Adaptation
By: Kiamirei
~I own nothing, of course…and thank you to the people who reviewed. I appreciate it. Information
about prosthesis can be found at the Web MD and The War Amps. The addresses are
www.waramps.ca and www.my.webmd.com. If the information I have is incorrect, or if
you have more information to give, please don't hesitate to contact me.
Lunch was eaten in silence. It was always eaten in silence, as were their other meals. That was just the way that things were; both Heero and Trowa had always been more comfortable in stillness than in conversation. However, this routine was broken when the Japanese pilot looked up from his plate and told his companion the information he had discovered that morning.
"Duo and Wufei had to leave the base," he said. "They destroyed it, of course. I've managed to track them down to Relena's estate."
Trowa looked up, his face impassive, although the other boy could see the surprise veiled within the depths of his eyes.
"Why did they go?"
"People were getting suspicious of them."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
"They should have waited until they were forced to leave."
"Hn. Maybe they were too nervous."
"Maybe."
"….Heero…. " Pilot 03 did not know how to start up the topic that he wanted to discuss, so, as always, he decided to be blunt and get to the point. "I want legs again."
"Hn."
And that was it. But it was all that needed to be said.
* * * *
Their Gundams had been stored away with Sandrock, and they sat with it's pilot in the dining room.
"So did you get the information you needed?" Quatre asked.
"Yeah," Duo said. "Most of it."
"We have enough," Wufei agreed. "There would have been more, but Duo finally convinced me to leave… What is it, Quatre?"
"Oh, it's just, you used Duo's first name. You never used to do that."
The boy looked down. "Yes, well, we had a little…disagreement. And now we've come to understand some things."
What things? Quatre asked silently, glancing at the dark bruise on the American's face. But, understanding that the matter was something private, he said nothing.
* * * *
"You're going to have to deal without having legs," Heero informed him several hours later. "For awhile, at least."
"Why?"
"Sally's the only doctor we can trust, and she left the area awhile ago."
"So we'll break into a hospital and steal some. We can handle it alone."
Heero stared at him, cobalt eyes quickly analyzing. Trowa looked down, slightly blushing, knowing what this meant; his comrade knew now.
"You didn't do any research. You don't know anything about prosthetic legs." It was a statement. Pilot 03 continued gazing at the floor, refusing –unable, the Japanese boy realized- to meet his eyes.
"Why?"
"I…I…" Trowa finally looked up, and behind the deadpan expression lurked the vulnerability that Heero had not known existed. He'd known about the desperation, yes, but vulnerability? It seemed so unlikely and out of place that he decided he was mistaken.
"You what?"
"I…I was nervous." Damn, but this was humiliating. He despised having to be this open; it made him feel embarrassed and insecure.
"Of what?"
"That I'd find out something bad, and have to go on living like this. You don't have any idea what it's like," he said bitterly. "I hate it. I've never had to rely on anyone else in my life before this. And now there's so little I can do on my own. It doesn't help that my arms were left so weak, either. Before, I could fight, and it was the only thing I had. But now I have nothing. I can't even be Nanashi anymore, because at least Nanashi could fight."
"Nanashi?"
"Even Heavyarms is gone. The only thing keeping me going was the thought that once I got legs again I could go back to the war."
"But surely you didn't think that you'd just snap on a pair of fake legs and go prance around the colony."
"I knew it wasn't going to be like that. But I didn't allow myself to think about it."
"Trowa," the boy started tiredly, a rare expression of pity –and a tiny bit of irritation- crossing his face, but he was cut off.
"Don't look at me like that, Heero. It's bad enough knowing you'll never accept me as a normal, capable person again now that I have no legs."
Cobalt eyes widened in surprise, but there was no answer. Neither of them said another word –they didn't know what to say- but the silence spoke volumes.
* * * *
"So, Quatre, how's it been lately, living with Relena?"
"Don't get me started on it."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah. She's really not a bad person, and she's inarguably a genius politically. But her actions and her behaviors…they're just so…so…"
"Bitchy?"
"Pushy would be the kinder word. She doesn't do justice to her upbringing. And it made me angry that she couldn't have cared less about Trowa."
"Really?"
"It's true. I told her what happened and she cut me off halfway through to ask if Heero was okay. And then when I finished the story, she obviously didn't care."
Duo sighed. "Oh well, you couldn't really expect her to give a shit. It's not like she knew him. I doubt she even knows what he looked like."
"I know, but…I still miss him."
"I understand, but you know, Quatre…"
"What?"
"I… it's just that, I haven't really been thinking about him all that much anymore. It's sad that he died, and he was a good person, but I didn't know him well. And we have a war to fight, you know. I can't very well sit up at night and cry over him; as depressing as it is that he had to self-destruct, it doesn't change the fact that I still have to climb into Deathscythe's cockpit in the morning and to beat the shit out of OZ. He's the lucky one. He doesn't have to fight anymore. He did his part and now he's done. End of story."
"That sounds so coldhearted."
"Maybe. And I'm sorry if it offends you. But it's the truth…. You know, Wufei still thinks he's alive."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The poor guy can't make himself accept the facts. I think it's because Trowa's the only one who was actually kind to him."
"Kind?"
"After he was defeated by Treize, Wufei told me that Trowa brought him back to the circus. Didn't say anything the entire time, just motioned for him to follow, and fed him when they got there. He offered him a place to stay for as long as he wanted, and a job at the circus."
"I'm surprised. Trowa kept to himself pretty much."
"I know. Weird, huh? Trowa and Heero were the only two that he let get close to him. But Trowa's dead and Heero disappeared. We can't find him. He hasn't even been attacking any OZ facilities. Maybe he's still fixing Wing Zero, but it's been a few months already. He most likely is being forced to hide somewhere."
"I see." Quatre looked down at the table.
"Did you fix Sandrock?"
"Ah…I never really got the chance to. Why?"
"Because Wufei and I want to get going pretty soon."
"And you need Sandrock?"
"Well, you're coming with us, aren't you?"
"Seriously?"
Duo looked at him as if he was being idiotic, which, the boy realized, was true.
"I'll call Howard as soon as possible, and have him come here," the Arabian promised.
"Good. Now…when's lunch? I'm hungry."
The brown-haired boy flashed a grin at him and left, presumably towards the kitchen. Quatre stayed where he was, contemplating the conversation. Maybe Duo was right. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about Trowa, and time to stop blaming Relena for not caring. It didn't have anything to do with her, after all.
* * * *
They hadn't spoken to each other for about four days, which was not disturbing to either of them in the least. The extended silence was by no means a petty expression of their displeasure with the other; rather, it was in order to allow them to think without being under any pressure to put up any fronts. Heero still made breakfast for the both of them in the morning, and brought his ally's portion upstairs. Trowa's arms were getting stronger, and he was now able to bring himself from his bed, onto the floor to get dressed, into the bathroom to wash, and back to the bed. He then ate the food that would be waiting for him, and lifted weights when he was finished. He would do this until he could no longer hold them, and then rested before taking another shower. And he had also done research, prompted from inactivity by the last conversation they had had.
One thing that he learned was that Heero had been right: he could not simply get the substitute legs and be ready to go in the span of a day or two. They had been changing the bandages around the stumps of his legs, which was a good thing, but they had been neglecting the next step that would be necessary if he wanted to walk again. Before he could even think about piloting, on top of doubling the frequency and weight of his arm exercises, he would have to do exercises that would strengthen the muscles of and around the stumps. He could have been fitted for a temporary prosthesis during the second or third week, but had still been unconscious at the time. However, even if he had been fitted, he still could not walk. Weight-bearing would need to begin, to prepare his diminished limbs to hold himself up. The amount would increase gradually until his stumps could tolerate his full weight. Overall, it could take around ten or twelve weeks before he could be fitted for a permanent prosthesis, and before he could start walking with a crutch. Trowa sighed. Ten or twelve weeks was a long time to wait when a war going on.
That was far too long a delay, and Sally wasn't even around. This was not looking good. Then again, he supposed that he should be grateful and consider himself lucky; Heero was still around, taking care of him, despite the obvious burden it was causing. They were in a state of uneasiness at the moment, but ever since he had self-destructed, the Japanese pilot had been showing unexpected altruism. For a brief, unsettling moment, he contemplated why Wing Zero's pilot continued to be kind to him, and what it implied before shoving it out of his mind. Trowa instead reflected that perhaps his comments, as mild as they had sounded, had been slightly over the line. The ghost of a smile traced his lips; despite the fact that their expressions were deadpan and their voices monotone, they certainly did observe strict rules of courtesy and conveyed much of their wishes without even having to speak. The boy recalled something that Duo had said to him once, half in jest and half seriously: "Damn it, Trowa, for two people with personalities like a rock, you and Heero can be so infuriatingly subtle!"
That bit of nostalgia led him to wonder how the other pilots were faring, and then he remembered that they most likely thought he was dead. The tiny, hint of a smile he had been wearing disappeared.
* * * *
The circus simply wasn't the same without Trowa. She felt this very profoundly, and knew that the loss was not merely the fact that she needed to find someone else to throw knives at. He had been an odd one, always kind and ready to help but also a perfectionist and fanatical about keeping what he did before joining them and during his short leaves a secret. Of course, that had all come out into the open during the little stunt in which he decided to self-destruct. Luckily, he had regained his senses when she had slapped him in the face, and the boy had lived to see another day.
But she hadn't been there to stop him this time.
They continued traveling, of course, although the Manager had graciously offered her as much time off as she needed. She had declined, though, needing something to keep her busy so that she would not slip into the clutches of despair that threatened her at all hours of the day; work would help her put off having to deal with her emotions. The woman smiled faintly. "Procrastination" was the name of the game, and she prided herself on playing it well.
Blinking quickly in an attempt to chase away the tears that threatened to fall, she picked up her knives and walked outside to the board she practiced on; even without a partner, she needed to keep her skills up to par.
