ChibiMe: We're back. And things are hotting up! looks around nervously Especially since that big moody-pants told me if I'm seen near the fic I'm dead. Guess he doesn't appreciate my help much…but then, this is my first fic! What am I supposed to do!?

KS: behind him Run. looks at 'camera' OK. Heero is slightly OOC in this chapter, but his friend's in trouble and he's under a little stress himself. So I figure there's maybe a little leeway there.

The World's In Your Eyes, by Kaoru Saotome

"Here's the vidphone," said Sylvia as she walked in several minutes later. Her hair glittered in the sunlight lancing through the window as she turned her head. Heero's familiar hospital clothes were over the end of the bed. He was wearing a dark green vest and black cycling shorts.

"Didn't you wear those the first time I saw you?" she asked, azure eyes moving over him with curiosity – and a few other things.

"My old work clothes," he said quietly, opening the vidphone case. "I always feel more comfortable in these." His fingers blurred into invisibility, and half a second later the Dial button was pressed. Sylva blinked. Half a second for a worldwide-class vidphone number?

"Hello?" came a tired voice from the computer. Despite his exhaustion, there was forced politeness and readiness in the tone. Quatre would always help someone else if he could.

"Quatre," said Heero flatly.

"Heero!" said Quatre, his face lighting up. "How are you, my friend?" The blonde man noticed the hospital wall and bed head in the background. "What happened to you?"

Damn. Heero hadn't wanted there to be any focus on his condition. "Just a minor injury, Quatre. I…heard about Trowa on the news. I called to see if you were all right, if there was anything I could do to help."

Quatre blinked. Heero wasn't normally that concerned. In the past, in similar situations, he'd let his fellow pilots get on with it themselves. He knew their capabilities and that they could get out of bad trouble.

"Well, uh...where are you, Heero?"

"Is this line secure?"

"Of course. You and the other three were the only ones given this number, and the line is protected."
"I'm near Marseilles."

"In France?"

"Yeah. I've been relaxing. Or trying to."

"Trying to?" Quatre's voice became edged with concern. "Heero, did you get followed? Were you attacked or something?"

Heero shook his head. "Just someone from the past who I should maybe have listened to a little more. She's not a threat."

"She?" Now the Arabian businessman's tones indicated polite interest. He wouldn't pry.

"Sylvia Noventa," said Heero. Of course, with him there was never a need to pry. He was quite often more candid than most in conversations.

"The Field Marshal's granddaughter?"

"The very same," said Sylvia, leaning into shot and mock-embracing Heero. He looked worried. "You'll notice it's my vidphone he's using. He doesn't trust the public ones."

Quatre shook his head in disbelief.

"Always the same, Heero," he laughed.

"But to get back to the original topic, Mr Winner," said Sylvia. "How are you?"

"Please, call me Quatre…and I'll be okay. They're out looking for him right now. The number of people willing to help an ex-Gundam pilot is quite large. They'll probably find him any day now."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Heero.

"Unless you know of a cellphone he might have had with him," smiled Quatre. "And no, he left it here. He wasn't planning on going out…for long…" He looked away from the screen, tears threatening to fill his eyes. "I'm sorry. This isn't the best time to present myself. I'm quite shaken up."

"I take it the others are helping with this?" asked Heero.

"Duo's joined the Prometheus Alliance. They're helping but it seems that if someone has taken him, their computers aren't connected to the rest of the world. "I'm seriously scared, Heero…"

"Do you want me to come over and stay with you for a while?" asked Heero. Sylvia almost did a double-take. She'd never seen such concern on Heero's face before. The pilots had all seen Quatre as a younger brother, despite all the strength he'd displayed. It was something in his manner. Especially now, when he damn near recoiled from the computer.

"But, Heero, the publicity – you hate publicity – "

"It doesn't matter. You run a huge company, Quatre. You need to stay alert. If my being around makes you feel better, then I should do it."

"Oh, Heero, would you?" asked Quatre, his face lighting up. "You'd really do that?"

"Sure. I'll start packing a few things right away. I'll stay 'til we find Trowa, then I'll leave you in his capable hands. He always could talk to you better than I could."

"Thank you, Heero…you don't know how much I need to see a friendly face right now…"

"I should be there in about four days," said Heero. "I'll hitch-hike all the way."

"No you won't," said Sylvia decisively. "Quatre, can I come too?"

"Certainly, Sylvia," smiled Quatre, some of his old politeness showing through the face of half-tears and gratitude. "I look forward to meeting you in person."

"I'll bring Heero with me," she said. "We'll be there some time tomorrow."

"Great," said Quatre. "Should I have one bed aired, or two?"

"Two," said Heero quickly. "Definitely two." Sylvia giggled and nodded.

"We're not a couple, Quatre," she said. "We aren't in love…we're just old friends."

"Okay," said Quatre, blushing. "I'm sorry. I wasn't sure…"

"It's okay," said Heero. "I'll see you tomorrow, Quatre."

"Tomorrow, Heero," smiled the Arabian. "I look forward to it." He cut the connection, and the two were left staring at a blank screen. Then Heero began to snigger quietly.

"What is it?" asked Sylvia.

"One bed or two…aw, jeez…" managed the ex-pilot before falling back onto his bed, laughing his head off. Sylvia sighed and picked up the vidphone, closing it before it got damaged.

"Men," she muttered. Heero was still helpless with mirth. She left quietly.

Some two hours later, Heero had calmed down and run through a few exercises. Since he was the only one in his ward, he had the run of the place. At the moment he was doing vertical press-ups with his feet straight up in the air.

"Heero, I – " began the doctor, walking in and looking up. "Mon dieu! Heero, what are you doing?"

"Aerobics," said Heero, balancing on one hand.

"But you're too unfit to do that!"

"Do I look it?" asked Heero. "Anyway," he continued, getting his feet under him. "I have to leave early."

"What?"

"A friend of mine needs me to be by his side right now. So I'm leaving. Tonight. I'm just about healed now anyway, but I promise I'll be careful."

"You call that careful?" asked the doctor.

"I've been able to do that since I was ten years old," said Heero calmly. "I'm just waiting for Sylvia to get here and then I'm going with her. She's coming too."

"Heero, I really must protest – " uttered the doctor, a faint nagging at the back of his mind. Now that he was acting like this, Heero seemed familiar.

"Look, Doc," said Heero adamantly, some of the old scornful tone returning to his voice, "I'm going. Tonight. Someone needs me." He looked at the doctor, whose mouth was working silently. He was pointing at Heero with one shaking hand.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Heero quietly.

"You're a Gundam pilot!" breathed the doctor.

"Oh yeah...they have TV here, don't they. Yes, I am. And I expect you to include that information as data about patients, thus including it in your Hippocratic oath. I don't want to be found by the press, doctor. So let me be."

"Er, yes," murmured the doctor. "Well, if you're a Gundam pilot, then I trust you entirely with your own assessment of your health."

"Thank you," said Heero quietly. Sylvia, behind the doctor, knocked on the open door.

"All set, Heero?" she asked.

"I'm not packed. Give me four minutes once I'm in my house." He walked past the doctor and Sylvia, expecting her to follow him. She did, but grumbling about his lack of manners.

In a matter of seconds Heero was doing something he'd wanted to do since his second day at the hospital – sprint. He enjoyed using his body, feeling muscles work without straining. His incredible stamina was more than capable of taking him the half a mile to his house at the top of the village. He disappeared through the front door less than fifty seconds after leaving the hospital.

Sylvia caught up with him as he came out. She was wearing heels, as was currently fashionable; while Heero had taken just two frantic minutes to pack what he needed  - half the time he had allotted himself – it had taken her that much time just to reach the house. As he reached the gate with a duffel bag filled with necessary items, Sylvia blinked at him owlishly while regaining her breath.

"How do you…do that?" she asked him between gasps. "Is everything you do…so fast?"

"Not everything," he muttered, stopping for a moment to consider the innuendo. Then he looked up.

"I thought the air pressure was different," he murmured.

"What?" asked Sylvia, regaining her poise and following his gaze. Then: "Ohh…!"

A storm was brewing. Along the Western horizon, the lower clouds formed a single purple mass, against which distant trees stood out minute and sharp. The upper edges rose into the light, a far land of wild mountains. Copper-coloured, weightless and motionless, they suggested a glassy fragility like that of frost. Surely, when the thunder finally struck, they would vibrate, tremble and shatter until warm shards, sharp as icicles, fell flashing down from the ruins.

"We'd better hurry," murmured Heero.

"But the view…" began Sylvia in awe.

"…Will land on us if we stay out here too long," interrupted the ex-pilot. "Come on. We should get moving before we're soaked."

Muttering about a certain soldier's inability to appreciate Nature, the young Noventa led the way back to her holiday home; a small cottage, inconspicuous among others of its type. Roses curled around the door, and chickens were painted onto the cream brickwork. It was a typical, traditional farmer's cottage…but the image was totally spoilt by the three-ton, customized fuschia pickup truck with fire transfers, bull horns and extra air intakes that was parked on the front drive.

"This is yours?" asked heero incredulously. Somehow he'd never figured Sylvia Noventa would own a monster like that.

"Yeah, isn't it cute?" giggled Sylvia. "My stuff's already in the back; when we met I'd just arrived. I haven't unpacked fully yet. It'll see me through 'til the end of this." She unzipped her bag, tugged something free and moved back to the driver's cab.

"So we're ready to go," said Heero, throwing his bag into the back and fixing the truck's tarpaulin over their luggage to keep it dry. Striding to the front of the truck, he stepped up into the cab. Sylvia had removed her heels and replaced them with trainers so as to drive properly, and was already in the cab waiting for him. As he closed the door and fastened his seatbelt, she checked the time.

"Four-thirty…we should get halfway there by tonight if he's in the same place they showed on the news."

"He is," said Heero. "Let's do it."

The truck's engine roared to life. Heero swore something gave off an eerie green light beneath the hood for a moment. Then they were moving – and, despite the fact that Sylvia wasn't such a good driver, Heero welcomed the acceleration. Every second they saved meant one second closer to reaching Quatre, and from there Heero would attempt to help his friends one last time before disappearing from public view forever. That was his plan; and whenever Heero Yuy planned something, he followed it through until the end.