Chapter 25
Heero stirred and blinked. His mind tried to become alert to his surroundings, but was surpressed by exhaution and lingering alcohol. His internal clock gave him no indication of what time it was. His body objected to being in whatever position he had been sleeping in, which meant it wasn't his bed. An armchair? Oh shit. Heero swallowed as the memory of conversation he had with the others washed over him. Everything from the last few days felt surreal, and he half of wondered if it was. With som many flashbacks and nightmares warping his reality, he felt less and less sure of what was real.
The small weight of the book on his lap told him the conversation had happened in reality. This was the book Trowa had given him when everything was starting to lose focus, and told him to write his story. There was an outer weight, too, a blanket, and a heavy one, too. Winter had come. The holidays would begin soon, too. What holidays does earth even have? Not this is a tangental thought for another time.
Heero's head pounded again. He hoped it was just dehydration, and worked to blink open his eyes. The room was surprisingly lit with evening light coming through the windows. Were there always windows in here? Heero wondered vaguely.
He recognized he had slept the day away, again. Frustration crept into his mind, and disgust at the thought of his former self seeing him now, like this. It was sometime that morning when he had walked into that mess of a conversation?
"It's good that your body's reaction to withdrawal this time around seems to be to sleep. God knows you need it" Sally said from the couch. She had a book open next to her, evidently reading it before he woke up. Her hair was coming out of its braids, and she looked tired in the setting light.
"Don't doctor me, Sally" Heero replied, feeling guilty for her exhaustion, and frustrated at being "looked after", again.
"Or what Heero?" Sally responded with surprising temper, "What is the ultimatum this time? When you stop being so reckless with your life then I won't have to always doctor you, and maybe we could have a shot at being friends, instead."
Heero shrugged uncomfortably. Her comment about having her as a friend felt beyond him - he boxed it up for future analysis. He was tired of being her patient, and tired of their interactions always being about the newest way he wasn't caring for himself. He realized he was fucking up, and he didn't need to hear it from her, too.
"Heero" Sally said more seriously, "If you keep this up, you're going to die. You are dying."
"We've already had this conversation" Heero said tiredly, a touch of his frustration escaping his control and crawling into his tone.
"Then you had better shut up, and listen this time!"
Heero wondered about so much edge coming from the someone he categorized as reliably calm and collected. Why is she getting so worked up about this? Is this her doctor's pride coming out with me not being a fixable patient? FUck, she is crying. Does she realize she is crying?
"Your body is trying to force you to sleep in desparate attempt to get better, and you aren't helping. Drinking when you know it triggers withdrawals? Not sleeping or eating right? Catching hypothermia? God Heero, you're not invincible, and you're old enough to know that, and you're smart enough to be doing something about it. If you don't want me to doctor you, then how about you try taking care of you."
Heero didn't respond at first. He had nothing to say. She was right, and he hated that stark honesty. He was guilty of all her accusations. Caring about his body wasn't a value to him, and if that was the necessary step to be left alone about he, perhaps there was more work he needed to do. He found himself looking at the floor, and demanded better of himself than that sheepishness. She was making him feel like a naughty child, or as close of an appoximation for it that he had.
Dragging his eyes up to meet Sally's he said, "Understood."
Sally was taken back by Heero not arguing, but didn't draw attention to it.
They waited in silence, both wondering if the other had more to say.
Confusing himself, Heero added, "It is not right that you are dragged into this mess of caring for. . . an unwilling patient. I cannot accomodate you, Sally. I can simulate anything else you ask of me, but this mission, caring for me? This goes against all of my training, and I can't just. . . fix that for you."
Sally sat there a moment longer, collecting her thoughts. In his own way Heero has acknowledged his limits, limits that time and time again she and the others were not respecting. He had a limit in knowing how to care for himself, and they were doing a poor job of allowing him to have that limit.
"I see the hypocracy, Heero, in us asking you to honor you are a limited human, when the one limit you will acknowledge is one we are not honoring in return. We have failed you in that way. I can't speak for everyone about what a limit is. I don't think a limit is by default a defect. A limit is an area to grow, and an area where support might be needed for success."
"In that definition, Sally, a limit is a defect to me, as is an inability to overcome them."
"I do understand that about you, and I also seem to have forgotten."
Sally stood from the couch, an indication she was done with the conversation, and said, "I imagine you'll want to go back to sleep before long. It's Sunday evening. Eat something, and drink as much water as you can stand before you go back to sleep. I think they are going to be having dinner soon, or at least I hope that's the case, because I am hungry. I look forward to seeing you there" she finished, and left the room without another word.
Heero blinked. Her exasperation was fair. He deserved her lecture. It was just. . . their keeping him alive agenda again. It wasn't his yet, and it felt again like he had no choice but to follow along. Having no choice about this one thing that was his own, his life, brought out a rebeliousness he wasn't familar with. He had demanded people to back off, and then went and made enough of a mess of himself to prove them right that he could not be responsible wit his own life.
Heero looked down on his lap again and saw the small leather book that Trowa had given him. Looking over the edge of the arm chair he saw the accompanying bag to put it in, so he could carry it around to "write his story". Without a pen or will to get up to get one, Heero thumbed through the empty pages.
Heero walked into the dining room an half an hour later, after he started hearing the sounds of people talking, and dishes clinking. Relief flooded him as he saw the chair left for him, in the corner up against the wall with a complete view of all doorways. There was no way this was an accident. He supposed his struggle with Trowa being behind him hadn't gone unnoticed. Nothing seemed to go unnoticed, though. Isn't that what we were all trained for? Notice everything, predict everything, expect everything.
Ironically still, though most of the table was loaded with vegetables, rolls, and roast meat, near his spot was a tall stack of buttered toast. Heero couldn't help it, he laughed. He laughed at the kindness, and laughed at how fucked up they all were to be unable not to analyze every detail of everything. And yet, what was not to like about toast?
"What is it, Heero?" Quatre said, failing to hide his own smirk.
"Toast?" Heero responded with an eyebrow raise.
"Toast!" Rashid echoed as he walked into the room to take a chair of his own.
It was a small and large kindness, a nod to the difficulty being here, a peace offering, and a committment towards more understanding all wrapped in a plate of toast, or what was left of it.
Heero didn't say anything at dinner, and for once he didn't feel guilted for it. It seemed his presence was good enough for the night. In silence he ate his pile of toast.
"Heero, I need you to only work a half day, today," Enson said by way of greeting.
"No."
"Heero, I am not asking this as your friend. I am telling you as your employeer. Whether or not you like it, I have been informed you slept most of the weekend, and are still not well. I need you to get well as soon as possible so I know I can trust you to handle machinery responsibly. I respect the importance of work to you, which is why you can stay here for half the day. Forming new habits takes time and energy, which means you need to continue to keep getting rest so you have it."
Heero growled, which he recognized was unprofessional, and he didn't care.
"Heero" Enson said gently, breaking the employer role he had undoubtably been practicing all morning. "I am not mad at you, and I am not punishing you. This is to support you. If you find it doesn't work after a time, or you can tell me another way to support you then I am up for listening. Now is the time to try ideas, and see if they work."
Heero sighed, and closed his eyes, realizing he was shaking. Was it from anger at being set limits by someone else, or something else entirely?
"Understood" Heero squeezed out, before turning around to beginning the work for the day.
Heero worked with determination and exagerated vigor all morning to prove to himself and to Enson he could manage a work day. I have to be able to do this. the time rolled by in the rythmn of machineryEnson made sandwiches again for Heero loathed that Enson had been right when 1pm rolled around and fatigue was nawing at him, and by 2pm he was blinking his eyes repeatedly to keep them open.
"It's time for you to go, Heero. Rashid is here to come pick you up."
"No" Heero said with a spark of annoyance.
"Heero, you should have been done an hour ago. If I was looking through your eyes I'd wager you couldn't see straight. Your work started slowing down at 1pm when you were first feeling tired."
"I can take myself home" Heero growled.
"If you wanted me to feel comfortable with that, Heero, you would have honored your limits. If you can't honor your own safety in driving, at least recognize you could harm someone else if you rode your bike this tired, and unwell."
Heero tried to listen beyond the pounding in his head that demanded his attention.
"He brought the truck, so you can take your bike home and try again tomorrow."
"The work is not done for today" Heero said flatly.
"I know" Enson replied firmly. "That is why you need to get better – so we don't fall behind enough that I have to hire additional help. I know you and I both wouldn't like that. Honor your limits, it will take some time to get used to."
Heero closed his eyes to take inventory of his body – his head was pounding, his hands had begun to shake hours ago, and how his body was trembling slightly all over. This is ridiculous, Heero yelled at himself. I can't keep this up. . . and everyone is expecting me to accept that. I just. . . if I just keep going, it works out somehow. It has always worked out somehow. Why can't I make it work out now?
Enson held onto Heero's shoulders gently to get Heero's attention, but realized his mistake when Heero flinched back.
"I'm sorry, son, I wasn't thinking" Enson said embarrassed, and surprised at Heero's post-traumatic responses seemed to be getting worse. It gets worse before it gets better. I have to keep remembering that.
"It's fine" Heero said flattly as he turned towards the truck, alone.
Despite his emotions, Heero drifted off as soon as he sat down in the truck. To his credit Rashid woke Heero when they got back, giving him the dignity of going inside on his own.
Realizing he would be expected at dinner, Heero fumbled to set an alarm, before letting sleep claim him again.
The alarm rang at 6pm, and Heero sprang awake, his mind and heart somehow pulsing together in panic. His emotions screamed at him, Not safe, not safe, not safe. You must prepare to act, you are not safe. Nothing is safe. The thoughts were so loud they drown out his logic.
Heero's logical mind finally got it's voice heard, saying quitely and firmly, Look around. Where am I? Room. I am in my room at Quatre's. His eyes darted around the room. I am alone. No one can hurt me here, but me. I am as safe as it is possible to be.
The alarm was still ringing, the sound getting louder and drowning out his logical mind. Then it stopped, the world was suddenly quiet, except for. . . movement. Heero found Trowa's eye looking back at him with understanding, holding the alarm. Evidently Trowa had turned it off.
Trowa sat on the end of Heero's bed, letting Heero catch his breath, and reorient himself, and get his panic under control. He understood. Trowa's body had learned to wake up early, so he never had to deal with the horror of an alarm ringing in bad memories. It was strange how much Trowa wanted to reach out and hold Heero, to comfort him in a way that no one probably had. It was the deepest way Trowa knew how to say, You're not alone. As he thought it Trowa knew that was the wrong course of action with Heero Yuy, so Trowa sat and waited, thinking calm into himself and his friend.
"Trowa " Heero finally said, "I have. . . a request."
"Sure, Heero. What can I do for you?"
"I need. . ." Heero started, but then choked on the word help. "I don't wake up on my own when I used to, and setting awake alarms is. . . not doable. You informed me on Saturday that you get up early. . ."
"Would you like me to come make sure you're up in the morning?"
"Yes" Heero said in a low whisper.
"Sure, Heero. What time?"
Heero thought, realizing he hadn't considered that question. "6:30am, 7:00am?"
"Let's do 7:00am" Trowa suggested. "You don't have to be at work until 9:00am, and sleep. . . sleep is good. If you find that is not enough time or too much time we can adjust, how about that?"
"Understood."
"Is there a certain way that is best to wake you up?" Trowa asked.
"I. . . I don't know."
"No worries, Heero. We'll just have to be patient while I figure it out. As long as you can agree not to try to kill me for waking you."
"I will strive to restaine the impulse" Heero said dryly.
"That's you, Heero. Your humor is so deadpan most people miss it."
"Not you, I see."
"We've got to laugh, Heero. We've got to make fun of all we've been through, the absurdity of what happened, and that we were the ones to go through it. We have to if we want to survive."
"I am learning that."
"I am guessing your alarm was to come down to dinner?"
"It was."
"That is where I was on my way to. Do you want me to wait for you?"
"No. I will come in a minute."
"Understood. Thank you for reaching out, Heero."
"Don't."
Trowa laughed, and smiled at the gift of vulnerability Heero just gave him. Heero was precious to him, and he desperately wanted to help. Trowa understood, in a different way, what it was like to use substances to address pain. It had been a year ago that Trowa was regularly using heroin. Everything had escalated fast, him using needles for most of that time, and almost dying more than once in the process. Cathy, and Quatre, and Rashid had been there to catch his fall. Trowa felt some desire to pay forward the favor with Heero. He understood, and recognized that Heero's healing would take much longer. We've been through a lot, all of us, more than people would say we should be, and yet, Heero, Heero's been through more than all of us by a long shot. I can't believe we expected for him to be okay.
Saving Heero from having to figure out what to do next, Trowa continued down the hall. Maybe there is more hope than I thought. I have to always be willing to be surprised.
It was strange how new habits found there own kind of rhythm. Heero's life suddenly become Trowa waking him up at 7am, breakfast, work until sometime in the afternoon, sleep, dinner, sleep, and do it again. It was an exhausting, empty rythmn that made Heero long to stay in bed to not face a day of it. It was a rhymn that felt purposeless and robotic, and also all he had strength for.
Heero was able to acknowledge that getting more sleep was helping his exhaustion. He had been able to make it to 4pm that day before being "at his limit" and having to be sent home.
Not drinking. . . unknown if that was helping to. He had stopped pursuing Plan B, and it remained in his mind, regularly.
Heero continued to simmer with this constant reminder that his body would no longer comply to a regular work schedule. Getting up the humility to say he was tired was still too much for Heero. He had come to the compromise to start cleaning up his work space as a signal he should go home. No one had to come pick him up he anymore, and there were days he recognized he should have asked someone to.
Returning to back to Quatre's from work all Heero could do was fall into bed, until whenever it was that Trowa came to poke him for dinner. He was too tired to engage in dinner conversation, and usually went back to bed right afterward.
Duo kept fleeting into Heero's mind, at each glimpse of those large purple eyes. Seeing Duo was fuel for his self-loathing. They didn't talk much. Heero loved Duo, or what he thought was love, and they tried to make something together too soon, when, apartently, Heero hadn't been done falling apart. Am I done? Heero wanted to apologize, and apology seemed just as empty as everything else. Under his professionistic shame he felt some recognition that his failed relationship with Duo wasn't all his fault. He was clumsy with love, and Duo was too attached from the start.
Most days Heero tried to stay too busy for self-reflection. All of his "progress" at "getting healthier" just felt like a slap in the face that there was progress needing to be made. The words he had for himself were not kind ones. Generally he just pushed through so he didn't have to listen.
"There really doesn't seem to be a good way to wake you up, Heero" Trowa said with an exacerbated smile.
"Probably not" Heero said, sitting up in bed still trying to rub the sleep from his face. "I appreciate the effort. I think it has gotten better. I only tried to hit you once this morning" Heero added, tryinng to return Trowa's humorous view.
Trowa didn't smile, though. Instead, he sat down at the end of Heero's bed and looked at him carefully.
Heero raised an eyebrow in response, still making a stab at a lighter mood that was fading.
"Heero" Trowa said frankly. "Do you realize you're so difficult to wake up because every time I come to wake you, you are in the middle of a nightmare? You are breathing hard, and muttering, every time I come in, and we can both see you are drenched in cold sweat right now. You are every morning. You are every night I come wake you from dinner."
Heero let go of the ligher mood and let defensiveness take its place, who brought panic to the party. Why do we have to be discussing this? What I supposed to do about nightmares anyway? Is this another one of my 'problems' they want me to fix? Heero felt concern at what he was muttering today, and the implication that it was normal for him to be talking in his sleep. Childish. Nightmares are so childish! Heero knew he must have made a face, because he watched Trowa's face soften into concern before he looked away.
"Heero" Trowa said sadly, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I didn't mean to upset you. I genuinely wasn't sure you knew. Sometimes people have nightmares and don't remember."
Heero kept his eyes shut. He must have been breathing oddly in his life, because hyperventation breathing rose so quickly to greet his emotions. He felt so tired of his body's weak response to confrontation, and tried to use that tiredness to drown out the panicked energy. How do I make this time different? I am so tired of losing my shit like this.
"I am tired" Heero squeezed out of his tight chest, demanding his body to submit to his well, "of being caught being weak all the fucking time. We should not be talking about this right now. You don't need me to take that feeling out on you."
Trowa didn't take the invitation to leave. Trowa kept looking at Heero with his steady green eye. Heero grabbed onto frustration instead of fatigue, to burn away the panicked shame. What threatened to be a panic attack eased, and Heero looked up at Trowa fiercely.
"Don't tell me some bullshit about this not being weakness or it being okay to be weak. I don't want to hear it Trowa. You've made your point. You've woken me up. Thank you. Now go."
Trowa still waited patiently, making no move to get up off the bed. "I realize you need help waking up on time. That's okay. I realize you are upset I know you have nightmares. To me nightmares make a lot of sense after all we've been through. I get them. Quatre wouldn't mind me telling you he gets them. It's an understandingable response to all we've been through. It make sense that if you flashback to things when you awake, you would also flashback to the past in your dreams. I know it can be hard trying to go throughout my morning, with the sound of battling my demons' lingering in my mind and senses. I can't imagine that has been easy for you, either."
"What do you dream about?" Heero said with numb curiousity.
Trowa recognized the request for vulnerability and answered, "The past sometimes, like you, and also future worries. I have had to work to seek out my fears more directly during the days, because if not I find they are waiting for me in my sleep."
"I see."
"Maybe I understand being afraid more than you give me credit for, Heero. Maybe if I do, I am not judging you as harshly for your fear as you judge yourself" Trowa said still with deep kindness. "We are our own people with our own stories. Yet, I wonder if our similarities can be more healing than we let them."
"You talk to the others about having nightmares" Heero said, not bothinging to hide his skeptism.
"Yes."
When Heero continued to look at Trowa disbelievingly, Trowa continued, "We've found different people view dreams different ways. The meaning of a nightmare tends to be what you think it is. Quatre and Wufei usually lean towards dreams trying to teach them something, or draw their awareness to something that needs more attention. Sometimes Quatre will write down his dreams, and sometimes Wufei includes the content of his dreams in his morning medications. Duo prefers to move on from them without much contemplation. He focuses extra hard on his day ahead and fills himself with gratitude to be awake and alive. I see nightmares as. . . something to give a nod of acknowledgement to, and then a nod of fairwell. Heero, I am saying this only to mean that the four of us don't think nightmares are a weakness to hide, and seek ways make peace with having them."
"You talk about your personal selves with each other, often."
"Yes, or at least we are learning to. That is a gift you gave us, Heero, when you left. You actually set us on a path to working to healing us. We weren't doing a great job of supporting each other, so, when we couldn't find you, that seemed like the place to start - to make new habits, and have difficult conversations. It is awkward, Heero, we really do get that. Also, it gets easier with time. It is worth the awkwardness to not feel quite so alone. Quatre and I needed to support each other better, but we also needed to be getting support from more than each other. There are ways that Duo and Wufei connect and reach Quatre in ways I can't, and he needs that. In some ways that is similar for me. In some ways I feel like one of the people I feel connection to is you, Heero, just as I have hope that in you I could find someone who understands parts of me Quatre doesn't, and I don't. I am not trying to 'be your friend' to make up for the past. I am trying to be your friend because I like you, and I want to get to know you better, and I hope in that process I will find someone who gets to know me, too."
"Things to think about."
"I suppose they are. Thank you for listening, Heero. Good morning" Trowa finished with a nod, as closed the door behind them.
Heero sat on his bed staring at his hands trying to process Trowa's words. He felt divided, at one point wanting to reach for the companionship Trowa talked about, and at another feeling like another expectation of opennes was being placed on his shoulders. As he sat he recognized it was expected for him to show up to breakfast. Heero didn't move, feeling worn out by their expectations, and by being so exposed to them all the time. He thought he understood Trowa's invitation, and also this openness was not safe. He wanted to feel safe again, and that meant feeling strong, because that was the last time he felt safe.
Wanting to drink came to Heero after every one of the nightmares, and in the fear of flashbacks. The want was curbed some by realizing that drinking didn't help anymore, if it ever had at all. The drive to escape circled louder and louder around Heero's mind as the days moved forward. Half baked plans had materialized in his mind and the dematerialized before he could grasp them, grazing, but not satisfying his itch.
At some point, staring out his window he recognized his intention to leave again, and questioned it. What exactly would that solve? I've already shown I am took weak to live functionally alone. I also don't value living functionally - that is their agenda. They want me to 'get better'. They feel guilty that I am such a fucking wreck, and want to ease their conscience. They also believe they care, too.
Heero recognized he was in no mood to go to breakfast, and he didn't know how to get into one. Nothing he knew "worked" anymore.
Getting dressed Heero glanced at the journal Trowa had given up, and thought about the invitation to tell his story, and thought about Quatre writing things down to help him understand them better.
He sat at his desk with the book, staring at the leather, running his thumb over the edges. Now that he wasn't feeling so frantic and drunk as he had on the marker day, Heero was able to find a pen in his drawer.
Heero scribbled the date in the upper right corner. He thoguht about writing something to introduce him or his thoughts, and then recognized he didn't know what to say to either. Too much time had passed, and he needed to get on with his day.
In frustration he wrote:
Plan A was to die. Plan B was the only way to not die. Plan B became Plan A. Plan B will have the same outcome. I want to die. I am not allowed to die. I have no plans. Everyone else has plans. Where do people find plans?
Heero felt odd and exposed writing down those few words. He also felt a spike of concern that someone would read them. He slid the book and pen into the leather bag, and slide that into one of his many inner jacket pockets. Heero sighed deeply, and left his room to start what felt like was going to be another long day.