Note: I have had to change a few things around in the last chapter to make this one better.

I have had this in my mind for the last week or so now. I managed the first draft before a significant family death this morning. So I may use this to distract myself, or I may have to put it on a temporary hiatus. I do find the boys as therapy though, so who knows. This chapter is Heero's POV and happens during day 6 of Duo's suicide watch. Dr. Willow has yet to visit Duo yet.

It has been exactly six days now. Nearly a full week since I found his pale limp body lying in the bathroom surrounded by blood… so much blood. I close my eyes now and all I see is crimson.

I can't even bring myself to enter the bathroom. I spend my time sitting on the edge of the bed, peering into the room. I run through what I can remember of that day. Parts are a blur. But I still replay everything over and over again. Scrutinising and criticising each and every single one of my actions.

I had felt something was 'off' after I had asked him what would happen when he cut too deep. It had been a question driven by the genuine panic of waking up and without him next to me. After our lovemaking the night before, and everything I had done to him, I expected him to be disturbed by the experience. Perhaps I had taken it too far. But I had to make him understand that I loved him regardless. But something had snapped in him that week. He no longer sought my comfort, as much as I craved it.

I've lost count of how many times over the years I have cleaned his wounds and then stitched him up. How many times had I bundled him into my lap and comforted him while the voices and the memories had assaulted him? I knew what every single tablet he took was, what it did to him, and most importantly, how long it would take to calm him.

This week I hadn't seen any new cuts or bruises. None on the skin he has displayed at least. Though I knew that meant nothing really. I know the road map of scars that trail across his skin, and that map covered every single part of my love's soft skin.

The bruises that bloom occasionally, I know he claims are from enthusiastic clumsiness. Those who didn't know him, really know him, would take that at face value. It was just a part of the mask that he had worn during the war, but I know better. He just doesn't care if he is hurt so he begs for the pain that comes with the fall. I know he sees it as a punishment. But I never sensed the need in him anymore; that need to end his life. No, he was just, I don't know quite how to describe it, he had been distant. He avoided me while dealing with the internal battle that I had thrown him into. Into a battle that I was unsure that he would win.

"But what if you cut too deep? What if you cut too deep and I am not around to save you?" I had begged for an answer. "What would you have done Duo? What would you have done?"

"I need to know."

I think I finally understand that craving for physical punishment. How did I let this happen to him? He had asked me not to accompany him to that damn doctor's appointment, not to even wait for him outside as I would normally do. He had given me one of those beautiful smiles of his and then left. If I had known that this would happen then I would have clung to him, refusing to allow him out of the apartment. I should have kept him with me. But instead, I had used that pent-up energy which comes with anxiety, productively; I had run as far as I could until breathing burnt my lungs and my legs felt like lead. Running was the one thing that helped to clear my mind. I still wanted to be home before him so that I could comfort him as I would after each appointment.

The paramedics told me if I had returned five minutes later then my amethyst lover would have been greeted by that God of Death that calls to him. My skills in treating trauma that I had learnt in the war had been praised. It had just kicked in automatically. The only thing I will ever thank Doctor J for. I could fix one of my broken bones without blinking, but I couldn't fix Duo. I couldn't help the one that I loved. I don't remember the emergency call; the whole time is a blur now. I had tourniquet the arm with the opened vein and wrapped it as I could with duct tape in an attempt to keep the wound closed. I think at least once I had seen those amethyst eyes open sadly, but that might have just been hopeful optimism. The paramedics had turned up just in time, but he had still lost a dangerous amount of blood. The only thing I could see clearly was the way that the tip of his braid had soaked in blood and the way that dried blood had specked across his cherubic face. He had looked strangely peaceful.

In the ambulance, I had clutched onto his icy cold hand. It was an attempt to anchor him in this world. I had finally found my purpose in life and I wasn't about to let him leave me, he would have to take me with him this time. Yes, this time. Painful memories come to the surface when I think about the times I had stopped him from taking his life in the past. Once it was sliced wrists that failed to knick a vein. And then not long after I had found him sitting on the edge of a cliff after that assassination mission, a single bullet in the gun that he had aimed at his head. I had acted just in time, the bullet missing by only a few inches.

The time in the hospital was a blur with the occasional polystyrene cup of brown water masquerading as coffee, pushed into my shaking hands which were still stained with his blood. I was refused entry while they attended him in the emergency room. But subconsciously I answered questions about his history, his medications, and his mental health diagnosis. In the end, they likely knew everything bar Duo's exact involvement in the war. Though if I had told them then they would have probably laughed, as most did when they realised just how young we were. I suspect now that there were notes on his paperwork which suggested time on the suicide watch ward.

It had been hours until they could tell me for certain that he would survive the night. It was only then that I could finally let out the breath I hadn't realised I was holding for so long. My shoulders slumped in exhaustion. I spent the rest of the time silently sitting beside him and holding onto his hand, much like he did with me when Wing Zero had exploded a lifetime ago. Somehow the sound of the heart monitor beeping was a comfort for me. The tubes around us were forcing precious blood and liquids back into his body, and slowly the colour had returned to his face.

Once he had agreed to the 'extended hospital stay' as they called it, I had been thrown out into the cold. I had to return to an empty home which filled me with dread. I knew he was alive, I knew I could see him, I just, I couldn't have him in my arms. I take comfort in hiding in our guest room now. I leave the television on for company. Nothing replaces his voice but it is better than the uncomfortable silence that weighs heavily on me.

I eventually managed to clean the blood. I considered bringing in someone else to do it, but it felt oddly wrong. If someone else did it then it felt like all of his pain and suffering was being erased. Now the only remains of that day are the chemical burns and scratches all over my hands from the coarse brushes. I tried so hard to remove the dried blood from the tiles; I tried so hard to remove these memories.

I fell apart when I found the knife. I knew he had it. It was sentimental, one of the few remnants of a haunted and painful childhood. I didn't know what to do with it; it felt so heavy in my hands. Razor blades I would have thrown away without a second thought but I wouldn't allow myself to take this from him. In the end, I carefully cleaned it and returned it to our locked safety drawer next to the bed, but this time I had changed the code.

So here I am six days later, sitting on the edge of the bed peering into the fluorescent-lit bathroom, and wondering what to do next. What was there to do? To stop myself from thinking I had worked out until my body ached and I collapsed from exhaustion. But then I feared sleep, knowing that the usual assault of memories now had a new companion. It put me off food. I ate enough to fuel my body but nothing substantial. I could see it in Duo's amethyst eyes that he worried for me, and he would always try to bring it up during his visiting times. What I needed more than anything was to hold him in my arms again. I never thought that out of all the Gundam Pilots, it would be me who would be the most sentimental. But it was something that had returned to me since the war's end. I was finally learning to accept who I had now become.

I had debated contacting the others. Quatre of course would be here in a heartbeat, mothering Duo in that peculiar endearing way of his. Trowa too would likely come. For some reason, he related to what he knew of Duo's childhood. A childhood filled with the trauma and loneliness which came from a life where he had to fight so hard to survive. Wufei, I'm not sure, but I knew he cared for Duo even if he never outwardly shared it. He would likely use all of the Preventers resources at his disposal to help. No doubt an organisation made up of people who had fought in the war would have an excellent mental health system. But I knew that Duo wouldn't want to worry them. He wouldn't want to be the same burden that he felt during the war. And as far as I knew the others didn't know the exact nature of his 'problems'. They knew enough though. The five of us were all broken in different but somehow similar ways. Quatre perhaps understood more than he let on, sensing so much with that space heart of his.

So what was left? Who needed to be informed? It was on this day that I realised that Doctor Willow would be waiting for a patient who wouldn't arrive the next day. Having to inform her or even the secretary made my stomach lurch. In the war, I would have just hacked the system and changed some information on their computers. But this wasn't the war anymore. Not to mention, Duo had been seeing her weekly since before we got back together after the year I went AWOL, so she would definitely notice if he didn't arrive.

I had eventually managed to summon the nerve to call the office. As soon as I mentioned Duo's name, I was immediately transferred to his psychiatrist's office.

"Dr. Willow's Office," came the perky enthusiastic voice through the phone. I had never met the woman, though I understood that she at least knew of me. I groaned inwardly, preparing myself mentally for a conversation that was likely going to be more painful than self-detonating Wing Gundam.

"This is Heero Yuy, I am a…" I wasn't quite sure how to describe myself to her. What did Duo call me? Was it a friend, a boyfriend, maybe a lover? "I am a friend of Duo Maxwell." I continued not allowing her to interject with questioning. "Maxwell will be unable to attend his scheduled appointment at your office tomorrow." That's right, keep it formal. Keep it professional.

"Usually we would ask that the patient would contact us to inform us of any changes to their availability." She knows she is keeping it formal too. It's almost like she knows who I am. "Could you explain his absence to me? Just for his records of course."

I bit my lip, suddenly stumped by the simplest of questions. I had rehearsed this conversation in my mind over and over again. But it had been aimed at the receptionist and not the Doctor herself. How else could I say, 'Well after your last appointment he went home, took his pocket knife and laid open one of his arteries! He was five minutes away from bleeding out on the bathroom floor! And now has no memories of anything that happened post sitting in your waiting room!'

"Maxwell is incapacitated at the moment." She waited just enough to encourage a more detailed description. Damn it why can't I bring myself to just hang up already. "He is currently in ward F6 at this colonies medical institute." That was enough, surely…

"F6. That is the suicide watch ward if I am not mistaken." How could she be so calm about this while I was panicking? My free fist clenched so tightly that I knew that there would be bleeding crescent moon welts from my fingernails digging into the flesh there.

"Correct." Remember: stay formal, stay calm. Return to the calm and collected perfect soldier that you used to be.

"And how are you coping with this Mister Yuy?" I almost dropped the phone. Finally, I understood exactly why the call had been put straight through to her. It had been planned from the start. Dammit Duo! I know you didn't mean for this to happen but still. I couldn't figure out if I was annoyed at him for this or if I admired his forward-thinking. He was always thinking two steps ahead maybe even more. He had a contingency plan for every possible scenario. It was something that was drilled into you during Gundam training.

"I… I…" At a loss for words, I found myself sliding down off the bed to the floor, never taking my eyes from the bathroom before me. I knew that the tiles were now white but I still saw the blood there. My knees came up to my chest, a protective posture from my childhood. "I am fine." That's right. I am fine.

"It is perfectly normal to be disturbed when something this dramatic happens to a loved one."

"I am fine."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

The silence was deafening. I didn't know what to say. My mind replayed the litany, I am fine. I hoped that the more I said it to myself, the more it would become true. Every time Duo said those three words to me flashed in my mind. He had said it even though we both knew that it was a lie. I never understood until now just how much he was actually hurting, but he didn't know how to explain it. The heaviness that came with depression, the darkness that the voices caused, and the struggle of battling through life as though it was tar dragging you down. Maybe I am just like him. Maybe I am just using it as he would. Maybe I am broken…

"Mister Yuy… Heero, if I may. I would like you to come down to the office and see me." I almost want to laugh at that. "I understand what your role was during the war. And I want to help you."

My answer is silence. No. No one can help me.

"You don't have to make a decision right now. But I understand why you called. Thank you. I am sure you understand that Duo would be assessed by the hospital inpatient department during his time there, which in his condition is not ideal. I will contact them immediately and arrange for me to attend the ward as early as I can. But I can't make any promises Heero. But please, consider my offer. And if not me, then I know other doctors that would be able to help you. You're not alone in this."

"Yes. Thank you." I can feel the tears burning at the edge of my eyes. How was it that the boy trained to be the perfect emotionless soldier cried so much these days?

"And Heero. Take care of yourself."

The phone hung up, but I didn't notice. I just continued staring into the room with the tears streaming down my face.

Don't worry. I am not about to give up my baby yet. I have had this planned in my mind for a while, but I just… I am sure you can imagine the emotional strain that writing this topic has. Plus I rarely write in Heero's POV and I always struggle with that too. I always think that he is a little too out of character. But then I remember that that's the whole point of the story. Even the most outwardly stable person can be fighting a war on the inside. Don't worry, Duo will return soon.