Warnings: Language.

AN: Day 6, Sunday, evening. I didn't entirely lose the motel room scene, the kissing and overwhelming, but I very much toned it down because I just can't see Heero being quite that bold and quite that forward and quite that insensitive. I also wanted to give Duo a little something of his own before it's taken away. (Edited March 07)

IMPORTANT: Reread or skim ALL past chapters, please! I've revised so much that there are entire new sections to some scenes and things will read much more smoothly if you're aware of what happened.

FYI: In my profile you can find my yahoogroup. On my yahoogroup you can find updates quicker and things that may not appear here for a while, if ever. Enjoy the fic.

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A Tumultuous Evening

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I stare at the motel bed, carefully testing at the edges of the others to see what they're all about. Bailey just sighs wearily and tells me he doesn't really care tonight about the whole works. A change of top sheet and one of the blankets from the car should be fine.

For the moment I'm alone in the room. Heero's gone to do something. I don't remember what. The thought of Heero brings back the image of Heero, so gentle and warm, 'Don't be sorry, Duo. Never be sorry. It's not your fault.'

There was something so… earnest in those words, so definite, not even Meyer was able to say anything to me about it afterward.

We know the words well, too. That's nothing new. They're familiar words. Not to blame. Didn't do anything wrong. Bad things just happen. Never deserv-

I cut off the train of thought, knowing that it can't lead anywhere good.

'Don't be sorry, Duo.'

But I am sorry.

I let out a heavy sigh and force my attention back to the bed again. It seems almost freakish, looking at it like this, so neatly tucked up and clean seeming. In a tiny little town like this it might even be clean in a way it wouldn't be in a larger city. But only one person really knows, and I'm not that person.

Not that person. Not a person. Not a people-

I jerk my thoughts back with a frustrated sound. I don't like feeling this level of agitation and restlessness. It never ends well. Most times it ends with Ara dressed for sex and out clubbing. And any time Ara is dressed for sex he has every intention of getting sex. And never has a problem finding it. Usually from a guy twice our size and just as rough.

And sometimes… I don't know. Sometimes I just suddenly find a week, ten days, two weeks, just completely missing. And no one ever admits to what was going on.

Damn, damn, damn. I do not need this right now.

"Duo?"

I give a start and look over my shoulder. Heero's closing the room door, a full ice bucket in hand, giving us a concerned look.

"Have you been standing there like that since I left?"

"Um. Well. I guess I have."

"Is something wrong?"

"Is the universe infinite?"

"I see. Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

What a question. Like to? Hell yes fuck no. Need to? Probably more than we even realize.

"Not really."

"So." He sets the ice bucket on the dresser and kindly places the lid atop it. "I checked with the front desk, just to be sure. All the other rooms are definitely rented out for the night. People stuck because of the storm that blew in earlier, further up the mountain. And the front desk said we can expect to get the tail end of it during the night but road conditions should still be clear tomorrow."

"That's good."

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still staring blankly at your bed."

"Just… mustering up the will to put a new sheet down. And then take a shower. And I don't even want to think about dealing with the hair tonight."

"Would you like some help?" he asks after a moment.

"What?" It comes out more sharply than I intended. I'm not sure how to take it back, considering I had meant for it to be a little edgy.

"Can I help with anything?" Heero asks patiently, though his voice is tinged with amusement. "Obviously there's some things I can't help you with. I can't take your shower for you, after all. But is there something I can help with?"

Bastard. Evil images of Heero and showers.

"No, we're fine. Why don't you take your shower while I mess around out here?"

"All right." Heero sets about settling himself in just enough to get his shower things, and then he disappears into the bathroom.

I finally manage to get moving before he heads in. I imagine if I hadn't he'd have something to say about it.

Bailey is remarkably unpicky about the sheeting process, and we get away with some sloppy folding for the motel provided blankets. It's decided as we change pillowcases that we'll be buying a pillow that we'll start bringing with us when we go out. One of those vac sack travel pack things or whatever they are should work nicely.

…ack, ack, ack, ack, ack, ack…

That's nice, Meyer.

I'm pulling out my own shower stuff – considerably more than Heero's – when Meyer pipes up again.

I like Trowa.

I pause in my unpacking for a moment, and then continue on. You're still not sure if you like Quatre, I point out. What makes you like Trowa?

He's with the circus!

Ah.

Meyer gives a defensive grumble. Hey, there's more to it than just a stupidficial reason.

Superficial, Meyer.

Shuddup, Ara. I know what I'm saying.

Then say it.

I did.

Now you're just being stupid.

And you're just being a bitch!

Hey! I focus on Meyer. Why else do you like Trowa?

He liked Toby. Hugged him, even. And held him.

Ah. Yes. He did. I liked that about him too, I confide.

You're both being stupid.

I sigh. Ara, you are being a bit of a bitch tonight.

Fuck off. And get the other bottle of soap. I'm tired of smelling like soap.

Because it's so much better to smell like roses.

Fuck off to you too, Bailsey.

I think we'll all feel better after a hot shower, I mutter. A very hot, long shower.

But first, a cold drink. That's very much not soda.

And very much not alcohol, Ara gripes as I pull a plastic cup free of the plastic wrap around it and get a cupful of ice for the warm bottle of decaf tea I picked up earlier.

We do not partake in alcoholic substances, Bailey says a little sharply.

You don't partake in alcoholic substances, Ara shoots back. I sure as hell do partake in alcoholic substances. Whenever I damn well please.

This body-

Is a shared body, clean freak. If you all can have your shitty chocolate I can have my alcohol.

I sigh and press the side of the cold plastic against my forehead.

"Duo?"

"Hey, Heero," I mutter, not looking over.

"You okay?"

"You know how if you get stuck in a place with several people you know pretty well and you can't get out after a while you start snapping and pushing each other's buttons just from the sheer frustration of it?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. In my head."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"But…"

"Yeah?"

"They can't exactly leave…"

I snort half heartedly. "No, they can't. But when they can be out and themselves it works out."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Going to take that shower?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He sets about his usual settling in. I stop leeching the cold from the cup and actually drink from it.

Should have gone with the orange tea…

Can get some tomorrow, Bailey. But really, I think we should stick with the regular tea. You'll just be disappointed by the taste of what they offer here. Not exactly designer high class whatever stuff.

Bailey sniffs. I just happen to have good taste.

Yeah, you do, I agree.

Thank you.

I put the cup down and gather the shower supplies to give a hot shower a try. And damn, we still have plenty of hot water.

By the end of the, yes, rose scented shower I'm actually feeling a little more human. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been until the muscles actually relaxed. And the others seem more agreeable as well, though Ara is still having his 'mood.'

Drying is an interesting activity. With the arms we had to be quite careful before, but now that the hands are rather messed up it takes twice as long to find some semblance of body dry. And the hair… There's already one sopping towel on the sink and I'm about to add another rather unpleasantly wet one and give my hair some more time with a third towel to be a little less drippy and a little more manageable damp. I don't even want to think about the tangles.

When we come out Heero is sitting on the end of his bed watching the news on the dinky television, and our expression must be much more agreeable now given the sudden smile Heero gives me when he glances over.

"I see it helped."

"That obvious?"

"Little bit. You don't look like you're going to start attacking people with a spoon now."

"Ah. Well… a spoon?"

"Oh, hm. Ah. Ara, then. Ara was muttering about attacking people with a spoon." He considers that. "Actually, he was muttering about attacking intolerant mama's boys with more balls than brains and more brains than, well, from there it just spiraled into graphic insults." Heero raises an eyebrow.

"L2." Only thing I can possibly say. And it's more than enough for Heero. He nods, now eyeing the strange lopsided towel and hair wrapped thing attached to the back of my head.

I open my mouth to say something pithy but what comes out is a somewhat tired, "My hands hurt."

His eyes drop to my hands. "You should probably leave the bandages off for a while, unless you plan on going to bed right away."

"I don't even know at this point. I still have to deal with my hair."

He looks back up to me. "Would you like some help?" he asks carefully after a moment.

My first response would normally be a No! but the thoughtful hesitation and careful way he asked makes it clear he understands there's something more to the hair than just being hair. And, really, I don't think even Austin would be able to do much with the hair without causing a fair amount of pain. And, hell, I can trust Heero with the knowledge of us but I can't trust him to get some tangles out of my hair? I think we're fucked up enough, thank you.

"Sure, Heero. That'd be great."

I carefully pull out the bag that has the comb and brush and I go settle cross-legged on our bed. Standing would probably be easier, but this is likely to take a while and I'm tired and this will just have to work.

Heero settles in behind me, holding a dry towel, one he tucks around my shoulders and smooths down my back before carefully unwrapping my hair. I'm amused by how well Heero has thought this out, but not really surprised. Heero tends to be thorough, no matter what he does.

I'm also amused at how slowly and gently he combs my hair out. Not that I'd thought for a moment he'd be trying to pull the hair out of my head, but with hair as tangled as mine has to be and as long as it is it's almost inevitable that there will be some tugging and pulling. As it is I can barely feel anything beyond the soothing sensation of having my hair brushed. It doesn't take very long before I'm lulled into a comfortable haze, aware but not aware.

In time I hear my mouth forming soft words, though I can't tell what they are. I have a moment of fear and then force myself not to jump back and take over. Heero doesn't seem upset at all, in fact I hear him murmuring back softly even though his words are just as distant. Body time, I remind myself sternly. We need more of it and as long as Heero's not upset when it happens then I shouldn't interfere.

It's not so easy to relax back into my haze, though. I feel a little… possessive, I guess, of Heero. The others have interacted with him in the past, yes, but Heero has always known me. I don't want to have to share him. And if I have to be completely honest its Ara I mainly don't want to share him with. I have this… fear worry uncertainty something that Heero's going to realize it's not actually me he likes, but Ara, and if that happens Ara's not about to let him go.

…but, but, but, but, but, but…

It's rather childish but I just can't help thinking 'I saw him first!'

This entire thing is just awful and I hate it and I can't wait until we can talk to Sandra.

Distantly I feel Heero's hands on my shoulders, not through towel and I wonder where the towel went, and he's rubbing and squeezing and kneading the tense, slightly sore muscles there. Even in my haze I can tell it feels heavenly and I decide it's time for me to pull myself up and see what's going on. And enjoy some of this attention myself.

"…getting used to," Heero's saying when I've pulled myself up enough. "But it's not as hard as I would have thought."

"We're being a bit careful of it," Ara says. "But it's good to hear you say that."

"Is this better? I'm surprised I didn't realize how tense you were."

"Well, we're usually a bit tense as a matter of course, so real relaxation would probably be more noticeable to you than a little bit of tension. And yeah, that's so much better. Shoulders are especially touchy right now because of that scrubbing."

"How are your hands feeling?"

"All right. A little achy, and they sting a little now and then. When you're done there can you help with cleaning and bandages?"

"As if I'd let you do it on your own," Heero remarks dryly. "You should consider taking the bandages off tomorrow for a time while we're driving."

"Gotcha."

"I've actually been meaning to ask something about that, if you don't mind."

"Go on."

"It's just that there's a fair number of scars on your arms that, reasonably, one would assume are self-inflicted. Or at least purposely inflicted and the nature and angle hints at them being self-inflicted. But I've never noticed them before and I have seen your arms before."

Ara gives a small chuckle. I have to resist the urge to push him out and let me take over, but Ara hasn't actually done anything wrong and I'm just as overly touchy as everyone else.

"Ah. Yes, that. There are two ways we cover them up. We have some bioskin sleeves that are good for a quick fix and ideal for when we want to cover up all the scars, not just the cutting ones."

"Really?" Heero jumps in before Ara can continue, sounding intrigued. "I've heard a little about that, but it's all been cosmetic so far. You do hear about the medical aspect but the public is most interested in the cosmetic side of things. I've heard there's been some problems with it. Not coming off properly and causing rashes and other problems."

"That's usually because some idiot wants some sort of animal skin or art or something," Ara says with a snort. "But they're not willing to pay thousands of dollars for the real material and they get an imitation. And since the material is designed to actually adhere to the top layer of skin and it sinks into the pores then there's bound to be problems if it's not pre-tested for your skin and if it has something in the ink that's not good for the body. But ours is just plain skin, a few small scars here and there since most boys get into mischief."

"From the images I've seen it doesn't look like much. In fact, if I hadn't known what it was I'd have figured it was nylon or something."

"Exactly like. Well, looks almost exactly like. Pull it on just like that and there's an activating spray and it almost seems to melt into the skin. Pretty neat looking, really, once you get past the initial weird factor of it."

"I'd imagine so. And the second way?"

"Cover up cream. That heavy duty expensive stuff people use to cover up tattoos. That's necessary around you and the guys since you expect more scars than just a few small, innocent looking ones. And you know, you plural as in all the pilots, know of a few specific scars, so I'm sure everyone would find it weird for those to disappear."

"All rather well thought out," Heero says after a moment.

I can hear the underlying 'all rather deceiving,' the 'such well thought out cover ups and lies.'

"That's just the way it is," Ara tells him. "Even the most well adjusted multiple doesn't want the average person to wonder if there's something wrong with them. They don't want to advertise their problems. People don't react well, Heero. People don't understand it, it makes them uneasy, it makes them nervous. And it's a very rare person who does understand it that won't look at you with pity. No one likes pity."

Heero makes a sound of understanding. When he doesn't seem about to speak I give Ara a nudge. He resists but I refuse to let up and he finally retreats with a grumble. Heero of course notices the little shiver that goes through me but doesn't seem to catch what it is.

"All right?"

"Yeah. Have I told you that feels heavenly?"

"Only half a dozen times now," Heero says with dry amusement.

"Well, it does."

"So you've said."

I consider whether or not I should bring up Ara's conversation. Not that I would pry into what they were talking about, I just want to make sure Heero knew who he was talking to.

"So, enjoy your chat with Ara?"

"Ah. I'd half wondered about that little shiver but since you didn't say anything… Yeah, it was interesting. He did most of the talking, of course."

"Of course," I agree. "Something we share in common."

"You two are rather alike, but now that I actually know him it's not so hard to tell when I'm talking to him."

That's only because he's not trying very hard to be me, I think with a sigh.

"He's more moody," I say with amusement.

Heero makes a noise of amusement.

I let Heero work on my shoulders a little longer but it doesn't take long before it goes from feeling very nice and good to quite nice and good in an entirely different way and that's just not something I'm prepared to deal with right now.

"So, how dry is the hair?"

Heero unwraps the towel and runs his fingers through my hair. "That towel of yours really does work quite well." I must have made a noise of surprise because he explains. "Ara told me to use it and it'd practically suck the remaining water out. I can see why you weren't able to wrap your hair with it yourself. It's rather clingy."

"Rather."

"So is slightly damp all right?"

"Just fine."

"Ara mentioned that… one of you might insist on braiding it."

My fingers curl in towards my palms but I manage to stop my hands from actually clenching into fists. "Ah."

"So?"

"Let me check," I say carefully, not sure how I feel about it myself.

We don't let people braid our hair, Meyer says immediately.

Yes, we do, Bailey points out with more patience than I'd expect. We've had to have help more than once.

People just braid it, we don't let them!

Yes, we do.

I feel the need to point it out since I know Bailey isn't quite as likely.

We do, I tell Meyer. In fact, it's usually after a cleaning episode, so it's not even breaking tradition.

Ara!

I'm not putting forth an opinion on this one, Meyer.

Of course not! You want him feeling you all up!

I bite back a frustrated sigh. Austin?

You know my opinion. It needs properly braided, we are unable to braid it properly without causing injury to ourselves, Heero is quite likely capable of braiding it properly.

You're all against me!

No, we're not, I tell Meyer patiently. We're just tired and in pain and Heero can likely get it done more quickly, efficiently and neatly than we could at this point. It's not something we plan on making a habit of.

You all hate me!

Fine, we hate you and we're against you, I tell him dryly.

Don't mock me!

Meyer, I don't think we have much choice in letting him help right now, I finally sigh.

Fine!

I let out a sigh and turn my head towards Heero.

He reaches out to touch my cheek before I can speak and I notice the wetness there for the first time.

"You're crying," he says softly. "I'm sorry. I just thought I should-."

"No," I interrupt, feeling my vision blur a little with more tears I try not to shed. "It's not you. It's okay. They're just- not mine. Sometimes…"

…leakage from one of the others, tears, screams, pain, a lot like the feelings of guilt that rip the breath from my lungs and drop me to my knees, tears coming to my eyes, or when I suddenly feel so sick I'm surprised I'm not actually being sick, never an explanation…

Heero's callused fingers brush against my cheek, coming away glistening with tears. So many times I've cried, never knowing whose tears for what pain. But these, they must be Meyer's. I know these. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

"Duo?" Heero whispers softly, tilting my head towards him again, his fingers hot and moist against my skin.

I let out a shaky sigh and focus on the gentle pressure of Heero's fingers. "Nothing," I whisper. "Nothing, not me."

He nods and I can tell that he understands and that he doesn't understand and that he knows it's both and…

He shifts carefully and slowly and deliberately, easing against my back and sliding his arms around my stomach, at first a very light touch, a very light pressure, almost nothing, not real, but when I don't shy away he presses his hands to my skin and I settle back against his chest and he holds me like that so very carefully.

"It's all right," he says softly.

There's a shirt, a towel and my damp hair between us but I can still feel his heat and I want to curl up against him and just let him warm me and make things better.

"It's all right," he repeats softly, a hand rubbing my side gently.

Please don't, I want to whisper. Don't be kind. Don't be understanding. Just stay away. Be cold, be unfeeling, be a bastard. Don't care. Stop showing me this. Stop doing this to me.

"It's okay," he murmurs into my hair.

Not really, but maybe one day…

I don't realize I've given in to the quiet tears until Heero nuzzles my hair and tells me it'll be all right again, a hand rubbing my stomach in a surprisingly soothing way. And once they start they just have to stop on their own and I give in to the comfort Heero seems willing to offer.

I don't realize I've stopped crying until Heero asks me softly if I feel better.

"Not me," I murmur again.

"But it was still felt strongly enough that it made you cry," he points out logically. "So you must have felt bad. Do you feel better now?"

I smile faintly at his reasoning and realize that, yeah, I do actually feel better. "Seem to."

"Good. Shall I…?" he doesn't say it, but he touches my hair softly.

There's no uprising of hatred or anger at the suggestion. In fact, Meyer just seems to be sulking now, upset but not upset.

"Yeah."

He sits back slowly and unwraps the hair, gives it another brushing out, then sets to proving that he can in fact braid. He's just never braided hair before.

Heero seems so surprised every time the strands of hair don't behave exactly as he wants them to that it's not long before even Meyer gives up sulking and being unhappy and instead settles into a grudgingly amused mood.

"This is easier with rope," Heero mutters halfway through.

"I bet."

"They just keep moving."

"Hey, Heero, it doesn't have to be absolutely perfect. Not even we can get it perfect every time."

I can, Bailey informs me haughtily.

"I gave up on perfect. Now I'm aiming for straight."

I snicker. "Stop thinking about it so hard."

"Easy for you to say," he grumbles.

I smile to myself but leave it at that.

Despite his problems and irritation, his fingers and movements remain quite gentle – and that might be part of the problem, that he's not holding the hair firmly enough, but I haven't the heart to say anything – and it's not long before I drift a little, comfortable and safe and soothed.

I rouse when at last he settles the braid over my shoulder and I look down at it with a little smile. A bit wispy in places and my practiced eye can see a few places where hair from one section got pulled into another partway through, but all in all it's not so bad.

"Pretty good."

Heero snorts and peers over my shoulder. "Not so sure about that."

"Really, not bad." And then an imp of mischief takes over and I can't help a little teasing. "Even looks like it'll last the night."

He groans and his forehead hits my shoulder and stays there. "That bad?"

"No. Its fine, Heero. Just teasing. It's a pretty good job considering you've never done it before. Really good, actually, considering how long my hair is. The longer it is the harder it is to braid."

"That's a relief."

His warm breath against my shoulder makes me shiver a little.

"Duo?"

"Yeah. And I'm fine."

"Good. How are your hands? Let me see." He lifts his head and gently draws the braid back over my shoulder, then peers over my shoulder at my presented hands. "Hm. They're not as bad as I first thought, now that the swelling and irritation has faded."

I make a vaguely agreeing acknowledging type noise. For some reason I'm suddenly very aware of two things. The first, at some point everyone retreated further back into my mind and I'm mostly alone at the moment. The second, Heero is a warm, solid heat at my back that I'm far more conscious of than I was just a few minutes ago.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You say that a lot, you know. That you're fine."

"Well."

"Hm?"

"Heero?"

"Yes?"

"Will you…"

"Will I?"

"Will you hug me again?"

"Of course." His arms settle around me much more confidently this time and I lean back into him, though almost as soon as I'm settled he chuckles and frees an arm long enough to move my braid out of the way. "Can't imagine how you deal with that all the time."

"You just get used to things."

"Seems like it'd be pretty heavy."

"Not too bad. Sometimes pretty light."

"Sometimes?"

"I put stuff in it, my braid." I relax against him, or at least as much as I ever relax these days. "Lock picks, wire, small tools, sometimes even a blade or something."

"Some things make a little more sense now."

"People don't think to check the braid, or if they do they don't know how to check it properly. Helps that it's thick, but still."

He makes an agreeing noise.

I don't feel like saying much else, so I don't. I just let his arms warm me up and I enjoy and marvel a little at how safe they feel. I don't want to sound gushy, but really. You know it but you don't really know it until you feel it, that Heero is all compact muscle and strength. But he's warm, and no matter how firm and toned a body is it's still skin and flesh and bone. And the fact I've seen him bend and break and force things that very few humans should be able to bend and break and force doesn't take away from the sense of security in the slightest. He interacts so gently with his environment most of the time that it only makes Heero feel more safe and secure.

Little wonder that I start to drift off, aware but not.

Heero murmurs softly to rouse me after a time. It feels like I've only started to drift, but I can tell by my state of relaxation that he let me for a while.

Heero murmurs again, voice against my ear, and I shiver at his warm breath there. I can easily imagine not so innocent murmuring. Only too easily. I turn my head to stop the feeling but Heero's breath is now ghosting against my cheek and it doesn't help at all. And when his hand begins to lightly brush over my side again, a once soothing pet, it now seems so much more and another little shiver dances over my skin.

I've never allowed myself to think beyond certain things. Dreams of the day where someone looks at me and sees me are vague. I've long ignored the touch of others that Ara knows. I've barely even known want or longing for something that wasn't more emotional and less physical. But Heero's arms and breath and soft voice makes me want to turn into him and whisper yes, please, show me, want me, need me, have me…

"Please, don't," I whisper between Heero's soothing murmurs. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't do that, be that. It makes me…"

"Makes you?"

"I can't…" His hand rubbing along my stomach weakens my resolve, steals my words.

"Duo?"

"You say my name like I matter."

"You do."

"No…"

"Yes."

"You make me want you." The words spill out of me and I feel a flush start to build in my cheeks. But I just can't seem to pull away. More words tumble out, trying to help the first but getting hopelessly tangled. "Can't have you, not right, but just want to kiss you, just want you to hold me and like me and it's not my place and-."

He covers my mouth gently with a hand. "Shh."

I give a little shiver but let the words stop trying to escape.

His hand slides away gently, but only to my jaw, a gentle pressure turning my head more towards him, tipping up.

"Duo, please," he whispers. "Look at me."

I open my eyes just enough to see him, almost through my lashes but just enough open he can't say they're not. Even still, I see the warm, thoughtful look on his face.

"I rather thought the conversation earlier didn't really do anything but muddle the waters," he says with a quirk of his mouth. "You know how I feel about you-."

"No, no, I don't. You don't know me. You know them, you know us, you know we, you don't know me."

"I'd like to think I know more than you give me credit for." He gives me a soft but gently sad smile. It says 'I understand more than you realize.'

I bite my lip. I want to argue, but…

…but, but, but…

Why can't I? Because it's not right to him, I tell myself. But why can't I have something? Why can't it be about me? Because it's not fair. Even if he knows? Would he understand? Do I understand?

"Heero, I can't be a something for anyone. I have… things to work out."

"I know."

"Even if I could be more, with you, I still can't."

"I know."

I'm a mess, I want to tell Heero.

I'm broken in ways you can't even imagine, I want to tell Heero.

I don't know who I am, how can you, I want to tell Heero.

"Kiss me," I tell Heero.

Something flickers in his eyes, but he says nothing. His lips are warm against mine, soft against mine, gentle, sweet, slow, little more than pressure and breath, so much more than a simple kiss.

It's just me, taking in his warmth, just me, mouth pressing back, just me, shifting lips against lips, just me, breathing in his taste, just me, sighing at the gentle movement of his mouth.

He pulls away slowly, but he only tips my head more and returns to the soft kiss, that little more than a gentle mouthing that feels so much more. His hand rests hot against my stomach, fingers shifting and rubbing, seemingly unaware, and I haven't the desire to stop them.

Heat spirals through me in strange ways and my fingers curl, wanting to touch but not daring, so relieved at the ache in my palms that I can use to excuse my uncertainty, that I can use to force myself not to want.

The kiss shifts to the side of my mouth, and then his hot breath is against my skin and he kisses my jaw softly and then down, hot wet breath, and then down, against the throat in light, lingering kisses, oh so, trailing over skin, making me shiver, breath unsteady, strange.

Tightness has gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe, and a slow burn is traveling through my body, liquid fire replacing the blood in my veins. From the base of my spine all the way to my brain I exist as nothing more than sensation, sensation that is slowly morphing into something, something, something, want, need, longing, hunger…

Soft murmurs in Japanese tease my skin and my eyes flutter. I know these words, I think. I know this language. But it's nothing more than little breathy sounds, flowing together, almost real against my skin. It becomes even more unintelligible and new feelings begin to shift through me, odd feelings, not-me feelings.

Strange, curious, odd, uncomfortable, unsettling, frightening…

Frightening?

No, something whispers. Not this. Not him. No.

Fear?

…Scream, scream, scream…

What?

…he'll hurt, he'll hurt, he'll hurt…

"Stop," I gasp.

Heero stills, then pulls away slowly to look at my face. He's flushed, just a little, and his breathing is unsteady.

The thought hits me, exciting and terrifying. I caused this. Me. I caused this.

I shift a hand up slowly, curling my fingers into his hair.

For a moment the image haunts me that they keep going, through his skin, through his skull, into his brain. The image is so real I truly expect to feel warm blood against my fingers instead of dry hair and fear fills me, coming up from the depths of my mind and slithering into my soul, gripping me, holding me, nearly choking me from the strength of it.

Destroy, the voice whispers.

Oh fuck.

"Off," I whisper hoarsely, letting go of his hair.

"Huh?"

"Off," I repeat slowly, a little more harshly. "Let go. Want away."

After a moment of odd, startled, confused silence he lifts his hands away and scoots back carefully.

I try, oh god I try, I try not to scramble away the minute I can. Calm, I tell myself. Don't make him think you're freaking out. The hands help. Can't use my hands. Makes my movements a little more measured and slow. I shift away, back not to him, sitting at the edge of the bed but still on the bed, facing more towards him but not quite able to face him. I think I can almost still feel that painfully inviting heat coming from his body.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Duo?"

I'm tempted not to answer, but I know it'll be too much of a hassle if I don't. "Yeah."

"I…" he trails off, and I slowly shake my head.

I can't explain this. Not right now. I'm not sure I can explain it to myself. Not yet.

"Did I…?"

It's not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not his fault. I should tell him that. I should find the words for that.

"Not you," I manage.

"Duo?"

"No. Not you. Not. Not right now."

He studies me. I stare at the wall, ignoring the little odd shiftings inside.

"There's still…"

"What?"

He makes an odd little sound. "I'd better put something on your hands," he says at last. "For the night."

I don't say anything. I don't have to. We both know it has to be done.

He doesn't say anything either. He just gets up and gets the first aid kit and he goes to work, gently efficient.

I spare him a few glances. He doesn't look upset. Thoughtful and puzzled. Not hurt or angry. But maybe a little sad.

"It's not you," I manage again once he's finished and putting the stuff away.

He stops, still just several feet from me, and then he shakes his head slightly. "I don't think it was you, either."

I can't say anything to that. I just look away. He continues to put away things and get ready for bed. Before he's in his own bed I've curled up in mine, cowardly, facing away, clutching Toby. I can't say anything.

Disappointment, fear, loneliness, sadness, wanting…

I hear him settle in. The light clicks off. The covers rustle and then settle.

I want to go join him. Curl up with him. Steal his heat, his strength, his security.

Haven't you done enough already? a voice whispers.

Austin's presence slides forward, wrapping around me sluggishly, an intense, comforting, familiar entity of support, drawing away all that plagues me and leaving me feeling contently detached.

Empty.

I'll try and explain in the morning. Maybe.