Note: This story is actually the last part of a series of one shots that were published sequentially. When read together they provide background information for my longer story, So Close. In sequence (the were published chronologically), this part 22 and comes after No More Kindness.
Cutting Ties
He wasn't hearing the police. They were talking, but his ears stopped working some time ago.
Through the nothing he felt, his brain kept some background processes going. His ears didn't work, and his eyes technically saw but he didn't register what he was seeing. And the feeling. Feeling was gone. Touch didn't register. Nothing really registered. He wasn't even sure how he got to the hospital. Was it the blood?
He had a lot of blood on him, but none was his own.
Empty was the only way he'd later know how to describe what it felt like to be shuffled around in the aftermath of Hilde's death. He couldn't remember being pulled from her body, but his subconscious would supply him with images from time to time, usually when he was unprepared and defenseless.
One of the hospital staff asked if there was anyone he wanted to call. He almost told them Hilde. Who else could he call? He had no one.
He was alone. Again.
An officer touched his shoulder to get his attention. The man looked annoyed with him. Later on he'd wonder what kind of shitty cop would be angry at the person who stopped a mass shooting. Was it because he was a Preventer, and their organization was not looked upon kindly on L2? Technically he still had a badge.
He didn't quit his job so much as he quit being Heero's partner just before taking an extended leave to figure out his next move. Originally he was going to spend time with Hilde, maybe work at her scrap yard for a month or two, and then come back to Une with a new name and country in mind for his base of operations with the Preventers. But now Hilde was dead.
Dead.
He accepted it so readily, too. No denial, no bargaining. He saw her and he knew it was the end. She couldn't speak. He couldn't recall if she looked afraid or not, all he would recall was the color of her eyes and the weight of her in his arms. He held her for what was likely only a couple minutes but it felt like hours.
And then she was gone.
He blinked at the pissed off cop.
"We need a statement, hot shot!"
Did he remember how to speak?
"¡Necesitamos su declaración!"
What could he possibly say?
"Fuck, maybe he's just stupid?"
He didn't want to be there anymore.
"Maybe he's one of the ones who speaks French. PAR-LAY VOO FRENCH?"
He wanted to go home, except he'd given up his apartment weeks ago. Packed the few things that mattered and abandoned the rest. He didn't have a home.
"I can't deal with this, Schultzie. What're the odds we'd be saddled with a girlie-haired mute as a material witness slash renegade cop wannabe? I don't get paid enough for that. You handle this one. It's Saturday night, and we just dealt with some asshole who thought shooting up a shopping center on a busy weekend was a great idea. I'm tired. I'm done. I'm fuckin outta here."
He couldn't shake the memory of how still she felt after going limp in his embrace. One moment she was a person and the next? Just a body. She was gone. She was gone, and he was alone. Again.
"Hey, kid? Sorry about my partner. Ain't the kind to deal with shock too well, yanno? Kid?"
Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Duo focused on the man in front of him. He must have been about Howard's age. He looked kind, not that it mattered.
"Come on, kid. Work with me here. You got someone we can call?"
That fucking question. He hated that question. Why did they keep asking when the answer wasn't going to change? The man was saying something about not releasing him until someone came to get him. That wouldn't be an issue, he could sneak out of he really wanted to. But he wasn't sure what he wanted.
Eventually they left him alone. Moved him into a quiet room and pulled the curtains, thinking he needed a little time. He sat there, clutching his phone, afraid to call anyone. He wasn't the guy who asked for help. He gave, but never took. He didn't want to burden anyone.
Through his numbness he knew he wanted Heero with him. There was no ache, no anger, no longing. Just a knowledge, deep in his soul, that Heero would comfort him. It didn't matter that he walked out. Heero would be on the next shuttle to L2 and he'd hold him and maybe he could let himself cry in the comfort of that embrace.
Heero had always been surprisingly good at holding him and giving him emotional support, even when he didn't know what was wrong.
But he wouldn't call.
The numbness and emptiness didn't erase his pride.
Howard wasn't an option, either. Even if he wasn't on a months long salvage, how could he burden the man? Taking him in as a kid was enough to saddle him with. He didn't need to take care of him through adulthood, too. Duo refused to be the loser who couldn't hack it.
That left three people he could call. One wouldn't give him the time of day. The others didn't deserve to deal with his shit.
In what order should he let himself be further hurt?
Eventually he decided that Wufei would be the first one he called. He was the person most likely to offer the kind of comfort he needed. He didn't want to be doted on, or for a big deal to be made. He just wanted someone to understand he was in pain. Wufei could do that. What he needed was to be lent strength and to feel like he wasn't alone. Wufei could do that.
Again and again he told himself that Wufei would offer quiet strength. He used those words as a mantra, hoping they'd give him the courage to actually dial. They didn't. Why was he so scared of reaching out?
They'll only disappoint you.
He knew it was a long shot, thinking he could actually say the words that needed to be said.
They don't have time for you.
But if he didn't try, he'd only be a coward.
They have better things to do than be dragged down by you.
It's not like talking to them could make him feel any more alone, right?
If you're not laughing and joking, what good are you to anyone?
Anything was better than waiting for the hospital, or the cops, to send in some religious puppet to attempt connecting with him.
None of them want you when you're broken, and you're always broken deep down.
He dialed Wufei. It was more an accident than anything else. His thumb hovered over the button to dial and lost in his spiraling thoughts he didn't pay careful attention to how his hand was holding the phone. One slip, and the call was suddenly going through. Briefly he had the urge to make himself look more presentable, but there was no need on an audio call. And even if he'd enabled video, Hilde's blood was on his body, not his face. The little ringing sound made him increasingly nervous, and part of him loudly screamed for Wufei not to answer his phone. It was easier if he didn't need to admit what happened. It was so much easier to not admit he needed someone.
"Maxwell?"
He swallowed and put on his best impression of a person who was okay.
"Hey, buddy, how's it goin?"
"You have excellent timing. To be honest I used your call to get out of a lunch date."
The concept of time zones suddenly clicked into place, and Duo realized that it was likely mid afternoon back... well, not home. He didn't have a home. But it was mid afternoon where he'd most recently come from. He plastered a smile on his face. People could always hear if you really were smiling.
"That bad of a date, huh?"
"She brought a large rat in her purse, though she claimed it was a dog."
"Damn!"
"I swear, women are horrible!"
Duo wasn't sure if he was half listening or listening with everything he had. He was impatient to get past this small talk and head right into what happened, what he'd just experienced, but he also wanted to keep avoiding reality as long as possible. It was work to sound like himself.
"Have you considered that you're the common denominator here?"
As expected, Wufei didn't like that idea. He went into a tirade about how his assessment was unjust, and how being open to dating a variety of women with various personalities didn't mean he was the problem. He was so focused on explaining why his rotating door of potential partners was an asset, a testimony to his willingness to give others a fair shake, that he didn't notice how quiet Duo got.
This was all by design. He gave Wufei the proper chuckles, laughs, and affirmations to keep him talking, all while he built the courage to say why he called in the first place. The act gave him just a little longer to experience some normalcy, but it also made him feel guilt building in his stomach as he realized that he was calling just to ruin Wufei's day.
"Heero was asking about you a few days ago."
Shit. He'd let Wufei talk too long.
"He was?"
"Of course. You haven't been at work for two weeks."
Shit. While he sent Une his resignation earlier in the week, because of how accounting was structured it didn't officially occur until his accumulated PTO was used. Agents weren't allowed to take a payment as a lump sum. When he put through his request, he future dated his official resignation until after his PTO was used up. As far as Preventers was concerned, he was still an employee for another six weeks, and it was unlikely Wufei would know that.
On one level he was glad his resignation wasn't known yet. But at the same time that meant no one thought to inform the people he was supposedly closest to that he was leaving.
"I uh..." He swallowed hard and reminded himself to keep a steady and upbeat voice. "You know how I am. Rarely take vacation, realized I had a ton built up... the rest is history."
"Well Heero's been in a terrible mood. You leave him with a ton of work or something?"
Duo didn't have the capacity to deal with how Heero felt right now, and his voice was strained as he responded.
"I don't care about Heero's mood."
He worried Wufei would pick up on how upset he was. He wished for Wufei to hear his voice, notice his control was breaking, and ask him what was wrong.
He didn't.
"Ha! Good for you. It's about time you take off, even I use more vacation than you. You head somewhere out of town?"
Duo shut his eyes tightly. "Yeah. Yeah I'm out of town."
"Well then you shouldn't be wasting time talking to me. You really need to learn to have fun, Maxwell."
How was any of this fun? He could feel Wufei wrapping up their conversation and he just couldn't find a way to walk it back and steer it towards what he needed to say. What was he supposed to do? Blurt out that he was on L2, that Hilde was dead, that everyone kept hounding him for hours to call his next of kin but he didn't know who to call? Admit he needed a friend, and he hoped with everything in him that Wufei would step up and be that person for him?
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"I gotta go, I'm about to head into the metro. But I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Could he tell Wufei there probably wouldn't be a later?
"Sure. Later then."
When it was over, he registered a wetness on his face. There was a tightness in his chest, and his breathing quickly became labored. But he didn't audibly cry. He couldn't stop the tears streaking down his face, no matter how much he wanted to control his physical reaction to emotions. He wanted comfort. He wanted to be told things would be okay. Instead, he stared at his phone. Looking at that short call time now displayed in his phone's log. He'd reached out, all his fears and hopes waiting to be unleashed, and Wufei gave him a minute and a half.
A good friend would notice his distress, right?
He couldn't possibly be that good at hiding what was wrong.
While he continued to stare at his phone a motion caught his eye. The room they'd ushered him into had a glass section on the door, and the nicer officer, Schultize, as he was called by his partner, was pacing outside. Duo could see it all through an opening in the curtain they'd drawn around his bed, and he willed the officer not to enter the room. To his relief the man didn't. He appeared to find something else to take his attention and walked off. It was what he wanted, but he once again felt intense loneliness. Even the cops couldn't be bothered with him.
In a moment of bravery, he purposefully dialed Trowa.
"Duo?"
"Hey Tro."
"Why are you calling?"
Of course Trowa would come out of the gate with that question. He rarely spoke on the phone with others and definitely didn't entertain small talk. But Duo couldn't bring himself to take advantage of this opening. He wasn't ready to go directly into what happened and what caused him to do the unthinkable and call Trowa. Without time to ease into things he just couldn't admit what was wrong. He pulled himself together and asked "Can't a guy just call and check in with a friend?"
A pause hung over them, and for Duo it was heavy. He knew Trowa was processing his query.
"I guess so. But we don't really do that."
Silence again. He'd overlooked before calling how little Trowa spoke. Once again, he slipped into his routine of pretending everything was okay.
"Well maybe we ought to. What are you up to today?"
"Cleaning."
If Duo hoped for an elaboration, he would get none, and he understood, in that semi-awkward silence, that there would be no conversation between them. No way to ease into anything unpleasant. Trowa wouldn't provide a back and forth and Duo stood no chance of leading him into an opening so he could confess his trauma. The whole call was pointless.
"Ah. Well, uh, I shouldn't keep you from your work."
Another slight pause churned Duo's stomach.
"Okay. See you later."
"Later."
His eyes fell onto the phone. Thirty seconds. That was it.
A sick feeling spread outward from his gut. Trowa was his last real option. He knew how the last call would go, and wasn't certain it was worth confirming the outcome. Couldn't he leave himself with the smallest shred of hope? Without confirmation, maybe he could convince himself there was someone who would be there for him. Maybe he'd be surprised and finally experience the supportive side of Quatre everyone else appeared to know well.
After a long few minutes trying to hype himself, he dialed, regretting it as soon as someone else answered and told him Master Quatre is too busy to take your call.
Quatre didn't even bother to answer.
Of fucking course.
Duo allowed himself a few minutes to take in just how empty he felt. Could he even call it a feeling? Was nothingness a feeling? His mind simply stopped processing, and he sat without thought or feeling for what turned out to be much longer than a few minutes. By the time a nurse remembered to check on him over an hour had gone by with him just staring into nothing.
"Sir! You're still here? Did the officer come back?"
He shifted his gaze to her.
"Still not speaking?"
He blinked.
"Okay, just... just don't move, I'll be back with someone."
As much as he wanted to stay and hide indefinitely, he mustered the strength to stand. Because, like it or not, Hilde's body was somewhere in the morgue. And something about that was unsettling. He wanted to make sure someone claimed her. If she had to be there, he wanted her name to be known. He wanted the coroner to understand she was important to someone, and not just another body.
It took him some time to find the morgue. Slipping out into the hallway unnoticed was easy enough, but he didn't know this hospital. When he lived on L2 he'd never set foot in a hospital, let alone in a morgue. Most colonies, like Earth, supplied healthcare on public funds. L2 enacted a low-cost system specifically to prevent the poor from receiving care. Once he became a Preventer the cost was laughably small, as much as a sandwich and drink. But as a child he couldn't afford a meal, and that meant no trips to the hospital when someone was sick. They went one time, him and Solo. Brought one of their gang members who broke a leg when part of a building they were squatting in collapsed and he fell wrong.
Security chased them away before they even entered.
Duo never forgot the face of the two doctors who tried to reason with the guard. One of them slipped by and told Solo to meet them in the east parking garage. There, in the echoing garage, they listened to their friend scream before passing out from pain. Doctors smuggled a portable scanning device and treated him "just like on the front lines, kid."
The whole ordeal scared Duo, who was maybe five years old. But his friend recovered, and lived long enough to die in the plague. He'd only visited a hospital twice on L2, each time after the wars and after he thought he'd escaped this place.
He followed signs until he found a mostly empty hallway. There were some people sitting in chairs lined along the wall, and soft sounds of whispers and crying. He knew things would get loud again when another family arrived to identify a loved one, but for now the air was somber and still.
"Can I help you?"
He turned to see someone in scrubs approach, looking tired. His mouth was dry when he responded.
"I'm here for Hilde Schbeiker, I'm next of kin."
Several things happened all at once. The hospital staffer's eyes expressed clear confusion, he heard a scraping sound from a chair as someone quickly stood, and a strong and angry voice from behind him declared "We are her next of kin. Who the hell are you?"
Duo turned slowly.
"You're her parents."
It wasn't a question. The couple standing in the hallway were quiet obviously her parents. The man had Hilde's eyes, and the woman held a vague resemblance Duo couldn't pinpoint. He hadn't expected to see them. He'd never even met them before. But there they were, standing in the middle of the hallway outside the morgue, with the eyes of several families on them.
"You're Duo, aren't you?"
His gaze shifted to Hilde's mother. While her voice was calm, her eyes were unkind.
"Yeah, I'm Duo."
He expected her to say something more. Perhaps yell at him. He didn't expect her to launch herself at him and repeatedly hit him in the face and on the chest.
"You stay away from here! We don't want you here!" She was pulled back by her husband, but he looked no less angry than her. It was clear he was only attempting to keep his wife from being taken away by security.
"You're a monster! That's her blood all over you, isn't it?" she yelled. "You're why she's dead!"
The steady voice that came out of Duo's mouth sounded foreign to his ears. It reminded him of Heero's monotone, detached and factual.
"I'm her next of kin. Where were you each time she tried to kill herself? Where were you all these years she struggled? You live in the L2 cluster and you never once came to support her, or love her, or pick her up off the ground, or nurse her after she made herself sick. I was here. I dropped everything to always be there. Where were you when she needed you?"
It was her father's turn to hit him, and Duo allowed it, hoping to feel something as the man's fist collided with his face. Unfortunately, he was as strong as he looked, and Duo felt nothing.
"You son of a bitch! How can you say that? We just lost our daughter!"
Reaching a hand up to wipe some blood from his mouth, Duo turned to the man. "You lost her before the war, saddling her with expectations she'd never live up to in your eyes. Why do you think she volunteered for Oz? Was it for the military career she abandoned? Or because she needed to get away from you and it seemed like a brilliant opportunity to maybe, for once, get your approval?"
"Shut up!"
"I've been her next of kin for years, not you."
Before another fight could break out the hospital staffer stepped forward and addressed Duo rather than the group.
"Actually, sir, they really are listed as her next of kin."
He turned sharply to the woman standing to the side with a worried look on her face. It became apparent she addressed only him because she expected him to be the least violent of the group. What a joke. If only they knew.
"What?"
She cleared her throat and shifted nervously.
"I'm sorry, but your friend listed her parents as next of kin. This record is several years old. You're listed as the alternate."
Alternate? After all the bad blood, Hilde left her parents as her next of kin? That meant...
He turned slowly back towards the couple, hatred in his eyes.
"You were called every time, every single time, and you chose to ignore her?"
"We just couldn't deal with the drama, you have no ide—"
Duo was enraged.
"No idea? No idea? You couldn't bother to care about her! You didn't want her unless she was easy! You didn't parent, you didn't do anything! She fled to Oz because of you! She left the war traumatized by what she'd seen and been an accomplice to, things that never would have happened to her if not for you! You refused to support her, for years, for reasons I'll never understand. And now you want her body like some prize?"
"She's our girl! We're taking her home! We'll lay her ashes with the rest of our family!"
"What family? I was her friend for eight years! You never factored once in all that time! You did nothing for her. She left you as her first contact in the hope you'd bother to show up and be there for her and you did nothing!"
"And what did you do, huh? How did you fix her? You didn't!"
"She didn't need someone else to fix her! That's not how mental health works! She only needed support so she could work on herself!"
"Well your support was obviously not enough, was it?"
That hurt. It wasn't true, and it still hurt. He wasn't about to let these people gaslight him. He'd been there for Hilde. As much as she allowed, he was there for her. Sometimes he even pushed her to accept more of his support than she wanted. But it was never his job to fix her because the only person who could overcome her demons was herself. And these people, playing the role of grieving parents after washing their hands of their child so many years ago, were not worth his anger. They'd always supersede him when it came to Hilde. Legally he was just some friend of hers. Some guy she knew. Her parents were entitled to do whatever they liked, and he couldn't stop them short of stealing her body.
And Hilde deserved better. If she kept her parents as her primary emergency contact, some part of her still wanted them to give her the affection she craved. He wasn't about to fight them, but he couldn't just let them promote their own flawed narrative.
With a glare he knew rivaled Heero's, Duo gave her parents a final piece of his mind.
"She never stopped giving you chances to love her, and I did my best to love her enough so she could forget you. She had to die to get your attention. She mentioned you a handful of times and it was always wrought with heartbreak. Don't pretend you were half as good as she deserved. If you spend the rest of your lives atoning in her memory, it won't be enough."
He walked away, ignoring their voices as they rose at his back and ignoring the mix of interested and uncomfortable witnesses in the hallway. No part of him felt better, and his ears tuned out the sounds echoing in the halls. There was no place for him here anymore. Hilde was not just dead, but her parents would whisk her body away and pretend they were a happy family, lying to anyone who asked what happened, and he was powerless to stop them.
The emptiness from earlier grew. He could feel it lapping at his flesh, tasting his vulnerability, and readying to devour him.
His feet took him on auto pilot to Hilde's place. For a few moments he stood outside and stared at the building, knowing it was the last time he'd ever go inside. The last time he'd experience a place that was hers, lived in, and full of the little things she loved and collected. Going inside felt like an impossible task, yet he managed to put one foot in front of the other and let himself in.
No part of him wanted to linger in this place. He would grab his bag and not look back. It was too surreal for him. It felt like she just popped out to the store, rather than died in his arms. The first thing he did was pull off his shirt, crusted with dried blood, and slip on a hoodie. He changed his pants, too, throwing his blood-soaked clothing into the trash. Quickly he picked up the one or two things he'd left out and shoved them into his duffel. As he turned to leave he heard movement in the kitchen and froze in place, his hand reaching for the gun he didn't have. Police confiscated it at the scene, as it was the weapon used to take down an active shooter. Without a sound he lightly laid his bag onto the floor and stalked towards the kitchen, his throat tight and his heart racing. When he peered around the corner, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The neighbor's cat was in Hilde's kitchen, sniffing around and biding time until she came back. Hours ago Hilde proudly declared that Gabby the Tabby would stay with her all day long if she let her. And now the cat was here, unaware of what happened. He gasped, a hand raising to cover his mouth. Something about Gabby not knowing she'd never see Hilde again made things more real than even seeing her parents for the first time. With tears streaming silently down his face, Duo reached down to grab the cat, who initially let him hold her close.
"I'm sorry, Gabby! She's dead. She's not coming back!"
His voice broke, and shortly the cat began to squirm in an attempt to retreat from his embrace. He choked back a sob and held her tighter, and she verbally warned him to let go before sinking her claws into his skin and finally leaping free. She turned to look at him from the floor, seemingly nonplussed now that he released her.
Duo just couldn't be there anymore, and he managed to quickly thank Gabby for loving Hilde before turning heel and half running out with his bag.
He kept running as long as he could, feeling only the rush in his lungs and eventual soreness in his muscles. When he finally stopped, out of breath and doubled over, he was grateful to feel something. If his lungs were burning, if his muscles screamed to rest, he was feeling something other than that void.
When he dropped hard onto the pavement next to his bag, he finally glanced up to see where he was. It looked like a business district, with signage in English and French. He'd run at least halfway across the colony. Because it was early the colony was in the final stages of artificial sunrise. A few people gave him looks he recognized from his youth. He must, he realized, appear homeless. His hair was certainly a wreck, he was breathing heavily to get his lungs the air they craved, and he was sweating profusely. On top of that, he was sitting next to a bag with all of his belongings.
He didn't just look homeless. He was actually homeless. Again. His bank account was the only difference between now and when he was a child.
Alone, homeless, and on the streets of L2.
He swore years ago he'd never be in that position again, but he'd come full circle.
If he stayed too long in one place on the street, especially in this part of the colony, cops would show and force him to get up and keep moving. The idea of getting a hotel room didn't appeal to him at all. As counterintuitive as it seemed, being on the streets was more comforting than any impersonal hotel room would feel. It may have been born from a need to punish himself, but he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Right now he needed distraction, and surviving would provide that.
A safe room somewhere would only give him time to think. With his guard up at all times, and his eyes open for threats, he shouldn't be alone with his thoughts for long.
Duo pulled his knees up and hung his head. What was he even doing? A hand snaked into his pocket and reached for his phone. The weight was heavier than usual, altered by the emotional baggage attached to it. He wanted to call Heero.
That name brought the void right back, along with a tsunami of grief that drowned him until he was having a hard time breathing. He didn't want this to be like it was all those years ago after Maxwell Church. He was supposed to be an adult. He was supposed to have friends and a support system. And god fucking damnit he was supposed to have Heero, who would envelop him in warm, strong arms, and whisper reassurances he'd ignore while melting into that embrace. It was supposed to be like the last time a trip to L2 left him with a void inside. Hilde was supposed to be alive, and Heero was supposed to quietly meet him at his place, hug him close, tell him how he missed him, and gently ease away his pain. The man never failed to step up when Duo returned from one of his L2 trips. He was supposed to have that support and love.
He wasn't supposed to be clutching his phone like the last connection left to the life he mistakenly thought he had.
As much as he wanted to cry, he didn't.
A voice in his head told him crying in public made you a mark. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was true. If you were crying in public desperate people knew you'd be easier to swindle, easier to pickpocket. He had to move. Though his exhaustion was catching up more people would be occupying the streets soon. This part of the colony was waking, and people would go about their lives like nothing happened the day before. He'd run, and now he needed to hide. The time he spent in one location was enough to get his breath back and ease his heart into a normal rhythm. It was time to move on.
Instead of going back to an under-developed part of the colony to find an abandoned building he resigned himself to look for a colony maintenance substation. As a child he found hiding in those to be ideal for short term rest. Unless something was wrong, those passages in the colony were rarely used. He always figured the only reason more people didn't occupy them was the security system. Substations weren't easy to break into as a child, but he staked them out enough to learn their key code patterns. He wondered, vaguely, if they'd ever bothered to change the access codes in the past decade.
They did.
He found a maintenance substation within the hour and broke into it in under two minutes. While security had stepped up, he'd grown up and acquired many more skills that left him poised to have no trouble at all. Breaking into an L2 maintenance substation was infinitely easier than breaking into an Oz military base. The inside was smaller than he remembered, but he wasn't quite so child-sized as he was the last time he used one to hide. When he sat he couldn't stretch his legs fully out, and instead bent them at the knees.
The last time he fit just fine. It was after Maxwell Church, and before Howard.
A sinking sensation overtook his gut. He'd probably end up with Howard again, wouldn't he?
Full. Fucking. Circle.
The station's metal walls were cold, but the air was warmed by the heat output of operating machinery. When he was little the hum of that machinery soothed him, and it still did. That sound, the slight vibration, and the feel of his duffel lightly touching his leg were his sole comforts.
Time slipped away, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been there before he realized his hand was back in his pocket, caressing his phone. His subconscious was a ruthless bitch, betraying him. And suddenly, in the darkness of the substation, with that hum drowning out the rest of the world, the vibration grew. It radiated from his hands, to his arms, and into his body. He clutched one hand over his heart, and abandoned the smooth feel of his phone to bring his other hand over his mouth, silencing his already quiet sobs.
His breath was ragged. He could hear wheezing and he fought hard not to loudly cry. It didn't matter that he was alone, he couldn't risk being heard, even by a passerby, even over the machinery.
Face wet with tears, he gasped for air and started to subtly rock himself forward and backward. The motion was hardly comforting. Memories of Hilde mixed with Heero, mixed with the other Gundam pilots, mixed with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen and Solo and everyone he thought he had but ultimately lost. His skin crawled and itched. He wasn't supposed to be back in this place and he couldn't get enough air. His eyes darted around but there was nothing in the cramped substation but his bag and himself. Eventually his eyes fell on his braid, and his breathing suddenly slowed, becoming less desperate and more deliberate.
What was he even doing, carrying those memories in that hair?
What good ever came from holding onto his past?
Two hands held his thick braid. It used to feel comforting to have, like a security blanket. Now it felt like a weight keeping him at the bottom of an ocean of grief.
His mind emptied.
Time once again had no meaning.
And then, without warning or precursor, he scrambled for the knife he kept in his bag, firmly holding it in one hand and his hair in the other, and began slashing through the strands. The gentle sound of his hair breaking was immeasurably loud to his ears. He didn't hear the hum of the machinery. He only heard his hair as the knife slid across his now loosening braid until finally, finally, his remaining hair was loose around his shoulders and that heavy braid was a dead weight in his hand. He stared at it for a moment before throwing it as far as he could manage, disgusted by its very existence.
There was no stopping his tears from flowing. He laid on his side, so tired he couldn't register how he remained upright for as long as he did, and curled into himself. He let salty tears fall until he succumbed to exhaustion.
Duo didn't know exactly how many days he just existed.
He'd regressed into himself and his mind didn't supply him with many clear thoughts. He didn't bathe, and he often forgot to eat. For a while he just lived on the streets again, because using his funds to try and move forward meant moving forward. A clean room and a shower meant life still marched onward, and he wasn't ready for that. He didn't want to join the rest of the world, but he didn't want to die, either.
Passively he'd check L2's records to see what ships docked, knowing the Sweepers didn't stay away too long. If he was living like he did after the Maxwell Church, then he may as well commit and stow away on one of Howard's ships. When he recognized a Sweeper unit docked across the colony he picked up his bag and left without a second thought.
His courage failed him once on board, though. He remained hidden in the cargo bay until a crew member stumbled upon him, frightened out of his mind by the stowaway with jagged shoulder length hair hiding his face. It probably didn't help how he had a general filth and stench that all added up to him possibly being feral.
Howard himself came to check out who could possibly be hidden on his ship. They'd been in space for over a week, not docking once. If he felt a sense of deja vu at the sight of Duo, he kept it to himself.
"Duo?"
No answer.
"Kid? Fuck. Hey, this one's mine. You treat him right, he's one of us, you got it? Hey, look at me. Kid? Come on, Duo, answer me, will ya? Look at me. Duo! Shit, he's outta it. Listen, I'm gonna get him to a shower. You grab him some clothes, and you go find him a hot meal, okay? Bring it all down to cabin B18. That one's empty, yeah? Duo? Hey, you're gonna be just fine, okay, kid? I got you. I promise."
No answer.