Chapter Nine: Show Me Your Scars, You're So Aware

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: Ok, I know that this chapter is really short, but a lot of things happen here, so I figured the content might make up for the length. Or something. :S Anyway, I just wanted to thank the wonderful Dragen Eyez and ShinigamiPhoenix for being so freaking wonderful and leaving amazing reviews after every chapter! Hehe, you guys are the greatest.

Dedication: [I love these, have you noticed?] To one of my new favorite authors, blood-poisoning, whose talent simply amazes me, and who I'm also starting to suspect might be my clone.. ;]

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it.

The soft beeping of Duo's alarm clock woke the Japanese man the next morning, as he squinted slightly, lazily glancing at the clock by his bedside. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized that it was only 5:00 in the morning, and he had never known Duo to wake anytime before noon. Hearing a shuffle next to him, the quiet murmurs as the alarm was silenced, Heero closed his eyes again and focused on making his breathing deep, slow, and even.

As he surreptitiously cracked an eyelid open, observing Duo silently pulling on sweatpants and lacing his running shoes, he wondered how long this had been going on without him realizing. Duo then stood, creeping across the room and out the door, and Heero was left questioning just how many things he had been missing about his friend these past few weeks. He had been so focused on ignoring his own feelings, pushing them away, that he hadn't even realized he was, in effect, pushing Duo away. He kicked himself for it now, as his gaze shifted towards the window, gaze focusing on the image of Duo running, desperately, it seemed, down the sidewalk.

Heero allowed himself to sink back into his sheets, promising that he would have a talk with Duo as soon as he returned that morning. Just some questioning, he told himself. Nothing with emotions attached, just a friendly exchange, no more significant than he would have with any stranger he met on the street.

After all, he was sure that he was overreacting, positive that Duo was smart and knew how to take proper care of himself, and it was this thought that calmed him as he was lulled back to sleep by the birds singing softly just outside his window.

It was exactly one hour later when Duo came tiptoeing into the house once again, slipping quietly into the room that he and Heero shared. A low growl emanated from stomach, he pressed a hand to it, mentally willing his body to shut up.

Sighing, he toed off his shoes, allowing himself to flop onto his bed for just a moment as he caught his breath, before rushing into the bathroom to begin the morning routine.

A few seconds later, Heero awoke to the sound of metal grating across hard tile, and he sat up straight, instinctively reaching for the gun still hidden beneath his pillow. Realizing that it was only Duo, he allowed a sigh of relief to pass his lips, before settling down again to listen.

Hearing the commotion going on inside the other room, Heero rose from his bed, rushing towards the mahogany door. Tapping lightly, he began to worry as he was met with only silence, and then a long string of angry curses.

Heart speeding up just slightly, Heero placed a tentative hand on the knob, twisting, genuinely surprised when the door gave no resistance and flew inwards.

Worried, Heero stepped in, then stopped short, cold eyes widening in shock, horrified at the image before him.

Moments previously, Duo had been enraged to find that he had gained half a pound since the night before. Kicking the scale and cursing loudly, momentarily forgetting about the sleeping Heero in the other room, he automatically groped for the blade hidden under the sink, while simultaneously yanking the loose tee-shirt over his head.

He was so caught up in the cutting, so distracted by the blood now trailing down his arms in little rivulets, that he didn't even notice the door opening until Heero stood before him, staring in open-mouthed shock.

The following silence was, to Duo, more painful than the past four months of his life, combined.

There were many emotions and thoughts battling for dominance in Heero's mind at that moment. Fear, disgust, surprise, concern, sympathy, confusion, frustration, but above all, anger. Anger directed mostly at himself for not noticing sooner Duo's apparent depression, ashamed at the fact that he had been so focused on himself and his own emotions, that he had completely ignored Duo's, and therefore allowed his friend to sink as low as he had. Blinking back angry tears, he felt the incredible urge to just reach out and take Duo in his arms, protecting him from the evils of the world, the demons that had been consuming him inside for so long. But, as was his way, Heero forced his face to harden into that familiar, impassive mask, glaring more fiercely than he ever had. Lunging towards Duo before he had the chance to run, he grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully so he could inspect the damage the man had inflicted upon himself.

As Heero yanked the first-aid kit down from the cabinet above the sink, Duo could only stare at his friend, feeling as though he were watching the scene from above. He felt totally removed, did not even flinch as Heero swabbed the wounds with alcohol, and when the Japanese raised angry blue eyes to meet his own, he did not pull back in intimidation, as he would have done months ago. The only emotion he felt at that moment was fear. Fear, not that Heero might be angry or disgusted with him, but rather that his friend would find out about the diet, about the websites.. Terrified that he might be forced to gain back the weight, the health, he had come to dread.

Knowing full well that he was projecting his own anger onto Duo, Heero took several deep breaths to calm himself before dropping the now-bandaged arm and simply asking, "Why."

This is surreal, Duo thought to himself as he merely looked to Heero with blank, uncaring eyes. The American could do nothing but stare back, a chilling feeling of numbness sweeping through his entire body, so intense that he felt himself shiver as it took hold. And as he stood there, trying to summon up some, any, emotion at all, he wondered if this was how the Perfect Soldier felt all the time. Then suddenly smiling, one thought repeating through his mind like a mantra:

Perfection. I'm almost there.

End Notes: I know that's pretty awful, but there's stuff going on at the moment, and I can't bring myself to stare at my computer screen for the next half hour while I proof read and edit and obsess over my writing. Sorry. :X