He kept seeing images that made no sense. Small, dark rooms. Manacles (which was just stupid, because he wasn't handcuffed now). Flashes of excruciating pain. Explosions. Was that gunfire?

Purple eyes. (That can't be right. No one actually has purple eyes.)

Laughter. Some malicious, some joyful. Purple eyes again.

(Wait, I met one person with eyes like that, didn't I?)

A voice filled with relief as purple eyes lit up. "Hey, 'Ro."

Physically shaking the thought away proved to be a bad idea, and he choked down a cry at the resurgent pain. He could feel Oliviana rubbing his back, vaguely hear her murmuring soft nothings. Then there was thudding and banging and speaking and a cut-off yelp (Wait, it's not in my head this time.)

Quiet fell, a strange, weighted quiet. The quiet was helping the headache to fade, but Oliviana began shaking his shoulder insistently and calling his name. He groaned and clenched his eyes tighter.

"Heero, you need to get up." There was barely-contained panic in her voice, and Oliviana never panicked. It was enough to get him to open his eyes.

"Liv?" he asked, squinting and finding her looking over her shoulder.

She turned back to him as soon as he spoke. "Can you see me?" she asked, nervous lines showing around her mouth. A moment later, relief washed over her face as he sat up warily.

It took a moment for him to process that there were bodies on the floor, and a slim figure all in black moving around the room outside their cell. The door was open.

"Heads up." It echoed in Heero's head like he'd heard that voice before, muffled as it was. He caught the rifle that had been thrown at him without realizing he expected to. Something in him had responded to that voice.

He hated weapons (guns, dammit). Despite that, the rifle specs flew through his mind, and it was all Heero could do not to drop it like it was diseased. (Why do I know that? I've never seen this rifle.)

Even in his mind, it was a rifle or a weapon, not a gun. (Why does that matter?)

He knew it did.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, holding it up awkwardly, looking at the black-clad man. He was shorter than Heero—5'5" (if you're generous), lithe (is he just a kid? No, kids don't move like that). Not a hair showed under the hood, his face was wrapped in a scarf, and wraparound sunglasses hid his eyes.

(That's important. Why?)

"Protect your girlfriend until the cavalry arrives," was the droll response.

(I think I know you. How is that possible?)

"Why did you—" Heero began to ask, but was cut off.

"I'm going to take another run through just in case I missed anyone, but,"—the figure went to a body and pried the handgun from the dead man's hands before turning to casually place it in Oliviana's—"you should probably be armed, just in case." She looked at her hand and yelped, nearly dropping the gun. Even from where he was sitting, Heero could see the blood.

Images flashed past his eyes faster than he could comprehend them. He needed to focus.

"You're not getting us out of here?" he asked. (Focus, 01.)

Who was 01?

(You are, soldier. Get it the fuck together.)

But he wasn't a soldier.

(Not anymore.)

Their rescuer was talking. "...you probably want to stay put until the big boys can get here and... sanitize it out there a bit for you. It's rather gruesome."

Their rescuer's black clothing was splattered liberally with wet spots. It was raining outside. Heero had thought it was water.

(It doesn't smell like water.)

Heero fought his tumbling stomach. Why do I know that scent?

"How are they even supposed to know where we are?" Oliviana asked.

The man grabbed her free hand and plopped a phone into it. Everything he had touched, from the phone, to Oliviana's hand, to the weapon (gun, dammit!) left bloody smears. Oliviana swallowed visibly, but she didn't pull away.

(Good girl. She's handling this better than...)

Better than who?

"You can dial emergency services even from a locked phone," the would-be rescuer explained.

A girl with wheat-blonde hair stood in the sights of his weapon, not enough sense to know she was going to die.

Heero stood and aimed the weapon at the man. The click of the safety being released was almost like a shot in the small room.

(No, a gunshot would be much louder.)

The weapon was steady in his hands. For a moment, he thought he saw a long brown braid, but another blink showed no such thing.

"You're not leaving." His voice shook a little, but he held firm to his resolution. This man had killed their captors. Heero was not convinced he was on their side.

The man stopped, apparently at ease but something told Heero that was an illusion. (Finger on the trigger now. You know how fast he is.)

No, I don't. Do I?

Heero was sure he could shoot him first. There was half a room between them after all. (You're not fast enough.)

"You don't have a gun," Heero pointed out. (And you know that no matter how many knives you can count on him, he has more.)

No. I. Don't.

"I have less than ten feet between you and me. I don't need a gun. Knives are more effective at this range, and I promise—I can kill you before you can pull that trigger. So save your trigger-happy impulses for people who actually want to hurt you." He turned away again, deliberately putting his back to Heero, and Heero tracked him with the barrel. He moved to the door and was closing it behind him before Heero put a finger on the trigger, though.

The door shut, and Oliviana ran to it, shifting the phone to the same hand as the gun to pull it open. In the hall, Heero could see other lumps that were probably dead men. Their so-called savior was gone.

He could feel the drying blood drying on the weapon. He had blood on his hands again.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Heero didn't remember scrambling out of bed, he just hit the light in the bathroom and waited for his eyes to adjust so he could check his hands. His totally clean hands. He flipped them over several times, making absolutely sure before gripping the counter edge and hanging his head.

"Another nightmare?" Oliviana asked from the doorway behind him.

His heart was already slowing. "Yeah," he said shortly.

"Still the kidnapping?"

"Yup," he bit back crisply. What else could it possibly be? He didn't remember anything else bad that might have happened to him.

"I know how you feel about therapists, but..."

"Liv," he started, then sighed. "I know you're trying to help, but—"

"I get it, okay? I was kidnapped too. It's traumatic, it may have been nine months, but that doesn't mean you should magically be 'over it.' Trauma takes time to get over. Stop expecting yourself to superman through it." She came up to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist, tucking herself under his other arm. He curled it around her, holding her close, grounded by her presence. "It's okay to need help."

"I know that."

He could see her roll her eyes in the mirror. "You know it intellectually, but you don't believe it."

Heero sighed again. "Therapists just haven't helped much up till now."

"They didn't help with your amnesia, and fine, you gave them a fair shot at that. If you don't want to see anyone about it anymore, that is 100% your call to make at this point. But you haven't seen anyone about the kidnapping, and it's still giving you nightmares."

"If I'm going to be killed anyway, it seems like fate to be killed by you instead."

The migraine was immediate and debilitating. He just barely made it to the toilet before the pain made his stomach violently revolt.

By the time he could even register the world around him again, the bathroom was dark except for a dim nightlight. Even that soft light seared his eyes like pins to straight to his brain, and he groaned, registering that his head was on Oliviana's lap. His mouth tasted like bile, and his abs and back ached dully in that way that told him he'd been dry heaving for some time, but they were distant discomforts compared to the migraine.

"What happened?" he rasped, the state of his throat further confirming he'd been throwing up for longer than he remembered.

"You damn near had a seizure!" Oliviana's voice was so, so loud in the bathroom. Heero curled up as if that could somehow shield his brain. "I'm sorry," she said, carding her fingers through his hair to soothe him, lowering her voice so it was barely more than a whisper. "You just scared me. I ready to call an ambulance."

"I..." It was so fucking hard to think around the pain, but he could tell the worst was receding. He never knew what the hell was going to set him off. It was infuriating to be so out of control of his own body. "What were we talking about?"

"Nightmares—yours."

"I had a nightmare?" he asked.

"Another nightmare, yes," she corrected, keeping her voice the exact right softness to keep the migraine from getting worse. "I'm really worried about you," she said, and he could hear the genuine concern in her voice, feel the tension in her body.

He was getting worried too. Three years removed from the accident that had stolen his entire personal history from him, the migraines were getting worse and more unpredictable, and he was starting to lose time around them. "All right," he said, his own voice as soft as he could make it and still let Oliviana hear him. "Go ahead and schedule the appointment with that neurologist," he said, wanting to grit his teeth against the pain, but knowing it would make it worse.

"First thing in the morning," she promised. "You okay to move yet?" she asked, her hand moving down to the base of his skull and gently seeking out the worst knots. Her hands weren't strong enough to really dig in, but even the gentle pressure helped.

"A few more minutes," he heard himself plead.

"Whatever you need," she promised.

He reached up, feeling blindly until he found her hand and could clasp it. "What would I do without you?" he asked.

"Crash and burn," she said, but he could hear the teasing in her voice, and it made him smile even though he kept his eyes closed. She leaned over and place a kiss at his temple. "Not that you'll ever have to worry about it. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Heero Yuy. For better or worse."

"Wedding's not for over a year."

"I know." She used her free hand to comb through his hair, and the pressure was soothing. "But asking is a commitment. So is saying yes. Besides, what will really change when we're married?"

"I'll have your name," he teased, the migraine easing.

She gave his shoulder the worst excuse for a smack he'd ever felt. "I told you I'd take yours."

He rolled onto his back so he could look up at her, the migraine finally fading enough that he could bear to open his eyes. "My name doesn't mean anything to me."

"You don't know that."

"And you mean everything. Your family and their name are important to you," he said. "I don't want to take that away. I want us to have the same name, so it makes sense to just have me take yours." It wasn't the first time they'd had the discussion, and it probably wouldn't be the last, even though he knew that it pleased her deep down. "Fitzhugh-Stroh-Yuy or any combination thereof is just ridiculous." He reached up to cradle the back of her neck. "Besides, it'd be nice to not have people ask me if I'm Heero Yuy, like the Heero Yuy." He didn't dare roll his eyes yet, but he was sure his tone conveyed the feeling.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I am not kissing that mouth till you wash it," she told him. "Think you can stand?"

Heero closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but the last dregs of the migraine were ebbing away. "Let's give it a shot."

He took it slow, knowing from experience that getting vertical after a migraine this severe could bring it rushing back, but after a couple minutes, he was finally on his feet. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Oliviana leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Wash your mouth out, drink some water, then come back to bed, okay?" Then she reached over and lifted his cross, tucking it back behind his shirt. "Looks like it escaped again," she said, pausing to rest her hand against it from outside his shirt.

"Guess so." He put his hand over hers, feeling its weight and coolness press against his skin.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

AN: to anyone who noticed that Duo didn't have his cross—now you know why.

"If I'm going to be killed anyway, it seems like fate to be killed by you instead." – I gave my rusty translation skills a workout and retranslated this line from the original Japanese, so it doesn't match the subs or the dub perfectly. From Episode 19 where Duo has been captured and tortured and Heero goes to kill him and eliminate the leak, and instead decides to save him for no good reason (as Duo agrees that he needs to be silenced). I wanted to make sure I caught the nuance, and yes, Duo really does say that Heero killing him is fated.

Also, if you were not aware, Stand is also posted on Archive of Our Own. Last week, I posted a 1x2 smutty one-shot there called "A Dangerous Collection" that is part of this universe and timeline. I come from the era of FFN purges, so I do not trust smut on FFN, no matter how lax the mods are being, so it will not be posted here. But if that is your jam, go take a read over on AO3-I'm AngelSelene there too!