By: Spooks
~ ~ ~ ~
Hearing the choked cry from across the room, Duo jumped out of his bed. He was reaching for his gun even as he untangled his covers from around his legs. He squinted into the darkness surrounding Heero’s side of the room, the source of the strange noise. As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he lowered the gun and rubbed his eyes. Looking up to be sure of what he had just seen, all signs of wary preparation were replaced with a look of utter confusion. The terrible cry had come from Heero.
Heero was sitting up in his bed, sheets clinging to his sweat soaked body. He was trembling, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them tightly. The Japanese soldier rocked in vacant terror. Dark blue eyes were wide and vacant as he stared at nothing, mouth clamped tightly shut to muffle a faint, wordless murmuring that bubbled involuntarily from the back of his throat. Contained in his own world of fear and pain, the soldier looked like a lost little boy.
For a moment Duo stood, frozen to the spot. Seeing Heero look so unguarded and vulnerable was unnerving, to say the least. Even if the Wing pilot had been having a nightmare, it must have been a doozy to even effect Heero’s sleep pattern. He was trained beyond such human things. Duo knew Heero felt it was necessary to keep up appearances about his emotions, so it was a shock to even see him smile, never mind quake in fear as he was doing now. Concern for the soldier welled up in Duo. What the hell kind of nightmare could have caused Heero Yuy to scream? Duo was no stranger to painful dreams, but never in all his tortured days had they affected him to the extent of mindless terror in which Heero was now gripped.
Duo dropped his gun onto the nightstand and crossed the room slowly, his bare feet dodging nimbly around the clothes and manga he had left lying around. When he got to Heero’s bed, he knelt in front of it, right in front of the quaking boy’s blank gaze. He waved his hand in front of Heero’s face tentatively, wincing as he did so.
"Uh, Heero? Hello? Anyone in there?" Duo whispered, joking so that he wouldn't betray any fear.
Silence was his only answer at first, but then Heero blinked and stopped his rocking and wordless mumbling. He slowly dropped his arms from around his knees and clutched the bed sheets pooled around his feet. For a full minute he tried to gather himself together with visible effort, staring at his drawn up knees, but he couldn’t seem to get total control over himself. Several long minutes passed as the Japanese boy took deep, frantic breaths.
"Heero?" Duo tried again, slowly rising from his position in front of the bed and moving to sit beside Heero.
"I’m fine," Heero mumbled in a weak imitation of his usual strong voice.
Duo looked down at the sheets, seeing Heero’s hands still clenching and twisting. His knuckles were turning white. "Bullshit."
"Yeah," Heero nodded in quiet affirmation, straightening his legs out a bit. He did not shift his gaze upward, continuing to stare downward.
Duo waited for a moment, then slowly pried Heero’s hands from their death grip on the helpless sheets. "Look, I’m not going to force you to tell me what the hell that just was, but it would be better if you did. I mean, sure, I’m curious, but that must have been one hell of nightmare to put you in a state like this," Duo squeezed Heero’s hands in his own. "You woke up screaming, Heero."
"How loud was it?" Heero asked, avoiding the initial question. He looked down at his hands still clasped by Duo's. It was odd, that small measure of comfort was helping him get his thoughts under some semblance control. Any minute now Duo would have to pull away though….don’t get started, Yuy. Take control of yourself. It was a stupid fucking dream. That. Is. All.
"Not too loud. I wouldn’t have heard it if I hadn’t been in the room. And if I wasn't a light sleeper."
"A good soldier has to be," Heero replied, his voice rapidly regaining towards its normal strength.
"True, true. Nice try on changing the subject there. Now, what was that dream about? Well, I guess if it woke you it must have been bad, so that’d make it a nightmare, right? Don’t make me bug you about it. You know I will, too—"
"It was a nightmare. I’ve been having it for a while, but it's gotten worse since we've been at this safe house," Heero said, surprising himself by revealing so much to the American. He must be tired. That had to be it. "But this time, the dream was different. Much worse. I don’t want to say anymore." He clamped his mouth shut grimly before he said anymore.
No sense letting a stupid dream dictate your life. If I tell him more, he'll think I'm crazy, not fit for the mission or anything else. Heero berated himself silently.
"That’s okay," Duo replied, absently squeezing Heero’s hands again. "If you want to talk about it later…well, I know I talk a lot, but I have a good set of ears, too." He beamed at Heero, letting go of his hands and standing up from his perch on the edge of the bed.
"Than—Thank you, Duo," Heero replied, dropping his blank expression for a second, gratitude showing through. Get a hold of yourself, you’re a soldier. You can’t be that tired.
Duo turned around to face Heero again, the backs of his legs resting against the side of the bed. "You gonna be able to get back to sleep?" A note of concern hitched his voice slightly. He dropped down and sat on the edge of his bed, sweeping his braid over his shoulder so he wouldn’t sit on it.
"Yes." No.
"Okay, if you’re sure, then," Duo said, a note of something unreadable coloring his voice as he lay back down, drawing the light covers up to his chin. He rolled over onto his side, facing Heero in the darkness. "Remember, if you need anything, I’m right over here." That said the American pilot closed his eyes, seemingly falling back asleep in an instant as his breath evened out.
If I need anything…I don’t know what I need. Heero lay back on his own bed, drawing his clammy sheets up to his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep. He didn’t want to, not at all. At the moment he didn't care if it affected mission performance. Angry at himself for letting fear dictate his actions, he nevertheless did not let himself fall into unconsciousness. Instead he stared at the ceiling.
Across the room, Duo watched Heero through half lidded eyes. Damnit, Heero, you’re too proud. I’d help you, if you let me. But Heero wouldn’t, so Duo contented himself with watching over the troubled soldier. Even if the Japanese boy didn't know it, Heero did have him, no matter what.
And so Heero stared at the ceiling, and Duo stared at Heero.
~ ~ ~ ~
In the room across from Heero and Duo’s, Quatre snuggled closer to Trowa. He had woken up a few minutes ago, hot agony lancing through his heart at the exact moment Heero had jolted out of his tortured dream. He could feel the pain and fear roll off of the normally stoic pilot in unguarded waves. Quatre felt the intensity of those emotions ebb, replaced by a faint but steady unease and confusion.
Duo must have woke up and helped him. Quatre thought sleepily, repressing his sense. Something’s still not right…in the morning…
And with that, Quatre dozed back off to sleep.
The house was silent.
~ ~ ~ ~
The following morning found the five pilots gathered around a rickety kitchen table, eating breakfast. Since their current safe house was not exactly luxurious, they sat on a motley collection of two mismatched stools, a wooden box, an ancient wicker rocker, and a well-worn lawn chair.
Duo was rocking happily back in forth in the wicker rocker, a bowl of dried cereal in his lap. He grinned around a mouthful of corn flakes at the other pilots. "So, what’re we doing today? Any missions yet? Or are we stuck staring at the walls again?"
Wufei looked up from his book. "Maxwell, must you keep rocking like that?"
"Yup, Wu-man, sure do."
"Baka."
Duo stuck his tongue out at Wufei, who just ignored him. He rocked extra hard, to annoy the Chinese boy, who stoically continued ignoring him. Quatre giggled.
Trowa raised an eyebrow and calmly started to say, "Duo, you’re going to—"
Duo rocked too far back, tipping the chair over backwards. The bowl of cereal went flying towards the ceiling and the braided boy went skittering backwards across the kitchen floor, thudding softly against the far wall.
"—knock the chair over," Trowa finished.
Wufei immediately started laughing. "Justice is served!" He continued to laugh, sparking another giggle from Quatre. Trowa smiled a little, and Heero raised an eyebrow, barely fighting back a smirk.
Heero stood up and went to where Duo still lay in a heap against the cabinet. The American was shaking slightly, with what Heero thought was laughter, so he gently rolled the boy over to face the rest of them, expecting Duo to look embarrassed but amused. Instead the pilot’s eyes were closed, and there was a slack expression on his normally animated face.
The laughter stopped immediately when the others realized that Duo was actually hurt. Quatre jumped up and joined Heero beside the crumpled American pilot.
"Duo, hey, Duo? Wake up," Quatre coaxed, looking up at Heero with wide eyes. "This is weird. He’s shaking."
Meanwhile Trowa and Wufei had joined them by Duo’s quaking form. "Maybe we should move him to another room, were we can lay him out. He’s breathing, so he should be fine, right?" Wufei asked, all hints of mirth replaced by seriousness.
"He might have a concussion," Heero lifted up Duo’s eyelids to check when Duo’s entire body twitched out of his and Quatre’s grasp. Duo’s shaking became worse and his eyes flew open, staring unseeing at the room. Quatre and Heero let go completely of Duo’s arms and moved back, giving Duo more room. Holding him down could hurt him.
"Seizure," Trowa stated.
"I don’t think…" Quatre trailed off, grasping his chest suddenly. "Whoa."
Duo’s body suddenly stopped shaking, and a thin line of blood spontaneously appeared on the center of the boy’s forehead. His braid snaked out from under his body, wrapping itself around Heero’s wrist and hand, essentially pulling him down toward the still unconscious American.
As blood began to drip into his violet eyes, Duo’s mouth opened, speaking in the same unrecognizable voice Heero had dreamed. "It begins."
The braid fell limply from its coil on Heero’s wrist. Duo’s eyes closed slowly, and the bleeding from his forehead stopped. The boy lay still.
The other four pilots stared for a moment in shock, trying to process what had just happened in their little kitchen.
"His…his braid moved," Wufei stated in a startled voice. "Braids do not move on their own."
Quatre dropped his hand from where it had been grasping the area over his chest. "Weird." He stood up and moved back a few feet, leaning into Trowa for support.
"That was very strange," Trowa confirmed.
Heero reached out with the hand that the braid had grabbed. The wrist was already turning up a sickly bluish purple bruise. He gently, almost tentatively, brushed his fingers against the blood that soaked Duo’s forehead. A look of confusion crossed his face as he grabbed a paper towel from the counter and rubbed it against the still unconscious boy’s skin. There was no cut.
A startled hush filled the room, then Duo opened his eyes again.
Heero scooted backwards quickly, banging into Wufei’s legs in his haste. The four pilots stared at the waking American with unabashed confusion, fear glinting in their eyes. Heero’s grip on the blood-soaked paper towel became white knuckled, and Trowa moved slightly in front of Quatre, his posture essentially protecting the small blond.
Duo, meanwhile, groaned as he fought to sit up. "Oops, guess I rocked too hard…Oi, what are you guys staring at? Did I grow another head or something?" The American asked as he looked around the room. Then he grinned, wincing only slightly as he managed to stand unsteadily. "I guess I’ll have to get another bowl of cereal."
"Duo?" Heero asked, sounding as close to incredulous as Heero ever sounded. The other pilots watched as the braided boy calmly walked across the kitchen and picked up his fallen cereal bowl.
Duo turned to them, then wrinkled his face in a puzzled expression. "What? Hey, is there something on my face? It feels sticky…Did I somehow get something on me when I went flying across the room?" He put the bowl onto the rickety table and walked over to the dulled metal toaster to look.
"Uh, no. It’s…" Quatre began from his place in the group of recovering, but nervous, huddle of pilots.
"ACK! WHAT THE HELL? You guys just let me bleed all over myself?!" Duo exclaimed. Turning to face the other pilots a little too fast, a surge of dizziness hit him, forcing him to grasp the counter for balance. "Shit, guys," he said a bit more softly, hints of betrayal and hurt creeping into his voice. "That’s just not nice."
Heero finally rose from his crouch and walked slowly to where Duo was grasping the cabinet. He raised the bloody paper towel towards the American’s bowed head. "There was blood, but no cut when I started to wipe your head. You did some strange things while you were unconscious. It was…unnerving," the Japanese pilot stated in a voice that strayed somewhere between its usual coldness and an unidentifiable emotion. He then dropped the towel to the floor and brought Duo’s other arm over his own shoulder, surprising the both of them.
Then Heero, supporting Duo’s weight, slowly began walking toward the doorway that led to the safe house’s sparsely furnished living room. "We need to discuss what happened. All of us," he said in a flat tone, glancing at the other pilots. "It may affect your mission readiness status."
Duo sighed irritatedly as he let Heero guide him towards the ratty couch in the living room. "It’s always about the mission, isn’t it, Heero?" He reluctantly let go of Heero’s arm when the soldier gently lowered him to a seated position on the sofa.
"Not always," Heero mumbled, almost too softly for Duo to hear as he took a place on the sofa beside the American.
The look on Duo’s face betrayed confusion mixed with hope before he composed his face into his usual wide grin. He looked at the other pilots who had joined them in the room, but still stood anxiously huddled in the doorway. "Well, are you going to come in, or are you afraid I’ll bite you or something?"
"You could say that," Wufei grumbled as he moved purposefully into the room, stationing himself on the floor across the room from the couch. Trowa and Quatre exchanged an uneasy glance before sitting down together on a small futon by the doorway.
"Okay, now what exactly happened that could cause everybody to looks so damn freaked out?" Duo asked exasperatedly, crossing his wiry arms over his chest.
"When you rocked too hard, the chair tipped over backwards. You went flying across the floor and started shaking, kind of like you were laughing," Quatre began. "But when Heero went over to help you up, you were unconscious, and with your eyes were closed. We all went over to see what was wrong, when you suddenly stopped shaking and opened your eyes. Then your forehead just started to bleed. It was, for want of a better term, weird."
"Then your braid grabbed Heero’s arm," Wufei added, then continued quickly, saying the rest in one big breath. "Also, Maxwell, I’d like to apologize for laughing at you when you fell out of your chair. I would have never have laughed if I had known you were injured. It was dishonorable of me." He finished in a rush and bowed his head slightly.
"That’s okay, Wu—" Duo started, then blinked in shock as he registered what the Chinese pilot had said first. "My braid grabbed Heero’s arm?"
Duo’s jaw dropped as he looked over at the boy seated next to him on the couch. "Jeez, Heero, did I do that to your arm?" He asked in worry, automatically reaching out and cradling Heero’s bruised wrist in his hands, turning it for a better look. "You guys have got to be kidding me!"
Heero gently took his arm out of Duo’s grasp. "Not kidding. You said something to me in a strange voice while you were out of it."
Duo returned another look of shock. "What was it?"
"It didn’t make any sense," Heero lied, his mind racing. He knew that the other pilots couldn’t have heard what Duo had said, and he didn’t want to think about how this could be related to his nightmare from the night before. It was not logical to think along such lines. Therefore it was irrelevant for them to know all the details. It’s not as though I care if the others know about my inability to control my nightmares. Duo knowing of my weakness is bad enough.
"So, now what?" Trowa asked.
"There’s nothing to be done about it. It was just a freak occurrence. Besides, what we possibly do? It’s over now," Heero answered flatly.
"Um…what about the blood, then?" Duo asked, reaching a hand up to his forehead to wipe as the remains of the cloying blood.
Wufei shrugged. "Guess you clean up. Heero’s right, nothing we can do right now."
Duo looked at the others doubtfully. "You mean something this freaky happens, and you’re just going to dismiss it? Hell no, I’ll bet this place is haunted or something. What if...what if I was possessed or something? What if this happens again? Maybe we should move to another safe house."
"Duo has a point," Quatre said, rubbing his arms as though he were cold. "This place is a bit spooky, and it is by no means the greatest safe house we’ve stayed in," he continued, looking at the drafty windowpanes, old furniture, and the loose fitting front door. "Perhaps we should find another place."
"We can’t. Our orders were to remain here," Heero said in a cool tone. "Besides, what kind of soldiers would we be if we let some stupid suspicions interfere with our mission?"
Duo rolled his eyes and stood up, heading towards the front door. "Yup, the mission again. Well, you guys can do what you want, I’m going to do some research to see if I can figure out what happened to me. I don’t like the idea of not knowing what happens to me if I somehow get knocked out again. Spontaneous bleeding is not something I’d like to repeat. And having a prehensile braid? Another thing I don’t want to even think about," he stopped and turned to look at the other pilots. "And as weirded-out as you guys looked when I woke up, I’d expect you to be a little more open minded as to what to do about it."
"Hn."
"What, Heero?" Duo asked, turning around in the doorway.
Heero pointed at Duo’s forehead, still slightly marred by bloodstains. "Clean up."
"Oh, yeah," Duo said sheepishly, heading in the direction of the bathroom.
"Well, that went well," Wufei stated sarcastically as the braided boy left to clean himself up.
Quatre sighed. "What do you expect. How would you feel in his position? We are being a bit too accepting of whatever happened."
Heero silently got up from the sofa and left the other three to discuss it amongst themselves. He peered in through the open doorway of the bathroom, watching Duo silently. The American was grimacing in concentration as he scrubbed the lingering stains on his forehead and a bit that had dripped down to stain his cheeks.
"Are the stains coming off okay?" Heero asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah, well, they’re going to eventually. Damnit, it dried while we were talking in the living room, and I can’t get it all off," Duo replied through clenched teeth.
"Here, let me try," Heero said, leaving his post by the door and taking the washcloth from Duo’s hand. He pointed at the counter. "Sit."
Duo looked at Heero a little skeptically, then warily eased himself up to sit on the edge of the counter. Heero ran some more warm water on the cloth and started to wipe at the American’s face with surprising gentleness. He was standing close enough that the tops of his legs brushed against the seated boy’s knees, the normal soldier’s mask dropped from his face. "It’s starting to come off now," he stated quietly, tenderly brushing the boy’s bangs back from his forehead. "Is the dizziness gone?"
"Uh, yeah it is. Thanks," Duo said, looking up at the close Japanese soldier with a slightly confused expression. His eyes widened a bit and he smiled crookedly. "Hey, this is a bit of a turn around, ne, Heero? First this morning I help you out after that nightmare you wouldn’t tell me about, and now you’re helping me out after whatever the hell it was that happened to me. And hey, we don't know what really happened. Maybe they’re related or something."
"I don’t think so," Heero managed to say coldy, despite the fact that he was shocked that the American was thinking along the same lines as his was. He handed Duo back the cloth. No, it wasn’t the same voice as the dream. They are Not Related. Impossible. Dreams are dreams. Mere manifestations of the subconscious. The timing is nothing more than coincidence. Right?
Duo’s shoulders sagged for a split second as the Wing pilot stepped away from the counter. Duo hopped down from the counter. Oh well, it had been nice while it lasted. The Perfect Soldier was back.
"Well, I’m still going to figure out what happened. Besides, what else do we have to do all day?" Duo said, grinning at Heero’s back as the two walked out of the bathroom.
"Hn. Good point. Be careful," Heero said, heading back to their shared bedroom, leaving Duo standing in the hall by himself.
I wish I could figure him out. One second he’s the Soldier, then next he acts as though...nah. Duo mused as he walked back through the living room on his way to the front door, passing the other three pilots still seated there.
"Hey, Duo, wait a second," Quatre said, breaking into Duo’s thoughts. "I’ll come with you, help out a little."
"Sure thing, Quatre," Duo paused, winking at Trowa. "But won’t you be missed?"
Quatre blushed slightly. Trowa only blinked and smiled faintly. "I’ve got to do some work on HeavyArms."
"We decided that dismissing your concerns was a disservice to you. I would also go with you, but I must work on my Nataku," Wufei added.
"Aw, Wuffy, it’s almost as though you cared!" Duo said cheerfully. "Well, thanks guys. Let’s go, Quat!" He said, dragging the Arabian out of his seat and hauling him towards the door.
Quatre smiled ruefully at Trowa’s growing smirk. This was going to be an interesting day.
~ ~ ~ ~
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