Author's Note: Finally. Another chapter. Sorry for the delay…school's very time consuming…and wording this bad boy was terrible/ Oh, and please let me know if there are any typos. :B

Chapter Rating: PG-13, for descriptive violence and harsh language.


CHAPTER SIX: The Scalpel

The silence around the two soldiers was thick with tension. It buzzed with emotion.

The grip on the pistol held in Heero's hand was tight, and the metal point pressed firmly into the girl's chest, parting her breasts. He could feel her chest move in and out every time she took a breath, and he could feel her heart throbbing behind her ribs. His icy eyes were locked with hers, analyzing, contemplating how bad the aftermath would be if he just shot her now and found the information later. He decided against it.

The girl's lime-colored orbs were wide and her pupils were pin points; Her entire body was rigid and still. Those eyes darted back and forth between his, gauging his action, and after an eternity of silence she gave him a sharp glare, stepping further into the gun's tip.

"Pull the trigger."

Heero furrowed his brow slightly at her demanding whisper, remaining motionless. Her boldness was unsettling and unexpected, and he didn't like it. His silence appeared to anger the girl further, and after she restrained an agonizing urge to cough, she rasped out at him dangerously, her voice still weak and forced.

"DO it. Kill me, you coward."

Indignation ignited in the pit of Heero's stomach, and with a swift forward step he had her pressed against the wall, the gun now digging into the flesh where her ribs connected. This action earned him a grunt from his hostage, her mouth now open and curved into the shape of pain. The brief silence he allowed was time enough for him to hear a small splatter sound, the blood that had been trickling down her side now finally reaching the floor in small droplets.

"You want to die? Call me that again."

The girl's eyes bore into him with contempt, and with almost delight she spoke up. Even though her throat was raw and burning, she spoke up.

"Fucking. Coward."

Heero's lips pulled back into a snarl and with a burst of energy he spun her around and slammed her into the wall again, face first. He pressed his entire body up against the girl to hold her in place, his right hand pushing her head forward while the left held the gun to her cheek. His lips found her ear and he hissed at her, showing his thinning patience and rush of adrenaline.

"You want to die, hn? Well, I'm not keeping you around to get what you want. You tell me who you're working for and maybe I'll think about putting a bullet in your skull…"

Struggling against his grip, the girl growled an American obscenity he hadn't heard before, tears now rolling steadily down her visible flushed cheek, he other cheek pushed painfully up against the painted concrete of the wall. She didn't answer him. The continual pitter-patter of her dripping blood echoed in the small room when another tension-filled silence fell, and subconsciously Heero battled the urge to help her.

Giving a soft snort, he pulled away from her, twisting his body to turn toward her hospital bed before throwing her roughly onto it. He gave her a steady glare as he walked to the other end of the room, her defiant scowl and posture keeping the flame of anger lit deep in his chest. Tucking his gun into his waistband, Heero reached for the chair he had previously napped in, his back to her for only a moment. In that moment, however, the sixth sense Heero has spent years developing went off in his mind, tingling and feeling the room around him. Instinctively, he spun around and reached for his gun, stopping to brace himself as the girl leapt up, lunging at him with a small, shining scalpel in hand.

Her ambush managed to knock him several steps back. His hands, instead of grabbing his gun, locked onto the girl's wrists to keep her at bay, the scalpel held white-knuckled in her grasp. It wasn't until he felt a warm trickle that he finally noticed a burning on the left side of his chest, pain now spreading through his shoulder and upper arm like electricity. Glancing down, he saw a red blotch of color spreading slowly across the olive-green fabric of his tank top, the blood percolating from the place where the girl's weapon had managed to get past his defenses and pierce his skin. The small, sharp blade of the scalpel was still slightly embedded into his flesh, and with a low grunt he pushed her hand farther away. The broken shoulder he had just recently put back into place threatened to pop back out from her weight on him, but he willed it to stay in place, his upper arm throbbing in pain. Although inwardly he fought to steady his breathing, Heero's exterior to remain emotionless, his strong hold on the girl slowly subduing the violent offensive she had sprung on him.

"Kill me, you bastard! Kill me and get it over with!"

Her guttural sobs made the girl choke on her command, and weakly she continued to press forward, trying to stab him again while strength and pride fled her body. Over her raspy cries Heero could still hear the trickle of her blood spattering the tile floor, the droplets now falling at an accelerated rate. The girl's green orbs were intense and hateful, but somewhere in them there was also pain and sadness. From both exhaustion and blood loss the girl dropped to her knees, her arms feebly swinging in his grasp, her body resting against his legs as she gave up and wept.

Heero's dire, indigo eyes peered at her intently, and in the pit of his stomach a wave of pity overcame him. He could smell her blood. He could feel her weak body giving out. Her sobbing echoed in his ears and were now starting to cut through his hard exterior as he stared down at her, his thoughts and feelings battling.

She's begging for her death.

Heero's brow steepened at the thought, his hands that gripped her wrists still tight despite the girl's lack of movement. Faintly, he heard the scalpel slip through her fingers and clatter to the floor.

Why is she being so stubborn? Why would she rather die than confess?

With a grunt he lifted the girl up to eye level, his arms moving to her shoulders and holding her tightly in front of him, his eyes burning into her. She didn't fight him.

"Why do you beg for your death?"

His fingertips dug into the flesh of her upper arm, making a long whimper escape her lips. His eyes searched to connect with hers, now narrowed and focused, but the green orbs that stared back at him were clouded with the threat unconsciousness. Blood loss was taking its toll, and several more tears spilled from her eyes before her head dropped loosely, her consciousness slipping. Her entire body went limp and with a jerk of his arms Heero caught her, the muscles he used to support her weight now tight and sore from his stab wound. He struggled to adjust her in his arms as he leaned backward, ignoring her hot blood that now decorated his pants with spatters of red.

Finally deciding to scoop her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed, trying his hardest to set her down gently while his shoulder and chest ached with searing pain. After grabbing more medical tape, he quickly clean up her messy puncture wound, the blood stains on her loose-fitting, mid-drift sweatshirt already dry. Subconsciously he reminded himself to tend to his own injury, but the mental note was at the bottom of his 'To do' list while he worked.

Taping up the last of the bandages he applied, Heero sauntered over to the sink, his hands red and sticky. Antibacterial soap was idly lathered thickly between the friction of his palms before hot water touched his skin, hissing and stinging his flesh as he worked the froth of soap up his arms. The shower of the faucet head was strong, and every time Heero moved his hands under it, water would spray up onto the small counter, disturbing the tray of food he had brought in not more than a half hour ago. He recalled faintly how hungry he had been, but with the smell of old soap and fresh blood swirling in the air around him, food now made his stomach curdle.

Heero sighed deeply.

Resting his now sterile hands on the edge of the counter, he stared darkly at bottom of the sink where water, suds, and blood funneled into the drain, his thoughts heavy with exhaustion and anxiety.

The previous situation had gotten out of hand. It had escalated far more quickly than Heero had anticipated. And that almost frightened him.

How had she managed to ambush him?

He threw dark glare in her direction as he twisted his body, resting his hip against the counter before he turned his attention to the growing stain of blood on his shirt. A spark of pain shot through his upper half when material of his shirt pulled away from the drying blood on his laceration, making his chest muscles contracted and the fresh wound bubble out more blood.

Gradually, he worked his shirt up over his left shoulder after he prepared wet gauze, brushing over the deep cut lightly to clean up the drying blood. It stung, and by the looks of the wound he probably needed stitches, a painful feat he didn't have the time or patience for. Unwrapping a fresh and sterile bandage, Heero decided to postpone the tediously painful task, grabbing a tube of anti-bacterial ointment and apply a generous amount the bandage.

Securing the dressing on his chest with several strips of medical tape, he made his way back over to the girl's bedside. He gazed at her, his expression still stoic while his thoughts danced around the idea of tying her up. It was a big mistake to assume she was too weak to fight him, and with a quickly glance down at his blood stained shirt, Heero told himself he would not underestimate her again.

He peered around the room carefully, looking for something to bind her hands. A rope, string, handcuffs, anything would be good. With a few long strides he was in front of a large cabinet of medical supplies, and with a keen eye he searched. He found more medical tape and rubber tubing for tourniquets; neither of them being ideal in Heero's mind. The line of his emotionless lips fell into a scowl.

He hated having to improvise.

Closing the white doors of the cabinet, Heero fingers his temple lightly, glancing around the room again for another look. Seeing nothing, he sighed and reluctantly shed his shirt, splitting it open at the seam on the side to make it longer. Approaching the girl's side, he began weaving the material around her limp wrists, careful not to disturb the I.V. in the crook of her elbow. When he felt her hands were secure, he pulled her arms over her head, tying them to the bed rail with what little fabric he had left.

Stepping back, Heero clasped his palms over the opposite bicep, holding his arms to his body closely. It was still winter in this colony and there was a stale chill in the air that made him miss his shirt already. Letting his eyes linger on the girls' face, he decided that a light nap wouldn't hurt him; if she did wake, he'd know it before she got free from her restraints.

He meandered across the room to the chair he had been trying to get earlier, settling down with his knees pulled up to his chest. Draping his crossed arms along the top of his legs, Heero sighed an allowed the strong persuasion of exhaustion to relax his muscles, his eyes wandering over the girls' bed. Under lead-weighted eyelids, he felt his consciousness fading, and before everything went black he reminded himself that he only wanted an hour of sleep. His body, however, needed several.

- -

A pent up sigh escaped him as his eyelids fluttered open. It took him several moments to realize he was awake, but he already knew he had slept longer than he intended to. He threw a glance to the clock on the wall.

A half hour longer. Damnit.

His muscles were locked rigidly in the same position he had fallen asleep in, and with a shallow yawn he moved his arms and allowed his legs to stretch out to the floor. It was cool to the touch, and the air around him was chilly; Chilly enough for Heero to see a small puff of breath. Glowering slightly at the goose bumps that now prickled his skin, he climbed slowly to his feet, his eyes darting over to the girl.

She was still sleeping. Thankfully.

A throb if uncomfortable stiffness ran up the length of Heero's spine and with a small grunt he raised his hands above his head to stretch. The memory of his broken shoulder came to life with a sharp spark of pain, and along with it came a burning from his chest wound. He dropped his hands immediately and scowled when his entire upper torso buzzed with fiery tenderness, and he brought a hand up to cradle his throbbing shoulder.

So much for waking up rejuvenated.

After letting several minutes pass my, he decided that he was bored. With the girl still unconscious, Heero had nothing to keep him occupied. He'd already explored the chapel, and the empty armory that was in the basement. He could go and find something to fiddle with…but the idea of leaving the girl alone again was not something he planned on doing. Not after what had happened last time.

Languidly, Heero made his way to her side, lifting the side of her shirt to check the bandage he applied earlier. He knew that she wouldn't have bled through it already, but routine forced him to go through the motion.

Boredom influenced it, too.

Subconsciously he traced the square of the medical tape over her dressing as he peered down at her blankly, his motion being more casual than intimate while he watched her. The girl's expression was fixed in a grimace of both pain and loss and her lips were parted to let shallow breaths in and out. The saline of her dried tears was thick and caked on her cheeks and chin, and what little eye make-up she had on was now crusted in those tears.

Heero crinkled his nose slightly. That probably made her skin itch.

Before he could register it, he was walking toward the sink. Grabbing a fresh hand towel, he ran it under warm water, the soft trickle of the water relaxing the muscles in Heero's hand. After squeezing out the majority of the water, he returned to the girl's side and gently, so not to wake or startle her, he began wiping off the dirt and tears dried on the girl's soft cheeks. In the back of his mind he was aware of how unnecessarily gentle he was being, but there was a big part of him that didn't seem to care.

He was occupying himself. As long as he didn't read anymore into that idea, it was fine.

Idly, Heero took his time, observing her. His half-lidded indigo eyes traced the smaller details he hadn't taken time to notice, memorizing as he washed away the filth on her face.

She had freckles. They looked like flecks of ginger. They were opaque and tiny, but if you looked closely enough you could count them.

One. Two. Three…

The damp hand-towel swept under her closed eye and rubbed away some of her smeared eye liner, the swelling from days ago slowly fading.

…Nine. Ten. Eleven…

His wet cloth brushed over her split lip softly, dabbing at the blood crusted over the cut.

…Seventeen. Eighteen.

Heero slowly dragged the wet material of the cloth down across curve of her neck, catching the last of the dried tears and blood.

She has eighteen freckles.

The heartless soldier that watched through Heero's eyes mocked his gentle actions, scolding him for being so soft. This girl is a potential enemy. She tried to kill him, more than once, and she not to be trusted. He sure as hell shouldn't even be touching her, and especially so tenderly.

Why be so gentle and thoughtful now if he's going to kill her anyhow?

The stony expression on his face slipped for a moment. Has he already decided he was going to kill her? He couldn't remember if he had or not. He certainly has considered it. And, as unsettling as it was, she certainly made it obvious she wanted to die.

Frustration crept over Heero's facial features as his thought battled again, and sighing shortly he stopped the delicate movements over his hand pulled away from the girl.

"Please…"

He was in mid-step when he heard a whimper escape the figure behind him, and he tensed instantly.

"…Don't stop."

Heero twisted his body so he could look over his shoulder, his eyes connecting with hers. Her lie-colored orbs were half-hidden behind the narrow slits of her eyelids, still heavy with unconsciousness. When she noticed she had his attention, she spoke up again, her voice still a whisper.

"Please. That felt good."

The realization that he had woken her up by his intimate gesture made his familiar emotionless scowl fall into place. He straightened up, turning his back to her with his arms stiffly at his sides, hoping maybe his abrasive exterior would fool her into thinking he wasn't just coddling her. After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

"Don't talk. You should be resting."

Sauntering over to the sink and discarding the damp rag, Heero spun around and leaned against the wall beside the sink, reaching back to pull out his gun. He hadn't planned on using it to threaten her, but the feel of it in his hands made him slightly more at ease. His arms dangled loosely at his sides and he focused his gaze on the floor, trying to ignore the feel of her eyes on him.

"Why didn't you do it…?"

Her raspy voice strained as she spoke, raising up by one painful decimal so he could hear her. Heero fought off the urge to ignore her. She was talking, at least. It's the most she's said since the explosion. He wasn't about to stop her.

"You're no good to me dead. I need that information."

The girl chuckled hoarsely at his response, turning her head into the crook of her arm as she writhed slightly. Heero watched her gaze shift to the material holding her arms above her head and in place, the realization that she was tied up earning little more than another chuckle from her. A chuckle that sounded very similar to a stifled sob.

"What does it matter? You caught me. It's over…!"

Her sentence ended in a raw and gruff cough, her vocal chords straining. Heero's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I don't believe you."

She uttered another chuckle, hiding the new tears and sobs that threatened to rattle her body. Her head lolled to side, and she peered down at him again through glistening tears.

"It doesn't matter. It's over. And I failed."

She erupted in a fit of soft sobs after she spoke, turning away from Heero as much as her restraints would let her.

"Who did you fail? What is your mission?"

He tried to keep her talking, desperate to know more. He took several steps toward her, an arm outstretched, but stopped when he noticed that she stopped crying. Gingerly, with his body tensed and ready, to pulled her shoulder so he could see her face.

He frowned. She was sleeping again. She must still be very weak.

Placing his gun back into his waistband, Heero released her and walked toward the tray of uneaten food. The soup was cold by now, as was the tea. Sighing, he decided to get something out of the kitchen. If he could at least quell his hungry pains, he could make it another day without going completely insane.