Warning: Language, angst, Duo POV

When You're In Need

You want to know the truth of it? The truth is that Thomas Hardy was right. When you need somebody to come the most, nobody comes. When all it would take to make things better is a kind word or hug from a friend, you find yourself all alone. Because nobody ever comes.

That's why I'm here alone in a hospital at ten thirty at night, waiting for the doctor to clear me. It's Christmas Eve, and not even the attempts of tinsel and decorations can change the fact that this is a damn depressing place to be.

The nurse had been nice enough and efficient, but you could tell she didn't want to be here any more than me.

It was just supposed to be a simple mission. I hadn't expected the guy I'd been assigned to bring in suddenly freak and turn himself into a human bomb. I definitely hadn't been expecting him to jump into my car. Or actually blow himself up. And take my car with him.

Fortunately for me I had been on my way out of the car at the time. Still, getting knocked out after flying ass over teakettle across a parking lot is no way to spend your holidays.

The doctor looked tired when he came in. "Good news Mr. Maxwell. No skull damage or concussion. You're good to go. You will be rather sore for the next few days. I'm still amazed you didn't break any bones. Paramedics said you must have been thrown a good five yards."

I didn't tell him I'd been a Gundam pilot. Wouldn't want to possibly ruin what was left of his Christmas. I settled for a thank you and quickly signed myself out of there.

Hospitals are fucking depressing places.

My car was in little itty bitty pieces all over a parking lot. Somebody was going to be in for a nasty surprise the next time they got to work and discovered Max's Adult Videos was missing its store front. Merry Christmas from me to you.

I'd tried calling one of the guys to come pick me up but nobody had been answering their phone. Not surprising I guess considering the holiday. Still, it would have been nice to not be alone. Or have to walk. No cabs out this late on Christmas Eve.

The hospital was a forty minute walk from my apartment and I trudged down the street, pulling my coat closer and ignoring the cold as much as I could.

My poor car.

It wasn't until I got all the way home and stood stupidly in front of my door that I realized I didn't have any keys. They'd been in the car.

I tried calling Heero again, but all I got was a busy signal. He'd mentioned something about having dinner with Relena so I guess I couldn't really expect him to drive all the way here to help me break into my place anyway.

Trouble with living in Preventer housing. The apartments had great security. Which I could get through but I'd need a few more tools than my cell phone and the loose change in my wallet. I'm good but I'm not quite that good.

I'd had some really nice tools in my car. They'd been a gift from Howard last year.

Oh but my car. And the presents I'd been carrying in the trunk. They were gone. I kicked my door a couple times and then turned sliding down to sit with my back resting against it.

My head hurt. And it was cold.

I'd bought the car last year. It'd been the first big purchase I'd ever made and I'd spent weeks agonizing over which model and color. I'd called in all the guys for their opinion and begged Heero to spend a couple hours helping me reconfigure the engine. It'd been a sweet piece of machinery.

I didn't realize I was crying until my nose started to run. I felt totally ridiculous but I couldn't seem to stop. My car, the presents inside, Howard's gift, all the other various things I'd collected the past year . . . none of it was that important.

And yet I still cried. Sitting there in the dark and cold, wiping snot and tears and finally just giving it up to put my head down in my arms.

Maybe I had a concussion after all.

Somewhere out on the street a car screeched to a stop and doors slammed. There was running feet and suddenly Heero came racing around the corner with the other guys behind him. He stopped when he saw me and I would have laughed at the pile up it caused if I hadn't been busy trying to wipe my face dry.

Then they were crouched down in front of me, touching my hair, checking my eyes, asking me over and over if I was ok.

"My car got blown up." I told them.

They knew. They'd been worried.

"I'm sorry, but all your presents are gone. And I can't get in my apartment." I started to laugh but when it turned into tears again, they held me and told me it would be ok.

And I believed them. Because it was.

Thomas Hardy's full of shit.