Chapter Five: Drowning
Haven't you seen me sleepwalking?
'Cause I've been holding your hand
Haven't you noticed me drifting?
Oh, let me tell you, I am
Tell me it's nothing
Try to convince me
That I'm not drowning
Oh, let me tell you, I am
– The Civil Wars, "Falling"
Heero was shaking by the time he reached his apartment. In truth, he'd started shaking hours ago, but he'd just managed to keep the involuntary spasms under control. Doing so had taken nearly all of his energy, and he was ready to collapse. He could barely get his key in the door.
Heero scoffed as he turned the lock and opened the door. A key. Such a primitive form of entry, compared to what he'd grown accustomed to– at the bare minimum, a keypad requiring a PIN; at maximum, an iris scanner. Between the Preventers headquarters and ESUN government building, and the home he'd shared with Relena–
His thoughts stopped there. Relena. The shaking had started when he'd first spotted her in the ballroom of the Palais Royale, dressed like revenge, and the only way to make it stop was to drink. Something strong enough to dull the ache that arose every time he thought of her, and intensified any time he saw her. But he couldn't indulge on the job– sure, he could get away with it in his office, behind closed doors, but not out in plain sight. So he'd gritted his teeth and tried to bear his cross for the evening. As soon as he got home, he'd take care of it.
Now his throat was parched, his thoughts consumed by demons he could only chase away with his liquid antidote. He'd be lucky if he could quiet his tortured thoughts enough to sleep, but he'd take whatever relief he could get.
Heero shed his jacket and dropped it onto the orange sofa, the one bright spot in the stark apartment. He could just picture his wife's reaction to it, and it nearly made him chuckle; of course, she would find it hideous. But Heero didn't care; it had come with the flat. So did the rest of the furniture, including a brown leather armchair that clashed with the couch, and a few wooden bar stools clustered around the kitchen island. There was no table for dining and no dining room; the small unit had an open floor plan, apart from the single bedroom and bathroom. All Heero had in the bedroom was a futon, and that was the one piece of furniture he'd had to purchase. Hoping his current living arrangement would be very temporary, he'd bought a cheap futon he'd had to build himself– which he did one night, completely shitfaced. Then he remembered he still needed bedding and pillows, so he spent his first night without any of those things, using his coat as a blanket. He would've thought he'd be cold, but he was too full of booze to tell.
Alcohol had become his near-constant companion since the split. And, well… right before that. He knew full well it had contributed to his marital problems, but Heero could only really blame himself. It was his own poor decision making that had driven him to drink himself into such a stupor that he–
Heero stopped his train of thought again, before he could drive himself completely mad. He was already teetering on the brink.
He wandered into the kitchen, picked up his favorite crystal bottle from the counter, and poured himself a full glass of his amber savior. It didn't take long to throw the first one back and help himself to another. After refilling his glass for a third time, he stumbled away from the counter and onto the couch.
He could drown in self-pity all night, and he intended to. His current predicament was more than enough to drink himself into oblivion every night. He just had to keep his thoughts from straying too far, back to that fateful night and the circumstances leading up to it, or he'd end up doing something far worse than mere self-pity…
It wasn't the first time he'd been tempted to end his life, and it wouldn't be the last.
Life was nothing more than a cruel joke. And anyway, he was someone who'd signed up to end his life early, back when he was too young to know what to do with himself otherwise. For years he'd let others call the shots, not really caring where he wound up. Life was cheap, anyway. At least, that was how he felt until he met her… To think, after all the things he'd done during the war, the lives he'd taken or destroyed, he'd had the gall to believe he had a right to happiness, just like anyone else. Well. He sure as fuck was wrong, but he'd had himself fooled.
Slowly, Heero sat back up and tipped back the rest of his whiskey. He'd had more than enough thinking for one night; on to more drinking… He chuckled dryly. That sounded like something his old friend Duo would say. Annoying as the American bastard could be, part of Heero wished Duo were there now to drink and commiserate with him. He had to admit, it'd be better than drinking and sulking alone.
Duo seemed to be one of the few people who still gave a damn about Heero, although he didn't know why. Other than their shared history as Gundam pilots, their friendship made little sense. And yet Duo still called or just showed up out of the blue now and then, saying he was checking to make sure Heero didn't choke on his own vomit, joking that he had him on suicide watch. Then again, Heero had to wonder if the self-styled "God of Death" was even kidding.
On some level, Heero appreciated having a loyal friend after all these years. He knew, deep down, it was probably what had kept him from putting a bullet in his own brain. That, and the fact that he had a daughter. He loved Ellie more than he had any right to, and he was determined to keep seeing her, no matter how much Relena might fight him on it. He had yet to fight her back, but he was starting to think he might have to, especially since she refused to meet with him to even discuss how they were going to continue to raise Ellie, should they proceed to a d–
Heero sank back against the couch, gripping his empty glass. He wasn't ready to even think that word yet. It was too… final. And even though it seemed inevitable, there was some foolish part of him that thought, maybe, since Relena had yet to file the papers, there was still some small chance for them.
Angry as he was at the situation, he would do anything to get back in her good graces; if only she would let him try. But that night he'd told her everything, she had gone cold as ice. He'd expected a fight; tears, screaming, throwing things, something. Anything would have been better than her actual reaction. She had grown so calm, it almost frightened him. She'd coolly told him to leave and never come back. And he'd been too ashamed and filled with self-loathing to argue at the time.
But this exile wasn't working. Nearly two months had passed since he'd even seen his daughter. Heero didn't care how pissed Relena was at him– that was too damn long. He had no idea what Relena had even told Ellie – maybe that he was on an extended mission somewhere – but it was the longest they had ever been apart. He knew his daughter was bound to be asking questions; she was inquisitive, like her mother. But even if she wasn't as sharp as a tack, any ten-year-old kid would be wondering where the hell her father was by now. And she had a right to know. And Heero had a right to see her. He and Relena were still legally married, and Ellie was just as much his as she was hers.
All Heero wanted was to get Relena to sit down and talk. Surely they could put their own issues aside for a moment to discuss their daughter, without having to hire suits to intercede for them. The last thing Heero wanted was some long, drawn-out custody battle played out in the courts and splashed across newspaper headlines. He knew intrinsically that Relena didn't want that, either. He just had to get her to agree to meet with him– and then convince her that he wasn't some alcoholic, that he was fit enough to continue to parent their daughter. Heero knew he was more than capable… couldn't Relena see that keeping him from his family only drove him to drink more?
He groaned out loud, craving another bitter taste, wanting to feel the flames licking his throat, burning away his feelings. But he knew that having more would lead to a blackout and a wicked hangover, and that wouldn't bring him any closer to accomplishing his goals.
He'd have to find another way to slay his demons.
First, he needed to apologize to Relena for the way he'd acted at the gala. He hadn't meant to upset her, or get Barton all riled up– another annoyance he'd have to deal with later. He was just so frustrated that she'd been avoiding him for so long, he was getting desperate. There had to be a way to reach out to her without scaring her away. But he feared at this point, Relena could be on the verge of filing a restraining order... and taking Ellie away from him, forever.
Heero's fears collided in his mind, and he needed to find a way to drown them out. He had some prescription sleeping pills, but he wasn't supposed to mix those with booze. Otherwise the grim reaper might actually darken his doorstep, and it wouldn't be Duo playing dress-up.
That thought made Heero throw his head back and laugh until he was hoarse. It was good to know his gallows humor was still intact. At the very least, the three glasses of whiskey had helped take the edge off.
But now, alone in the dark of his near-empty apartment, Heero longed for a much stronger drug.
Relena.
Her name was poison and a healing balm. Her eyes were the sea, the sky, his entire universe. Her body was his haven; her arms, his sanctuary; her kiss, his salvation. Her voice, a melody he couldn't get out of his head if he tried. He missed it singing him to sleep, her soft, soothing tones chattering to him from the pillow next to his, about work and Ellie's school and her hopes and dreams for the future... their future.
Those dreams were all shot to hell, now. And he was the assassin.
What was the point in even hoping he could talk to his wife? Relena didn't care about him any more; she'd made that abundantly clear. For so long, she had been the one to keep him from descending into darkness. Now, she was gone and had taken the light with her.
As Heero stumbled into his cold bed for the night, he could only hope, with what little he had left, Relena wouldn't take their daughter, too.
A/N: Happy Monday! Sorry/not sorry for another angsty chapter. =/ Maybe it'll get better? Ehh? How dark and twisty do you think this should get?
If you are enjoying this so far, please favorite/follow/review! Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and encouraging... Your feedback means the world to me. Hope you have a great week! Stay tuned for more... :D
- RFP