Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scar Tissue ❯ Trowa's Story ( Chapter 17 )

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Part 17

After replacing the bandage over my stitches and emptying my bladder, I emerged from the bathroom with a vacuous grin on my face, giving no indication of the turmoil I felt inside. Hilde helped me shuffle back to my bed, since I was still a little unsteady on my feet. Once I was settled back in, she announced that it was time she let someone else in to see me.

"It wasn't even supposed to my turn now," she said sheepishly. "I was the last to see you before you woke up. Heero insisted on being the first to see you then, and I insisted on going after him. Technically, it was Trowa's turn after mine." The unwelcome impression of feeling like a circus freak, with everyone taking their turn to come and gape at me, crossed through my mind, but I merely smiled at her. "Um, I'll see if I can find out where Heero went, too," she added. She hugged me again, squeezing me so hard I thought she might fracture a rib, before turning to leave. She paused in the doorway, giving me one last uncertain look over her shoulder. Then she was gone.

I practically fell apart the moment she disappeared from sight. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging them tightly. It put pressure on my stitches, causing tingles of pain, but I didn't care. If anything, I squeezed harder, trying to focus on the feeling, and clear my mind. I realized I was trembling. I had no idea why. Maybe it was all getting to me. Hearing the story of what had happened last night, Heero's anger, Hilde's concern… all of it. So where did I fit into all of this mess? What the hell was I supposed to do now? I rocked back and forth, crushing my knees to my chest, feeling some serious pain from the stitches now, and dangerously close to tears.

"Get ahold of yourself, man," I murmured to myself. "You can't let anyone see you like this!" And Trowa would be there any minute. I didn't understand what was happening. I'd been perfectly fine, more or less, only a few moments before. Maybe pretending for Hilde had been harder than I'd thought. Maybe hearing about my suicide attempt had upset me more than I'd realized. The words replayed in my head. `Hearing about my suicide attempt.' My suicide attempt, for Christ's sake. It was hitting me all over again. The fucking reality of it. I had really done it. I couldn't take it back. I grit my teeth against the sudden urge I had to pound my fists against the bed railing, to smash my head against the wall, to make myself hurt and bleed and suffer for being so goddamned stupid!

"Duo?" said an uncertain voice, accompanied by a soft touch to my shoulder. I froze, my eyes snapping open. I hadn't even realized that I'd closed them, or that I had buried my face in my knees, with my arms wrapped up around my head and my hands clenched into tight fists. With great physical effort, I made my body untangle so that I could lean back and look at the person next to me. It was Trowa, looking the closest to scared that I've ever seen him. Which, for Trowa, meant that he still looked pretty damn calm. I made myself smile.

"Hey, Trowa," I said brightly, hating the falseness in my voice. He continued to simply look at me for a long moment, then his gaze traveled downward. He reached out and took one of my hands into his own. My gaze followed his and I stared dumbly before finally realizing that my hands were still clasped tightly into fists. So tightly, in fact, that my nails were drawing blood from my palms. Trowa gently began to uncurl my fingers.

"It's okay, Duo, just relax," he said quietly. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and forced the muscles to unclench. I stared numbly at the red half-moons gouged into my palms, their sting barely registering in my mind. Trowa had released my hand and had pulled the visitor's chair closer to the bed. He was sitting there, just looking at me again.

I couldn't bring myself to return his gaze. My cheeks burned with shame. I was horrified that he had seen me like that. I took several more deep breaths, rubbing my chest uncomfortably. There was a strange ache in my heart, and I could have sworn that it felt like my insides were trembling. It was taking every ounce of my self-control not to absolutely fall to pieces. I turned my head completely away from Trowa, not wanting him to see the stricken look I was sure was on my face. I heard him shift forward in the chair, and then he spoke.

"Duo, there's something I have to tell you. I… I think now that it probably would have been better if I had told you sooner. Then maybe… this could have been avoided." I was shocked by the uncertainty in his voice, but I still didn't turn my face. I wiped furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, every muscle in my body feeling uncomfortably tense. I wanted to be anywhere but here, feeling like this. Trowa continued to speak.

"The only other person I've ever told about this is Quatre. We talked at great length over the past couple of days about whether or not I should tell you, but hadn't arrived at any real decision when… when last night happened. It's clear to me now that I should have told you as soon as your problem became apparent. In fact, I hope you can forgive me for not realizing what you were going through much sooner. I should have known, should have recognized what you were feeling." He paused, taking a deep breath. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. I think that subconsciously I already had an idea of where he was going with this, though mostly I was just confused. "None of us could really be described as having an idyllic childhood," he continued, "not even Quatre. But some of us had it… especially bad. You've never really talked about your past, but you've never mentioned any family, and there's just always been something about you that led me to suspect that you were alone, like me." He paused again. It was obvious that this was difficult for him to talk about.

"Listen, Trowa, you don't have to…" I started, my voice catching.

"Yes, I do!" he interrupted sharply, surprising me. I didn't think I'd ever heard Trowa raise his voice before. I covered my face with my hands, part of me incredibly curious about what he had to say, and another part of me just not wanting to hear this right now. Talking about the past was not one of my favourite things to do. "I need to tell you this, and I think you need to hear it. I was… alone, my whole life. I grew up with mercenaries. It… was not easy, being young and vulnerable and alone with them. You know what I mean?" The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air. But I knew. Oh, yes, I knew. "Well, I had a hard time dealing with what happened, even after it was over. I was… very depressed, Duo. For a long time. And then one night, when I was about fourteen, I thought I found the answer. Look at me, Duo." I shook my head, my face still buried in my hands. I didn't want to know, I didn't want to know! "Look at me!" he demanded. Resigned, tears clouding my eyes, I looked at him, and inhaled sharply.

He had rolled up his left sleeve. A single, thick ropey scar snaked from his wrist almost all the way up to his elbow. A lot of things fell into place. Like how Trowa had almost seemed to understand, when no one else did. And the things he'd said to me yesterday. Trowa did understand, at least a little. He'd gone through something similar himself. I couldn't take my eyes away from that scar.

"They say it's a miracle I survived, since I laid the whole artery open. It was dumb luck that I was found almost immediately. It was right after that that I went to work on Heavyarms. And I found a purpose for my life, fighting for the colonies. My depression would undoubtedly have returned after the war, though, if that had been that. But I found Quatre. I let him love me. And I let myself love him in return. I let Catherine love me, and suddenly I had a family, and I wasn't alone anymore. I let myself believe that I had friends who cared about me, and I cared about them, too. I meant what I told you yesterday, Duo, that we all care about you, and that we're here to help you, if you'll let us. I've probably made it sound a lot more simple than it really is. I won't lie to you, it's not easy to get past something like this. And I won't tell you that I know exactly what you're going through. No two people experience things in exactly the same way. But we're here for you. And I am truly sorry for having failed you. I more than any of the others should have known."

"No, Trowa! It's not your fault!" I stammered, even as a voice in the back of my head wanted to blame all of them for not seeing what I had thought painfully obvious. "I-I'm the one who has reason to be sorry. I… I…" Words failed me, and I wrapped my arms around my chest, clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, fighting with every fibre of my being against the sobs that threatened to break forth.

Suddenly Trowa was on his feet and standing beside me again, his hand on my back. "It's okay to cry, Duo. There's no shame in it. It's not good to let things fester inside of you. You have to let them out now and then, not keep them bottled inside."

Shaking my head, I let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "Do you know," I gasped between hitching breaths, "how funny that is coming from you!?" I rubbed furiously at my face, forcing everything down, down, down…. I was not upset, everything was just fine, thank you, and I certainly did not feel like curling up into a ball and sobbing until I died. After a few moments I managed to get myself under control. At least I looked like I was under control. In reality, I was terrified by just how out of control I felt. I couldn't believe how close I was to just completely falling apart. I couldn't let that happen, not in front of Trowa, not in front of anyone. I turned to Trowa and smirked.

"Besides, I'm fine. I really am. Everything's going to be okay," I said firmly, not believing a single word of it. But what else could I say? It's not like I could just ask him for help, just like that. Trowa just looked at me with his usual stoic expression, not believing a single word of it either. And I could hardly blame him. I was obviously far from `fine.' My feeble denials were pathetic even to my own ears. But I couldn't stop spewing them. "I'm a little loopy, but it's no big deal. I really am sorry for scaring everyone. You guys didn't deserve that, though you are over-reacting anyway. I'm sorry you all had to deal with this mess. It won't happen again." Trowa frowned slightly. I could have sworn he looked disappointed with me. I faltered slightly, but continued rambling. "Um, thank you for, ah, sharing your story with me, but I'm okay, you know? I'm, ah, perfectly fine and everything's okay…" My overly-chipper voice trailed off uncertainly. What was the point, anyway? We both knew it was bullshit. I turned away, my insides twisting painfully. I clenched my fists again, purposely digging my fingernails further into the gouges from earlier. The pain was slight, pathetic. No help at all.

Trowa sighed and walked to the door. He paused, but didn't look back, even when he started to speak. "You're right about one thing, Duo. It was strange advice to be coming from me. I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable sharing my feelings with everyone. Quatre, and to a lesser extent Catherine, are the people with whom I can truly be myself. But open up to someone, Duo, and soon. The pain is poisoning you from the inside out." With that he was gone, and I was once again alone.

I pounded my fist on the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cursed under my breath. This wasn't going well at all! I was completely and thoroughly thrown for a loop by Trowa's revelation. And I was so fucked up, never more than a step away from being a whimpering, sniveling mess. How pathetic can you get? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I was so fucking stupid. I needed to get away from here, go anywhere, be anywhere but in this place. I was going to explode. I wanted to cut, I wanted a drink, I wanted out of this skin. Why couldn't it all just go away? With a half-choked cry of frustration I grabbed the nearest object, a plastic cup sitting on the table next to me, and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall next to the doorjamb with an audible crack, not even a foot away from the head of the young woman who had suddenly appeared in the doorway. She jumped, startled by coming so close to being hit by the flying projectile, before looking at me with a bemused expression.

"Hi. My name's Anne. I'm here to evaluate your mental stability," she said, grinning.

I couldn't help it. I started to laugh.

TBC