Notes: Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! I hope this story is as good as the first one, and don't be afraid to tell me it's not, constructive criticism can only make me get better. Also, I know a couple of people were thinking I was going somewhere with Heero's illness, but I'm afraid I'm not, it's just a little bug and he's gonna get better in this chapter. Enjoy and review!

Chapter Five

Wufei and Heero were curled up on the couch. Heero was wrapped up in Wufei's arms, clutching his gun to his chest and glaring at the wall. Wufei didn't look any happier, but there was a hint of concern in his dark expression.

My heart did this funny little thing where it soared at the sight of them and the knowledge that they were alright, but plummeted at the tense, angry, depressed feel to the air.

"What happened?" I asked, shrugging out of my jacket and letting it fall to the floor. My heart, which had been pounding inside my chest like a trapped bird in a cage, started to calm down, and I took deep, even breaths. They were alright, I didn't have to panic, everything was fine. Okay, everything was obviously not fine, but I was trying not to go Shinigami on my lovers. I have this tendency to overreact, especially where my friends and loved ones are involved, and my earlier fight with Shavers did not help matters.

There was silence for a moment before Wufei spoke, his voice quiet, not quite empty, his hands rubbing circles on Heero's back. "Someone knocked on the door. I went to answer it, but no one was there. The… gift was sitting on the doorstep."

"What gift?"

He gestured to the coffee table and I saw there was a slip of paper resting there. I picked it up, and saw that there were three words typed on it: Do you remember?

"This is it?" I asked sceptically, and Wufei snorted.

"No, the rest is in the kitchen."

I frowned and walked into the kitchen. There was a very expensive vase sitting on the table, glass with a sweeping pattern like waves carved into it. The vase held a beautiful bouquet of full white roses, the stems a dark green and covered with thorns. The petals were dripping with a thick, red liquid, staining the table. I didn't need to smell it or taste it to know that it was blood. I glanced down and saw that there was a trail of small red droplets on the floor, meaning that the roses had to have been covered with blood. How nice.

I sighed, reaching out to touch one of the soft petals, coming away with my fingertips stained crimson. I stared at my bloody fingers for a long time, not really thinking anything, just… looking.

I felt someone behind me, and a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, a warm, muscled body pressing against my back. It was Heero, I could tell that just by the feel of him, and I turned my head to look at him. He was staring at the roses with sad, hurt eyes.

Heero's never liked the 'presents' we sometimes get, it just reinforces all the negative things he tends to think about himself. Out of all of us, he has the bloodiest past, the highest body count, the scariest nightmares, and these little gifts make it so that he can never forget all that. Despite what these sick, sad people believe, Heero isn't proud of his history. He hates his past, he has an inferiority complex the size of Texas, and he will always believe that his life is worthless because of his sins, and nothing Wufei and I can say or do will ever change that, no matter how much we might wish to.

"Sorry for pulling you away from work," he mumbled quietly, jerking me out of my thoughts. "I just want you here with me." He didn't mention how the gift had made him feel, didn't mention the gift at all, he'd neatly side-stepped the issue completely. I decided that if he didn't want to talk about it, neither would I.

"It's okay, I don't mind." If I couldn't talk about the gift, I decided to focus on his health. I reached up to feel his forehead, and was pleased to note that his temperature had dropped slightly, plus he showed no signs of nausea.

"I haven't thrown up in an hour," he said with a wry little smile. "I don't think I could handle food yet, but I think I'm getting better."

"Good, I don't like it when you get sick."

"That makes two of us. I'll probably be going back to work tomorrow."

"Not unless you take it easy today, and your temperature drops to something more normal."

"You sound like Wufei."

"Well, he's right." I was silent for a moment, wondering if I should ask the question looming in my mind. It would probably upset Heero, anything about his past was a touchy subject, but after a moment I realised that I couldn't not ask.

"Heero? What does this person want you to remember?"

His arms tightened around me, and he looked away from the red-stained roses. He didn't answer for a long time, so long that I thought he would never answer, but eventually, he did speak.

"I don't know, Duo. I wish I did. But there's just so much blood and death in my past that I can't figure out which person hates me this time. It could be any one of hundreds, thousands."

"We all have blood on our hands, Heero," I said quietly. "Don't beat yourself up over this. It's just some sick, demented person trying to hurt you for something you had no choice over. Forget about it."

He sighed and stepped back away from me. "I can't," he whispered, before walking out.

I echoed his heavy sigh and leaned against the counter, the bloody petals of the roses filling my eyes until I saw nothing else.

Over the years, we've learned to be tolerant of these little gifts. We just throw them away and forget about them, as much as we are able. It would be petty and pointless to actually try to find and prosecute the people responsible. But enough was enough. Tomorrow morning, I was going to see Commander Une and report this. I wanted to find this bastard and throw him into jail. And when he got out, I wanted to kill him. No one hurts my lovers, either of them, in any way, shape or form.