Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ So This Is the New Year ❯ Chapter 2

So this Is the New Year II

 

/So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions/

- Death Cab for Cutie “The New Year”

 

Heero stood under the hot spray of the shower and attempted to pull himself together enough to turn off the water, get dressed and start the day. It was the first day of the new year; he had to start it sooner or later. Before he'd gotten in the shower, he'd heard Duo banging around in the kitchen downstairs. He'd also heard Wufei complaining about all the noise he was making. Heero suspected this was due in large part to his former partner's raging hangover, more so than any racket Duo actually made. And he'd heard Trowa moving around in the bedroom before he'd managed to hobble from the guest room to the bathroom. So, he knew everyone was up; they'd be waiting for him downstairs with breakfast.

 

They'd be waiting for him with questions, too.

 

He gave himself five more minutes. Leaning his forehead against the shower wall, Heero closed his eyes. The other guest in Duo and Trowa's house was currently asleep in Heero's bed. Quatre had been utterly exhausted when he'd arrived from New York the night before. And they hadn't gone to bed until late. He needed to sleep off the strain of the old year and all the responsibilities that had piled up along the way. Quatre was very tired from both work and family obligations.

 

The fact that he and Heero had just sucked each other off upon waking up in the same bed on the first day of the new year also probably contributed to his somnolence. Heero had left him in bed, naked as a jay bird and snoring like a child who'd exhausted himself playing with an old friend.

 

He smiled at the wall. He couldn't help it, and he couldn't stop it. His belly flopped over every few seconds as images from the previous night and then the early morning flickered unbidden through his mind. He shifted his weight, bracing himself against the wall, reducing the strain on his bad leg. Last night and this morning... he didn't ever behave like that, hadn't slept with another person in years, not since Duo and he had figured out what went where shortly after the wars. He was too paranoid, too shy, and too damn pissed off by his injury to let anyone other than Wufei get anywhere near him. And yet... last night he'd been laughing. He'd felt some incipient excitement, like if he wanted to, he could pursue something with Quatre and it might be good.

 

It might be incredible. Part of the problem was, though, he had no idea what that 'something' might be. They lived hundreds of miles away from each other. Heero wasn't comfortable traveling alone yet, and he didn't want to drag Wufei around with him wherever he went. Plus he had work to do, even if it was pushing papers at the Preventer office in Chicago. And Quatre... well his responsibilities were probably the main reason he'd snapped the previous night, nearly shoving Heero down the steep bank in Trowa and Duo's front yard and then later, kissing him and touching him until he could barely remember his own name. Quatre was not a happy man at this point in his life. And neither was Heero. And they were only 24, for fuck sake! What they had done last night and this morning was both the promise of something good, and proof of instability. They were both off-kilter, and grabbing onto someone else feeling like that would probably feel really good, he rationalized. It would feel really good until they both realized how screwed up they were and how two screwed up people couldn't actually rely on each other to feel less screwed up.

 

And Quatre had asked him to go to Argentina - to pick up what little of his life he still had control over, and run. He'd said yes without a second thought. Fucking nuts. Quatre could not have possibly meant that, though it sounded like he had at the time. The gentle fluttering in his belly at the memory of Quatre's bright hair bobbing and brushing against his hip bones sank and congealed into a knot of anxiety - and so quickly. Duo would shake his head and tell him that he hadn't changed a bit since the wars. But he had; the evidence was in his bed at the moment.

 

He heard the doorknob turn and spun around, nearly slipping and losing his balance. He caught himself against the wall and scowled at the unwelcome intrusion. Probably Duo, here to harass him about using all the hot water. The bathroom was all steamed up by then; he couldn't make out who was entering, and they weren't volunteering. “I'm almost done. Can you not wait for another damn second?” Still no response, but they were coming closer. Heero let a growl rumble its way into his throat and jerked the curtain aside to see Quatre standing on the bathmat, still naked, still exhausted. His white-blond hair was mussed and tangled. Heero knew exactly why and this fact made his cheeks go hot. He also knew exactly where the bite marks along the ridge of his collarbone had come from. If he thought about it, he could still taste Quatre's skin.

 

Without asking for permission, Quatre stepped into the shower, closing the curtain behind him to keep water from running onto the floor. Heero blinked hot water from his eyes and pushed his hair out of his face, slicking it back off his forehead. “I thought you would stay asleep longer,” he finally managed.

 

The shower was no more than a stall. Neither of them were tall or broad, but it was still cramped. Quatre wasn't looking Heero in the eye, was instead staring at his chest, absently rubbing the space over his own heart. “You were upset, or... at least unsettled about something. You woke me up.”

 

Heero was backed up against the wall, behind the spray of the shower. Quatre stood directly under the stream of water now, and Heero watched as his bright hair turned a little darker, matting to his skull. A thick hank of hair hung down almost to the end of his nose. “Your space heart could tell that?”

 

His eyes were drawn to Quatre's chest, to the fingers running over breast bone and ribs. He looked down a little further to see a nine year old scar, puckered and pale in the space between his bottom left rib and his pelvis. Dorothy had run him through for some reason he couldn't seem to remember, or maybe had never known. Heero knew his own body was an intricate network of white scars, marks of the time he'd self-destructed and of the many other times he'd attempted to in some form or other. His hip was still a mess of grafted skin and a lumpy joint now made mostly of metal. His body was no longer attractive - not that he'd ever considered that to be important. Nor was it particularly useful - a fact which still brought him to his knees when he thought about it at any length. Quatre was... his body was still smooth and strong, if not a little on the scrawny side. He'd never filled out - none of them really had. Those space genes ran deep.

 

Quatre nodded and closed the small distance between them, laying his palm over Heero's heart. “It's muted on Earth,” he murmured. “The ground... drains it, pulls it out of you. Not like in outer space where everything is clear and cold... so far apart and yet instantaneous.”

 

Heero had always noticed the way Quatre said “outer space” - as though every time, the blackness offered hope. He realized now that, all along, he'd liked it. “Maybe that's where we should go, then.” Quatre looked up. “...Instead of Argentina, we should go back to outer space.”

 

He didn't reply and Heero looked away, embarrassed. His gaze came to rest on the pale hair between Quatre's legs and he flushed even hotter. He hissed when Quatre's hand wrapped around his ruined hip. His long fingers massaged gently for a moment and then slid down around to his ass cheek and the back of his thigh, pressing up just slightly. Heero raised his leg and let Quatre come up flush against him. He hooked his heal around the back of Quatre's knee and tasted hot water when they kissed.

 

“Right now, I think I would go anywhere you wanted to.”

 

Somehow he wasn't reassured by that, and he knew Quatre knew it. The Winner executive nuzzled his neck and didn't look him in the eye.

 

*

He pulled his clothes on quickly, covering up as much skin as he could against the chill of Duo and Trowa's house. To save on utilities, they didn't heat the upstairs much, spending the winter months in the kitchen and living room. It was smart, Heero admitted. Neither of them made much money, and yet they'd somehow been able to buy the house. Heating it was still difficult. Heero suspected they'd made full use of first-time homeowners' grants and loans. They'd had to fix the place up themselves, and generally the government was willing to help out with that kind of thing if it improved the neighborhood. What blew Heero away, though, was the fact that they'd agreed to go in on the house before they'd gotten together. Wufei was his best friend and the only person in whom he confided anything, and he never would have thought to undertake something like that with him, even if it was a good investment and they basically lived together now anyway. No - Heero thought that Trowa and Duo most likely had been banking on something else besides friendship and the fact that buying a house made good financial sense. He almost would've liked to have seen the exact moment when they decided that they'd had enough of separate rooms and roommate's courtesy in the bathroom. He wondered who'd broken first, who had finally walked into the other's room and laid it all out.

 

Or maybe they'd confessed downstairs given how freezing it was in Trowa's bedroom, Heero groused silently, jerking a hooded sweatshirt over his tee and long-underwear shirt. He needed something hot to drink, something warm to wrap his hands around. He heard the shower turn off and nearly huffed a laugh at where that might lead if he stuck around the bedroom too much longer. He grabbed his cane, hobbling over to the stairs and making his way down before Quatre came out of the bathroom.

 

He found Duo and Wufei slumped at the kitchen table, both with their noses about two inches above steaming mugs. Duo's was coffee, though it looked suspiciously like tar. Wufei's appeared to be tea that had been brewed until it had reached a similar consistency. There were potatoes frying on the stove and Heero went over to make sure that they weren't burning. Neither of his friends said a word, though Duo grunted and pointed to where the mugs hung from hooks in the corner. As Heero came around behind them, he took note of the state of Duo's braid as well as Wufei's pigtail. Trowa strode into the kitchen a moment later and his hair looked the way it always did. His one visible eye was also considerably brighter than any of those at the table.

 

When Trowa bent down from behind to kiss Duo good morning, Duo snatched his wrist from by his ear and slammed it down on the table in front of him. Wufei jumped and then cast an annoyed sidelong glance in their direction. Heero froze, nearly dropping his mug. He reminded himself that, while the two of them had bought a house together and were employed in fields that did not require lightening reflexes or hand-to-hand combat skills, Duo was still the quickest person he'd ever known and Trowa was... Trowa had a kind of stillness that disguised terrible strength. They remained like that, Trowa half-dragged over Duo's shoulder, Duo sitting motionless, mouth turned in to Trowa's ear.

 

“How is it...” Duo started, voice full of gravel. “...that you can match me drink for drink all night, and then let me fuck your brains out until all hours of the morning... and not have a hangover? Please answer me this small thing before I toss my coffee in that carefully disheveled hair of yours.”

 

Wufei glanced at them again, looking a little more interested. Heero finished poring himself a cup of coffee and went in search of creamer. He could hear the smirk in Trowa's voice, though he couldn't see his mouth. “I sweat it all out last night,” he murmured. “As I recall, I did most of the work.” Wufei made a small choking sound that might have been a laugh and Heero somehow managed to shut his fingers in the refrigerator door as he was returning the carton of milk to its shelf. He cursed under his breath and both his friends immediately drew apart. Duo turned and gave him a bleary-eyed wink, raising his mug in a toast.

 

“Sound carries in this house. We know you heard us, Yuy. And we heard you two this morning. Hope everything went well.”

 

“It sounded as though it did,” Trowa added, voice bland as ever.

 

Heero set his cup of coffee on the counter, careful not to spill any. He looked between Trowa and Duo, knew they were excited for him even though Trowa was just barely smiling and Duo still looked like death warmed over. Wufei watched him with a carefully neutral expression that Heero found himself unable to interpret. This fact shook him more than it should have and, face on fire, he fled the house as fast as his crippled leg would allow him.

 

*

He started up the hill leading away from the house just to prove to himself that he could still move at a fast enough pace to leave behind the friends he knew would be coming after him. It was a stupid thing to do; he knew this. But he couldn't face their questions yet. He'd thought those extra minutes in the shower had prepared him, but he wasn't ready.

 

He didn't know where he was going, didn't know the layout of the city well enough to be able to deduce anything other than that he was headed east and therefore closer to the mountains. He jerked his hood up and pulled his left fist into his sleeve against the cold. His right hand was already stinging in the biting air. He gripped his cane and fought his way up the hill, and in a way it felt good to exert himself more than he did in his physical therapy sessions. He felt weakened muscles stretch and pull, felt his lungs pulling great gasps of crisp air. He pushed himself during therapy and he used the weight room when Wufei went, but he hadn't done much cardio in the past year, in too much pain and then too bitter to even attempt more than a slow walk. He was almost running now and he could picture the time, probably in a few hundred yards, when it would start to feel very very bad. But right now, his body was working, and that meant his brain didn't have to for at least a few more minutes.

 

He let his mind settle into a meditative loop, a loop of memory - what it had felt like to have a perfectly working body, a body that did his bidding without conscious thought. He'd been a weapon, crafted and honed to near-perfection. His body had been the only thing of his that was worth anything; any number of bidders would have loved to own him during the wars. He remembered what it felt like to run, sprinting for all he was worth. He remembered pulling himself up, hand-over-hand when the zip cord mechanism in his gundam had failed. He remembered the way his muscles had fought the pull of gravity when his suit had tried to kill him in a maneuver that would have shattered anyone else's ribs. He remembered the flexibility he used to have in both hips, when, after the fighting was over, his body could still prove its excellence in other ways. Duo had taken him home - he thought they were both about seventeen - and, together, they'd figured out the basics of sex with men. They realized that they were capable of something besides swift and unflinching violence, and while it never turned into anything more than a deepening of their friendship, Heero thought it'd helped them both immensely. Aside from learning that he could be more than a weapon, his hips and lower back loosened up quite a bit, and flexibility was important.

 

This loop of violence and excellence and surprisingly good sex carried him to the top of the hill where he stumbled and would have fallen had a strong hand at his elbow not steadied him. He staggered to a halt and looked to his right to see Wufei beside him, glaring at him and reaching his other hand forward in case Heero needed it. His breath whistled slightly through his lungs and his hip throbbed in protest of what he'd just done. He tried to steady his breathing, annoyed that he'd gotten so winded when Wufei didn't appear to have exerted himself at all. “Usually... when I leave a room... it means I want to be left alone,” he managed.

 

Wufei nodded. “I know that. I just didn't think this was one of those times. And neither did anyone else.”

 

Heero stiffened and then with a groan, he looked over his shoulder back down the hill to see his three friends walking together at a slower pace. Quatre was there beside Trowa, his wet hair covered by a knit hat. Heero was absurdly relieved to see this, and he stared for a few more seconds just watching Quatre talk to Trowa, noticing the way his smile flashed and could be seen all the way up the hill.

 

“I slept with him,” he blurted. There was no need to specify with whom.

 

“Yeah,” Wufei confirmed, his black eyes also trained on the approaching Winner heir.

 

“Was it that obvious?” Heero asked. “I didn't think it was obvious.”

 

Wufei shrugged and his expression was still unreadable. “I saw you kiss him last night after the ball dropped. It wasn't just any kiss.”

 

Heero nodded, unable to deny that. “Let's keep walking. They will catch up eventually.”

 

They turned and continued up the street, Wufei keeping a hold of his arm. He didn't say anything and Heero was glad for that. He was also glad for the help and for the fact that Wufei knew exactly when it was needed. Finally, though, he needed to voice the fear that had dogged him since he'd left Quatre in bed earlier that morning.

 

“I'm trying to figure out whether things are different now.”

 

Wufei snorted and kept his eyes on the road. “Of course they are, Heero. Don't be an ass.”

 

Heero shook his head, frustrated with himself. “Then it was stupid to do it. I don't want different. The way things were was fine. We were fine.”

 

“You were miserable, and there was nothing I could do to help you.”

 

“But doing something like what I did last night is not going to help.”

 

Wufei tugged him to a stop and looked him right in the eye, pinning him. “What did I just say about being an ass?” Heero glared at his feet, feeling like a scolded child. “There are four people in the whole world that you trust - five, if you count Sally Po's medical opinion, six if you count Une as your boss. Those last two are totally different than the first four. Just to clarify for you, since it's obvious you need an update, two of the four people you trust are in a disgustingly happy and ridiculously stable relationship. I will always be your partner even if we don't officially work together ever again, and Quatre is... He's different - dangerously close to losing himself. From my angle, looking at the four people I trust, I see you in a similar position. And I can't do more than-”

 

“You are the only reason I haven't completely lost it this past year,” Heero interrupted, keeping his voice low, knowing the others were drawing near. “Why would I want anything to change? Why would I want to bring someone who is almost as unhinged as I am into our lives?”

 

Wufei's brow twitched upward and for a moment he looked sad. “Because it isn't our lives, Heero. It's your life. And maybe he can fix it.”

 

Heero felt his jaw drop and he forced himself to close it when he heard Duo's laugh echo off the street and nearby brick buildings. He turned to see them coming over the rise and looked back to Wufei. His best friend released his arm, forcing him to lean his full weight on his cane.

 

“I think you should remember that you trust him.”

 

In the next moment, Duo had an arm slung around his waist, and without thinking, Heero draped an arm across his shoulders. It was both a friendly embrace and an effort to take some of the strain off his hip.

 

“Hey, buddy, you worried us there for a few minutes. You took off without two words as to where you were going.”

 

“You found me easily enough,” he grumbled back.

 

From behind him, Trowa grabbed hold of his hood and pulled it off, replacing it with a much warmer knit hat. “We figured that you would find the most challenging route in town and head that way.”

 

“And we were right,” Duo said, voice smug. “I knew you weren't properly dressed either, so we brought your coat.”

 

Heero grunted a noncommittal “Hn,” as Duo ducked out from under his arm and took the coat that Quatre had been carrying. Once he was zipped up inside puffy down and nylon, he felt a little better. He briefly met Quatre's gaze and the young man offered him a smile tempered by both weariness and uncertainty. Heero tried to smile back, but only the corners of his mouth responded. Quatre looked a little disappointed and Heero cursed silently. He'd been so willing to laugh last night, willing to allow Quatre to flirt with him, willing and eager to have him in his bed. He'd been different last night. Their courtship - and, yes, he did see it as such - had lasted only a few hours, and that was fine because they were both so starved for... relief that anything longer would have been unnecessary and inimical to what had been the point of the whole evening. And relief had been the point, right?

 

Duo, Trowa and Wufei were very suddenly not there, but several yards away and counting, heading towards a park that Heero could see off in the distance. He looked at Quatre and saw that he had his hand pressed over his heart again, rubbing slightly with gloved fingers. His eyes were closed, making the dark smudges around his nearly translucent eyelids even more obvious. 'I think you should remember that you trust him.' Wufei's advice replayed in his head and he finally put the pieces of his own thought process and the events of the last eighteen hours together. It had been a sort of courtship, and therefore, it had not just been about relief. Heero had slept with Quatre because he was one of the four people in the world he trusted, and he was the only one in a position to truly understand his circumstances. His intentions had been clear to him, on some level all along, from the moment he'd seen Quatre's figure slumped at the kitchen table, the knobs of his spine poking through his dress shirt. He'd made a decision then, that somehow, they could fix things.

 

He still didn't feel quite up for a smile, but took a step closer to Quatre and waited for him to open his eyes. When he did, Heero felt his stomach flop over just as it had done all the way through his shower that morning, as it had done for much of the previous night. “What do you feel now?” he asked.

 

Quatre rubbed his breastbone and focused on some point over Heero's left shoulder. “Confusion... and resolution.”

 

A brisk wind buffeted them about and Quatre reached out to steady him. The bright spikes of hair poking out from under his cap appeared to be frozen. Heero ran his fingers over them and found them stiff and cold. “We should probably go inside,” he murmured. “You're hair is like icicles.”

 

“So are your hands,” Quatre said with a shiver. Heero realized he was indeed touching the skin just below Quatre's right ear and pulled his hand back. They turned without another word and headed back down the hill. Quatre stayed on his left side, and Heero could tell by the many sidelong glances he caught that he was watching for Heero to stumble. Their shoulders brushed a few times and finally, just as it became too late to make such a move, just as they turned into the driveway, he reached for Quatre's hand. Instantly Quatre offered his other hand, but Heero reassured him that he wasn't actually falling when he offered a smile, that again, didn't turn into much more than the corners of this mouth twitching.

 

*

They sat facing each other on Trowa's bed. Quatre had his legs pulled up to his chest, arms resting on his knees. Heero wished that his hip would allow him that kind of flexibility, but it didn't, so he sat with his bad leg stretched out, the other folded in front of him. He picked at the hem of his sweatshirt and listened to the radiator clank and hiss in the corner. The others returned as they continued to sit in silence, and he heard Duo say that breakfast would be ready as soon as he reheated the potatoes and Trowa cooked the eggs.

 

“I'm not hungry yet,” Quatre murmured. Heero looked up. “Are you?”

 

He shook his head, no.

 

“You think they'll come up here to get us when the food is ready?”

 

He shook his head again. “They're nosy, but they're not stupid.”

 

“They know we were together last night.” Heero couldn't tell whether this upset Quatre or whether it was just a simple statement of the obvious.

 

“Yeah.” His voice dropped lower, though he knew Quatre heard him. “That would be why I took off this morning.”

 

“You were embarrassed?”

 

“I-” He lowered his eyes. “I wasn't sure what to be.”

 

“I had a good time,” he said, voice raised just enough to let Heero know he was nervous, too.

 

“So did I,” he answered quickly.

 

Quatre leaned forward so abruptly that Heero sucked in a breath and fell back on his hands before he could get a hold of his reflexes. He met bright blue eyes only a handful of inches from his own and felt lean arms braced on either side of his torso. He didn't dare look away.

 

“Did I scare you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Quatre tilted his chin forward enough to bring their lips together in a gentle kiss. “Just now? Or since I got here?”

 

“Both,” he replied automatically.

 

“You don't really like it, do you.”

 

“No.”

 

Quatre backed up onto his knees, and Heero took a deep breath, wondering if he'd just made a mistake. He didn't know how to do this. He'd never learned how to start something like this. Duo had been up front about everything, and they'd trusted each other down to the ground. They'd just come out alive and mostly unscathed from two devastating wars and they weren't afraid of anything that the other could possibly do. Even if they couldn't have been further apart in terms of character, they'd essentially been boiled down to the same person by the experiences they shared. At that time, there had been no room for fear. After the Barton rebellion, they'd all been like that, almost identical. Even Wufei, who'd been the only one among them to act on his fears of obsolescence and uselessness, had emerged as one of the five. But that was almost seven years ago and in the interim, Heero had lost whatever assurance he'd gained.

 

It'd taken Duo and Trowa years, working as Preventers and then disappearing into this house in Pittsburgh, to finally acknowledge their feelings for each other. Quatre had disappeared back into the fold of his family and his business after a very short time, and Heero and Wufei... they'd taken the easy way out. They'd codified their relationship as partners in the new peacekeeping force, removing all other possibilities from the table. And who knew if anything would have developed, anyway?

 

Time had changed them. Where, before, they'd been so close, now they were at wildly different points in their lives. Even Wufei, the one he thought would always be his closest brother, was beyond him. Heero was stunted somehow. Quatre was...

 

He was trying to read him again, and trying not to be obvious about it. Heero shook his head, dispelling images of a band of brothers that didn't exist anymore. This wasn't getting them anywhere. “Stop doing that,” he muttered, reaching out to grab Quatre's wrist, stopping it on its way to rub his chest. “Just ask me. Ask me something and I'll tell you.”

 

Quatre's eyes focused again and he blinked a few times. “What?”

 

“I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just ask me,” he repeated.

 

Quatre pulled his wrist out of Heero's grip and rubbed it. He glanced down at his hands and then back, meeting Heero's gaze. “Are you sure?”

 

“I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't.”

 

“Do you want me?”

 

It wasn't at all difficult to answer. “Yes.”

 

Quatre's smile and nervous laugh followed immediately, and Heero relaxed against the headboard.

 

“Do you want to pursue a relationship with me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even though I tried to throw you down the bank into the street and then dragged you into bed with me and then walked in on you in the shower and then made you run away?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even though I'm thinking of leaving my family and my company?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even if I might not have the nerve to actually do it?”

 

That tripped him up a little, though it didn't surprise him. Quatre had duties and responsibilities and a conscience that didn't ever quit. “Yes.”

 

“Will you ever answer 'no' to one of my questions?”

 

“I don't want to hang out with your family.”

 

He laughed. “That's fair.” He shuffled closer. “Can I ask you something else?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Are you self-destructing again?”

 

He felt his brow slope downward. “Define 'self-destruct.'”

 

Quatre was not smiling now. “Trying to disappear, cutting yourself off from your friends, not eating properly or getting enough exercise, drinking too much. Blowing yourself up would be the most dramatic manifestation of the term.”

 

“Then I'm clearly not, Quatre, given what I just-” He swallowed. “-said to you.”

 

“So are you interested in me because you think I am?” Heero blinked. “Are we supposed to fix each other or something?”

 

He flinched. “No!” He forced it out more from reflex than because he thought it was the true thing to say. “I don't know,” he said after a moment's reflection. “It wouldn't be so bad would it?”

 

“You want, Heero,” Quatre said, pressing his fists into his knees. “That's all I can feel from you, that you want. Why is it me? Wufei is practically the other half of your soul. Why not him?”

 

Heero's brow wrinkled in distress as he struggled with his words. “But you said... last night and this morning and in the shower. Don't you want-” His fists clenched. “Dammit, Quatre, I can't do what you do; I can't just know what you feel. I only know what I...” He lost his steam, not wanting to claim that he only knew what he felt, because he wasn't at all sure that he did. He tried again. “I saw you last night and wanted to make it better for you. And I wanted to feel better.”

 

Quatre nodded and lowered his eyes. “I know that.”

 

“Then what is the-”

 

“Because I am, Heero. You saw it - everyone did.”

 

Heero hadn't realize his eyebrows could move in so many directions. “You're what?”

 

“Self-destructing. I think that I have been ever since we all split up. Every day is a new day,” he murmured, staring at his fists where they pushed against his thighs. It sounded as though he'd been saying that for a long time in hopes of it making a difference. “It's a spiral, not a circle. Breathing, our days and years - the same thing happens every day, but after every day, we're older and not quite where we were before. Every day is a new day. And every day, it gets worse.”

 

“Quatre...”

 

“I haven't made the right choices. I complained last night that they were all made for me, and that I didn't have any say, but I could have made other choices, decided to do things differently, pursued what I wanted... who I wanted.”

 

Heero remained silent. He didn't know what he could offer in the way of comforting words. Until his injury, he'd had no regrets in his life. Sure, there'd been bad times - horrible times. His four best friends had shown just how bad it had been by helping him to live a life outside of his training and conditioning. But... he didn't want to do it over. He wanted to live well now, even if he didn't exactly know how to do it, even if change was still uncomfortable and bothersome. He knew that was just his cranky personality taking over, not that change was actually bad. But Quatre did have regrets - serious ones.

 

“What did you want?” Heero finally asked.

 

Quatre gave a sharp humorless laugh. “I wanted...” He rubbed his knuckles against his khakis. “I wanted to work with all of you as Preventers. I wanted to still be one of you, and to be just another officer, just another person who worked for peace. But I wasn't born to be 'just another person.'”

 

“None of us were,” Heero interrupted. “Maybe Duo and Trowa and I started out that way, but by the time we could talk, we were already wrapped up in events that wouldn't allow us to be 'just another person. None of us have had opportunities to be normal. Wufei and I were watched constantly as Preventers, mainly because they thought he might turn on us, but also because they thought I was some great hero that deserved... I don't know. But we all had outrageous responsibilities. I'm just starting realize how much I don't miss them. We were never 'just people.' And even though Duo and Trowa are trying that life on for size now, they're still freaks like us.”

 

“I wanted him, too, you know,” he whispered.

 

“Who, Trowa?”

 

“Yes. My god, did I want him.”

 

Heero wasn't surprised by this admission. He took a steadying breath, a little embarrassed at his outburst that Quatre didn't appear to have heard. “We knew,” he finally said. “He knew, too. You probably could have-”

 

“No, I couldn't. My family would not have allowed it. We were too young, and they had a girl for me anyway.”

 

That admission did surprise him. “But- you didn't...”

 

“Marry her? No. I convinced them we were both too young. I convinced them I wanted to throw myself into the family business instead, devote my life to rebuilding after Dad died. I could start a family later.”

 

“So...” He fumbled around for something to say. “I wouldn't have to hang out with your family anyway, because they wouldn't approve of me from the start. That's a relief.” He couldn't believe how heavy this conversation had become. He couldn't believe that he, Heero Yuy of all people, was trying to lighten the mood. More importantly, he couldn't believe how twisted and cramped Quatre's life had become after the wars - forced into making one life-changing decision after another, forcing himself further and further into tighter and tighter restraints until he'd painted himself into a corner and then built up a wall to keep himself inside.

 

He gave another unpleasant laugh. “No, you certainly wouldn't have to hang out with my family.”

 

They sat in silence, listening to the muted conversation from downstairs. They'd missed breakfast.

 

“Sometimes I feel like I can barely breath, like someone's sitting on my chest.”

 

Heero nodded. He didn't need to say that he understood the feeling. He leaned forward and, unsure of where to touch him, ended up gripping him just above the elbow. Quatre hung his head. “I don't think this can work.”

 

*

“I didn't know you smoked.” Heero watched Trowa deftly rolling a cigarette and was shocked that the former acrobat would do such a thing to his own lungs.

 

“I don't.”

 

“You say that, but...”

 

“I keep a pouch of tobacco handy for emergencies. Rolling a cigarette is very therapeutic.”

 

He handed the cigarette to Heero, and he took it, holding it up for closer inspection. “Well done,” he murmured. He waited for Trowa to roll another one and then set his own between his lips. His host produced a book of matches from his pocket, and pulled one out, striking it once. It flared to life and he cupped his hands around it, bringing it to the end of Heero's cigarette. Heero sucked until it caught and then blew the smoke back out, not inhaling. When Trowa lit his own, he breathed in deep and then exhaled through his nose.

 

“No, you don't smoke,” Heero murmured, trying not to smile.

 

“You're not making this very therapeutic.”

 

“This was supposed to be therapy?”

 

“He turned you down, didn't he.” It wasn't a question, and Heero didn't stop to wonder at how Trowa knew so surely without having spoken to either of them.

 

“Yeah.” Heero watched the cigarette burn and flicked the ash into the bushes. He wasn't particularly interested in smoking it. He leaned back on the porch railing and shivered in his sweatshirt. “Shouldn't we have put on coats?”

 

“This is only going to last as long as one cigarette.”

 

He smirked.“Then we better get to the psychoanalysis.”

 

Trowa shrugged. “He's a self-sacrificing, overachieving, spoiled, exhausted, brilliant, complicated, kind-hearted, self-righteous little shit.”

 

“I didn't mean-”

 

“Well, it's the truth. And I didn't come out here to talk about you. You're fine. Your hip is a temporary problem and you're only frustrated at work because you're choosing to look at your work as boring. Or, maybe law enforcement isn't for you anymore. Either way, it's something you can work on.” He paused to flick ash into the bushes. “And you need to have more sex. That would help, too. But, really, you're fine.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette and continued to hide behind his hair.

 

“...Thanks.” Heero mirrored his actions. Maybe he did need a smoke after all.

 

“Quatre is not fine, and I think you should be the one to help him. I don't think you should listen to him when he says it wouldn't work out. He doesn't mean it; he just doesn't want to be a pain in the ass to anyone, but seeing him so miserable is upsetting.” He looked up and flicked his bangs out of his eyes. “And he doesn't want our help; he wants yours.”

 

“I don't know...”

 

Trowa flicked the remainder of his cigarette into the bushes, and straightened. “I'm going inside. It's fucking freezing out here.”

 

Heero watched him go and then took another drag. He blew the smoke upward and tried to absorb what had just been thrown at him. He wondered if Duo had talked Trowa into approaching Heero after witnessing his and Quatre's return from the bedroom a few hours ago. They'd both looked pretty dejected. Quatre was making noises like he'd leave tonight instead of the next day.

 

But he rejected that notion - Trowa could be forceful when he wanted to be, when the need arose. Heero wondered if he could say the same thing for himself.

 

*

Wufei had to physically block the front door and Duo had to steal his luggage and hide it before Quatre finally decided/was forced to stay another night. Heero steered clear of the whole persuading/coercing process, and smoked more of Trowa's tobacco than he should have out on the porch. He felt a little ill when they settled in for pizza, ginger ale - because no one wanted anything to do with the whiskey that remained in the bottle - and a movie, but he somehow managed to keep it together when the only open seat in the living room was next to Quatre. He took it and said nothing, and they sat as far apart from each other as they could manage for the entire movie.

 

When it ended, Quatre rose to his feet and stated quietly and firmly that he was going to bed. His raised his eyes to Heero's and it looked like one of the more painful things he'd ever had to do. “You can have the bed,” he murmured. “I'll take the floor. I found sleeping bags in the closet.” Then he turned to the rest of them where they sat scattered around the living room. “I might not see you in the morning. My flight is early, so I'll call a cab. If you're not up, then thank you Duo and Trowa for having me in your home. We should do this more often”

 

Heero felt his shoulders tightening as he listened to Quatre's forced and hollow goodbyes. Trowa's advice was on repeat, buzzing in both ears. He could feel Duo shooting him significant glances every few seconds as Quatre continued to spew meaningless formalities. Wufei only scowled down at his hands.

 

It was too much pressure on both of them and abruptly Heero was on his feet, limping over to where Quatre still stood making promises to visit in a few months. Heero shoved him hard in the shoulder, sending him lurching to the side.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Let's go,” he grumbled, bumping and pushing Quatre out the door into the kitchen.

 

“Heero, what-”

 

“Leave us alone!” he called over his shoulder at the moment he heard both Wufei and Trowa hissing at Duo to shut up. They turned left and he kept pushing until Quatre came up against the stairs. He looked back at Heero, and his eyes were wide like a trapped animal's. “Up,” he snapped. Quatre blinked and then nodded, automatically gripping Heero's arm when it became apparent that he didn't have his cane. They made slow and clumsy progress up the stairs and then turned left again into Trowa's room. Heero shut the door behind them, but didn't let Quatre move away from him. They stayed their by the door for several seconds, as Heero scrambled for what to do next. The farthest he'd gotten was 'get Quatre alone.' He leaned back, felt the doorknob dig into his kidney, flinched and slid to the right.

 

“What are we doing?” Quatre asked, voice tense and unsure.

 

“I don't know. I didn't have it worked out past this point.”

 

“Heero...” He sounded resigned and tired and it angered Heero to the point that he didn't care that he was uncomfortable and tense and clueless and all the things he hated to be.

 

“Don't,” he growled.

 

“Don't, what?”

 

“Don't make yourself be like that. Don't force yourself into making stupid choices that you'll know were the wrong ones.”

 

“Then how should I be?”

 

There were no lights on in the bedroom, but the street lamps shown in through the windows and highlighted Quatre's hair, making it appear silver. It hung over his eyes in thick chunks. His crisp button down shirt and his khakis glowed faintly in the soft light. Heero stood in Quatre's shadow and thought that he would always be ugly compared to this man - this man who could never be anything other than the brilliant, kind, exhausted, overachiever.

 

“Just...” He pulled his arm out of Quatre's grip and grabbed hold of that crisp shirt, jerking him forward and into an awkward kiss. He pulled until Quatre finally groaned into his mouth and came up against him, pushing him back against the door. He worked the buttons open one-handed and then shoved his fingers inside, only to have his palm come up against an undershirt. He growled in frustration and Quattre exhaled sharply, breaking the kiss. He shrugged out of the shirt and then tugged the tee from the waistband of his khakis. This time Heero found warm skin, circling his arm around a slim waist and bringing them back together.

 

“This is a mistake,” Quatre breathed, not sounding particularly convinced.

 

“You didn't think it was last night.”

 

“I was drunk.”

 

“No you weren't.”

 

“I was-”

 

“Stop it.” Heero's other hand worked open Quatre's belt and his fly, boldly sliding inside to grab hold of him.

 

He grunted in surprise, curling forward to rest his head on Heero's shoulder.

 

They fumbled their way over to the bed, until the backs of Heero's knees came up against the mattress, and he dropped down onto it, pulling Quatre down on top of him. He shoved himself back with his good leg and watched Quatre settle above him, holding himself up, one knee between Heero's legs, arms braced on either side of his shoulders. Pale blue eyes followed every move he made as he struggled out of his sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt and undershirt. His fingers fell to his belt buckle and Quatre made a small noise in the back of his throat that Heero couldn't interpret. He froze and looked up, shivering in the chill, knowing he had goosebumps all up and downs his arms and sides.

 

“Do you want to?” he asked gruffly.

 

Quatre nodded, eyes raking up and down Heero's chest and belly.

 

Heero reached blindly into the bedside table, seeking and eventually locating the lubricant they'd found the previous night. Even though Trowa didn't sleep in this room anymore, it made sense that he'd have a few supplies for occasions when he and Duo switched it up. Heero was grateful for his foresight. There were even a few condoms in the drawer that hadn't yet reached their expiry date. Heero certainly didn't travel with this kind of stuff, and he suspected that Quatre didn't either. He shoved both the lubricant and the square packet into Quatre's hand and felt his skin tingle in anticipation. It'd been years since he'd done this. He wondered how different Quatre was from Duo.

 

Above him, Quatre was quickly divesting himself of the rest of his clothes, and when he was finished, he undid Heero's belt and pulled his jeans off in a series of careful tugs and yanks. Socks and underwear went last and then they were fumbling underneath the blankets, bodies coming together to generate heat in the chilled room.

 

“You sure about this?” Quatre whispered, setting aside the lubricant and condom and shoving his hand between their bodies to touch and rub and grab.

 

Heero choked back a moan and nodded. This had to work; this had to be enough. If they did this, then Quatre would see that he was serious, that they could be serious. And he didn't want to wait any longer - his skin was already on fire and they hadn't even done anything.

 

“I don't know...” But Quatre's words didn't match his actions - the confident strokes of his hand, or the steady movement of his hips.

 

“Remember that you trust me, and trust what you feel from me,” Heero murmured. He could think of only one way to prove it. He tugged Quatre's hand away and brought their bodies together, belly to belly, chest to chest. He felt Quatre's heart thudding against his breastbone.

 

At this direct contact, Quatre gasped and took hold of his arms in a painful grip. His breathing was harsh and ragged in Heero's ear, the only other sound in the room aside from a heartbeat that seemed to come from more than just their two separate bodies. “Holy shit,” he managed.

 

Heero hiccuped a laugh and could only stare unseeing at the ceiling as now Quatre's empathic abilities bled into him and back, and into him and back, until it was a deafening and blinding loop of emotion and sensation. Every move they made, every place they touched, the feeling was repeated and magnified until it filled them both. He was dimly aware of fumbling movement, the sound of a tearing wrapper, the feel of slippery intrusion, stretching, pushing. He felt it and groaned, Quatre echoing him a half-second later.

 

“Heero, I feel-”

 

The words were barely audible, lost in the whirl of given and taken and received. They moved like one person split into two bodies when Quatre pulled Heero's legs around his waist, canting his hips upward. The feedback loop grew louder and more intense with every passing second until they were finally joined, and they couldn't get any closer and they couldn't last any longer, and the joining was the final move that brought them off, shoving them over the edge. Quatre shouted and his hips jerked forward one more time, just as Heero's back snapped taught, and he accidentally bit his tongue. Quatre felt the brief jolt of pain and flinched with him. Then they separated because it was all too much and lay beside each other, struggling to sort out what was their own and what was the other's.

 

Heero spoke first, tongue clumsy. “Is it always like that for you?”

 

Blond hair brushed against his bicep as Quatre shook his head. “No. That was different - strange. I thought I'd figured out my empathy, but that was...”

 

“Fucking insane.”

 

Quatre exhaled a soft laugh and turned to lay an open- mouthed kiss on Heero's shoulder. “Yes.”

 

Heero shifted in the bed, stretching his legs and yawning. “I'm exhausted.” He turned to see that Quatre's eyes were already drooping. “And so are you.”

 

He nodded.

 

“But... you should probably clean up before you fall asleep.” Quatre groaned and lay still. After much protest and a few shoves from Heero's cold feet, he eventually rolled out of the bed and snuck off to the bathroom. Heero pulled the blankets up to his chin and tried to keep his eyes open until his return. He'd never felt so drained before, not after he'd had sex with Duo and not after all the times he'd taken care of himself in the ensuing years. He closed his eyes and didn't think he'd be able to open them again. Whatever sort of empathic connection they'd had must have-

 

His eyes shot open again when he felt a distinct zing of nervous excitement and pleasure, one that he knew was not his own. He leaned up on one elbow and looked around the room, but he was alone. The feeling faded almost immediately, and with it, any remaining energy he had. He sank back onto the pillow, and by the time Quatre returned and slid beneath the covers, he was nearly asleep again. He wrapped himself around the warm body beside him and buried his nose in soft hair.

 

He heard faint whispering just as he was drifting off, a hushed confession spoken into a pillow.

 

“I want you, too, Heero. I can barely keep from smiling every time I think about you. I'm nervous and afraid, and I'm a mess, but I want this to work.”

 

“I know,” he slurred, feeling his voice rumble in his chest and against Quatre's back. Quatre exhaled and they were both asleep.

 

*

He awoke to an empty, cold bed, hugging himself to retain what little warmth the blankets provided. Panic seized him and he threw off the covers, rapidly jerking on his clothes, eyes darting about the room for any signs of Quatre. There were none. He made it to the bedroom door in three strides, remembered that he couldn't walk very well and lurched the rest of the way down the stairs to the warmer kitchen, where he smelled coffee and toast. Wufei was again sitting with Duo, though they both looked considerably more with it than they had the previous morning. Wufei was reading the world news section of the paper and Duo was filling in the crossword puzzle with characteristic ease and speed, using non-erasable blue ink. Heero took the time to notice these things in his sweep of the room, looking for Quatre. His coat was gone from the hook by the door.

 

“Where is he?” he finally croaked, coming to sit next to his old partner at the table.

 

Wufei looked up and Heero saw a brief flicker of sympathy and sadness before the usual comforting cool exterior took its place. “He left two hours ago in a cab. I was the only one up. He said he would be sure to let us know he arrived safely.”

 

Nodding, he looked down into his lap, refusing to give in to the need to question why Quatre had left without saying goodbye, and why, after they'd had sex, he could feel what Quatre had felt, but by the morning he hadn't even woken up when his lover had gotten out of bed, gotten dressed, and left him. No, there would be no point to that exercise, none whatsoever.

 

He heard footsteps behind him and spun in his chair, heart leaping into his throat, but it was only Trowa. He glanced between his three friends and felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. His friends did not need to see his disappointment, and since it didn't appear to be going anywhere, he took it with him, rising from the chair and leaving the kitchen to pack his things and get ready for the flight home.

 

*

“I don't think I'm going in to work tomorrow,” he said, poking at his takeout with disposable chopsticks. He plucked a mushroom from between two drooping peas and ate it without really tasting it.

 

Wufei looked up at him from across the small table. Heero's kitchen wasn't big enough for it, so it sat in a corner of the main room, serving both as a catchall for his mail and work papers and as a place to eat when his former partner was over. Wufei put down his own carton of noodles and blinked a few times. “You're not?”

 

“No, I don't think so.”

 

His old partner's black eyes peered at him a little closer. “Are you ill? Is your hip bothering you more than normal? Do you want me to call Sally?”

 

Heero's mouth twitched and his chest ached with a fullness that Wufei probably would have scoffed at, but might have felt as well. He could never articulate to himself, let alone to Wufei, just what their friendship meant to him. But sometimes, like right then, it felt good to the point that it hurt.

 

“No, I'm fine. But I need to think about some things for awhile. I don't want to be a waste of space at work.” He stabbed at a piece of broccoli. “No more so than usual anyway.”

 

Wufei's eyes narrowed. “You're not doing a sulking, self-pitying thing, are you?”

 

Heero scowled at his food. “I don't do that.”

 

Wufei went back to his noodles. “No, not you.” Heero left his food on the table and went to sit in his favorite chair.

 

They left it alone for awhile, Wufei leaving the space for Heero to talk if he wanted to, like he always did, like Heero would always need him to do. He would talk if he had to, if it worked.

 

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. No, he couldn't go in to work tomorrow - he'd be useless. He had to think, had to get things straight in his head. If the past few days had taught him anything, it was that he was still young and his path was not mapped out by present conditions. Witnessing Duo and Trowa's happiness and joining Quatre's trouble with his own, the latent unease he'd become more and more aware of over the past year came into sharp focus. Now, January 2nd, was the time for action, or at least meditation on action. He needed to figure out what the hell he should do with himself if it wasn't fighting and enforcing and defending and embodying the peace which thousands had fought and died for. It wasn't him anymore; he wasn't a symbol anymore. So what was he? Duo was a mechanic - he just was. And Trowa was a tattoo artist. Wufei would always be a Preventer. Quatre was... And he was...

 

The phone rang and they both looked up, hesitating to actually reach for the phone. Heero kept his gaze on Wufei as, after it rang three times, his old partner grabbed it out of the cradle and tossed it to him. He caught the phone and stared at it for the length of another ring and then hit the 'talk' button.

 

“Hello?”

 

A second of silence hung on the other end until the line crackled. “Heero?”

 

He grunted an affirmative and was relieved at how level he'd kept his voice. Unfortunately, he'd sat bolt upright in his chair and swung his legs off the foot stool, so Wufei had to know exactly who it was. His partner was already half out of his chair when Heero met his gaze and shook his head quickly, no. “Stay,” he mouthed before shoving himself out of his chair and making his way as quickly as he was able out of the living room and into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and went to sit on the edge of the tub before he said anything else. But the voice on the other end spoke again before he could.

 

“Heero, are you there?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I'm here.”

 

A second or two of silence. “It's Quatre.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Why don't you have a vid-phone like all the others?”

 

“Are you really surprised I don't?” he asked, fiddling with the toilet paper roll hanging by his knee.

 

A small, nervous laugh. “No, not really, I guess.”

 

He took a breath. “So... you made it back to New York okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That's good.”

 

“And- well, obviously you made it home, too; I'm talking to you on your home phone.”

 

“Right.”

 

He heard Quatre draw breath to speak three separate times, and every time his fingers tightened on the enamel edge of the tub.

 

“Heero?”

 

He waited.

 

“I was thinking about you at work today.”

 

He smiled.

 

“It was nice.”

 

His smile got bigger.

 

“I was thinking maybe I'd take some time off soon, to- well, to think about some things, sort them out, you know?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I was thinking of starting tomorrow... maybe.”

 

“I'm free tomorrow,” he said. He looked up, heard Wufei moving around his living room, probably pacing.

 

“You are? Good. That's good. So I'll, uh, I'll call you when I get in.”

 

“Okay, sure.”

 

Another nervous laugh. “Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow then.”