Hello adoring fans (just kidding), I was not taking a break, as it might have seemed, but instead I was disconnected --gaspshock-- by the parentals of infinite evil. I actually have reached the 100 page mark on this story, and the ideas are still coming, so there will be updates (albeit sporadic ones) whenever possible. Don't despair!

Moving on to bigger and better issues:

Dedication: (this is essential, beacuse it signifies that at least I have someone to dedicate this piece of crap to) Elle, you are my love! Thank you so much for all the helpful suggestions, and your cheerleading! This would have taken another month or five if you hadn't just told me to post it. I probably owe this entire story to you. But in order to keep my inspiration, I will need more of "The Beggining to An End" from you as well! --bows at your feet-- Everyone else: Go, be amazed, love her as I do (and there will be joy)! Her name is Joy2 and she is a goddess!

And now; on to REALLY BIG THINGS OF GREAT IMPORTANCE:

Measure 36... must... be... stopped... if it's the last thing I do. Go, now, vote NO ON 36 for Oregon. In case you don't know what it is, measure 36 wishes to make an ammendment to the Oregon constitution stating that marriage is between one man and one woman. This is not a happy thing. Don't let Oregon become another of the 37 states who've already banned gay marriage and recognition of gay marriages! Take out large political signs and wave them around on street corners near you!

So Far, So Good

chapter 4

I think this must mean I'm crazy. Heero, or someone that looked like him, just took care of me. He didn't yell or hit me; he cleaned me up and then put me to bed. It was... nice... but confusing. Does this mean that he cares, or is he so desperate for a fifth pilot that anything is better than nothing?

"...it's killing me to watch." what the hell is that supposed to mean?

I curl into a tighter ball on the bed. Why couldn't he have done this years ago? Why now? Why, when I had finally resigned myself to being alone?

Is he testing me? Is this a joke? If it is, I think I might kill him.

In the end, I go back to sleep because it's the only escape I have left.

When I wake up, there are voices, soft and loud, angry and consoling, rising and falling against my ears. I want them to go away. I don't want to hear what they're saying.

It's Heero and Quatre. Trowa is there too. Always there to support poor fucking Quatre Reberba Winner.

"He's a mess! If he's really as sick as you say, there's no way he's going on a mission right now!" that's Quatre, always the idealist.

"He's going, Winner. That's all. If he doesn't go, they'll take him back for retraining." Heero's words make me shudder, but I know he's right. I struggle to get up and find that I am indeed, a mess. I ache from bruises and cuts that went too deep. They sting and I'm afraid that I'll pull them apart if I move the wrong way. I manage to get my legs over the bedside, wincing as I do it, thinking there is no way in hell I can battle like this. I stand, gripping onto the table by my bed, but walking is looking terribly complicated at the moment.

The door opens, and I try to look as if I'm not clinging to the furniture for support. Heero is by my side in an instant, checking on bandages and pushing me back onto the bed. I struggle at first. He moves so damn quick and I'm not ready for cold, business-like hands on my thighs. For a second, it scares me into remembering things best left buried, and I want to scream, but I recall just who this is, and just why I can't be looking any crazier than I already do. Catching my breath and smoothing over my fright, I simply ask him, "When do I leave?"

He refuses to look at me, glaring at the bandages under his hands, the wall, anywhere but my eyes. It's not good, then. "Tomorrow morning," he grits out, sounding pained. He knows it may very well be the last battle I fight. Still, he discerns that death is preferable to retraining at the hands of doctor J. I wonder how he would have found that out, but realize I'd rather not know. He probably hacked my files and knows more about me than I do.

"If I'm going to survive, I'll need some help," I whisper, hating myself even as I say it.

He nods, and his grip on my shoulder is too tight, the lines in his face too tense. I know the war has been tough on him as well. "They asked for you specifically. We can't interfere with mission parameters that much. You'll have to do this without backup."

The thought is chilling, but that's not what I was asking for. "Heero, that isn't what I meant. I'm going to need the stuff you took from me. The speed, in particular."

He looks up, shocked into staring directly at me for the first time this morning. "No." I hear the angry disbelief in his voice, but his face is calm.

"Then you'd rather condemn me to death?!" I screech suddenly, unable to hold back. In truth, I'm frozen by terror. I can feel the breaking point hovering just outside my vision. I'm so close to just snapping, screaming, crying, pleading, anything. A distant part of me is amazed that I can still feel this strongly. The tension humming between our bodies is palpable.

"I'm not­­­ – fine." the defeat and disgust in his voice is like a slap. "I'll get it, if that's what you want."

I sigh. "Don't tell me you weren't pumped full of steroids during training. You can't tell me you've never done drugs."

"I've never used any illegal substances, Duo." he sounds like a fucking machine, his words precise, his face empty.

"Well, we can't all be perfect, can we?!" I scream

He gives me an unreadable look. I'd say he looks hurt, but that'd be giving him too much credit.

"If I give them back, you have to promise not to die." I gape at him, not sure I heard him right. Was that just me, or did Heero say something human?

"And you have to quit."

"Quit what?" the wariness sets in.

"Everything. All of it. The drugs, the alcohol, the cutting, everything." His face is impassive, unyielding.

I snort, my expression blank even as my heart thuds in my chest at the mere thought.

"Just say that you'll try." he asks.

I clench my hands in the sheets, gritting my teeth. I want to say that I'll try, but I know that I won't. And for some reason, I can't lie to him like that.

"Heero, just give them back." He looks like he expected it, and simply nods, one jerk of his head, short and angry.

Well fuck him. He doesn't know what it's like to have a gnawing, aching emptiness inside of you, begging to be filled by anything, anyone at all. He doesn't know what it's like to be abused until you start to think you need it to survive. He doesn't know what it's like being me.