in their early days.

"Heero" Enson started, and stopped just as quickly after facing Heero's stony expression.

"Thank you, for coming to work today" Enson finished, set the sandwich down, and walked back to his own.

Heero ate his sandwich and returned to work. Ham and cheese he thought, realizing that usually he didn't pay attention to what he was eating.

Heero walked his plate over to the sink, washed it quietly, and put it on the drying rack. He wondered why he hadn't done that before, either.

"Thank you" Heero said quietly as he passed Enson, "for the sandwich. I never contribute to lunch. That's not fair of me."

Enson looked up quizzically at Heero and said, in equal quiet, "No, you don't. I also don't mind. It is one of my ways to say thank you, to you. I also have a feeling you wouldn't eat if I didn't."

"No, I probably wouldn't" Heero replied, and kept walking.

1:00pm rolled around and then 2:00pm. Heero's body grew heavy in a way he didn't understand. Fatigue hammered into his every movement. Heero pushed through as he always did, but struggled to combat his blurring vision, and heavy eyes. By 2:30pm Heero couldn't see straight, and knew he had to lay down before he fell.

"I'm taking a break" Heero said numbly to the garage at large, and stumble outside. Though the weather was getting cold, the sun beat down, sharing its warmth and making being outside tolerable. Heero collapsed at the base of the tree outside of the garage, and was asleep before he finished sliding to the bottom of the trunk.

After Heero didn't return for twenty minutes Enson dared to go outside to find him, and saw him asleep. Going back inside, he grabbed a warm quilt his wife made a long time ago and draped it over Heero. Waking him didn't feel like the right move just then.

When hours passed without Heero waking up Enson was concerned, but still didn't move to wake him.

When 5pm and closing time rolled around Enson made a call.

Shortly after Duo and Trowa pulled up to the garage, expressions unreadable.

Heero slept on.

"He's been asleep for hours" Enson said quietly. "Maybe you could take him home?"

"Sure thing" Duo replied.

"You didn't have to come, Duo" Trowa said quietly.

"Do you really think I wouldn't, when he needed someone?" Duo spat back.

"Did something happen?" Trowa asked.

"I don't think he took anything, if that's what you mean. He just suddenly said he was going to take a break, and then I found him out here asleep. It was concerning, because in all his working here, Heero has never voluntarily taken a break from work."

"Yea, that sounds like him. We're happy to help. It was slow at work today," Trowa said understandingly.

Awkwardly Duo went to wake Heero, bracing for Heero's normal violent response to being woken up. He remembered back in the war with Mariemaia when Heero had just passed out in the cockpit seat. It was the most vulnerable Heero had ever been with him.

"Hey buddy" Duo said, as if they were only friends again. He had to pretend to keep his emotions from swamping him. This wasn't the time. "It's time to rise and shine."

"Heero stirred slightly, but didn't wake. "Heero? Hey, it's time to get up, man."

Heero blinked open his eyes, looking blurrily up at Duo.

"I'm gonna help you up now, okay? I brought Trowa along – He's gonna drive your bike home."

Duo pulled Heero to his feet, and found he had to half carry Heero to the car. Duo felt sick seeing this helpless side of Heero. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

"How did everything go so wrong, Heero?" Duo whispered into Heero's hair, triggering a sob from the braided man. "I want to help" Duo croaked. "I wanted to help. I was trying to, and it has gone so wrong. Heero. . . " Duo sobbed, "I am so sorry things have gone so wrong."

Heero never stirred on the drive home. Duo's chest shook with anxiety, frustration, hurt, and fear. Wordlessly Duo took Heero in his arms and carried him to his room. Duo wanted to stay, but felt he'd lost that right. Duo gently laid Heero on the bed, tucked his comforter over him.

Duo made to leave the room, but found he couldn't. "I'm scared, 'Ro. I. . . I don't know what's happening here. I don't know what comes next. I don't know how to make this okay. I am afraid I can't."

Duo pushed Heero's bangs away from his forehead. Again, he tried to leave the room, to let Heero sleep. Then all the emotions that had been churning inside him, drove Duo to knees by Heero's bed as he let out wracking sobs. Everything was so wrong. Without anything else to blame, the blame crashed down on Duo's heart.

As if Duo had summoned him, Quatre walked into the room, eyes glistening with his own tears for his friends.

"Oh Duo" Quatre said gently, putting his arms around Duo. It wasn't okay. Quatre didn't know if things would be okay. There weren't words of comfort to give this time, so Quatre just held Duo, while the braided man cried, and Heero slept on.

While Heero slept, Wufei had accepted the assignment to reach out to Sally.

"Sally" Wufei said over his communicator, "It's Heero. I. . . we need you."

Sall swallowed her sigh, and the exhaustion for her day of seeing other patients. She would have loved to spend the evening with Wufei, but not like this. And yet, Sally always tried to respect it when Wufei let down his pride to ask for help. She loved that about him. This time was no exception.

"I'm coming".

Sally and Wufei sat in arm chairs in the family room as Wufei explained. Rather, Sally sat while Wufei paced the room, telling all he knew of Heero's recent declaration about drinking, and his suddenly sleeping spells.

Sally thought for a few minutes, and used the time to try to master her own emotions. When she realized her emotions had no interest in being mastered, she began to talk.

"Wufei" Sally responded in frustration. "Not everything that happens to Heero or anyone else is a diagnosable and treatable medical problem. Being as tired as he is might be related to 1000 different things. More likely than not his sleep deprivation has finally caught up with him, and his body is demanding sleep. His sleeping had been erratic for months, for all we know since the war ended, or even during the war. No one can keep up with that forever. The huge amount of emotional strain and potentially post-acute withdrawal could be playing a role. As far as we know his last drink was less than a week ago."

"Post-acute withdrawal?"

Sally sighed again, and looked for patience. "Post-acute withdrawal is when withdrawal symptoms linger or keep coming back. That makes most anyone tired, among other things."

"Other things" Wufei pressed.

"Wufei, I love you, and we can't keep talking about this. Heero was right. We have been pushing an agenda without his commitment or say. I have been reckless with his medical information in a way I would normally never be, and have never been with the rest of you. He deserved space, and time to figure out what he wants."

"And if what he wants kills him?"

"Then. . ." Sally swallowed the lump in her throat, "Then we learn how to live with it. We can't make him want to change, and he seems to recognize he doesn't have the skills he needs not to drink. From us, all he has gotten is judgment in us trying to force him to stop-"

"BECAUSE IT IS KILLING HIM!" Wufei cut her off in his desperate rage.

"I know" Sally said quietly. "I don't think he is suddenly going to go back to normal drinking, so if he keeps drink then yes, I see it will be bad. I do see the significant harm of him trying other substances to become okay. AND, Wufei, he is NOT READY. Don't you remember when you had to step away from Nataku to decide your worthiness to be a pilot? What is happening with Heero isn't much different."

Wufei was quiet for a time, obviously reflecting on her last words. "Yes. I understand better now" Wufei said in equal quiet, falling into an arm chair. Sally walked over to him, and knelt by him, looking at him with her ageless dark blue eyes.

"From what we know, Heero was trained as an assassin since birth, and taught to execute orders perfectly. He was taught that is what makes a good man."

"In a time of peace he feels out of place" Wufei added.

"On top of that the emotions that most people would have had in war, the ones the rest of you had during and after, have come tumbling down on him for the first time. He has waves of flashbacks, and panic he doesn't understand, and doesn't know how to control. Of course he wouldn't want to give up drinking, if he believes that is his only means of control. I wish. . . I wish he was ready to change. I wish he knew how to rely on support."

"That is asking him to be a completely different person than he has ever been. Yes, we have been unjust to him. Thank you, for helping me see that."

Sally smiled slightly, as she climbed onto the over-stuffed armchair with her boyfriend. His sense of burning justice was deeply attractive, and lovable about him. They were an odd couple, age differences, and the post-war world turning them into a preventer and a healer. They had love though, love born from the closeness they shared in war. She had grown to see him not as a kid, but as the man he had become since.

Heero wake a little after 3am, still overwhelmingly tired. Forcing himself up out of bed he into the bathroom. He ran the sink until he became icy cold and throw his head into it, embracing the sudden alertness. It was a trick he often used in the war.

Under his tiredness beat emotions he didn't understand, and didn't have the strength to examine. The beat of those emotions quickly turned into a beat of craving to drink to make them go away.

He was able to dismiss the idea, mainly because he was so damn tired, but decided that eating something might be a better middle ground than to go back to bed and let the need swamp him, or the emotions swamp him, or both.

Seeing he was still in his work clothes, Heero changed into something less covered in oil, and more comfortable. He would have opted for his regular tank top and shorts, but he was too cold for that, even for him. Heero looked in the mirror and realized he had no idea what clothing he liked. He always wore the clothing for the mission. There is so much I don't know about myself.

Heero walked down to the kitchen on his usual silent feet.

He was sitting down with a bowl of cereal, for once thinking about nothing, when Rashid walked in, and stopped at the doorway, obviously surprised to see Heero.

"Oh, Master Heero, hello! I have to say of all people I imagine running into here, you are not on my mind. I heard you were unwell."

"Just Heero. I am eating cereal" Heero supplied uncertainly.

"Which is perfectly fine. Can I get you anything else?"

"No" Heero said quickly, and then added, "This is enough."

"Understood. I didn't mean to bother you, Heero. I can come back in a little while."

"Why did you come?"

"To make bread. A baker's sunrise is early if you want to have fresh bread by breakfast."

"Don't let me interrupt. I will be out of your way soon."

"No, stay and help me."

"I don't know anything about making bread" Heero said flatly.

"Perfect. Then I have no 'war shortcuts' to make you unlearn. Cooking" Rashid said with a smile, "is a mix between science, and creativity. The science is in following the recipe – I think you'll like that part."

"Fine" Heero said skeptically. "Show me how."