Chapter 2
I began with just being there. I didn't touch him, just let him be accustomed to my presence. I made noise when I walked around, hummed, or talked. I smiled, grinned, chattered, and tried to appear as unthreatening as possible.
It took a long while for him to just get used to that.
At first, he was almost unbearably tense every single time I walked into the room (I engineered it that I would end up sharing rooms with him every single time – I've become an expert at maneuvering people around now), and threatened to kill me if I didn't stop talking.
The first time he said, "Omae o korosu," it kind of threw me, and I really did stop talking for three whole seconds.
I knew what it meant. Funny, huh? There was a guy, a hobo, back on the streets of L2. He didn't know much English and his native language was deep and guttural and totally incomprehensible, but boy, did the guy know how to say, "I'll kill you!" He must've known how to say that in ten different languages.
So I gaped at Heero Yuy for a moment, pouted at him, and dove right back into rambling about...the advantages of shorter bookshelves, I think.
He stopped in his typing long enough to glare at me expressionlessly, and then said again, enunciating slowly and deliberately, as if I were deaf, dumb, and stupid, "Omae o korosu."
I scowled at him, and then proceeded to scold him very vigorously.
I think he was surprised.
After that, though, I decided to compromise, and then, while around him, I used my "soothing voice."
I don't use it much, just around little kids who are injured or wild beasts...that kind of thing.
It calms them instantly. Why? I'm not really sure. They just tell me I have a nice voice.
Around other people, though, I don't reveal it, 'cause it's too personal; it reveals my soft side. That can sometimes be seen as a weakness, you know. And these past few years, I haven't cared enough about anybody to call it back.
But, for Heero Yuy, who couldn't tolerate touch unless he was drugged blind, I could.
I was a bit rusty, though, so I practiced in front of a mirror first, pulling up images of wide eyes brimming with tears and trembling lips. Don't laugh. I didn't want my voice to creak on the first sentence or anything. That would ruin it.
It wasn't hard to slip right back into the rhythm, and soon it was like I'd never even stopped. Back when I ran a street gang, I could play it like an instrument: perfect dynamics, pauses in all the right places, honey and velvet.
I readied myself like I were going into battle.
And so, squaring my shoulders, I walked into the room. He tensed, watching me from the corner of his eye. I sighed slightly, and sat on my bed, leaning against the wall. Then, taking a deep breath, I began.
When he first heard my voice, he actually jumped, and kept sneaking glances at me from behind his labtop.
I garnered a lot of satisfaction from seeing him totally shocked.
I told stories that day. Fairytales, like The Little Mermaid, or obscure little tales I'd heard from all over the place.
My voice blanketed the room, and he actually seemed to relax a little. I felt like hugging someone.
He had the strangest look on his face for a while, this indecipherable look that I couldn't figure out. The whole time, he kept typing, but I got the feeling he was totally focused on my voice and nothing else.
And, then, when we left the room to eat dinner in the kitchen, he actually winced when I reverted to my usual voice.
I felt like the proverbial cat with the canary. The little fishy was finally, finally investigating the hook.
After that, it was smooth sailing for a while, and he got used to my presence faster than I ever thought he could. Of course, to me, it still seemed like an eternity. An eternity that lasted five weeks.
We did have missions to accomplish, though, and sometimes I shared one with him, but sometimes, I didn't.
My progress with Heero Yuy was encouraging, and I needed all the encouragement I could get. 'Cause, well, Chang Wufei still hated me and Trowa Barton still ignored me more effectively than anyone I've ever met.
Things went on like that for a while, and you wouldn't believe how tempting it was to scream and pull my hair out whenever Mr. Moody or Silent walked into the room.
So, I was sickeningly polite to them, and concentrated all my attention on Heero Yuy.
The day I walked into the room, and he didn't even flinch, I could've whooped. The first step was finally done!
After that, I was kind of at a loss. What next? To be honest, I hadn't really been sure this day would ever come. I had already halfway convinced myself that Heero Yuy was a lost cause. But, then, Duo Maxwell's always been a sucker for lost causes.
But, well, he'd just proven himself not a lost cause and I was left swinging for a couple days.
Then, I dragged myself back on track, and decided that since he was used to me now, logically, the next step would be to accustom him not only to my presence, but to me breathing over his shoulder, or me sitting so close I could lean on him.
For the rest of the day, Chang Wufei asked me what was wrong with me, and Quatre sent me some concerned looks, but I was high on my victory and I didn't give a damn. My mission was moving along, and I knew what to do next! I was practically flying.
Then I retreated to my room, and plotted. This step called for subtlety. I couldn't exactly drag up another chair and plop right next to him. I'd count myself lucky if he didn't blow my brains out.
So I waited for a chance to show itself. Unfortunately, I got called away on a mission with Quatre before it appeared.
We were investigating a new Oz base...G just really wanted us to confirm that it was a new Oz base, maybe numbers and a map of the place. It should've been a piece of cake. It wasn't.
It seemed like anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. The only thing good about the whole thing was that yep, we could definitely verify that yes, it was an Oz base.
First, while creeping up on the place, the guard wasn't where he was supposed to be. When he wasn't there, Quatre and I grinned and muttered something about good luck, and we were just about to walk in, when the guy appeared right behind us. Apparently, he'd had a call of nature, and we'd had the misfortune to be standing in plain view when he came back.
We were on him like a flash, and we made quick work of him. It seemed like a small thing, nothing to worry about.
And it wasn't, not really. But all the little things started adding up. A guard who would walk past us right as we were about to dart across the hallway, a camera that we just barely disabled in time, the loud clatter it made when Quatre accidentally dropped his gun. By the time we were halfway through, the faintest squeak was enough to make is jump. We were both a regular bundle of nerves and ready to scream.
And then it happened. A guard surprised us. Again. I didn't get it. How were they sneaking up on us like that? Later, I figured out it was the design of the building itself. There were so many turns and the floor and walls were designed to muffle the sound of footsteps...perfect for surprise encounters.
Quatre was shot – not a fatal wound, but bad enough, and from there it was a ghoulish race to see if we could get out before their bullets made so many holes in us we'd be human Swiss cheese.
Near the end, I ended up literally dragging Quatre out of the building, and into Sandrock's cockpit while screaming at him to stay awake.
I escaped nearly unscathed, though my arm muscles were screaming after dragging Quatre the last hundred feet.
We made it back to the safehouse without any further...mishaps. Did I mention that we'd moved from the first safehouse? This one was smaller, hence the reason I was sharing a room with Heero. But, it looked a lot more stable.
Unfortunately for us, the others were all out on a mission that day. What are the chances of that? I really thought that some god was out to get us.
So it was left up to me to try to heal Quatre and I had to actually pry the bullet from his leg. It was ugly and it was a mess. I bandaged him up best as I could, and hoped desperately that he'd wake up the next day.
I stayed by him the whole day and a half, and it passed in a sort of blur. He would moan, and wake up, and I'd soothe him with my soft, calming voice, telling him everything would be all right.
I really hoped I wasn't lying.
His fever broke and I could breathe again. I wasn't going to lose him, little Quatre with the dimpled smiles and merry blue eyes and tousled blond hair.
I dimly recall a voice telling me gently to go rest, that he'd watch over Quatre. I could've cried. I remember nodding tiredly, and practically sleepwalking back to my bed. Everything after that is kind of...blank.
I woke up the next morning feeling so stiff I was afraid if I moved, I'd crack a bone or something. I sat up carefully, and decided, I really needed a shower.
So, I tottered across the hallway, and the feeling of water pounding my tortured shoulders was like heaven.
Soon enough, I remembered Quatre, and hastily finished my shower. I rushed to his room, and was stopped short by the sight of Trowa Barton tenderly brushing hair from Quatre's forehead. I stepped back as unobtrusively as possible, grinning like a loon.
Well, who would've guessed?
Not wanting to interrupt them, I cooked up some breakfast, and knocked on the door before bringing it in.
"You're awake!" I grinned at the drowsy-looking Quatre, and chirped joyfully, "Breakfast!"
"Make sure, he eats some, 'kay?" I offered Trowa Barton the plate.
He accepted it quietly, and turned to Quatre with a commanding glint in his eye.
Quatre opened his mouth to protest, and immediately had scrambled egg shoved into it.
I said cheerily, "Well, I'll leave you to it," and almost skipped from the room, grinning at the look of horror on Quatre's face.
I closed the door on the sound of Quatre complaining, "I'm not a baby, I can do this m-mmph!"
Things were lookin' up.
I won't say that things went smoothly between Trowa Barton and I after that, but there was some improvement. On missions, we actually discussed briefly, sometimes, our options or plans, and I didn't get the feeling like I was totally invisible anymore.
We sort of relaxed into a relationship of soldiers who worked easily with each other, and though I'd kind of hoped for comradeship, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
And I was closer than ever to Quatre.
As for Heero Yuy, I was finally getting a handle on my unreasonable fear, and looking into his eyes didn't cause any strange physical effects anymore. I still felt a bit of vertigo, but it was nothing, really.
My first chance to get close to him was two days after Quatre was shot. Quatre was still a bit weak, but he could lift a spoon, and glared furiously at anyone who even suggested feeding him. Luckily, Trowa Barton was entirely impervious to it.
Heero Yuy requested my report on the last mission, and I realized with a shock, that I'd totally forgotten. Other Duo, that's what I'd gotten to calling my mental self, cowered in anticipation for a blow.
Amazingly, Heero Yuy didn't rip me up over that, and instead, actually offered to type what I said.
And then, while explaining what had happened to Quatre, I was, all of a sudden, conscious that this was my chance. Slowly, I edged closer and closer to him; it took him a second to realize that I was literally standing right behind him with my head right next to his.
I prayed he wouldn't whack me into oblivion. No, he just faltered for a moment, and I could literally see him restraining himself from knocking my block off.
I breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. Okay, not bad for a first try.
I let him relax, and then removed my head from next to his ear. Better not tempt fate right now.
This step went faster than the other, since I guess he didn't have to adjust quite so much. He was already used to me, anyway, and my secret weapon, my voice, was definitely helping.
Somehow, during those three weeks, I started calling him Heero. When I first caught myself, I was stunned, but gradually, it just became second nature.
And when I accidentally popped out with Heero, for real, instead of Yuy, I was horrified. He just looked at me sort of funny, though, and let it go.
Those three weeks smudged into a constant stream of missions and Heero's face.
By the end, I'd done a mission with every single possible combination of Gundam pilots there was.
We were having a remarkably good run of luck; nobody'd been hurt since Quatre, and all the missions were pulled off without any difficulties.
Oz still hadn't quite figured us out and their security systems, which I've insulted countless times, were abysmal. God, but those guys are slow.
Guess they weren't used to five teenaged boys blowing up all their bases and hideouts.
By the end of those three weeks, I could sit so close to Heero that I was almost snuggling – without any tightening of muscles or twitching of fingers. The progress I was making astounded me. I could barely believe it.
I sort of dazedly proceeded onto the third step, and the most vital: touching.
This was the time when I had to be the most...delicate. In fact, the whole mission was sort of touch and go; no bludgeoning people to death here.
I was careful. I made my touches light as possible, and never in a way that might seem hostile or aggressive.
I began with tapping him on the shoulder. Totally harmless. When it was time for another of Quatre's gourmet dinners, I walked up to him, leaned over to insure that he knew I was there, and very lightly, laid my finger on his shoulder.
At the moment of contact, he flinched, and then was so still I was afraid he'd died of shock or something.
I kept my finger there, and my voice low and comforting, and when he stood up, it was like he'd never been physically restraining himself from bolting.
The food was heavenly. It was unbelievable how much Quatre had improved since the days of burnt eggs and limp, soggy noodles.
When we'd first met, none of us had been expert chefs or anything. Chang Wufei thought cooking was undignified, Trowa Barton...um, I'm not sure why he wasn't an expert chef but just take my word that he wasn't, Heero was only concerned with the bare necessities he needed to complete his mission, Quatre's old lifestyle had included butlers and cooks and he'd never touched a stove in his life, and I was an ex-street kid who wouldn't know the difference between any kind of food, only that it was fit for human consumption.
So, Quatre and I, after a week of unpalatable food, put our heads together and dug up some cookbooks. We very painstakingly went over the simplest recipes, puzzled over all the weird ingredients, and somehow managed to cook up something better than barely edible.
After a while, Quatre took to it like a duck to water, and I was skilled enough to cook that none of the others really minded my culinary talents. Though one taste of the way Quatre was able to blend spices was enough to spoil you for life.
Chang Wufei still frowned over learning how to cook, but he didn't waste any time taking advantage of Quatre's cooking. And I'd actually found Quatre teaching Trowa Barton how to make omelets one morning.
Heero ate whatever we put in front of him. I might be making progress on the tactile front, but boy, did I have a lot to work on.
Anyway, I think he was starting to catch on to my scheme, and was mentally girding himself for another touch, because the next time I tapped him on the shoulder, he barely flinched, and his recovery time was commendable.
And I had another reason to spur on my plans. We're boys, okay? Boys acting as soldiers, boys taking on the weight of the world. We have hellish nightmares. When Heero has his, the only thing I can do is talk, but most of the time, he can't hear it through whatever's going on in that head of his. There's nothing like a touch to break through a dream's grip, but try it when he's asleep, and I'll end up flying into a wall. I feel...so helpless when he cries out at night, and I can't help him. I feel strangely guilty.
Those are the times when I find myself thinking it's just not him who needs a hug.
Sometimes, my voice gets through to him, and he stills, and calms, but those are the times when I sit by his bed and just talk myself hoarse through the night only to find myself nodding off during the day. It's not really conducive for a soldier, who needs to be alert at all times, to fall asleep on the job.
But, he came to accept my touches – after nearly a month, and soon, I felt confident enough to do it in front of the others.
They'd all noticed the way I always seem to stick near Heero, and were all pretty curious. I wasn't going to satisfy their interest, though.
I imagined Chang Wufei sitting in front of me and blew him a raspberry. I know, mature.
It's just that, I'd tried really hard to get him off my back, but he just wouldn't accept any signs of truce and things were rapidly heading towards the point where'd we'd both be unable to hold a conversation without an argument. I was on the verge of just giving up and resigning myself to the fact that we'd never get along. I should be glad I'm so comfortable with the other three, really.
Anyway, we were actually going to relax that evening and watch a movie. Quatre and I had convinced Heero that for us to work at our maximum efficiency, we needed some recreational time.
He'd listened to us rather dubiously, but agreed. Can you believe it? I can identify some of his expressions now? Three months ago, I'd have stuck all his expressions in one box: totally unreadable.
Things were going swimmingly; the movie was funny, and the popcorn was delicious. I was sitting next to Heero, and the pleasant heat of his body sunk into mine until I was practically melting into the couch.
There was a rather...tense moment when Quatre tapped Heero on the shoulder. He'd seen me do it a couple times, I guess, and he didn't know, like Chang Wufei did, how violent Heero's reactions could be.
Before I could say anything, Heero had Quatre's wrist in a bone-crushing grip, and Quatre's face was quickly draining of color.
For a moment we were all frozen, and then Trowa Barton was hovering nearby, trying to tell Heero to loosen his grip, Chang Wufei was yelling at Heero, and things were a mess.
I shouted at them to shut up, and lightly placed my hands on his, praying that he wouldn't break my fingers in the state he was in.
"Heero, it's all right. Let go now. It's all right. He wasn't trying to hurt you. You can let go."
Slowly, he responded to my "soothing voice," and I was able to pry his hand loose. With a gasp, he dropped his hand from Quatre's wrist, and this time, I knew he was sorry.
Then he did something I'd never have expected. He apologized.
It was very quiet, and he refused to look at anybody, but the simple fact that he had recognized pain and offered recompense was staggering.
And Quatre, though still cradling his wrist to his chest, grinned weakly at him.
Then they all looked at me oddly, and so to distract them, I started chattering about how good the popcorn was.
It didn't work.
They didn't go right out and ask me what the hell just happened, but I got so many weird looks from them I wanted to bash my head against the wall. I felt like some kind of freak.
Thankfully, we gradually got involved in the movie, and questions were delayed.
That night, getting ready for bed, I gathered my nerve, and said, "Heero?"
He was quiet, but I knew, well, I hoped he was listening.
"It was real great of you to say sorry, you know."
And then he turned his head and smiled at me. Not with his mouth, but with his eyes. They glimmered with that tiny smile for just a moment, and I was drowning in them. It was beautiful.
I fell asleep that night with visions of radiant blue eyes dancing in my head.
I was somewhat surprised when they didn't all descend on me the next morning, but I figured Trowa Barton had convinced Quatre to refrain from asking, and Chang Wufei and I weren't on good enough terms to talk about the weather, much less ourselves.
That smile opened a lot of doors for us. When, he let me slip in for that second, past his defenses, he allowed me to lower mine.
Around him, I didn't have to talk all the time, and I could just stare at the wall, like I do when I'm deep in thought, and alone.
And around me, though I don't know if he realized it, he didn't feel compelled to always act the soldier; he sometimes answered my questions, and I was even privileged enough to catch two more of those eye smiles.
I was fast growing addicted with them.
I was woken up by the sounds of a nightmare. They're very distinctive. Rustling of blankets, restless moving around, sometimes whimpers or cries.
For a moment, I thought it was Heero, but then I remembered that number one, I was on a mission. Number two, it was a mission with Trowa Barton, and number three, that meant that the nightmare had to be his.
I was totally at sea. Trowa Barton? Having toss-and-turn nightmares? I was aghast. I'd known, consciously, that it was probable that all five of us were subject to nightmares, but subconsciously, I just couldn't make myself believe it.
It took another quiet, anguished 'no, please, no' from the bunk across the room to throw me out my funk and I found myself slipping over and lightly shaking him awake.
"Shhh. It's all right. You just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep."
My "soothing voice" has really been getting a workout lately. Since he wasn't Heero, I felt secure enough to smooth his hair away from his face for a moment; the soothing gesture of all soothing gestures.
When Trowa Barton's breathing evened out again, I went back to my bed tiredly and nestled into the covers. Hopefully, he'll just think the whole thing was a dream tomorrow.
Otherwise, things are going to be uncomfortable as hell. Nightmares can be a very touchy subject.
Sadly, he did remember it, and it was exceedingly uncomfortable the next day.
For a while, we danced around the subject, and he barely spoke, only grunted a reply every once in a while to something I said. He refused to look at me at all.
Finally, I gave up just as we were approaching the safehouse, and told him forthrightly, "You know, you're not the only one with nightmares."
I opened the door, paused, and gave him what I hoped was a sympathetic smile before walking in.
After that, it was like a switch had been flicked. Before, the air between us had still been rather cool, like that between mere acquaintances, but after that, it changed.
It became more friendly, and open, and once I caught him giving a small grin at one of those countless jokes I crack everyday.
Soon, I found myself calling him Trowa.
Once, I'd even called him Mr. Silent to his face, and he'd just laughed it off.
And that's when I knew I'd made another friend out of a Gundam pilot. I celebrated wildly that night until Heero had to threaten to use tranquilizers on me before I calmed down a little.
That successful occasion sparked my enthusiasm and I firmed my resolve that I would get through to Mr. Moody, some time or later.
It would be a long time in coming.
