No… no… no… this can't be. It just…

Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on the here and now. In the distance, somewhere far away, I can hear Heero's voice calling me, but I just can't gather the willpower to focus that hard. Things don't work out for me like this, only in my daydreams and if I'm lucky… at night, when I'm asleep.

I close my eyes, forcing a slow breath through my nostrils.

In. Out. In. Out. Nice and slow, calm the ole ticker down, because right now, my heart is trying to beat its way out through my breastbone. Heero's voice, tiny and concerned, calls my name over and over as I wade hip deep into a panic attack.

I was foolish, I was stupid. Doesn't he know what happens to people who get too close? They end up dead. I've told him about the orphanage; about Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. He's heard about Solo and the rest of the gang. As much as I love the others, and show them how I care in my own special way, I do end up holding them away from me at arm's length. I only do it to keep them safe, because I care so deeply for them. I love them. I can't hurt them and the last person in the world I want to hurt is Heero. I can't hurt him. Not him.

He's stopped calling my name and before I realize it, I'm heading to my room on legs that feel like they were made out of clay. Shaky and ready to break. I throw open my closet door and grab my bag, stuffing in clothes haphazardly without a second thought. Inside, I'm chaos, I'm panic; outside, I'm watching everything going on as I move on auto-pilot, feeling calm and collected.

What am I doing, running away? Yeah, been there, done that. It's a survival technique that makes sure you (or the ones you love and don't want to die because you were stupid and let them get too close) don't end up dead.

Stop it, stop it…

"Just stop it," I order myself, and for once, I listened. I remained standing in my closet, shaking like a puppy in a thunderstorm for who knows how long before I managed to fully snap out of it. With hands still shaking, I set my duffle bag back onto the bed and began to put my clothes away.

I can't run away from Heero, not even if I tried. Yeah, maybe in the beginning he would let me have my space. He understands PTSD, which is what we all suffer from in one form or the other, but eventually he'd go and get me. I know him too well, he knows me. He knows the destruction we're all capable of. He wouldn't let me be turned loose on an unsuspecting city, much less myself.

I had just finished neatly putting away the last of my haphazardly packed clothes when I heard the door open. He didn't call my name.

"I'm okay," I answered over the sound of him clicking the deadbolt into place.

His footsteps were soft as he walked down the hall, and he remained silent as he leaned against my door facing. His eyes focused on the empty bag in my hands and I gave him a vulnerable and shameful look.

"Had a panic attack," he stated as he drug his eyes up to meet mine. There was no judgement, just fact, and that helped me to relax. Somewhat.

"Yeah," I whispered as I set the bag back down on the floor of the closet and then shut the door. "Had a panic attack."

"Did you do your breathing exercises?"

"I was panting like a racehorse, to be honest."

"Do you recall what triggered it?"

"You said you were trying to read my mind."

"And that made you feel vulnerable?"

I pushed my hand through my bangs and closed my eyes as I took a long, deep breath. On the exhale, I whispered "Yeah," and then for good measure, took another long deep breath.

"Why did that bother you?"

"I don't know," I said quickly, still keeping my eyes closed.

"Just a random trigger?"

"I don't know," I whispered again, dearly wishing Heero would stop with the twenty questions. I'm an honest guy, and I didn't want him fishing out of me things I wasn't ready to confess yet. "I'm okay, Heero, I promise. I managed it in time; I was on the cool down when you got home."

"You need to eat," Heero said, surprising me by reading my mind once again. I grew nervous at the thought again, but focused instead on my rumbling stomach. I fought to ignore the nervousness with Heero standing there observing me, and I was grateful that the second round of anxiety didn't rear up like it could have.

Without a word, he turned and walked back down the hall, his steps heavier now that he didn't need to refrain from startling me. I followed after him meekly, a heavy weight settling down into my soul as we adjourned to the kitchen. He pointed to the table and I sank down into my chair, resting my elbows onto the table as I watched him open the fridge.


I woke myself up snoring. Laying on the couch, sprawled on my back, my belly full from a good breakfast, I couldn't help but to pass out. The anxiety was still there, thrumming in my core like a faint and distant power line downed in a storm, but as long as it wasn't in the forefront of my brain, I could handle it.

I ran my hand over my mouth and lifted my head, looking around blearily. The sound of typing permeated the fuzz in my brain and I groaned. "Are you working?" I called out.

The typing stopped before Heero answered his affirmative.

"We're on vacation you know. You know that thing where you take a break from work?"

"I know," Heero answered. Immediately the typing started back up.

"You need to give it a break, Heero!"

"You were working too," he pointed out in a patient, long suffering tone.

"Yeah, but that's different."

The typing stopped and I felt a smirk pull my lips. I love getting a rise out of Heero. And then, a dirty little thought popped up in my head and I let out a soft laugh. Get a rise out of Heero? Get a rise… oh never mind.

"How is that different?"

"Well," I drawled out as I sat up and swung my legs off the couch. "It just is," I finally finished after a painfully long period of silence. I leaned forward to listen.

Heero grunted and the keystrokes began once again. With a grin, I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. "What are you working on?" I asked after a slow count to three. I wanted him to get comfortable again with the silence to focus on his task. The typing stopped.

"Paperwork, nothing more."

One. Two. Three. Typing.

"What kind of paperwork?"

"The boring kind," he answered back, blandly.

I counted to three as I snuck down the hall, and when I spoke again, I could tell by the tone of his voice that I had startled him. "Why are you doing boring paperwork?"

"Duo, does this conversation have a point?"

"No," I said, drawing out the word slowly after the self-set appointed time had passed.

"Don't you have anything to do?" he questioned as the typing started again.

I counted to four this time, and that upset his rhythm. "No."

"Then go find something to do, then."

"Can't do it, buddy. I can't let you waste away working while we're supposed to be taking a break." Without knocking, I entered his room and stood a few feet beyond the doorway. It never felt right just to walk on in all the way without his permission.

Heero sighed and leaned back in his chair. I watched his hand come up to rub the back of his neck. He only did that when he had a headache coming on. I wonder if my panic attack earlier had stressed him out.

"Your head," I pointed out.

"I know."

"And the eye strain of the computer won't do it any favors."

"I'll live," he said dryly.

"C'mon, seriously, let's… go do something. Go for a walk, maybe?"

"I just checked the radar, it's going to storm. Big red cell heading slowly this way." He cut his eyes to me. He knows I love storms. My eyes lit up and we grinned at each other, his maybe a little more subdued than mine.

"I'll get the popcorn going, you find us a good zombie movie to watch," I said.

"Why does it always have to be zombies?" he questioned as he rose and followed behind me. "Why not Frankenstein since he used lightning to regenerate his monster?"

"Well, that would be a good fit," I said. It did make sense, after all. Leave it to Heero to be practical even when picking out a horror movie. "But you know me; I need zombies to thoroughly enjoy a good thunderstorm."

"Of course," he answered. I watched him head to my computer, shutting it down, and I opened my mouth to tell him that I could do it, but a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen. Shrugging, I headed to get the popcorn out.


"Man, Heero, you need a haircut," I said as I reached out to ruffle the wild hair at the back of his head. He's really let it go here lately; it's spilling over the collar of his shirt. I let my fingers brush along the nape of his neck. "Or is it true what they say? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?"

"What are you talking about?" he grunted, his eyes glued to the movie. He didn't pull away from my touch. That made me feel warm inside, because usually, Heero's a touch-me-not kind of guy.

"Your hair," I whispered as I leaned in close. "You're growing it out. Just… for… me." I let my breath brush across his cheek, and then, for added discomfort, I began to breathe against him loudly. The harsh pants against his skin caused me to break into a few stuttered notes of laughter before he put his elbow into my solar plexus and silently encouraged me to take my seat.

"If you want, we'll go and look at places Saturday."

"Places?" I asked. I furrowed my brow as I got comfortable on the couch, my attention turned back to the movie.

"To live."

"You still want to do that?" I asked in surprise. "You don't mind co-owning a house with me?"

"If I did, I would have either said so at the beginning, or would have changed my mind by now."

"True," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

"You still want to, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," I admitted. "Someplace close to town, close to the country, you know, right in between. Maybe an acre where I can plant a garden and do all that stuff we don't have the room to do on the colonies."

"You want a garden?" The disbelief in Heero's voice put me on edge and I stiffened my shoulders.

"Yeah? What of it?" I asked, my tone a little more acerbic than I had meant. The next moment, my heart stuttered in my chest as Heero calmly rested his hand upon my thigh once again. High up, close to my hip. His eyes remained on the television, but his touch conveyed more than simple words were able. I calmed down. "Yeah," I repeated again, more calmly this time.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Heero said. For a moment, the weight of his palm against my thigh was the only thing in my world. I could have sworn he even gave me a little squeeze before it slipped away, his fingers innocently trailing along the thin material of my lounge pants and causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. I vowed from that moment on to only wear thongs if it meant I could have more skin on skin contact with him in that manner.

We sat in silence for the rest of the evening. I don't know what he was thinking about, he's not exactly an open book, but for me, I studied his profile from my peripheral vision. He's so handsome. I love the way his lips part when he's relaxed, just slightly, and it makes them look even fuller. His straight nose and that beautiful jawline. The way his hair frames his face and hides those stinging eyes of his. It's no wonder women go crazy about him. I'd love him if he was a scarred mess, because on the inside; that's who I fell for. He just happened to come with great packaging.

"Let's head out Saturday and just have a look around. Would you consider just buying a plot and building from scratch?"

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His head must have really been throbbing. It was my fault that he was in pain, if I hadn't have had that panic attack, he wouldn't be hurting right now. Shame flooded my heart and I fought not to hang my head in it. I didn't want him to feel guilty on my part on top of everything else I had put him through today.

"That sounds good to me," he said along with a soft exhale before bringing his head back right. "I need to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Duo."

"G'night, Heero," I answered, my voice a little huskier than usual. "I'll get you something for that headache."

"Thanks."


Heero's POV

I don't remember much, all I can recall is the fact that I had a nightmare. It was bad enough to cause me to get out of my bed and sleepwalk to the kitchen. What I do remember… was horrible. Duo and I were in a war; not a Gundam war, though. Something more antiquated. We were in France, in the middle of a blown out road that was made out of bricks instead of asphalt. Bullets were flying by our heads, but the discharges were dull, muffled.

In the dream, I was fifteen years old again. It was cold and wet; the sky above was blotted out by thick smoke. Not from burning buildings, but from the amount of guns being fired. Duo was lying on his back, wounded, crying out and writhing in pain and I ran to him. I felt the broken brick bite into my knee as I sank down next to him, opening his thick coat and trying to find the wound so I could hold pressure. There was blood everywhere; he was coughing it up by the bucket. Or so it seemed. I called out to him and he begged me to run, to hide and save myself, but I couldn't move from the spot. My hand continued to probe beneath his coat in a futile effort to staunch the bleeding because he was dying. The light was going out of his eyes and it frightened me in a way I had never felt fear before.

I never found the wound I so desperately sought to ease. Instead, I woke up crouched down in the kitchen with tears streaming down my face. The light was on and when I turned my head quickly over my shoulder, Duo was there. He was frightened and pale. Then he told me I had been calling his name over and over. That's what had woken him up; he thought I had needed him.

I did need him.

Just seeing him alive took away the last vestige of the horrible images and I slowly rose and brusquely wiped the remaining tears from my face. Without saying a word to him, I simply nodded my head and walked towards him, wanting to go back to bed. Before I could pass him, however, he reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. I paused and cut my eyes to him and he gave it a squeeze. It gave me comfort, tremendous amounts of strength in that gesture, and I knew that when I went back to my room, that I could go back to bed and sleep peacefully for the rest of the night.

I settled myself down and pulled the covers up halfway over my body with a sigh. My head was still pounding, even after the pills he had given me before I went to bed. Stress, that's all it was. I worry about him. I don't think he can cope as well as he pretends he can. Me? I'm fine. A nightmare here or there isn't going to kill me. I say that even after I've jumped out of a four story window during one. Duo, on the other hand, is far more fragile, more vulnerable. I don't think the war did that to him, though. No, I think it was his life, or whatever you could call his childhood, before we met. He has major abandonment issues.

He tapped the door softly before coming in and I opened an eye to peer at him. I like to sleep on my left side, which faces me towards the window with my back to the door. If your back is to the door, your enemies can't see how well armed you are.

"Hey, your head's still hurtin', isn't it?"

"Yeah, just a headache, I'll be fine."

"If you want, I can work on your neck," he offered. Why doesn't he just walk into my room? We've been so close all these years, yet he acts like the threshold is as far as he's allowed in. He doesn't seem to have a problem when I let myself into his room. Odd one, that Duo. Also, I leaped at his offer. Sometimes at work, Duo will come up behind one of us and massage our necks as he leans over to read what we're doing on the monitor and talk to us. He has Quatre absolutely spoiled, and even Trowa and Wufei will let him do that for as long as he will. Duo finds comfort in touch.

"Yeah," I said as I rolled over onto my stomach. I ran both arms beneath my pillows and closed my eyes, knowing that my headache would soon be gone. He was gentle as he sat down by my bedside, his fingers warm as they began to knead the stiff muscles.

"Man, Heero, you are tense," he observed. "I think you're going to need a vacation from your vacation, pal."

"Maybe during Christmas," I said as thumbs pressed along the back of my cervical spine and alternated circles into the muscle. This is what Heaven must feel like.

"Ah, Christmas," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. He loves Christmas. I do too, actually. I love snow, (we get plenty of it here) there's just something so satisfying about it. And when you get five ex-Gundam pilots together after work, in the parking lot of the main Preventer offices, after a fresh bought of snow, you can count on trouble.

"Mmm," I couldn't escape the sound as Duo managed to get a good pop out of my neck just from the constant pressure he was apply with his thumbs. He chuckled and worked down lower, pressing hard as he inched his way towards the last cervical disk and the first thoracic.

"Christmas is a ways away," he commented. I felt his fingers splay out along my shoulder blades as he pressed his thumbs along the knobs on my spine, working the muscles and aching tendons. My body began to relax further and the pain, which first went up to a crescendo somewhere along C-5, was slowly ebbing its way down. Oh yes, sleep would come easy tonight and I would have a very good rest. Duo's very good with his hands.

"If I take off, will you?"

"You know it," he said gently, moving his hands slowly down. I have scars on my back from where I self-detonated Wing. The shrapnel tore into me pretty badly and Trowa had once told me that while I was out, they had to battle several small infections in the wounds. The back of my right shoulder was the worse; that took forever to heal. I'm glad they tended me though and not some hospital staff. The scars aren't stiff and they don't pull like the one on my left shoulder. That one was treated in a hospital and I am considering having it cut so I can have full range of comfortable motion again. If I reach too far out and up, it hurts, for lack of a better word.

"Ah!" Another pop from my lower thoracic caused me to cry out in pain. Not in agony, but the good kind of pain that makes you long for yet another pop just for the sensation of painful relief. Duo chuckled and paused in that area, working the muscles there.

"You're getting' old, Heero," he said, but his voice was warm. Was that… affection? No. Duo just being Duo.

"So are you, Duo, you're the oldest one out of the bunch," I grunted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, rub it in, why don't you?" Again, his voice was warm and full of a softness I don't recall ever hearing before. It was nice. It suited him.

"Why don't you rub it in," I said in return. He chuckled and went back to the massage. My eyes were too heavy to stay open, and I don't remember when he slipped down to my lower back. I had completely missed it by falling asleep.

I was right though; I was able to get back to sleep that night with the warm feeling of his strong hands bringing me much sweeter dreams.