Oh Plot Bunny! Files #4: Ashes, Ashes

by rainjewel

He stepped into the darkened room. Amidst the plethora of medical machines and devices (all turned-off and silent), lay a thin figure in a hospital gown. Bruises covered the pale, milky skin. The hands were bandaged; the right wrist was in a brace...

4. We All Fall...Down

Oh Plot Bunny Files! #4: Ashes, Ashes

By: rainjewel

A/N: And so all good things must come to an end. I promise that I will eventually write a decent story instead of a plot bunny. Silly things just keep popping up. Thankies to everyone who reviewed!! You are my favorite people in all the whole wide world!!

A slight warning—rampant sap. It's everywhere. I've planted myself a damn maple tree forest full of it.

DEDICATED TO: My dearest Kayla and Stephanie. The world's greatest Care Bears and the loveliest little proteges the world has ever seen. Consider yourselves completely corrupted. There's nothing more I can do.

~*~

Hospitals were for the weak. Wufei hated them.

But here he sat, waiting patiently (as patient as he could be) for Sally to come out of the room. Upon their arrival, she had immediately taken over the hospital's own staff and flung herself into full "Doctor Mode." No one had questioned her. Well, some little first-year nimrod had, but one look from Wufei had silenced him quite effectively.

Sally came through the door, closing it softly.

"Does he have to stay?" Wufei asked, rising to meet her.

"Technically, yes…"

Wufei shot her a dark look.

Sally smiled. "…But I think he needs to be with the others."

"Thank you," Wufei said. It didn't hurt to say it anymore.

"Go on in there. The tranquilizers were pretty heavy, but I think he'll be up sooner then most. Careful of his bandages," Sally advised. She scribbled something down on a clipboard held in her hand.

Wufei looked down to his toes, then cocked his head up in a completely uncharacteristic manner. "I expect you make house calls?"

Sally quirked an eyebrow, then placed an unsure hand on Wufei's shoulder. Her own shoulders shook a bit as she chuckled softly. "Of course."

Wufei looked at the hand on his shoulder in interest, but didn't say anything. He nodded and walked to the door. It was light, opening easily. He stepped into the darkened room. Amidst the plethora of medical machines and devices (all turned-off and silent), lay a thin figure in a hospital gown. Bruises covered the pale, milky skin. The hands were bandaged; the right wrist was in a brace and the boy's entire left leg was scraped raw. There was a huge bandage across the figure's forearm.

Wufei clucked his tongue. He padded up to the bed and snatched up the light blue hospital scrubs that lay at the end. Quickly he slipped the pants onto the boy's body, taking care to not aggravate the scrapes and bruises. The patient didn't stir, not surprising Wufei at all. He sat down on the bed, pulling the unconscious body up to a sitting position, leaning the boy against his chest. Gently Wufei lifted the hospital gown over the boy's head.

Wufei felt his anger spark as he saw the scrapes along the boy's back and felt the pressure of the white gauze that protected the wounded shoulder.

How dare this happen. How dare anyone cause such pain to the Gundam pilots.

He slipped the soft shirt over his comrade's torso. Then he reached around and pulled the thick chestnut braid through the collar, freeing it from the cloth. The plait was a mess, but he'd rebraid it while they waited.

Silently Wufei lifted Duo off of the bed. Quickly, yet smoothly, he walked to the door.

"Sally."

The door opened, allowing Wufei to pass through without having to disturb the unconscious American. He walked down the hall, his face dark with rage. Sally fell into step behind him. Together they walked down the corridor, their eyes daring anyone to object to the proceedings.

Sally stopped at a pale blue door that led to another patient room. "You should wait in here. I'll meet Trowa and Quatre and send them in."

"I doubt we'll be here very much longer," Wufei said, glancing through the small window beside the door.

Sally nodded and smiled. "He's not up yet, you know."

Wufei grunted good-naturedly, but said nothing. Sally held open the door while he walked through it and then shut it, drifting down to the waiting rooms to meet the other pilots. Wufei had a random thought about doing "something nice" for her after this entire mess had blown over—but then immediately dismissed it.

Wufei carefully walked over to the small couch positioned beside the bed. He sat down, rearranging Duo's body so that the American was lying on his side, chestnut head pillowed in his lap. The pale boy snored lightly.

Baka. What were you thinking? What did they do to you? He gave Duo's head a tentative pat. The feel of the ragged hair reminded him and he undid the American's braid and began sorting tangles.

When he was done plaiting Duo's hair, Wufei looked to the hospital bed. Heero lay there, his upper half propped up on pillows. He'd just come out from surgery. The bullet had lodged itself in the muscle of the Japanese boy's shoulder, nicking a lung and breaking the collarbone. Heero would probably be fully recovered within a month at the most—Wufei didn't doubt the healing ability of the Perfect Soldier for a second.

Blue eyes opened, slightly slower than usual.

"How is he?" Heero's classic monotone sang through the room. Wufei bit back a small smile.

"Physically it's nothing the baka can't handle. I have no idea what's going on in that loopy little mind of his," Wufei said. His insulting manner was only half-hearted. Truth be told, he respected Duo Maxwell. The boy ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, but he had a brilliant mind and was a damn good pilot.

"Hn."

Heero calmly slipped the IV needle out of his arm (they seemed to give the damn things out even to the people who didn't need them) and detached himself from any monitor. Then he gracefully slipped from the bed. The only sign of the side effects from the anesthesia was the slight decrease in his usual pace. Heero was moving at only ½ his supernatural speed.

Quickly the Japanese boy located a pair of hospital scrubs and slipped them on. They were like Duo's, but they were a dark green not unlike his tank top. He had a large bandage covering his right shoulder.

Wufei caught a slight twitch at the corner of Heero's mouth as he pulled the shirt over his head. And you're a baka too.

"Trowa and Quatre will be here soon. We'll wait 'til they come," Wufei said. Heero nodded, looking outside through the small window by the door. The hallway was empty. The shorter boy turned and looked to Wufei.

Heero pointed a finger towards Duo. "Would you mind?"

Wufei blinked, confused for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No, it's fine."

Very carefully, Wufei stood up from the little couch. Gently he lifted Duo's body as Heero sat down, occupying the spot he had just been sitting in. The Japanese pilot eased Duo's head back into his lap. The American made a sound that sounded like a sob and reached out with a hand, looking for something to grab. Heero took that hand in his, looking at it in fascination as Duo quieted down, drawing Heero's hand to his chest.

Wufei felt very out of place. I always thought they might…but Duo…oh well.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "So, aah…good to see you, Yuy."

~*~

Trowa's heart felt heavy. His soul felt heavy. His whole goddamned body felt heavy. He felt as though his usual light-footedness had suddenly abandoned him, though he was still gliding along with his usual gait.

The trip to the hospital had proven to be interesting. The minute he and Quatre had walked through those doors and seen Sally Po…he had feared the worst. However, a quick, kind word from the woman had soothed him, along with Quatre's small fingers slipping in between his own. She had promptly led them to Heero's hospital room, where Trowa was surprised to find the Japanese boy sitting on the couch, Duo lying unconscious in his lap. Wufei was sitting on the bed, trying his best to act normal. To Trowa, it looked as if the Chinese boy had a large stick shoved up his…nose.

Hmm…I would have thought Wufei would have been more observant.

Trowa saw the rather blank look on Heero's face.

But I suppose it's not that obvious.

Wufei stood up. "I know you two want to know what happened, but lets just get out of here first. Everything can be explained in the car."

No, damnit! Jesus Christ, look at Duo! What the hell happened?!

"Sure," he said, his voice as cool and unemotional as it had always been.

And so he had led the way back out to the car, situating everyone. Wufei carried Duo, Heero unable to do so because of his arm, but the minute everyone was seated the American was back into the ex-Wing pilot's hold.

Trowa found that his age-old cool and patience had returned to him. The thought somewhat sickened him, but today seemed to be a good time for everyone to fall back on their old habits. He didn't even blink as Heero told the whole tale of Duo's little "trip" to the Preventors. Heero, he noticed, didn't either.

And so with a blank countenance Trowa stepped out from the limousine, reaching back in to take Duo, who was starting to show the first signs of waking up. The boy was mumbling and fluttering his fingers as the five ex-pilots walked into the mansion.

At the base of the indoor staircase, Heero suddenly wheeled around. Trowa took a quick step back. Duo muttered and turned over in his arms. Suddenly he felt tired.

"I'll take him from here," Heero said. "I think we should all take a break for the rest of the day and meet tomorrow morning at 6:00. Then we'll decide on our next course of action."

Wufei and Quatre nodded. Trowa looked at Heero's bandaged shoulder.

"You sure you can carry him?" he asked.

Heero gave the green-eyed pilot a good "watch me" look, slipped his arms under Duo's thin frame, and took the boy from Trowa.

"Heero?" Quatre asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to stay with him? Make sure he's…" Quatre trailed off and fidgeted. He took a step closer to Trowa.

Heero nodded. "Yes."

Trowa caught a note of anxiety in the Japanese boy's tone. Time to make an exit. He turned to Quatre and Wufei.

"Well then," he said. "I suggest we go and get the situation cleaned up down there."

Wufei folded his arms. "I'll go back and finish tying up the loose ends with Sally. Trowa, you and Quatre can stay here and take care of that baka."

Quatre smiled gently. "Thank you Chang."

He's the only one who could get away with that, I think. Trowa turned slightly and lowered his voice, sending Heero a message that only the Japanese boy could hear.

"Go ahead and take him upstairs. I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

Trowa had always had a certain understanding with Heero. They were the two pilots who had the most in common. If Heero came home with a broken leg and didn't want to set it, Trowa understood and didn't bother him. Trowa was the only one who didn't chide Heero for spending thirteen hours straight in front of his laptop (even Wufei had finally broken down—"When the hell are you going to actually go on the mission instead of sitting around here all day like a damn onna?!"). Heero was the same with him. If the taller boy wanted to go on a mission with only a pencil as artillery, so be it.

And so, without doubting his comrade in the least, Heero gave a small grunt and dashed up the stairs.

Trowa refocused on Quatre and Wufei. "I'll come by later and help you out. If you don't need help with cleanup, I'm sure I can be of service in the near future."

"What do you mean?" Quatre and Wufei asked in unison.

"It seems the government has decided to stop providing correct information to the Preventors. Obviously that's a problem. This kind of thing comes from a bad seed in the higher-ups. Under Relena's peaceful rule, the entire government wouldn't pull something like this. Besides Heero, I have the least amount of information on me—I'm perfect for infiltration," Trowa explained.

Wufei blinked, obviously surprised at all the words that had just come tumbling out of the green-eyed boy's mouth. Trowa didn't care. He felt a little too tired to be taciturn at the moment.

"Good point," the Chinese boy said, politely.

Quatre gave a huge yawn. "I'm beat," he said meekly. Trowa tried to stifle his own.

"Take a nap," Wufei said, point-blank. "I've got to get going."

"Feel free to use the limo. Tell Une I'll pay for damages too," Quatre said. He gave a small frown. "And give her my sympathies of course."

"Fine. Trowa, take care of everyone." Wufei turned and walked out the door, as brusque as ever.

Quatre looked to Trowa and clapped his hands. "Alright! Off to bed you go!"

Huh?

Trowa blinked. "Come again?"

"You're tired, Trowa," said the blonde. He stepped up to the taller boy and gave him a huge hug. "I know you caught the red-eye flight to come here. Go get some sleep."

"What about Duo?" Trowa asked.

Quatre sighed. "He's hurting. A lot more than I thought he'd be able to, if that makes sense. But I think Heero will be able to help him. He…needs him, but I don't think he knows that yet. I don't know how much help we'd be."

Trowa kissed the small Arabian on the head. "Alright. Show me to my room."

Quatre looked up and grinned at him. "Okay."

Trowa let himself be dragged up the stairs, down the hall, and all around the second floor of the mansion, before Quatre finally stopped in front of a door.

Hm. Since when did guests get to stay in the master bedroom?

~*~

Heero didn't know how well this was going to go over. He supposed that right now it was either sink or swim. Today…today was a day of life-altering decisions and events.

Sounded a little dramatic to him.

Oh well. It couldn't really be helped.

Duo was lying on his bed, curled in a relaxed fetal position. The tranquilizers had long ago worn off—the American was now asleep on his own accord. Heero sat beside him on the bed, leaning back against the backboard. It was a good thing Duo had a double bed.

Heero let his hand trail down to smooth out Duo's spiky bangs. He kept it there, gently caressing the silkiness of the boy's chestnut locks. His damn shoulder hurt, and it was hard to breathe on the right side of his body. He figured he'd probably had his lung nicked by the bullet. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days.

All right, weeks.

Heero shifted slightly. What if Duo woke up with that same crazy gleam in his eye? Worse yet, what if Duo woke up and was broken—destroyed, as some soldiers became after being pushed to their limit. This mission had triggered something dark that lay in the American's heart, and it had nearly made him kill off his own friends.

What if Heero told him that—

Duo moaned. Heero felt eyelashes flutter against the tip of his thumb. He snatched his hand away.

"Heero?"

The voice was airy and awed.

"I'm here Duo," he said. Heero almost winced at his own monotone. Out of plain fear he kept his eyes forward.

"Are you all right?" Duo asked. With a grunt the American boy sat up, his movements sluggish and unbalanced due to the tranquilizers.

"Careful," Heero said softly, scooting over on the bed to allow Duo more room. He about smacked himself over the head. Now why in the hell did he have to go and say that?

Duo reached out with a wrapped hand and touched Heero's bandaged shoulder as lightly as humanly possible. The Japanese boy froze.

"I—I'm sorry," Duo whispered.

Heero shrugged his good shoulder. "I'm fine."

Duo dropped his hand. He leaned against the headboard and looked away. The misery and agony was so incredibly apparent on his face that Heero felt like crying…well, he'd never cried, but he supposed this is what it felt like.

Heero dredged up all of his reserves.

"Want to talk about it?"

The American's head snapped around quicker than Heero expected. He supposed it was warranted—since when had he given a damn? For a moment Duo's face seemed to open up in relief, but then those violet eyes blanked out.

"No," Duo said. He brought his knees up to his chest and laid his head down on them. "Could you…could you please leave me alone?"

"Duo," Heero said, "Do not start acting like me."

"It's all right," the longhaired boy whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm better now. I'm not going to go on a rampage."

"I'm not worried about that," Heero said.

"You're never worried." The words were quiet and matter-of-fact.

Heero blinked. "That's not true."

"Look," Duo said, his tone suddenly turning sharp. He snapped his eyes open and burned two holes in Heero's head. "I don't want you here right now, that's all. You've already seen me losing touch with reality. I don't want you seeing me at my most wretched. I'm not as strong as you Heero, I can't handle it."

"I am not going to leave you alone to wallow in self-loathing and self-pity," Heero said. He relaxed a little. Duo was at least getting angry in the usual manner. He rolled with the mood swing and was patient.

"I can't understand you," Duo said, bitingly. He squirmed a little on the bed. "I don't fucking get you."

"What? You've always said I'm dangerously predictable," Heero replied, giving his head a small scratch.

"Exactly. You're always the Perfect Soldier. You're always Mr. Tank top and Spandex. You like your sandwiches with a dollop of mayo but not mustard because you're allergic to it. You are Mr. Do-Right. You can shoot down an army of mobile dolls faster than you can shower. You have a close personal attachment to your laptop. The only thing you ever say to me is 'Shut up Duo,' and 'baka.' You never show your emotions. Which is why for the life of me I can't understand why the hell you're sitting in my bed, sounding as if you give a damn about my well-being," Duo spat.

For a moment, Heero absorbed the information. He hadn't realized that Duo was that observant. Was the American resentful? Or was he just merely stating the truth? Disillusioned, perhaps? Well, he'd have to fix that.

"I do give a damn," Heero whispered finally. He wiped his sweating palms on his pants.

Duo's face fell, as if he'd been hit. The anger vanished and his body relaxed. "Why?"

"Because I think I'm…I'm…" Heero stopped and took a breath. Duo's face was anxious.

Sink or swim. Fight or flight. Do or die.

"Because I think I'm in love with you."

Time decided to stop momentarily.

Holy fuck. I just said it. Holy fuck. I never thought I'd ever say anything like that. I never thought I'd ever FEEL anything like this. But I never thought…I never thought I'd meet anyone like him. Sweet Jesus…I think I'm fucked.

Duo looked at him for a long time, little gears turning behind his violet gaze.

Heero did what he was best at—staying silent. The American flipped his braid over one shoulder and stroked it. He stared at his lap.

"Do you mean that?" he whispered.

"Yes," Heero answered. His chest was burning with an unfamiliar sensation. Could that be…fear?

"Oh god," Duo breathed. He let out a small, tortured sob, and then buried his face in his arms. "Oh god oh god oh god."

Heero felt his heart sink. Yep, I'm fucked. That wasn't exactly the reaction I had hoped for.

But before he knew what he was doing, Heero had reached out and circled an arm around his comrade's shaking shoulders. Duo surprised him and turned into the touch, clutching at the sides of Heero's scrub shirt as he sobbed against his chest.

"I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry Heero. I'm so glad you're all right. I'm so glad I didn't…I didn't…oh god Heero, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Duo. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay, alright?" Heero said, his voice gentler than he thought it could be. For some reason he felt as if he'd passed a test. As if by confessing his feelings he'd been given a green card to pass through Duo's walls. He hoped they led to something important. He carefully wrapped both arms around the American and held him. It felt wonderful, despite the fact that he was pained by the anguish Duo was feeling.

The longhaired boy shuddered harshly, but his tears stopped. "I'm…I'm…"

"Duo?" Heero whispered in the ex-pilot's ear. He felt closer to Duo, yet heartbroken as to how far away he really was. Why were all his emotions in a paradox with themselves?

"Yes?"

"Tell me what happened today."

Duo's death grip on his side relaxed. "O-okay."

~*~

Heero said he might be in love with him.

Duo didn't know what to think. Sure, he'd considered the possibility of a relationship with Heero when he had first met him, but that was during the war. It had been too risky and certainly unimportant. To fall in love with someone who could be dead the next day was not the kind of emotional roller coaster Duo wanted.

Not to mention that Heero seemed to be a robot clothed in skin made of gundanium.

But there had always been that closeness…how Heero would put up with his bad jokes, actually listen when Duo had something constructive to say, and for some reason the Japanese boy always chose him for partner missions.

Heero might love him…god, what a wonderful feeling. And to think that just a few hours earlier he had attempted to kill him.

Duo relaxed against the other boy's chest. It felt so nice to be held. He blinked away the horrors of the afternoon—the motorcycle chase, Une's eyes dilating and sliding shut, Heero collapsing on top of him, finally falling unconscious from his injuries. Of course, that was after the Japanese boy had saved his life by knocking the gun out of his hand as he pulled the trigger. The bullet had barely grazed the top of his shoulder.

Ah, the Perfect Soldier with his lightening quick reflexes.

Feeling safe and on his way to peace, Duo locked the bad memories away. Wufei's yelling combined with his screams as he tried to revive Heero, convinced the boy was dead, slowly faded from his mind. The sting of the tranquilizer Sally had injected into his arm as Wufei held him lessened in its recent intensity.

Heero waited patiently for him to begin. The Japanese boy was probably dying in anticipation after his little confession. Duo needed to tell him how he felt. But first…

"I was raised in an orphanage," Duo said. The words were hard to say. It was as if they were swollen and roughly edged. He'd never told anyone about his past. However, Duo found himself methodically telling the sorry tale of his life before the war. How he was responsible for the demise of Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, the days he spent whoring on the streets, and finally about stealing away onto G's ship.

He didn't tell Heero about Solo. He didn't know why.

Duo sighed, falling silent. He felt tired and empty. The violent insanity he'd finally let slip had left as quickly as it'd come. Now all that was left was his constant guilt and sadness. All he had to do was slap that grin back on his face and crack a joke.

Congratulations, it's Instant Duo.

Why the hell was it so hard this time? How could he have lost that much control of himself?

"So you fought the war to atone for the massacre?" Heero asked.

Duo nodded, wretched once more. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"It wasn't your fault," Heero whispered. "The orphanage would have been bombed with or without you stealing that MS. You had no control over the situation. Exactly like today. You can't blame yourself for things that you couldn't have prevented."

Duo said nothing. He'd heard the same argument before. He reached up and ran a finger down Heero's neck. Perhaps he could find absolution here. Heero was as innocent as they came. Absolution in innocence. It had a wonderful, if almost unbelievingly impossible ring to it.

"I fought the war for other reasons as well," he said. Heero has skin like porcelain. He'd never noticed before.

"Would you like to elaborate?" Heero asked. His eyes closed.

This boy was just too damn cute. There was a definite possibility here. Duo prayed there was, at least.

"Heero, you know I never lie, right?" he asked. He felt himself sinking back, leaning into the Japanese boy. He pillowed his head on a tan, undamaged shoulder.

Heero's eyes remained closed. "Yes."

Deep breath. Big gulp. I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie. Duo Maxwell.

"I've always cared about you Heero. I fought the war with every intention of keeping you alive. I never made a move that increased the risk for you. In other words, I could easily, easily fall in love with you," Duo whispered.

It was surprisingly easy to say it, even. Was that an omen? Heero's eyes popped open.

"But…" he continued, "I'm…I'm…scared. I'm really fucking terrified. Look at what happened—"

Suddenly there was a finger against his lips.

"Don't think about what happened today, or any day before this," Heero said, angling his head towards Duo's. "Because no matter what you've done or what you're going to do, it's not going to affect the way I feel."

"Are you sure about that?" Duo asked, ignoring the finger pressed against his mouth. God, Heero had deep, deep blue eyes.

"I don't say anything I don't mean," Heero replied.

"And I never lie," Duo said, smiling at the similarity. He was feeling better for the first time since the mission. "You wanna know something else?"

Heero relaxed beneath him. "Sure."

"I think I just might be in love with you too," he said, bringing a hand up to cup the side of the other boy's face.

Wonders of wonders, was that a smile on lips of a Mr. Heero Yuy?

Duo felt his eyes light up. Feeling free, he leaned in and softly kissed Heero on the mouth.

Absolution felt damn good.

~*~