So Far Down

by the Black Rose

AN: A very special thank you to Psyche for her beta-reading services! Also a heartfelt thank you to Tyr and GW Addiction for the 3rd place award in the annual angst contest. I'm truly very VERY honored.

Warning: Angst. Boys having feelings towards one another.

PRECAUTION: This part does not feature Heero and Relena. The latter portions of the arc will be 1+R/R+1. This first piece is from Duo's POV and is about his observations regarding Heero. If you see anything else in it, that's fine. If you don't, fine. It's not essential to the storyline either way.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing and make no money off of writing fanfiction with Bandai's characters. *sniffle sob*

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So Far Down


AC 199

Duo's POV


You can always tell one by the eyes – an old soldier, a remnant from the war. There's this look. It's indescribable, really. Lost, broken…it always reminds me of the man I saw sitting in the hospital just after the last battle. I went to see Hilde, and he was there – his mouth hanging open like he was trying to scream, but no sound would come out.
They told me the injuries he sustained during the war put him in a catatonic state. But his eyes told you everything; he was a man trapped. Lost. And he just couldn't find his way.

In many ways, I am that man.


It had been three years since I had last seen Heero. I ran into him at a bar of all places. At first, he was just blue eyes amongst a sea of faces. Then recognition set in – I had seen those eyes before.

"Hey, buddy." I clapped him on the back and grinned. "Long time."

He squinted a bit before nodding. The movement was slower than I remembered. Then I looked at him, and really saw…. He was thin, to the point of being gaunt. His face was swathed in shadows, dark circles marred the flesh around his eyes. It struck me, harder than anything else I could remember. He had been the best of us, the strongest of us all. If he couldn't make it, what chance in hell did I have?

Determined to play out my little charade, I continued. "Still talkative as usual. Where ya been?"

"Nowhere."

"Huh. Yeah, been there a few times myself."

"Duo, shut the fuck up."

Heero. He was still as straight to the point as ever. And I should have known I couldn't fool him. As I said, you can always tell one by the eyes…And when you see that look in the mirror every day you dare to look, you recognize it on someone else; there's no point in trying to hide.

"I hate this place."

"Hn."

"Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air? We could talk, or jump off a bridge together."

"B. But you'll have to shoot me first."

"Didn't work so well last time, but whatever you want."

He nodded, paid his tab, and we were out the door, choking on West European brand smog. I didn't ask him what he was doing on Earth, where he was going, or how he was. We walked for a long time in silence, down the cobbled lanes with really no destination in mind. Wind whipped through the front of my hair, rippling goosebumps down my spine, before it disappeared into the dismal night.

The quiet was deep, but more comfortable than all the nights I had spent alone, as if some intangible part of me found solace in just his presence. I needed him to be the strong one, the one with answers, the one I could follow into sunlight and life – the way life was meant to be. Not this…emptiness and day to day existence like we were all shadows mimicking and following the brightly-colored forms of those who truly lived.

I needed him to be the strong one, and so I believed he was. And then at some point along the way, one of us broke and shattered like a window pane, the shards of glass crashing to the floor in one fractured, crystal wave.

I was so blind. I didn't realize, didn't want to see, that Heero was sinking. And when I did…well, what could I do but grab on to him with all my strength and risk myself to pull him up?

But a drowning man has no business trying to save someone else; and I had been drowning so slowly since the last days of the war. I shouldn't have tried. I didn't have enough to give, and only succeeded in dragging him further under the swirling tide.

The glass cut my hands and made me bleed, but in the end, I couldn't put him back together.

The strongest of us…I needed at least that to believe in, would have given my heart and soul for that one hope.

But hope died in the tiny bedroom of my apartment, the fleeting illusion slipping through my bloodied grasp. He sat there like that man in the hospital, only his jaw wasn't hanging open, trying to scream. Instead, his pants lay down around his ankles, giving full view of the needle tracks along the length of the main arteries in his legs, and when I looked, in between his toes as well.

I think I cried then. I think he cried, too. He just stared down at the marks that were slowly stealing his life away, and draining the last of the simple hope that we could go back someday, to the way we were before the war – the innocent children from an ideal past that never truly existed. Children that were never meant to see so much death.

We didn't speak as the night wore on, the silent connection between us broken somehow, along with everything else.

The sun rose at dawn, because it always did, and life mockingly continued all around us even when it no longer lived inside. We didn't say goodbye, I didn't want to. In truth, I was afraid that it really would be, and maybe hope hadn't completely died after all. He avoided my gaze as he left, going back to who knew where doing I didn't know what.

He said four words to me as the door shut behind him: "Take care of yourself."

Yeah. Sure. A simple message, Heero, read loud and clear. Well, I didn't have all your answers, either, I'm afraid. But if I learned one thing, it's that I can't make it alone. And if life is still worth living, then I'm going to have to fight for it. Every day, one day at a time.

One day at a time.

As the sun climbed higher above the horizon, lighting the day into morning, I took a deep breath and gazed out the window at the myriads of people milling about the city's streets below. All of them breathing, living because of something we did. Something I did. And maybe if I can remember that, if I can hold onto it like a shield to hold the nightmares at bay, at least as long as my eyes are open….Maybe it'll be enough for one more fight.

Enough for one more day.

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AN: Thank you to Eli and Stefy, my 2 very sweet and supportive friends from Italy (who happen to be awesome artists as well). LOOK! I'm finally posting it!!!!

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEFY!!!!

As much love to everyone as I can squeeze through this monitor… ~Rose