Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Black and White ❯ Part 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Black and White

Part Two

By: The Firefaery

R: Gore

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(Day Before, Heero's POV)

I hear the others downstairs as Quatre calls everyone in for sundaes and lemonade or something. I briefly consider going down to join them, but decide against it. The keys of my laptop fill my room with their endless clicking sound, a comfort and familiar. The hours pass unnoticed as I sink into a trance, the screen with its flickering lights and numbers my only view. The stream of data is abruptly halted as a message pops up on the screen.

"Mission Accepted," I murmur, the routine engrained in me. Sending the appropriate coordinates to Wing and my partner on this mission, I head downstairs to brief the others. Quatre and Trowa I find in the kitchen, dinner being close to done. The hours I'd been up in my room were long. "We have a mission," I inform them, turning to find the other two. Wu Fei is already in the living room, his precious katana held across his knees, eyes closed in meditation. "Wu Fei, we have a mission," I interrupt, his black eyes snapping open to look at me. He nods once, as Quatre and Trowa file in and sit on one of the two sofas. "Where is Duo?"

"Up in his room, I'm sure," Quatre answers. "You know he hates this heat, and he spends all day up there in the A/C with the door shut." I nod and turn to head back upstairs. Upon reaching his door, I pause, hearing no sounds from within other than the constant A/C noise. I try not to let it, but worry brims in me. Duo is never this quiet. Feeling unsure, I pound ruthlessly on the door, not like the emotions he brings out in me. I know Quatre and Trowa are a `couple' per say, but it's not something I envision for myself. Maybe after the war, when no Perfect Soldier is needed -

I hear a shout from within, and almost consider breaking down the door. "What?" Duo's disgruntled voice snaps through the door, bringing me relief. Annoyed at myself, I call back to him.

"Duo! We've gotten our orders, we need you downstairs, now." I put all my garnered authority into it, trying to distance myself from this boy who brings me so much confusion. I am about to turn and leave, when the door swings inward, Duo in the doorway. A half-naked Duo in the doorway, with a gun in his hand.

"Fine, damn it! I was sleeping!" he growls, clearly upset at being awakened so rudely. Duo and I are about the same size, though I think he's taller and I have broader shoulders. The sight of him standing there, clad only in boxers, is doing strange things to me. He pushes past me and stomps downstairs, leaving me still standing at his door, a warm feeling filling my face. I'm almost angry as I get the blush under control and head downstairs, hearing Duo tell someone, "He woke me up, and I don't care," in a disagreeable voice. So he'd walked out of his room almost naked on purpose? How distracting. I walked in at that point.

"The mission parameters request that Duo and I do a hit and run job on a base farther North, up by the old D.C. capitol. Using our Gundams, of course," I add, turning to look at the braided youth next to an uncomfortable Wu Fei. Duo's right hand still clutches his gun, I don't think he even realizes he has it.

Stealing my line, he answers, "Hn." I can only be left to wonder why being woken up has left him so unlike himself. Brushing other thoughts aside, I concentrate on the other three.

"The rest of you will be staying here for this mission, we've still got a few more weeks at this base. We'll be back before you leave again." Having informed them of their part in this, I turn to look at Duo again, schooling my expression back to indifference when it begins to slip. "We leave tomorrow at dawn, be ready." Not wanting to deal with my emotions in his presence, I turn around and leave, heading back to my room. I vaguely hear him start complaining to Quatre when my door shuts out the noise.

Sitting down at my desk once again, I try to return to the trance I'd been brought out of earlier, but fail. My thoughts are for once too distracting. I can't seem to get Duo Maxwell out of my head, and I don't like it. Emotions are a weakness I can not afford now, when we are so close to ending this. I don't think the others realize how close we are, but if we finish off the White Fang, I believe Oz will fall quickly after that. And we are very close to finishing the White Fang. Our brief stay in this state in the U.S. is only a time of regrouping before the final attack.

Realizing I won't be able to work on my computer anymore this night, I strip off my boots and tank top and lay down on the bed, closing my eyes and preparing for sleep. I know Quatre has dinner downstairs, but thinking is easier for me on an empty stomach. Sleep eludes me, frustrating me. I turn on my side, willing myself to sleep. My thoughts drift around, settling on the one subject I don't want to think about.

I don't know when Duo started effecting me this way. It may have been the first day we met on the dock with Relena, and he shot me. I recognized a young boy similar to myself, a hardened warrior who probably had as troubled a past as my own. When I realized later that he was also a Gundam pilot, the resemblance was even closer. But once I began to know him in person, our personalities were revealed to be completely opposite. At least on the surface.

Duo is often loud, obnoxious, over-excited, rude, vulgar, and annoying. Wu Fei, at least, can attest to these things. He smiles too much, laughs too freely, and is always dragging the four of us to pointless `outings' like the movies, arcades, malls, fast food joints, and a dozen other places. He says it's to remind us that we're just teenagers, even though we've killed more people than most adults will ever do, even those who work for Oz. I see the others smiling, laughing even, and even uptight Wu Fei relaxes on these trips a little. It's very confusing for me. I don't know how to remember I'm a teenager. I've never been one before.

The three most important things to Duo are his cross, his braid, and Deathscythe, his Gundam. I wonder what he'd do in a situation where he had to pick between one of them and the mission. I can only hope that never happens, because if he chooses wrong, I'll have to kill him. Even if I do -care- for him. I don't know how to use the word love. It's too dangerous an emotion. I see Quatre and Trowa displaying it often, and I sometimes can't believe how easily they show their weakness for each other to the world.

I finally manage to fall asleep, my dreams forgotten to me as always. My internal alarm goes off at precisely five a.m. and I get out of bed, put my boots and shirt back on, and pack my duffel with medical supplies, my laptop, and a change of clothes. I'm ingrained to carry light. At five-fifteen, I'm ready to leave, and I go to wake Duo. Finding him already awake, I'm surprised.

"The coordinates have been transferred to your Gundam," I tell him, heading outside to mount up in Wing. He follows, and I watch him wince as the hot black metal of his Gundam scorches his hands. I climb up quickly into Wing and settle myself in the cockpit, hatch closing above me. Doing a systems check, all appears in working order. A voice comes over the com.

"Ready whenever you are, Heero," Duo calls, face appearing briefly on the screen. I nod, acknowledging my readiness, and we both power up, lifting into the air. The familiar rush fills me, and I can't stop a smile from cracking my face as we speed through the sky. "God, but it's good to be up again!" Duo yells wildly, excitement thick in his voice. I laugh softly, enjoying this moment for what it's worth. I think about what I could say to him, after the war is over. That I care for him, love him more than a friend? That I'd like to learn how to be a teenager, a human, from him? I want to learn how to express my emotions, for him and the rest of the people who have helped us during the war. And for those we've ourselves helped. Of course, that all depends on surviving the war in the first place. I look up and realize we've reached our destination.

"We're here," I warn Duo, watching as he lands Deathscythe in the clearing below us. I guide Wing down next to them, popping the hatch and stepping out. My gun is in my hand and ready to use, should we be ambushed, and I nod approvingly to myself to see Duo has his out also. After clearing the area, I lower my gun as Duo turns to me.

"You want me to set the charges now, or wait a while?" His face is serious and devoid of his usual emotion, the Death God coming to the fore, as he calls himself. I sometimes believe him.

"Yes, do it. The better prepared we are for the strike tonight, the easier it will go," I decide, watching as he begins to head off towards the base, duffel of explosives over one shoulder. Suddenly, some strange feeling comes over, a fear I've never felt before. I don't want him to do this. "Duo- " He stops and turns to me, brow scrunched in confusion. I realize I want to tell him how I feel, I know something is going to happen today that may take away my chance later.

"What?" His voice is soft, questioning. I don't know how to say what I want to.

"Just - be careful." It's all I can manage. I'm just too good a soldier, the Perfect Soldier. It's impossible for me to show emotion, even to someone I've come to care about. I'm not supposed to even feel emotion. Obviously, that isn't working anymore. He looks shocked and surprised, and I know I'm being out of character. I can't look at him, so I stare out into the trees around us.

"Uh, sure thing, Heero." When I turn around, he's gone. I'm left alone in my thoughts. I don't know what's wrong with me as I go to sit on Wing's foot, waiting for his return and the start of the mission this evening.

What did I have to offer somebody like Duo, anyway? He deserved a woman, for one. I did realize that we couldn't have children together, and that was something that I know would bother some men. He deserved a normal human being, for another. He would have to show or explain a lot of things to me about relationships, if we did have one after the war. And added to that, there was no certainty that he would wait until after the war to choose somebody else to love. That thought was a sour one, and I leaned back, not willing to go any farther in my thoughts. After the war, we would see what we would see.

An hour or so later, Duo comes strolling into camp, looking fine. Something is off, but I'm not sure what it is. His walk is different then usual, and for a moment I wonder if he's been wounded. "How'd it go?" I know he won't lie to me. Duo Maxwell never lies.

"Nothing Shinigami couldn't handle!" he crows, grinning at me as he climbs into Deathscythe. "Had to take out two Oz morons, but nobody'll find `em before we hit it tonight," he assures me. "I'm taking a nap, signal when it's time." I shrug off my uneasiness, blaming it on my unfamiliar emotions clouding my mind. It was just more proof that now was not the time to become involved with someone. I pull out my laptop and sink into my very familiar trance, keys clicking dully in the wide-open clearing. An internal clock goes off and the fading light around me tells me it's time. I climb up into Wing and signal Duo's com system. I can hear him pick up and move around, but no picture comes up on the screen.

"Duo, is your com malfunctioning?" I ask, worry about the performance of his Gundam making my brow furrow.

"Yeah, I can see you, but I don't think it's sending," he replies, and I hear him tapping against the screen, trying to get it to work. "I'll have a look at it when we get back to the safehouse. Everything else is at optimum," he adds as an extra assurance. I know he never gives false info about his machine, so I trust his words.

"Good. We're moving out, detonate the charges you set." I close the connection, waiting for the explosion in the distance before powering up and taking off, going in for the attack on the mobile suits. It was amazing how easily they all fell.

"Mission Complete," I murmur into the silent confines of Wing, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having carried out the mission almost exactly as planned. We head back towards the south, the hours of flying very mechanical and without thought for me. I wonder what Duo is thinking at this moment, but can't bring myself to contact him over the com. I notice his erratic flying a few times, but dismiss it as Duo screwing around for kicks.

We reach the base after a few hours of low flying and land precisely on the low hill we'd left. I hop out of Wing, dragging my duffel with me. Quatre, Trowa, and Wu Fei come out to meet us, Quatre looking relieved. Wu Fei, Trowa, and I exchange nods as Quatre places a welcoming hand on my shoulder. From him, I'll tolerate it.

"Welcome back, Heero. I trust the mission was completed? Are you and Duo injured at all?" the small blonde queries, trying to hide his anxious look. I sigh internally.

"The mission was successful. Duo and I are unharmed," I reassure him, turning to head into the house. A hand on my shoulder stops me, and I turn to see Wu Fei with a worried expression on his face.

"Why hasn't Maxwell come out of his Gundam yet?" His question jolts me, and I whip around to see that he's correct. Duo, usually impatient to get back to the other pilots, always flying out of his cockpit to hug Quatre, was not present.

Quatre brings his own worried face back up, heading towards Deathscythe, calling Duo's name. Trowa, silent until now, turns to me.

"You're sure he wasn't injured?" he demands, his green eye boring into me. I return his look without flinching.

Growling, "He didn't say anything, and you know how Duo is. He always complains when he's hurt!" I bark out, bringing a surprised look from Wu Fei and Trowa. The tall, brown haired boy shakes his head gravely.

"Minor scratches, he does. But remember when he got a knife in his leg a few months ago? Never a sound, and he lost a lot of blood. For serious injuries, Duo always stays silent." I'm made fearful by his words and turn back to the still silent Deathscythe as Quatre climbs up and begins pounding on the hatch.

"Duo! Duo, are you in there? Are you hurt?" the Arabian cries, his face paler than usual. No response is heard, and now I know something is wrong. Duo always admits to Quatre when he's hurt, maybe trusting the blonde more than the rest of us. "Heero, I can't get the hatch open!" Quatre yells down, looking panicked. I pull my gun and climb up beside him.

"Get back!" I yell, taking aim at the seal and latch of the hatch and firing. I hear the hiss as the hatch pops open. It's too dark to see for a moment, the light glistening strangely off the inside of the cockpit around the still figure inside. Suddenly, I find myself choking back a gasp as I realize Duo's body is covered in blood, his pants, shirt, and the chair around him soaked with it. Most of it was still wet, the surface catching and throwing back the light. The pilot himself is deathly pale, his lips red with blood and skin slick with sweat.

"What!?" Quatre yells, pushing me aside in my shocked state. "Is Duo all- " He stops abruptly and all the color drains from his face as he takes in the sight before him. "Trowa!" he screams, climbing inside. "Wu Fei! Call Sally Poe right now!" The two below us look stunned, too, and they don't even know what's going on.

"But, Quatre, what- " Wu Fei begins, his expression confused and worried.

"Do it, Wu Fei! Now, damn it!" Sandrock's pilot bellows as he carefully checks Duo's pulse. I watch Wu Fei scramble into the house to make the call as Trowa waits for more orders. "He's got a high fever and he's lost so much blood." Saying this, he turns to me. "I don't know if he'll make it, Heero." The words seem to break him as tears start down his face. I'm numb as I watch him strip blood-saturated garments off the one person I care about most. He finds the gunshot wound to Duo's abdomen, and after unwrapping the makeshift bandage, even I can see that part his intestine is pushing through the gaping hole. "By Allah," I hear, fear and dismay coating the words. Quatre pales even more and looks slightly sick.

"What do you need me to do?" Trowa calls finally, impatient with not knowing the condition of his fellow pilot and having no task to carry out for distraction.

Shakily, Quatre replies, "We need any clean bandages, sheets, bedding, in the house. Hot water, latex gloves, sterilized needles." Trowa hurries to comply, leaving us alone with the dying 02. "With a wound like this, internal infection is a serious risk. We need to keep him as sterile as possible, Sally will give us more instructions when she gets here." He studies me closely. "Can you help me carry him down to the ground, Heero? We need to keep from jarring him as much as possible. I didn't find an exit wound in his back, so there's still a bullet inside of him. Moving him too roughly will cause it to do more damage." I nod briefly, the emotions so new to me completely locked away for the moment. A comrade is down, and he needs help. Duo is my only mission right now.

We somehow manage to get him down to the ground without worsening the steady bleeding. I can barely hear the rattle in his chest, the only sign that he's still alive. Laying him out on the blankets Trowa brought out, I watch the Heavyarms pilot shake visibly as he takes in Duo's condition. The three of us lift the edges of the blankets up and walk slowly into the house, the sun beating our backs like a slave driver.

Wu Fei is just hanging up the phone when we enter, the unconscious and mortally wounded pilot slung between us. His eyes graze over Duo's torso and stop at the large bullet wound, the glistening slip of intestine, the dried and drying blood all over his death-pale skin. He sways and lurches outside, becoming noisily sick in the bushes out front. His violent reaction barely registers as the others and I gently lay the fallen one down on the clear space of floor in front of one of the sofas, medical supplies all around it.

"I'm going to sterilize my hands and put on gloves, then start cleaning off the blood. If you want to stay in here, I suggest everyone does the same," Quatre warns, heading to the kitchen. I follow him after a moment, the sound of water running a background noise. Watching him scrub up to his elbows, I follow suit, the water almost scalding hot and the soap a skin-stripping antiseptic brand. Drying them on a handy, clean white towel, he hands it to me, then snaps latex gloves into place. I do the same, and then we both return to the living room. Trowa, until now leaning against the door jam, nods to Quatre then goes outside, presumably to find Wu Fei.

"There's no way we can take his pants off the normal way," Quatre begins, handing me a pair of steel shears as he reaches for some swabs and a basin of steaming water. Knowing I can't allow my other feelings for Duo to stop me from doing this, I begin to slowly cutting along the seam of his black jeans. My gloved hands are soon red with blood from the cloth, but ignoring this I keep on cutting, switching sides when I finish with the right leg. Completing the job, I peel the mutilated pants off his skin, slipping one, then the other leg out.

Tossing the useless jeans behind me, I catch a glimpse of Duo's now red, once white, cotton boxers before looking to Quatre for more instruction. "Get his hair out of the way, first. Then I'll need you to wash the blood off his lower body. Anything allowed to stay will attract infection at this point, even sweat," he adds, tongue sticking out from between his teeth as he carefully cleans the edges of the wound, the skin around it already done.

I move up to pull his braid out from underneath his body, not stopping myself from secretly caressing it's chestnut length. I feel my emotions resurface for a moment as I imagine him never braiding it again, never howling at Wu Fei for threatening, never silently playing with it and remembering his past when he thought no one was looking. I pile it next to his head, hoping we won't have to cut it off eventually.

Grabbing some towels and wetting them down from Quatre's water basin, I begin washing the blood off his legs, the towels soon a watery crimson. His skin is so pale, and his breathing so shallow, that I know he doesn't have much of a chance. He must have known as soon as he was hit, how bad it was, or he would have told me. Knowing he didn't have much of a chance to live anyway, he chose to fight on, rather than going back to base ahead of me. Cursing him, wishing he'd just taken that chance of surviving, rather than giving up hope, I throw the used towels over by his jeans just as Sally, Trowa, and a very pale Wu Fei walk in.

"God, Quatre! Wu Fei told me it was probably bad, but I would never have guessed," Sally murmurs, setting down several bags of supplies next to us and gently pushing us out of the way to examine him. "It's a good thing I came prepared. I've got a portable sonogram kit with me, and I'm going to assess the amount of internal injury here in a minute." Turning, the competent, calm woman reaches into a bag and pulls out several quarts of blood in plastic IV bags. "Do you have anything I can hang these from, Quatre?" she asked, looking around the room. Trowa quickly brings over a coat rack with several levels of hooks, looking apologetic.

"Will this do?" His soft voice is almost too low to be heard. Sally nods, smiling.

"That's perfect." She swabs a place on his forearm with alcohol, then deftly inserts a needle hooked to a tube, which she then attaches to one of the bags of blood and hangs from a midway-up hook. "As long as he's still bleeding, we'll need to keep this IV going, as well as to replace what he's already lost. I take it he lost a lot." At Quatre's solemn nod, she sighs. "Damn. I'm warning you now, he's got a very slim chance of making it through this. Between unknown internal injuries, a bullet or fragments still inside him, and the large chance of infection, especially if his intestine ruptured, he's lucky to be alive right now. He's already got a fever, and I'm about to set up another drip to pump him full of antibiotics. He's so out we won't need painkillers for a while."

The next hour or so was tense as the four of us, after Trowa and Wu Fei washed up, watch her try to save our friend. Several times she was forced to do CPR or have Quatre do it, as Duo's breathing slowed down too much. The sonogram brought some relief as we learned his intestine hadn't ruptured itself, just the line that kept it separate from other organs. Several arteries were clipped by the bullet, explaining the massive blood loss, but none were completely severed. The bullet itself, just one large piece instead of the more complicated fragments it could have been, was lodged in his pelvis, the bone cracked and damaged around the impact point. Sally finally demanded that Trowa, Wu Fei, and I all leave, Quatre her designated assistant, as our pacing and agitated movements slowly drove her up the wall.

"We're about to do major surgery on him, repairing the clipped arteries and the ruptured tissue around his intestines. I'm gonna get the bullet out of his pelvis, too. There are too many people in here that don't know what they're doing, and the less variables we add to the atmosphere, the smaller his chance of infection. So leave," she adds pointedly, seeing that the three of us don't get it at first.

Reluctantly, at least on my part, we walk out of the room. I don't know where the others are going, but I head up to my room. It's the only place in this house that I feel like I can call my own at the moment. I just need to get away from everyone. I feel too light for my body, as though I'm about to float away. I can't explain it. Duo is down on the living room floor, still bleeding, and because of what we are, we can't risk taking him to a hospital. Major surgery is about to be performed in Quatre's living room. He already has a fever, and by my estimation he's been bleeding and exposed to Kami knows what kind of infectious disease for over eight hours. By all rights, he should already be dead.

"I don't want him to die, though," I say softly, just realizing. It's dark in my room, night finally having fallen while we were inside, trying to save Duo Maxwell. I'm sitting at my desk, realizing I left my laptop downstairs somewhere. I don't want to bother getting it, at the moment. They told us to get out. I feel so confused right now, something I don't enjoy.

The Perfect Soldier always knows what to do. I have lived so long destroying any emotions that surface, but this strange feeling I have for Duo refuses to go away. And I don't want it to, either. If I could, I would tell the other pilots how sick I am of being 01, Wing's pilot, the Perfect Soldier. It's all I've ever known, what I was trained to do for as long as I can remember, but I want to become human again. I know if Duo could tell me, he would want that, too. He tries to make all our lives more normal, as does Quatre, and none of us ever thank them for it.

Running a hand roughly through my hair, I try to understand what I'm feeling. I care about Duo, I feel closer to being human when I'm with him. I respect him as a pilot, and as a warrior even without his suit. I've never experienced anything like this before. I've never been scared before, but I am. I'm scared that he'll die, that my only chance to regain my humanity will slip away from me because I wanted to wait until after the war. I don't know how to tell him that I want to be more than a friend. And what if he doesn't feel the same? I'm the Perfect Soldier, I'm not meant to have attachments like that. I don't know if I would be capable of dealing if he rejected me.

"If he even lives," I whisper, my throat tight and clogged. "Otherwise, I won't need to worry about what he thinks." Bitterly, I scrub my hands over my face, alone in the confines of my room. Alone, like I've always been. I sit like this for I don't know how long, breathing slowly, trying to pull back all the emotions I'm feeling and don't want to.

Hours later, "Heero?" Trowa's voice comes through my door, jerking me out of the daze I was in. Grunting, I haul myself up and open it.

"What." Even to my ears, my voice is flat. The taller boy looks at me with worried green eyes.

"Sally says she's done all she can. They've moved Duo to his room, all we can do now is keep him supplied with antibiotics, fluids, and company," he informs me, his bangs coming down to hide his right eye again. "His fever is still very high, though, and she isn't very confident about his chances," he adds more softly, expression troubled. I nod slightly, the only response I can make, then push past him to cross the hallway into Duo's room.

His pale, still body is arranged comfortably on his bed, the room dim and quiet. The coat rack is next to the bed, a clear IV hooked up to his arm, presumably with antibiotic solution. Seeing him like this, when usually after a mission he would still be in the kitchen, begging more food off Quatre, or watching one of those old movies he loves, is too much for me. I'm not even aware of slamming my fist into the wall, or the sound of paneling cracking and digging into my skin. Blood drips onto the carpet as Trowa rushes in to find me cradling my head in my hands. My face is smeared with red, but I don't even notice.

"Heero! What are you doing?" he cries, grabbing my injured hand and pulling me out of the room. Dragging me down the hall into a bathroom, he calls downstairs. "Quatre, can you come up here?" An affirmative shout floats up as Trowa turns on the faucet and shoves my hand under it. The water turns pink as the blood washes out of the slices. I watch dispassionately as he pulls out the largest of the splinters, throwing them in the trash can under the sink.

"God, Heero, what is wrong with you? We've had enough blood around here to last us a lifetime," he hisses, pulling out an especially long one. I feel the stings and pain, but just accept it as a necessary duty. I should be the one dying, not Duo. Quatre enters just then, his face strained and his eyes rimmed in red. I assume he's been crying.

"Trowa, what is it?" He catches sight of my mutilated hand and sighs.

"Heero put his hand through the wall in Duo's room," Trowa explains angrily, pushing me to the floor and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. "I think he's going to need a few stitches, can you bring me a needle, thread, and bandages?" His lover nods sadly, returning a few minutes later with the requested items. Trowa has moved on to tweezers, yanking the smallest splinters out with no gentleness or care. I never flinch once. I know he's taking his anger out on me.

"Duo is going to make it, Heero. You have to believe that," Quatre admonishes. I turn to look into his clear, sky blue eyes, wishing I could have his hope. I know the odds, it's how I think. I know Duo is going to die. There is no use trying to fool myself.

"Quatre, I am not a fool." Staring at the wall, I don't see his swing coming until my face is stinging from his slap.

"Stop it right now, Heero Yui!" His voice is deathly calm, his eyes locked on mine. "If he is going to make it, we have to believe it. Even if he isn't awake, he can still hear what we say, sense our feelings. If all we feel is despair and hopelessness, all we talk about is how he's sure to die, then that's what he'll start to believe. We have to give him the strength to fight by knowing that he can."

"You know he's right," Trowa adds, looking down at me. "Duo is so close now, the only thing keeping him breathing is his own will to live. He's a Gundam pilot, damn it! If anyone can pull out of this, it's him." They're both glaring at me, demanding I believe them. I'm so frightened at that moment, afraid what they say is just a lie. As Trowa starts stitching up my hand, I do something I've never done in my life. I cry.

Quatre moves to sit beside me on the cold tile floor, putting his arm around my shaking shoulders. "You're in love with Duo, aren't you?" At my silent nod, unfamiliar tears making it too hard to speak, he gives me a small, knowing smile. "I think I already knew, but I just wanted to make sure. Does Duo know?"

"No. I was going to wait until after the war to tell him. I am the Perfect Soldier. I am not meant to have emotions like this," I whisper hoarsely. At this, Quatre looks saddened.

"Everyone is entitled to have emotions, Heero. That's what makes us human. I think on some level, you chose to wait until after the war so that if he didn't return your feelings, it wouldn't affect your performance as a soldier. Am I right?" Shocked at how he reads me so well suddenly, I can only nod. Sighing, he turns to look at Trowa. "Trowa and I felt that way at first, too. It took us a long time to get past our reluctance to reveal such a weakness to the enemy. But we realized something along the way." He looks seriously into my eyes, and for some reason I can't look away. "There might not be anything left after the war. We might not be left after the war. Look at what has happened to Duo. And his isn't the first life-threatening injury the Gundam pilots have sustained."

I want to hide from him, run from this realization that I made the wrong choice. I should have told Duo how I felt. I knew something was going to happen yesterday at that base. Somehow, I felt it. But I did nothing, and now Duo might never know how much he means to me.

"What do I do? What will I do if he- " I'm forced to stop, the idea of Duo dying is too much for me. I've never cared before if any of my fellow pilots live or die, but somehow, Duo has made me care for him.

"I can't tell you what you should do. But I know Trowa and I made the right choice in being together now, instead of later," Sandrock's pilot admits, his face gentle as he and Heavyarms' pilot exchange one of their looks. Feeling lost and unsure, I nod to Trowa for thanks in bandaging my hand, then leave the crowded bathroom.

Pausing at the silent door of his room, I can't help myself. Walking in and closing the door to just a crack, I pull the only free chair in the room over to his bed, sitting down and beginning my vigil. If he doesn't make it, I want to be here. If he does, I want to be here when he wakes up.

"I love you, Duo."