Chapter 4
Hushed Interim

To say a tornado had struck would be an understatement. Pushing his way through mangled dishtowels and broken plates, Quatre carefully navigated himself through the kitchen, to where Heero sat in a daze. Painstakingly folding the discarded cloths and rolling back up paper towels, Quatre could tell the Japanese man was pouring every ounce of himself into his work, attempting to peel his mind away from the earlier events. And for good reason, too. All of them had seen the previous break downs of the ex pilot of Shenlong. Had witnessed the way he crumpled from his careful self control to a shivering mound of grief, dropped to his knees and hugging himself, trying to ignore those around him. Wincing at the picture this produced in his head, Quatre kneeled down next to his friend, and began to aid in the slow process of reconstructing the once meticulous kitchen.

"Wufei have another attack?" he gently asked, to which Heero just nodded as he gathered the folded rags and tucked them back onto a splintered shelf. Quatre started stacking the cookware and baking sheets. He didn't press, simply provided a silent comfort to his friend while waiting patiently for the Japanese man to speak. Months of weekly visits since Wufei's first psychotic break had made Heero and Quatre close friends, providing the Arabian the knowledge that it was best to wait for Heero to explain on his own time.

Time ticked by. Heero worked in silence, gathering his thoughts and registering everything that had happened. It was a slow process—working his way out of his own desperate depression to be able to explain without fear of crying. When he finally was halfway through putting the pieces of his shattered morning back in their place, he cleared his throat to test his own stability. Feeling safe to speak, he swallowed hard and looked to his friend.

"Sally had to come over this time," he explained, causing Quatre to give pause. Normally, they could calm the dragon down without interference. That Sally had to come made the blond realize—this time, it was far more serious.

"What happened?" he asked, voice thick with worry.

"She had to give him a shot of a dopamine and sedatives…he wouldn't calm down," Heero murmured with a worried sigh, resting back against the wall. Knees slid up into his chest, his body moving into an upright fetal position.

Dropping the dustpan from where he had frozen midway through sweeping up shattered plates, Quatre crawled the short distance to his friend to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. The Japanese pilot just looked down.

"Where is he now?" Quatre wondered.

"She took him down to the hospital for observation," Heero replied, voice constricting, breathing labored and forcibly evened. "They say that he's getting worse, and she's trying to persuade me to sign him in to Hedgeling." Quatre winced. Hedgeling was a long term psychiatric hospital that specialized in veterans. Many who went in were never expected to ever be well enough to come out. Swallowing hard, the Arabian glanced down to floor, staring at the wreckage scattered across the room as the seriousness of the situation settled in. Pulling back, he shifted to sit beside him. Shoulders almost pressing together, Heero let the heat soothe him. He knew he wasn't alone.

"Do you think you will?" Quatre asked only to receive a slight shrug in answer. Heero rested his chin on his knees, staring off into the distance. Taking a deep breath, Quatre gathered the strength he knew Heero needed him to possess, and pressed on with the issue. "I mean, maybe you should," he offered brightly. "It's not as if Wufei isn't strong. Maybe he just needs a break. After all, with everything he's been through, he needs time to gather himself." Cerulean blue orbs lifted, stoicism masking the vulnerability in the Oriental man. Mind grasping desperately at the hope he heard in Quatre's voice, Heero sat up a bit straighter.

"You really think?" he wondered. Quatre nodded.

"We all have been through it," the Arabian whispered, reminding him of the days they, too, had felt the same as Wufei.

After the final battles had ended, when the initial shock of it all began to wear off, it suddenly became apparent that none of them were infallible when it came to mental disorders. When the first year of peace was celebrated, it seemed the calm provided the security they needed to finally break. The stress placed on their young minds and bodies had taken a toll, and they found themselves suddenly feeling deplete—robbed of their innocence, their lives, their friends. They all felt lost, destitute, forsaken, like something important was missing. Like something, or someone, had suddenly gone away.

Attributing it to the losses of innocence and loved ones during the war, they were treated, given rigorous therapy, and diagnosed recovered. Still, they each continued the biweekly meetings with the Preventer appointed Psychiatrist. All of them except for Wufei, who had refused treatment from the beginning. It was because of his pride that many believed he was falling. But somewhere in Quatre's heart, he didn't believe that.

"Wufei needs help, whether or not he's willing to take it," Quatre explained, convincing himself as much as he was Heero. Lightly biting his lower lip, Heero brushed his fingers through his hair, detangling the dark strands in the same way he wished he could detangle his mind. Stretching out a leg, it collided with a pans and Tupperware, sending them crashing. Heero winced. It was frightening to recall how loud they could be when thrown in fits of madness.

Sighing, he leaned his head back and looked up to the slowly spinning ceiling fan. Counting the three light bulbs repeatedly in his mind, he let his compulsive habit overwhelm and comfort him. Something he had developed during missions, Heero had always found the hard logic of numbers soothing—perfect, in that it was fact instead of opinion, and nothing could sway that three was always three. Calm began to slip through him. The Perfect Soldier, who had once been so strong, felt so weak and vulnerable inside. His first lover, his only lover, was being ripped from his arms by something so beyond belief—something so outside of the reasoning that Heero had safely cocooned himself in for years. And he was afraid it was catching. Because even as he knew that Wufei was the only person he had ever loved…

He almost knew for a fact that he wouldn't be the first to leave.

A cool hand on his cheek shook him of his reverie, and turning his attention back to Quatre, he forced his mind from his own pool of insanity he felt himself sinking in to. A gentle thumb moved, casting aside an escaped tear Heero didn't realize had formed. Sucking in a deep breath, he felt his resolve begin to break in the comforting gaze of his friend.

"He's in temporary care right now. Sally called earlier and said they've had to sedate him twice because of his fits. She told me she'll be faxing over the papers for me to sign him in…" He hesitated a moment, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "I wish he were right, Quatre," Heero suddenly burst out. This time, he could feel the mist forming in front of his eyes, and this time, he wasn't sure he cared. "Then I wouldn't feel like I'm losing him to someone who doesn't exist!" Quatre wrapped his arms around him suddenly, pulling him tight into his chest. Pressing in closer, Heero gratefully took the comfort, not sure if he could do this on his own anymore. More and more of his will began to shatter. The damn in his eyes broke, releasing his emotions in a sinful river down his cheeks, which he buried into Quatre's chest in an attempt to hide. How pitiful the perfect soldier had become. How much he too had changed.

"You're not losing him, Heero," Quatre assured, nails caressing over the back of his neck and head. He pressed a soft kiss to his crown. A mere six months ago, neither would have had this closeness. But a mere six months ago, Wufei had still seemed fine.

They both sat in silence, Heero's shoulders shaking in an attempt to suppress his sobs, fists tangled tightly against Quatre's back. Blinking back his own emotions, Quatre took a slow breath. The cruel delusions Wufei suffered from was in turn causing all of them to suffer as well. Quatre could only be thankful for the fact that at least Heero had finally learned to accept comfort, and in doing so, allowed Quatre to take comfort as well. The three remaining pilots needed each other. Needed the assurance that there was hope for their friend. Needed to know that they would never give up on him, or each other.

Staying like that, neither attempted to move until Heero's shakes had finally calmed, and he felt confident enough to show his face. Resting his cheek on his friend's chest, he stared at the last remains of what he prayed was Wufei's final tantrum in their house, letting the heartbeat of the Arabian soothe him. Licking his lips, he took a slow, experimental breath to make sure he wouldn't start crying again, before he dared to break the silence.

"I'll sign him in," Heero stated with resolve. Quatre looked down to him, resting his lips on his hair.

"You sure about it?" he asked, causing Heero to look up.

"What choice do I have?"

Quatre could only nod in agreement.

Off in the distance, muffled by walls and doors, a loud beep resounded, signaling an incoming fax in the office. Heero shifted off of him.

"The papers are here." He stated what both of them knew already. Moving to his feet, he ran his hand down his tired face, red cheeks and puffy eyes blinking wearily. "I'll be right back…stay here?"

Quatre nodded, knowing the unspoken part of that request. Heero didn't want to be left alone. He needed his friend right now.

"Of course," the Arabian promised, smiling softly.

When Heero finally left the room, Quatre could feel the mask crumble. Hunching forward, he buried his face in his hands and grit his teeth against the pain that filled his chest.

Despite his previous words, he felt his heart breaking at the idea of putting Wufei away. Something in him screamed with a feeling of betrayal, crying out to tell Heero to stop. He knew…he knew with everything in him that there had to be at least some validity to Wufei's claims. And he knew that if he were going to help Wufei, he had to find out. Fast.

All right, sorry if this chapter is kind of boring, and it's taken so long to update. I've kind of been falling behind in school, and as a result of stress, and plain stupidity, I now pulled a muscle. Thanks, Cartoon Network, for making your shows so they're that much more entertaining when your hanging half upside down on your bed. LOL!

So all of that to say this is probably filled with some pretty bad errors, because I had to type this in while on some muscle relaxers, but since it's taken so long to update, I decided to post anyways. Please tell me what you think!

I'm already working on typing in chapter 5! .

And thanks to everyone who's commented!

Muses grab her by the sore arm
Iko: COME slave, we must work on chapter 5!
Sarin: But I got a essay to write! Whines
Ino: Whips
Sarin: Eeep! I'm going!