*** 02
I run.
I run until I can't breath, until my vision blurs, until the muscles in my legs are beyond burning and I can barely stand.
But I won't stop until I get to him.
Be alive. I plead silently, Oh God, please be alive.
The mission was reported as an official disaster. Unofficially, it was a massacre. No one even knows yet who or how many are dead, and that thought fills me with a suffocating dread. I choke and trip, stumbling over myself and the piles of burning rubble in my path.
Heero, you have to be alive.
I search frantically among the ruined buildings, every moment that slips by that I can't find him slowly strangling my heart. Tears come unbidden to my eyes, and unable to see, I fall. The charred ground is still warm against my hands as I push myself back to my feet, and doggedly I continue.
"Heero! Where are you!? Heero!!"
My voice is hoarse but I keep calling and calling until I can't even understand my own words for my sobbing.
The last thing I heard him say was that the mission was a failure, that there were still men trapped inside the compound, that he was going back into the building to get them, and that he wasn't worth worrying about so I should just stay put and let the perfect soldier handle everything.
Stupid! Stupid!! STUPID!! You idiot Heero!!
How could you leave me behind? Why did I listen to you for the first time in my life? Why didn't you just abort and save me from this nightmare?
I'm not losing you, Heero.
I wipe my eyes angrily on my sleeve, swallowing my sobs.
I'm NOT losing you!
I pick up my pace, squinting around the wreckage. Something moves to my left. I stop, holding my breath, and see a flaming wooden plank crash to the ground in a shower of sparks. My stomach plummets, dread squeezing icily at my rib cage.
Then I feel relief rush on me suddenly when I see something that isn't stone or wood.
Heero.
Every thought flees from my mind and I throw myself to the ground beside him, chunks of metal slicing at my knees.
"Heero! Talk to me, man!"
I grab the back of his torn jacket, trying to flip him over, but the leather is wet and my hand slips. I look at my fingers and fight the urge to be sick. They're covered in thick, crimson blood.
Oh God, no.
"Heero!!"
I grab his shoulders and turn him over, but immediately wish I hadn't.
He's covered in his own blood from head to toe, some still oozing sluggishly out of a gaping shrapnel wound in his side. There are so many cuts and bruises and burns that I can't even see his skin, all of them smeared with dirt and charcoal. He's not moving.
I feel my heart give one final desperate squeeze and then it shatters into pieces.
My hands go to my face, wet with tears, and then to my hair, where my shaking hands pull at it. I hear a sound like a tortured animal, an anguished wail that echoes around the black debris, making my ears ring, but I can't stop when I realize it's me. I fall across Heero's chest, wadding my fingers in the bloody fabric of his shirt, weeping uncontrollably.
I fling my head back and scream, swearing to all the gods that I barely believe in that if Heero lives I will cut off the one thing I would never part with.
I fall back across him, my face against his neck, shaking and gulping.
"Heero." I moan, stroking his filthy hair with the tips of my fingers, "Please."
I bite my lip, trying to quiet my erratic breathing. In the relative quiet, I hear the strangest sound. Like a sigh or a whisper. I realize with a start that the sound is coming from Heero, and I start to laugh, tears still streaming down my face.
He's alive.
***
I watch him sleep, his skin pale under the bloodstained bandages, his chest rising and falling slightly with each ragged breath. A lump forms in my throat as I remember how close I came to being without him.
I shake myself, trying to clear my head. I go to the side of the hospital bed and sit down, being careful not to disturb him. More than anything I want to touch that face, those hands, to force myself to believe that this isn't just a dream, and that he's really still with me, but I don't dare.
The doctors were especially careful to tell me no less than ten times that Heero's condition is precarious, and that if his stress levels go up, he could become unstable again.
I swallow. Not something I want to relive.
The first night after I brought him in was the most frightening thing I have ever experienced. The meds had barely started to tally up the wounds and clean him up when he suddenly flat-lined. His heart just stopped.
So did mine.
After that, it's a blur. I barely remember what happened, but it seems so irrelevant now that Heero's all right.
He's alive, and that's all that matters.
I'm reminded that I made a bargain for Heero's life.
I know what I promised, and I intend to keep my word. I pull the scissors out of my pocket and stare at them for a moment, hesitating. My other hand drifts unconsciously to my braid, curling the end of it in my fingers, and I feel so selfish for taking my hair for granted while I still had it.
There's a saying about that, isn't there? But I can't think of the words as I lift my braid off my back and place the open blades against where it gathers at the nape of my neck. The metal is cold, and I shiver, feeling that somehow I'm losing a friend.
But a promise is a promise.
And between Heero's life and my hair, there's no contest.
*** 01
The first thing I realize is that I can't move. The second thing is that I can't remember where I am or how I got here. I moan slightly, the vibrations in my chest starting a dull ache in my ribs. I wince inwardly, and slow down my breathing to ease the pain.
I drift in and out of a shallow sleep, and gradually the feeling starts to return to my body. I try everything out separately, moving each of my joints to see which are functional.
Unfortunately, I discover that nearly everything hurts.
The throbbing behind my temples makes it clear that I've been heavily sedated. The bright light filtering through my eyelids makes my head hurt even worse, but I open my eyes anyway. At first I can't see anything for the glare, but once my sight adjusts, I can see that the room is entirely white and smells faintly like bleach.
Definitely a hospital.
I prop myself up on my elbows and my entire body protests, but now I can see the room much more clearly. There are at least two other beds, both empty, and a few simple wooden chairs about, but no other furniture. There's a balcony to the left of my bed, and the door's been left open, letting in the warm breeze.
I glance down at my covers, and freeze, my stomach turning over. Lying across my lap, silk strands coming loose in every direction, is Duo's severed braid.
Panic wells up in me, clawing up my throat. Something terrible must have happened. There's no other explanation.
Duo. My mind races and my trained reflexes struggle to calm my rapid breathing. I hear laughter through the open balcony door, distracting me. With a great deal of effort and pain, I manage to stand, careful not to disturb the rope of chestnut silk on my bed. I make my way slowly to the balcony, the sounds brightening as I get closer.
My heart leaps. It can't be.
Below me stretches the hospital grounds, unbelievably green and in full bloom, and a young boy sits on the grass. I watch as he throws a paper airplane lazily into the wind.
I can't help but stare. It can't be.
"Duo.?"
The boy turns as if he can hear me, and slowly stands up, jaw length hair tossing in the wind. Glittering amethyst eyes meet mine and he smiles, wide and bright.
Those beautiful eyes and that unmistakable grin break apart any doubt I have left.
It is Duo.
***
Duo bustles around the room, chattering meaninglessly, noisily rearranging things that don't need to be moved. I sit on my bed, watching him out of the corner of my eye, feeling very tired.
My gaze is drawn again and again to his hair. He looks so different, almost as young as he really is, the length forcing me to realize for the first time that he has a child's face. Smooth and perfect, but with eyes as wise and deep as any three times his age.
I can feel the weight of his braid hanging heavily in my hands, but I can't bring myself to look at it. He glances at me, and I see a flare of emotion, concern and anger burning together in a churning flash of violet. Opening his mouth as if to speak, he straightens and looks at me, then reconsiders and closes his mouth with a mildly annoyed sigh.
"What?" I ask, surprised at how drained I really sound.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He says, his mouth drawn tight.
Startled, I blink. "I don't know what you're talking about." I answer honestly.
He makes an exasperated sound. "I'm talking about you running back into a building that you knew was about to explode, you doorknob!"
He levels me with a glare. Equally stubborn, I stare back.
"It's my duty." I say flatly, "Part of my responsibility. I can't abandon my men or my mission, even if it means that I have to--"
"That you have to what!? Get yourself blown to shit so that the people you leave behind can pick up the steaming pieces?!" He puts his face in his hands, his next words muffled.
"Damn you, Heero. Why can't you just believe that your life is worth something?"
"Duo, I."
I can't think of anything to say, and I feel horrible for it. I don't consider myself worth saving, and as much as I try to believe it, as much as he tries to force me to believe it, I can't.
I can't.
"I'm sorry." I mutter, looking away, suddenly unaccountably ashamed and angry with myself. My hand tightens on his severed hair and I feel guilt wash over me.
How could I have destroyed something so beautiful? It's my fault that he cut his hair. It's my fault that he gave up the one thing that had always been there with him. It's my fault for being rash, for being careless.
It's my fault.
But I don't understand. Why?
"Why .?" I echo, unable to meet his eyes, "Why did you cut your hair?"
Duo sits beside me, his body warm against mine, and he gently tilts my chin up until I'm forced to stare into those gorgeous eyes. "Because," He says softly, "I could never stand being without you. I made a promise when I saw you lying there. I vowed that I would cut off my hair if you lived. I was so close to losing you."
My throat constricts painfully at the sadness in his eyes, and I suddenly realize what that must have done to him, what it must have been like.
I'm so sorry.
I feel slightly sick, but Duo only pulls me closer, resting my head on his shoulder. He strokes my hair, his cheek against my temple, one hand brushing soothingly over my back.
"Too close." He murmurs, and runs one finger down the side of my face, tracing over the cuts and burns, "Don't ever do that to me again, okay?"
I nod into his shirt, too exhausted to form words. I'm so comfortable here with him, encompassed by his warmth and tenderness.
I start to fall asleep, safe in his arms, and for the first time in my life, I feel cherished.
***
I run.
I run until I can't breath, until my vision blurs, until the muscles in my legs are beyond burning and I can barely stand.
But I won't stop until I get to him.
Be alive. I plead silently, Oh God, please be alive.
The mission was reported as an official disaster. Unofficially, it was a massacre. No one even knows yet who or how many are dead, and that thought fills me with a suffocating dread. I choke and trip, stumbling over myself and the piles of burning rubble in my path.
Heero, you have to be alive.
I search frantically among the ruined buildings, every moment that slips by that I can't find him slowly strangling my heart. Tears come unbidden to my eyes, and unable to see, I fall. The charred ground is still warm against my hands as I push myself back to my feet, and doggedly I continue.
"Heero! Where are you!? Heero!!"
My voice is hoarse but I keep calling and calling until I can't even understand my own words for my sobbing.
The last thing I heard him say was that the mission was a failure, that there were still men trapped inside the compound, that he was going back into the building to get them, and that he wasn't worth worrying about so I should just stay put and let the perfect soldier handle everything.
Stupid! Stupid!! STUPID!! You idiot Heero!!
How could you leave me behind? Why did I listen to you for the first time in my life? Why didn't you just abort and save me from this nightmare?
I'm not losing you, Heero.
I wipe my eyes angrily on my sleeve, swallowing my sobs.
I'm NOT losing you!
I pick up my pace, squinting around the wreckage. Something moves to my left. I stop, holding my breath, and see a flaming wooden plank crash to the ground in a shower of sparks. My stomach plummets, dread squeezing icily at my rib cage.
Then I feel relief rush on me suddenly when I see something that isn't stone or wood.
Heero.
Every thought flees from my mind and I throw myself to the ground beside him, chunks of metal slicing at my knees.
"Heero! Talk to me, man!"
I grab the back of his torn jacket, trying to flip him over, but the leather is wet and my hand slips. I look at my fingers and fight the urge to be sick. They're covered in thick, crimson blood.
Oh God, no.
"Heero!!"
I grab his shoulders and turn him over, but immediately wish I hadn't.
He's covered in his own blood from head to toe, some still oozing sluggishly out of a gaping shrapnel wound in his side. There are so many cuts and bruises and burns that I can't even see his skin, all of them smeared with dirt and charcoal. He's not moving.
I feel my heart give one final desperate squeeze and then it shatters into pieces.
My hands go to my face, wet with tears, and then to my hair, where my shaking hands pull at it. I hear a sound like a tortured animal, an anguished wail that echoes around the black debris, making my ears ring, but I can't stop when I realize it's me. I fall across Heero's chest, wadding my fingers in the bloody fabric of his shirt, weeping uncontrollably.
I fling my head back and scream, swearing to all the gods that I barely believe in that if Heero lives I will cut off the one thing I would never part with.
I fall back across him, my face against his neck, shaking and gulping.
"Heero." I moan, stroking his filthy hair with the tips of my fingers, "Please."
I bite my lip, trying to quiet my erratic breathing. In the relative quiet, I hear the strangest sound. Like a sigh or a whisper. I realize with a start that the sound is coming from Heero, and I start to laugh, tears still streaming down my face.
He's alive.
***
I watch him sleep, his skin pale under the bloodstained bandages, his chest rising and falling slightly with each ragged breath. A lump forms in my throat as I remember how close I came to being without him.
I shake myself, trying to clear my head. I go to the side of the hospital bed and sit down, being careful not to disturb him. More than anything I want to touch that face, those hands, to force myself to believe that this isn't just a dream, and that he's really still with me, but I don't dare.
The doctors were especially careful to tell me no less than ten times that Heero's condition is precarious, and that if his stress levels go up, he could become unstable again.
I swallow. Not something I want to relive.
The first night after I brought him in was the most frightening thing I have ever experienced. The meds had barely started to tally up the wounds and clean him up when he suddenly flat-lined. His heart just stopped.
So did mine.
After that, it's a blur. I barely remember what happened, but it seems so irrelevant now that Heero's all right.
He's alive, and that's all that matters.
I'm reminded that I made a bargain for Heero's life.
I know what I promised, and I intend to keep my word. I pull the scissors out of my pocket and stare at them for a moment, hesitating. My other hand drifts unconsciously to my braid, curling the end of it in my fingers, and I feel so selfish for taking my hair for granted while I still had it.
There's a saying about that, isn't there? But I can't think of the words as I lift my braid off my back and place the open blades against where it gathers at the nape of my neck. The metal is cold, and I shiver, feeling that somehow I'm losing a friend.
But a promise is a promise.
And between Heero's life and my hair, there's no contest.
*** 01
The first thing I realize is that I can't move. The second thing is that I can't remember where I am or how I got here. I moan slightly, the vibrations in my chest starting a dull ache in my ribs. I wince inwardly, and slow down my breathing to ease the pain.
I drift in and out of a shallow sleep, and gradually the feeling starts to return to my body. I try everything out separately, moving each of my joints to see which are functional.
Unfortunately, I discover that nearly everything hurts.
The throbbing behind my temples makes it clear that I've been heavily sedated. The bright light filtering through my eyelids makes my head hurt even worse, but I open my eyes anyway. At first I can't see anything for the glare, but once my sight adjusts, I can see that the room is entirely white and smells faintly like bleach.
Definitely a hospital.
I prop myself up on my elbows and my entire body protests, but now I can see the room much more clearly. There are at least two other beds, both empty, and a few simple wooden chairs about, but no other furniture. There's a balcony to the left of my bed, and the door's been left open, letting in the warm breeze.
I glance down at my covers, and freeze, my stomach turning over. Lying across my lap, silk strands coming loose in every direction, is Duo's severed braid.
Panic wells up in me, clawing up my throat. Something terrible must have happened. There's no other explanation.
Duo. My mind races and my trained reflexes struggle to calm my rapid breathing. I hear laughter through the open balcony door, distracting me. With a great deal of effort and pain, I manage to stand, careful not to disturb the rope of chestnut silk on my bed. I make my way slowly to the balcony, the sounds brightening as I get closer.
My heart leaps. It can't be.
Below me stretches the hospital grounds, unbelievably green and in full bloom, and a young boy sits on the grass. I watch as he throws a paper airplane lazily into the wind.
I can't help but stare. It can't be.
"Duo.?"
The boy turns as if he can hear me, and slowly stands up, jaw length hair tossing in the wind. Glittering amethyst eyes meet mine and he smiles, wide and bright.
Those beautiful eyes and that unmistakable grin break apart any doubt I have left.
It is Duo.
***
Duo bustles around the room, chattering meaninglessly, noisily rearranging things that don't need to be moved. I sit on my bed, watching him out of the corner of my eye, feeling very tired.
My gaze is drawn again and again to his hair. He looks so different, almost as young as he really is, the length forcing me to realize for the first time that he has a child's face. Smooth and perfect, but with eyes as wise and deep as any three times his age.
I can feel the weight of his braid hanging heavily in my hands, but I can't bring myself to look at it. He glances at me, and I see a flare of emotion, concern and anger burning together in a churning flash of violet. Opening his mouth as if to speak, he straightens and looks at me, then reconsiders and closes his mouth with a mildly annoyed sigh.
"What?" I ask, surprised at how drained I really sound.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He says, his mouth drawn tight.
Startled, I blink. "I don't know what you're talking about." I answer honestly.
He makes an exasperated sound. "I'm talking about you running back into a building that you knew was about to explode, you doorknob!"
He levels me with a glare. Equally stubborn, I stare back.
"It's my duty." I say flatly, "Part of my responsibility. I can't abandon my men or my mission, even if it means that I have to--"
"That you have to what!? Get yourself blown to shit so that the people you leave behind can pick up the steaming pieces?!" He puts his face in his hands, his next words muffled.
"Damn you, Heero. Why can't you just believe that your life is worth something?"
"Duo, I."
I can't think of anything to say, and I feel horrible for it. I don't consider myself worth saving, and as much as I try to believe it, as much as he tries to force me to believe it, I can't.
I can't.
"I'm sorry." I mutter, looking away, suddenly unaccountably ashamed and angry with myself. My hand tightens on his severed hair and I feel guilt wash over me.
How could I have destroyed something so beautiful? It's my fault that he cut his hair. It's my fault that he gave up the one thing that had always been there with him. It's my fault for being rash, for being careless.
It's my fault.
But I don't understand. Why?
"Why .?" I echo, unable to meet his eyes, "Why did you cut your hair?"
Duo sits beside me, his body warm against mine, and he gently tilts my chin up until I'm forced to stare into those gorgeous eyes. "Because," He says softly, "I could never stand being without you. I made a promise when I saw you lying there. I vowed that I would cut off my hair if you lived. I was so close to losing you."
My throat constricts painfully at the sadness in his eyes, and I suddenly realize what that must have done to him, what it must have been like.
I'm so sorry.
I feel slightly sick, but Duo only pulls me closer, resting my head on his shoulder. He strokes my hair, his cheek against my temple, one hand brushing soothingly over my back.
"Too close." He murmurs, and runs one finger down the side of my face, tracing over the cuts and burns, "Don't ever do that to me again, okay?"
I nod into his shirt, too exhausted to form words. I'm so comfortable here with him, encompassed by his warmth and tenderness.
I start to fall asleep, safe in his arms, and for the first time in my life, I feel cherished.
***