Notes: I'm really sorry that this took so long, but the muse in control of this fic just completely buggered off, and I've been working on The Dark Roses and Saving Shinigami. Anyway, this is the big reunion between Duo and Heero, so expect angst and heartache. Oh, and I really did not intend to write the reunion this way, but the muse came back in a pissy mood and changed the story halfway through, so... Enjoy and review!
Quatre was starting to really, seriously annoy me. He kept frowning and asking if I was alright, if I needed anything, if anything was wrong, if I was upset about something. I had tried to be polite, mainly because he's my best friend, but it was starting to piss me off. I knew it was because of his Space Heart and that he couldn't help but sense my emotions, and that he really did want to help, but he just couldn't seem to understand that I didn't want to open up and talk about things. I just wanted to... forget.
I've been at the new safe house for twenty-three days, and spent most of that time brooding. I may have promised to not shed another tear over Heero again, but that didn't mean I couldn't brood.
I kept wondering if I'd made the right choice. My head knew I had, knew that it was too big a risk to take, but my heart didn't want to know. It was the ages old battle of head versus heart, logic versus emotion, wishing versus reality. Sometimes I had myself convinced that it had been the right decision, and got a mild dose of calm that usually lasted about an hour. And sometimes I had myself convinced that I had made the wrong decision, and started thinking about how to set things right with Heero. And most of the time, I was just fucking confused.
Heero has been in Russia for just over a month, and I had no idea what was going on and how he was doing. I didn't even know if he was alive. And as much as I tried desperately not to, I found myself worrying about him. He was reckless at the best of times, and I was worried just how big an affect my rejection had had on him. I kept thinking about when I'd busted him out of the hospital and he'd thrown himself down a cliff. What if he tried something like that again? What if he self-destructed again? What if he left me all alone?
I knew that last thought wasn't fair, because I'd already left him all alone. Sort of. But... I was still here, if he needed me. There is a very distinct difference between being pissed at each other and having one of us dead. I could just about handle him hating me, but I didn't think I could handle him being dead. Not just yet. I knew that we were both Gundam pilots and might die at any moment, but... I really needed him to live for just a little while. Because if he died now, a part of me was going to think it was my fault. And that I definitely couldn't handle.
Still, I knew I had no right, and that hurt just as much, that I had lost all rights I had with Heero. I didn't have 'friend rights' or 'best friend rights' and I barely had 'comrade rights'. And I had willingly given up those rights. Sometimes, I just wanted to shoot myself.
I had discovered on my fourth day here that the place was well stocked with hot chocolate, and could rarely be seen without a cup in my hands. It was a very nice comfort drink, and I didn't have to worry about getting a caffeine buzz. I did not need to by hyper on top of everything else.
I was currently sitting outside on the little deck thing, sipping a cup of cocoa and trying very hard not to think about Heero. I was failing miserably. I just kept remembering that look in his eyes, when I'd drawn away from him. He'd looked so lost and confused...
"Duo?"
I blinked and repressed a sigh as Quatre came out to join me, wearing that confused and worried little frown of his
"Duo, are you alright?"
"Just thinking," I muttered, glancing at him and then looking away again.
"About what?"
"... Things."
"Duo... why won't you talk to me?"
"Because you couldn't understand." I got up and retreated to my room, away from his persistent questions and prying Space Heart. There was actually a stereo in my bedroom, and I put on my Hybrid Theory album quietly, not wanting to disturb Wufei but still needing the music.
Why couldn't I put Heero out of my mind? Why did his cobalt blue eyes haunt my dreams? Why did his broken voice whisper in my thoughts? Why did the memory of that beautifully horrible dream have to turn into a nightmare?
I thought about getting some alcohol and drinking myself unconscious. I thought about starting a fight with Wufei and getting him to beat me unconscious. I thought about getting the med kit and drugging myself unconscious. I thought about staring at the ceiling and boring myself into unconscious.
You might think I have an obsession with unconsciousness, but I don't. Well, not really. It's just that sleeping is slightly better than being awake, though it's really a matter of whether I preferred weird and painful dreams to logical and painful thoughts. And because of aforementioned thoughts, constantly buzzing around my head likes bees in summertime, it was very hard for me to get to sleep. I would have used some of the sleeping pills we had in the med kit, but I had a wicked fast metabolism, and drugs of any sort didn't really work on me all that well.
So, night-time usually found me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and seeing Heero's blazing blue eyes. They looked down on me with a confusing mixture of sadness, anger, hatred, and longing. Sometimes I would speak to those ghostly eyes, whisper words of apology and declarations of love, but most of the time I would just stare at them, and feel a little prickle of pain in the shattered remains of my heart.
~*~
The day was pleasantly warm, with just the faintest breeze. The sky was clear and cloudless, yet not too bright. It was, in a word, perfect, but I didn't see it. Quatre had received a message last night from Heero. He would be joining us today, until he got another mission. My heart lurched painfully in my chest when Quatre told me, and I had spent all the time since wondering what I'd do when I saw him.
Half of me wanted to go along with whatever games he wanted to play, to either ignore the incident or fight about it. That half of me was functioning on the reasoning that 'Heero deserves to rant and rave if he wants to and it'll be good for him and what right do I have to deny him?'
And the other half of me wanted to rush to him and babble all my secrets, tell him that I loved him and wanted him and I was sorry and would he please forgive me because I'd done anything to have him not mad at me and to tell me that I hadn't screwed things up irreparably. That half of me was functioning on the reasoning that 'I'll do anything to make this pain go away and I really do want him and love him and I really am sorry and what happened to not lying?'
So, I was more confused than usual. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate confusion? I do. I like things to be clear cut, yes and no, black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. I didn't like grey and maybe and neutral and uncertainty.
We didn't have a definite time for Heero's arrival, just some time after noon, so it was hardly surprising that I couldn't eat anything. Quatre pestered me about it, because in his eyes missing one meal constituted starving. Stupid rich-kid upbringing. In my eyes, missing just one meal out of three was damned lucky. Starving constituted missing every meal in a week.
My cocoa was only lukewarm, but I sipped it anyway, mainly so that I had something to do. The hands on the clock kept tick-tick-ticking at an annoyingly slow pace, but somehow seemed too fast. Part of me was desperate to see Heero again just so I could see him, part of me wanted him to never get here so I didn't have to see him, part of me wanted to see him and not be seen, and yet another small part of me didn't know just what I wanted. Confused? Yeah, me too.
A small scuffing sound made me whirl around, cocoa splashing onto my hand.
Heero was standing in the doorway, staring at me with his gorgeous midnight blue eyes. He was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt with trainers, and there was a heavy bandage wrapped around his forearm.
He looked... just like he had when I'd seen him last. Gorgeous, breathtaking, temptation and power and violence personified. His hair was the same mess it had been, his muscles the same hard perfection, his skin the same bronze shade, his eyes... oh, God, his eyes were... I could lose myself in those eyes. The last time I had seen him, his eyes had been hard with cold hatred and disgust and anger. But now... now they were naked with want and longing and sorrow and defeat. He looked at me like a starving man faced with a feast but knowing he cannot eat.
I wished to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and never let go, to shout to the world that he was mine and mine alone and anyone who fucked with him answered to me. But, you guessed it. I couldn't. I couldn't run to him and wrap my arms around him because of the war. I couldn't shout to the world that he was mine and mine alone because I had rejected him. I wasn't sure what I hated more: the war or myself.
"Duo..." He spoke my name in the barest of whispers, his voice filled with all the things that were in his eyes, and I'm sure my heart skipped a beat. His voice was the kind of voice reserved for private moments between lovers, a voice filled with things that aren't meant to be shared. He spoke as if he owned me and I owned him. He spoke as if I hadn't rejected him.
I'm not sure who moved first, him or me, but we somehow ended up in each other's arms, clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it. I knew we would both be bruised later, but couldn't summon the will to care, because Heero was in my arms and that was all that mattered. He smelled of rain and soap, a clean, sharp smell that I couldn't escape and didn't want to, because it was entirely Heero's. His hair was a silky softness against my cheek, whispering against my skin as he nuzzled my neck. His lips brushed the pulse in my neck, beating faster and faster, and I couldn't breathe. Heero was in my arms. Heero was kissing my neck. Heero, Heero, Heero.
A small sound of surprise made us jump apart like we'd been shot, and we whirled around to face the intruder. Quatre was standing where Heero had stood mere minutes before, though it seemed like an eternity had passed. His expression was a mixture of confusion and surprise, with a little hint of delight. He had obviously assumed something very wrong. Or... had he?
I glanced at Heero, very unsure of what had just happened and what was going to happen now, only to find that he had on that cold, emotionless Perfect Soldier mask. My heart crumbled within my chest as he turned and stalked upstairs, leaving me alone.
Okay, I wanted to wake up now, please. I didn't like this dream. It was worse than the first one. I looked hopefully at Quatre, but the look on his face forced me to admit that I wasn't dreaming. This was reality, that had just happened, and I was alone again.
Fuck it.
Sometimes, I wondered why I bothered living at all. I hated this, I really really did. It wasn't bad enough that I had to live in this Hell, I had to keep getting little glimpses of Heaven before it was ripped away from me. Dammit, I know I'm not a saint, okay? I know I have a lot of blood on my hands and I know that I have a lot of horrible shit to make up for, but this is really too much. No one can expect me to survive this. So what if I stole and killed and tortured. So what if I tore families and friends apart. So what if I destroyed schools and churches. This was not fair! This was way too much penance for my crimes!
So you can just stop it now, okay? I give up. Just... stop this pain. Please. Someone. Anyone.
No one.
That's what it all came down to, I guess. In the end, I was always alone. No Solo, no Father Maxwell, no Sister Helen, no Heero. No one. Just little ol' me and my pain. Fucking peachy.
Quatre was starting to really, seriously annoy me. He kept frowning and asking if I was alright, if I needed anything, if anything was wrong, if I was upset about something. I had tried to be polite, mainly because he's my best friend, but it was starting to piss me off. I knew it was because of his Space Heart and that he couldn't help but sense my emotions, and that he really did want to help, but he just couldn't seem to understand that I didn't want to open up and talk about things. I just wanted to... forget.
I've been at the new safe house for twenty-three days, and spent most of that time brooding. I may have promised to not shed another tear over Heero again, but that didn't mean I couldn't brood.
I kept wondering if I'd made the right choice. My head knew I had, knew that it was too big a risk to take, but my heart didn't want to know. It was the ages old battle of head versus heart, logic versus emotion, wishing versus reality. Sometimes I had myself convinced that it had been the right decision, and got a mild dose of calm that usually lasted about an hour. And sometimes I had myself convinced that I had made the wrong decision, and started thinking about how to set things right with Heero. And most of the time, I was just fucking confused.
Heero has been in Russia for just over a month, and I had no idea what was going on and how he was doing. I didn't even know if he was alive. And as much as I tried desperately not to, I found myself worrying about him. He was reckless at the best of times, and I was worried just how big an affect my rejection had had on him. I kept thinking about when I'd busted him out of the hospital and he'd thrown himself down a cliff. What if he tried something like that again? What if he self-destructed again? What if he left me all alone?
I knew that last thought wasn't fair, because I'd already left him all alone. Sort of. But... I was still here, if he needed me. There is a very distinct difference between being pissed at each other and having one of us dead. I could just about handle him hating me, but I didn't think I could handle him being dead. Not just yet. I knew that we were both Gundam pilots and might die at any moment, but... I really needed him to live for just a little while. Because if he died now, a part of me was going to think it was my fault. And that I definitely couldn't handle.
Still, I knew I had no right, and that hurt just as much, that I had lost all rights I had with Heero. I didn't have 'friend rights' or 'best friend rights' and I barely had 'comrade rights'. And I had willingly given up those rights. Sometimes, I just wanted to shoot myself.
I had discovered on my fourth day here that the place was well stocked with hot chocolate, and could rarely be seen without a cup in my hands. It was a very nice comfort drink, and I didn't have to worry about getting a caffeine buzz. I did not need to by hyper on top of everything else.
I was currently sitting outside on the little deck thing, sipping a cup of cocoa and trying very hard not to think about Heero. I was failing miserably. I just kept remembering that look in his eyes, when I'd drawn away from him. He'd looked so lost and confused...
"Duo?"
I blinked and repressed a sigh as Quatre came out to join me, wearing that confused and worried little frown of his
"Duo, are you alright?"
"Just thinking," I muttered, glancing at him and then looking away again.
"About what?"
"... Things."
"Duo... why won't you talk to me?"
"Because you couldn't understand." I got up and retreated to my room, away from his persistent questions and prying Space Heart. There was actually a stereo in my bedroom, and I put on my Hybrid Theory album quietly, not wanting to disturb Wufei but still needing the music.
Why couldn't I put Heero out of my mind? Why did his cobalt blue eyes haunt my dreams? Why did his broken voice whisper in my thoughts? Why did the memory of that beautifully horrible dream have to turn into a nightmare?
I thought about getting some alcohol and drinking myself unconscious. I thought about starting a fight with Wufei and getting him to beat me unconscious. I thought about getting the med kit and drugging myself unconscious. I thought about staring at the ceiling and boring myself into unconscious.
You might think I have an obsession with unconsciousness, but I don't. Well, not really. It's just that sleeping is slightly better than being awake, though it's really a matter of whether I preferred weird and painful dreams to logical and painful thoughts. And because of aforementioned thoughts, constantly buzzing around my head likes bees in summertime, it was very hard for me to get to sleep. I would have used some of the sleeping pills we had in the med kit, but I had a wicked fast metabolism, and drugs of any sort didn't really work on me all that well.
So, night-time usually found me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and seeing Heero's blazing blue eyes. They looked down on me with a confusing mixture of sadness, anger, hatred, and longing. Sometimes I would speak to those ghostly eyes, whisper words of apology and declarations of love, but most of the time I would just stare at them, and feel a little prickle of pain in the shattered remains of my heart.
~*~
The day was pleasantly warm, with just the faintest breeze. The sky was clear and cloudless, yet not too bright. It was, in a word, perfect, but I didn't see it. Quatre had received a message last night from Heero. He would be joining us today, until he got another mission. My heart lurched painfully in my chest when Quatre told me, and I had spent all the time since wondering what I'd do when I saw him.
Half of me wanted to go along with whatever games he wanted to play, to either ignore the incident or fight about it. That half of me was functioning on the reasoning that 'Heero deserves to rant and rave if he wants to and it'll be good for him and what right do I have to deny him?'
And the other half of me wanted to rush to him and babble all my secrets, tell him that I loved him and wanted him and I was sorry and would he please forgive me because I'd done anything to have him not mad at me and to tell me that I hadn't screwed things up irreparably. That half of me was functioning on the reasoning that 'I'll do anything to make this pain go away and I really do want him and love him and I really am sorry and what happened to not lying?'
So, I was more confused than usual. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate confusion? I do. I like things to be clear cut, yes and no, black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. I didn't like grey and maybe and neutral and uncertainty.
We didn't have a definite time for Heero's arrival, just some time after noon, so it was hardly surprising that I couldn't eat anything. Quatre pestered me about it, because in his eyes missing one meal constituted starving. Stupid rich-kid upbringing. In my eyes, missing just one meal out of three was damned lucky. Starving constituted missing every meal in a week.
My cocoa was only lukewarm, but I sipped it anyway, mainly so that I had something to do. The hands on the clock kept tick-tick-ticking at an annoyingly slow pace, but somehow seemed too fast. Part of me was desperate to see Heero again just so I could see him, part of me wanted him to never get here so I didn't have to see him, part of me wanted to see him and not be seen, and yet another small part of me didn't know just what I wanted. Confused? Yeah, me too.
A small scuffing sound made me whirl around, cocoa splashing onto my hand.
Heero was standing in the doorway, staring at me with his gorgeous midnight blue eyes. He was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt with trainers, and there was a heavy bandage wrapped around his forearm.
He looked... just like he had when I'd seen him last. Gorgeous, breathtaking, temptation and power and violence personified. His hair was the same mess it had been, his muscles the same hard perfection, his skin the same bronze shade, his eyes... oh, God, his eyes were... I could lose myself in those eyes. The last time I had seen him, his eyes had been hard with cold hatred and disgust and anger. But now... now they were naked with want and longing and sorrow and defeat. He looked at me like a starving man faced with a feast but knowing he cannot eat.
I wished to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and never let go, to shout to the world that he was mine and mine alone and anyone who fucked with him answered to me. But, you guessed it. I couldn't. I couldn't run to him and wrap my arms around him because of the war. I couldn't shout to the world that he was mine and mine alone because I had rejected him. I wasn't sure what I hated more: the war or myself.
"Duo..." He spoke my name in the barest of whispers, his voice filled with all the things that were in his eyes, and I'm sure my heart skipped a beat. His voice was the kind of voice reserved for private moments between lovers, a voice filled with things that aren't meant to be shared. He spoke as if he owned me and I owned him. He spoke as if I hadn't rejected him.
I'm not sure who moved first, him or me, but we somehow ended up in each other's arms, clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it. I knew we would both be bruised later, but couldn't summon the will to care, because Heero was in my arms and that was all that mattered. He smelled of rain and soap, a clean, sharp smell that I couldn't escape and didn't want to, because it was entirely Heero's. His hair was a silky softness against my cheek, whispering against my skin as he nuzzled my neck. His lips brushed the pulse in my neck, beating faster and faster, and I couldn't breathe. Heero was in my arms. Heero was kissing my neck. Heero, Heero, Heero.
A small sound of surprise made us jump apart like we'd been shot, and we whirled around to face the intruder. Quatre was standing where Heero had stood mere minutes before, though it seemed like an eternity had passed. His expression was a mixture of confusion and surprise, with a little hint of delight. He had obviously assumed something very wrong. Or... had he?
I glanced at Heero, very unsure of what had just happened and what was going to happen now, only to find that he had on that cold, emotionless Perfect Soldier mask. My heart crumbled within my chest as he turned and stalked upstairs, leaving me alone.
Okay, I wanted to wake up now, please. I didn't like this dream. It was worse than the first one. I looked hopefully at Quatre, but the look on his face forced me to admit that I wasn't dreaming. This was reality, that had just happened, and I was alone again.
Fuck it.
Sometimes, I wondered why I bothered living at all. I hated this, I really really did. It wasn't bad enough that I had to live in this Hell, I had to keep getting little glimpses of Heaven before it was ripped away from me. Dammit, I know I'm not a saint, okay? I know I have a lot of blood on my hands and I know that I have a lot of horrible shit to make up for, but this is really too much. No one can expect me to survive this. So what if I stole and killed and tortured. So what if I tore families and friends apart. So what if I destroyed schools and churches. This was not fair! This was way too much penance for my crimes!
So you can just stop it now, okay? I give up. Just... stop this pain. Please. Someone. Anyone.
No one.
That's what it all came down to, I guess. In the end, I was always alone. No Solo, no Father Maxwell, no Sister Helen, no Heero. No one. Just little ol' me and my pain. Fucking peachy.
