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"Grounded"Written By: ExecutiveShrimp Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs
to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not
profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: unbeta'd, sexual, violent content (graphic,
at times). Pairings: 2x1 Summary: A Preventer mission goes horribly wrong. Co-captains Duo and Heero both survive, but as changed men, and they have to rebuild their lives from the ground up.
"Grounded"
Part XIII – Heero's POV "Did they ever find my legs?" Heero inquired as he studied Verreaux's fingers on his right foot. The doctor looked up at him with her blonde brows furrowed. "What are you asking?" "My legs – the ones that were cut off," he clarified flatly, "did the recovery team find them?" "Ah," she nodded once in understanding and redirected her gaze to her task, massaging his foot, even though he couldn't feel the touch of her fingers, pressing into the layer of silicone skin that covered the hard shell of the prosthetic. "Would that have helped you in some way? To see them?" He sighed and tilted his head. He watched her for a second longer and then said with tight lips: "You sound like a shrink when you answer a question with a question." Her laughter was bubbly. "Ouch! I know that is quite the insult, coming from you." Her eyes flitted up at him. The green of her eyes sparkled like a forest after summer rain. "Is Adam giving you a hard time?" "Doctor Adams can't be anything but nice, even if he tried." The psychologists name was Doctor Adam Adams, which Heero was at first convinced was a very unfunny joke. Doctor Adams insisted that Heero – and everyone else – called him by his first name, but Heero refused to, out of spite. Doctor Adams said Heero did it because it was his only way to assert control over their relationship, being forced by the Agency to meet with the shrink on a bi-weekly basis if he was serious about ever being reinstated. Heero cared very little about what Doctor Adams said. The man was nice and the sessions were never uncomfortable because he never pried and allowed Heero to stay silent if he wanted to and allowed him to steer the conversation whichever way he wanted when he did agree to speak. "Did you talk about your real legs with Adam?" "These are my real legs," Heero retorted without missing a beat and he patted his knee. Her smile became tight and disingenuous, but she recovered quickly. "Of course. But you know what I mean." "Then: no." Doctor Adams had a very strange approach to his therapy. He never mentioned the mission nor the amputation. Whenever Heero demanded to know what he wanted form him, he simply said: "I just want to talk. What do you want to talk about?". So, this morning, they talked about Relena's campaign for reelection. Heero had expected Doctor Adams to ask him if he had seen Relena yet – which he hadn't – but he didn't. "What got you thinking about your legs then?" "The recovery mission was completed yesterday. The resource satellite has been fully dismantled." He had read it in the newspaper, because Major Chang still refused to answer any of his questions. "Oh, okay. That makes sense," she mused, never letting the conversation interrupt her task, massaging him as if she honestly believed he could feel it, making sure to apply the right amount of pressure on the appendage. "I guess that sort of stuff is need-to-know basis and I'm way, way out of that loop." She chuckled at herself. "… Me too." She glanced up at him and offered him another smile, a sympathetic one, that time. "Does this help?" She asked, referring to her massage. "Yeah. A little." The pain in his toe was reduced to a distant throb. "It's been over six months now, shouldn't the phantom pain be gone?" She sighed. "Unfortunately in some cases the phantom pain is more persistent, permanent even. We just have to find a way to help you cope. You should keep massaging the foot regularly, like you've been doing. But you should also consider taking the legs off once in a while. You said the pain stopped completely when they're off, right?" "I don't want to take them off," he said adamantly. Real legs aren't supposed to be detachable. "Well… you should consider it," she suggested, knowing to be cautious with giving him any orders when it came to this. She concluded the massage with a gentle squeeze to his ankle and then she rose up from her seat and handed him back his socks and shoes. After putting them back on, Heero swung his legs over the edge of the table and stood up. He caught Verreaux looking at him but when she realized her stare hadn't gone unnoticed she practically pressed her nose into his file. "I- uh… I guess this was our last session together," she concluded. "The Preventer Rehabilitation Center is officially terminating your treatment plan. You've made a complete recovery." "Not quite," he argued. He could function normally again, but he had a higher goal to attain than being able to walk up and down a flight of stairs and kick a ball. He had been working out every single day, to rebuild his body and regain his strength. He was able to run again, which meant he was getting more sleep and his appetite had returned to him. He had progressed beyond the expectations of the professionals that had been managing his recovery and he aimed to go further. Once he had Major Chang's permission, he wanted to start training for The Twelve, so he could go back on duty. "You'll get there. You've proved everyone wrong so far." "Hn." Verreaux smirked and put her hands on her hips. "You're welcome, by the way." "Hn." She chuckled and shook her head at him, making her curls bounce. "I'll take it." She looked him up and down in awe. "These pas three and a half months have flown by." "You think so?" He opposed. That certainly wasn't in line with his experience. The past three and a half months have felt like a lifetime to him: a lifetime of hard work. "I think I might actually miss you," she admitted, feigning shock. "I've grown quite fond of your brand of rude and insufferable." He knew she wanted him to smile at her joke, but a smile never came easily to him and lately he hadn't been able to smile at all. In many ways he was more like the fifteen-year old version of himself than he had been in years. He had readopted that old, single-minded focus that he used to have, because it was the only way for him to be able to pull through. "I'm grateful for your help," he said and he meant it. It was all he could offer her. She hugged him again and he allowed it, even though it made him tense up. "Good luck," she said when she pulled back. He nodded once and walked away. Heero didn't go straight home like he used to do after physical therapy. He took the elevator up to the top floor of the building and made a bee-line for WuFei's office. He ignored the looks he was getting along the way as he passed the cubicles of the bullpen. He rapped his knuckles on the door of the Major's office. There was a grumble on the other side of the door and then someone groused: "Come in!" It wasn't WuFei. Heero pushed into the office and halted. Obviously he had interrupted a private and heated discussion. Sally's face lit up when she recognized the intruder and she looked him up and down. "Heero! It's been too long. Look at you!" "Close the door, please," WuFei ordered. He was still pacing back and forth behind his desk with pent-up frustration. Heero closed the door behind him as instructed. "Sally. I didn't know you were on L1." "I just landed like an hour ago," she explained, throwing a glance down to her watch. "I was going to come see you. Doctor Verreaux has been keeping me up-to-date on your progress, but you look even better than I imagined." She stepped towards him, with her arms widening, like she meant to come give him a hug, but she thought better of it and stopped midway and wrapped her arms around herself instead. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears and Heero could never tell when they were happy or sad tears. "God, you're so tall!" She exclaimed and looked to WuFei for agreement. "Yes." Heero hadn't realized his new legs had made him any taller until he first met up with the Major after being able to stand upright again. He and the other former Gundam pilot used to be exactly the same height and he was used to staring straight into his black eyes. It had been odd when he became aware the Chinese man now had to look up at him. He was two inches taller than he was before and when he had inquired why, the answer had been that Duo had told them to – when Heero was still in his coma and his legs were being constructed. Apparently the longhaired man had said to them that Heero always should have been taller than he was. Heero didn't understand the significance of that, but he did appreciate not having to look up at people as much as he used to, especially after months of being confined in a wheelchair, when he had to look up at everyone. More importantly: when everyone looked down at him. "How have you been?" "I thought Verreaux was keeping you informed." Sally sighed at him but smiled nonetheless. He had a feeling he had misunderstood her question, but she didn't rephrase it and just let it be. "Is there anything you need, Yuy?" WuFei inquired. His words were curt. "We were kind of in the middle of something." He gestured between himself and Sally. "I completed my rehabilitation today," he informed. "I want to enroll in the Preventers' training course in preparation for The Twelve." Both Sally and WuFei stared at him uncomfortably long. Heero wiggled his fingers at his sides, noting that his palms were getting sweaty at the prolonged silence. "Heero…-" Sally started but she trailed off and looked to WuFei again. "I don't think that is a good idea," the Major said firmly. "Why? How else am I supposed to get reinstated after being grounded for over six months?" Sally tried again: "You are doing so well. Why don't you take some time to appreciate how far you've come?" At his quizzical expression, she elaborated: "You have no idea what a miracle it is that you are doing as well as you are after only six months. I don't want you to set yourself up for failure." "Failure?" He balled his hands into fists. "Heero, I told you from the start: getting reinstated as a field agent is practically impossible as a double amputee." "I'm not a double amputee," he balked. "I have legs." "It's not the same. You're not the same. You can't hold yourself to the same standard you used to." "What else do you expect me to do with my life?" The corners of her mouth turned down and she instinctively reached a hand out to him before stopping herself again. "You can still work as a Preventer agent," WuFei proffered. "Your hacking skills will be a great asset to the agency." "The agency has dozens of hackers better than me," Heero countered. "But I am the best field agent." "Only you're not." WuFei's words hurt him the way he never thought words could. "Not anymore." He took a moment to consider his best rebuttal. "Fine. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I won't be," he said through gritted teeth. "But I was better than anyone else when I was still… myself." He swallowed. "Even now I will still be good enough to pass The Twelve." "Still-" "All of Team Four is nothing but a group of seventy-fivers. If they are good enough to be in the field, than so will I be." WuFei was shaking his head and seated himself behind his desk. "Most of the disciplines test for technical and tactical skill anyway and that hasn't changed for me." Sally chimed in cautiously: "But Heero, how do you expect to pass the PIE's: a ten kilometer marathon, the obstacle course…?" "I just need to retrain myself. I can do it." "Fine," WuFei consented. Sally snapped her head in his direction to look at him incredulously. "If he needs to see himself fail to accept his limitations, than he should." "Thanks," Heero growled, angered by WuFei's lack of faith in him. He was eager to prove him wrong. "WuFei-" Sally meant to argue, but the Major dismissed any further objections. "No. It's decided. He can train." Sally shot the Japanese agent a worried look. "The only ones training for The twelve right now is the Runt-Pack," WuFei stated. "You can join them starting tomorrow. I will email you their training schedule." Heero stiffened at the idea of having to be part of every agents deprecatingly called "the Runt-Pack": the agents who couldn't pass The Twelve and were grounded until they could. The Runt-Pack consisted of older agents clinging to former glory and misguided desk-jockeys. Most would never pass. But he had to take his ego out of the equation, as he had had to do so many times in the past few months. He swallowed his pride and accepted the offer with a curt nod. "Heero, please, don't push yourself beyond your limits. You could really hurt yourself out there." Sally didn't understand that he had been hurting every day since waking up from his coma; suffering a pain he didn't know how to handle. Some bumps and scratches – and maybe even broken bones – were the kinds of pain he was used to and that was something he could deal with, because at least it wasn't a helpless pain. He didn't say another word. He pivoted on his heels and walked out of the office, leaving the two of them alone again. He took the subway back to his apartment. Now that his rehabilitation had officially been completed, he could finally apply to have his driver's license renewed and he planned to do that as soon as possible. He had been allowed to keep his wheelchair, even though he no longer had any use for it. He folded it up and stuffed it into the hallway closet; he didn't even want to look at it anymore. After a hearty dinner, he went out for a run. He couldn't run nearly as long or as fast as he used to, but he was getting better every day and he was looking forward to the training speeding up the progress of his improvement. As promised, WuFei emailed him the training schedule of the Runt-Pack and Heero set his alarm accordingly. He was expected at the field by the Preventer office at eight the next morning. He had kept an old Preventer uniform in his closet and he retrieved it and laid it out over a chair in the corner of his bedroom. It was a navy blue tracksuit and white T-shirt, all with the Preventer logo on it. He had always been proud to wear that logo; it made him part of something bigger and more important than himself. It gave him a sense of belonging, like he had a part to fulfill in the world, like he was necessary. If not for the Preventers, who would need him? Who would benefit from his existence and what would be the point? Duo certainly didn't need him. Heero still called him every night, even though he knew the call would never be answered. He didn't like the imbalance. He needed Duo, but Duo didn't need him. It hurt him and it didn't make sleeping any easier lately, but he couldn't give up on calling him. It kept him feeling connected to his former partner. If he stopped calling him, it felt like Duo would disappear, like he had never been there and that frightened Heero. Because if Duo never happened to him, who would Heero be? Still that fifteen year old boy, at war with himself and the world. Duo was his touchstone to remind him that the past seven years were real and that Doctor J had no power over him anymore. At three thirty, when he returned from his nightly run to cure his insomnia, he swiped the phone off the docking station and pressed speed dial one. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he walked into the bedroom and turned on the shower to give the water a minute to heat up. With a hand on the edge of the sink for balance, he took off his shoes one by one and shimmied out of his sweatpants and underwear. As expected, the call went unanswered and he put the phone aside to strip off his sweat-soaked shirt so he could take a quick shower. Then, finally, he slept. In the morning he arrived at the training fields early and he was the first one there. He set his duffel bag with clean change of clothes and towel down on the ground at the edge of the track and made use of the privacy to get reacquainted with his surroundings. He turned around and looked back at the Preventer building. He could pinpoint the exact window on the hospital floor from which he spent weeks watching the field, confined to his bed and his misery. A group approached him, coming from the dressing rooms and Heero clenched his jaw when he realized Team Four's Captain was the Runt-Pack's instructor. Some of the other faces were familiar as well, but most of them he didn't know by name and he didn't bother with formal introductions. Everyone knew who he was, if he wasn't infamous before that mission, he certainly was after. Every agent knew of his fall from grace. None but the Captain even dared to look him the eyes. "Yuy," the tall, broad-shouldered man acknowledged. "Good to have you back." The man was lying to him out of a misguided sense of kindness. "I guess we'll take it slow today, to ease you into it." "That won't be necessary," Heero assured him. "If you say so." They started with a warm-up: five laps around the track. Heero started at the head of the pack, because he was always at the head of the pack, but after only the second go-round, his legs started to feel very heavy and sometimes his shoes scuffed the ground as he was having trouble properly picking up his feet to keep up his pace. A few yards before his third pass over the white finish-line, he was overtaken by the first of the others. Indignantly, he tried to speed up, but he faltered after only a few steps and nearly tripped over his own feet. At that point, the second and the third agent passed him by. Before he had even finished the fourth lap, he was at the back of the pack and the distance only grew larger as they circled the field a final time. Everyone was waiting for him at the finish-line and he nearly collapsed when he crossed it. His face must have been beet-red, not just from the exertion. He doubled over and sucked in large gulps of air. "Well done, Yuy. We'll give a minute and then we'll get started on our interval training." He meant to look up to glare at the Captain for belittling him, but when he straightened up his vision just went black and he had no choice but to lower his head again. The entire training session was a shock to him. When he had been training on his own, he thought he had been doing well, but he had completely overestimated his abilities. A lot of the simple exercises hurt his thigh too, as it put a different pressure on his legs. The final insult to injury came when the Captain had them tackle one of the obstacles on the course: the net. The rope net hung down from a height of fifteen feet and the task was to climb to the top and then climb down the other side. It was never much of a challenge to Heero, but he discovered he had trouble aiming his feet and placing them in the netting. He struggled with his coordination and by the time he was half-way up, he gave up on trying to properly place his feet and climbed the rest of the way up using only his upper body strength instead. That wasn't as easy as it should have been either. He wasn't back to his full strength yet and it wasn't made easier by the fact that the legs added about ten extra pounds of dead weight on him. Once he reached the top, it took his several tries to swing the first leg over the wooden beam and when he finally managed, the momentum of it nearly had him lose his grip and fall down to the ground. The other agents were already on the ground again and everyone was looking up at him. No one said anything and it actually would have been easier if they bullied him, like they would bully anybody else who would fail so pathetically. But they all pitied him too much. Finally, he managed to lower himself back down until his feet were planted in the dirt and he resented the compliments he received. "I think that's enough for the PIE's for today. Let's continue with some gun drills," the Captain announced. "Heero, I know you're an ace shot, so you can take the rest of the day off." Heero ignored him and limped after the rest of the group as they headed for the gun range. He wasn't so much of a crack-shot as the excruciating pain in his thighs distracted him from the target up ahead, but at least he was doing better than the rest and that was a small relief. It felt good to fire a gun again. The weight of the weapon in his hand felt familiar, as did the recoil. He understood weapons better than he did people; better than he did himself. The Captain came to stand behind him. Heero could feel his presence as the man peered over his shoulder. It made him tense up and he cursed under his breath as he fired his worst shot of the day as a result of it. It was still in the black circle of the target, but only barely. The target was littered with hole, when, usually, his aim would be so accurate his paper target would only have one hole in it, no matter how often he fired. "I have a stool for you, if you need to sit down." Heero cocked his head over his shoulder and finally succeeded in fixing a glare on the man. "Would I get a stool out in the field as well?" "It's only your first day back. It's fine if you-" "It's not," he bit back and redirected his attention to his target practice. "… Okay. Whatever you want. But it's here if you need it." He patted the seat of the stool that he had placed to Heero's left. "None of us would think less of you if you took a break." "No, you couldn't possibly think any less of me than you already do," Heero seethed. "Excuse me? I am trying very hard to be accommodating here." "Exactly. You think I can't even stand upright, how much worse than that could your view of me get?" "Whatever, Yuy. I just prefer you sit your ass down rather than pass out, so I don't have to deal with that." Finally, the Captain of Team Four walked away. Heero lowered his weapon and took a moment to compose himself. Then he continued his practice, just like everyone else. He thought he would fare better the next day, but he didn't. And he didn't either the day after that. The progress was agonizingly slow and every time he achieved a small victory, he was introduced to a new experience of complete and utter humiliation. All the while the Captain and the other agents kept coddling him, helping him and accommodating him. When he tried and failed tackling the ten foot tall wall for the seventh time, the Captain put a little step-up ladder in front of it and forced him to use it. Without it, he would have never made it over that wall. He used to be able to jump up, plant one foot against the wall and give himself a little extra vertical push he needed to clasp his hand over the top edge so he could pull himself up. All he did that day was just run straight into the wall. He couldn't get his leg up high enough to give him any boost. He even got a bloody nose smashing into the wall. He never talked about any of it with Doctor Adams. And the shrink never asked. They talked about diet plans, the morning news and a new smartphone release instead – during which conversation Heero was nearly prompted to admit he had been calling Duo without answer every night, thankfully, he didn't let that slip. He felt stuck. He was pushing himself harder than he ever had, yet it wasn't working, maybe because everyone else was giving him too much leeway. If he couldn't complete an obstacle on the course or an exercise on the track, the Captain would either exempt him and sideline him, or quickly come up with a solution or easier variation on the challenge. None of his interferences would help Heero pass the tests in the end, but if Heero refused to make use of the step-ups, chairs and ropes to help him conquer the most difficult obstacles, the Captain would just make everyone else wait for him. Heero couldn't succeed with ten pairs of eyes on him, because he couldn't fail with ten pairs of eyes on him. Failing in front of an audience was too humiliating. His request to work out alone on the obstacle course after hours was denied, because it was deemed unsafe. That ruling probably had something to do with the several nasty falls Heero had had. Everyone was trying to protect him and – regardless of their good intentions – they were holding him back. He wasn't just fighting against the limitations of his own body, but the limitations that others imposed on him as well. After six weeks, he still felt like he had accomplished nothing. He still couldn't climb the net. He still couldn't master the vertical wall. He still couldn't keep up with the rest on the track field. And through it all, the phantom pain in his toe was a constant distraction. At the end of another long day, his entire body was hurting, but no part of him moreso than his thighs. The pressure of his weight on the prosthetic legs was insufferable. With the way the prosthethics were attached to his body, the load on the bottom of his thighs – Verreaux called them his "stumps" – wasn't the problem. Most of his weight was focused on the femur-implants and after overexerting himself all day with high-impact exercises, it felt like the Gundanium bone implants stabbed into his pelvis with each step. Admitting defeat, he dug his wheelchair out of the back of his closet, unfolded it and sat himself down. At least that way he could relieve his hips while still being relatively mobile. It was a little uncanny how adept he was at maneuvering around his apartment in the chair. During the months when he had had no choice but to use it, he had found solutions for every problem. Being back in the chair was easy. It had been a very long time since anything was easy for him. He rolled back and forth between the living room and the kitchen as he made himself dinner and put a drink, cutlery and a napkin down on the coffee table. He had switched on the television without paying attention to what channel it was on, since it didn't matter. He just liked some sound to fill the apartment. When he was done preparing his simple stir-fry, (2) he put the bowl in his lap, securing it between his thighs and moved over to arrange himself next to the couch. He held the bowl cradled in one hand and shoveled the food into his mouth with the fork. Most of the time, he wasn't even watching the TV screen. The program didn't interest him in the least. Afterwards he put the dishes in the sink. He used to wash his dishes in a big plastic tub that he'd fill with hot water from the tap and soap, but he didn't feel like going through that hassle. He'd do the dishes tomorrow, after his legs had gotten some rest and he could stand again. The training that was scheduled for the next day was low intensity. They'd be running through computer simulations to hone their tactical skill. He didn't expect to have any difficulties with it and it was a relief that he would be seated for the majority of the day. Since he had already taken a shower at the Preventer office following his day worth of intensive training, he didn't have anything to do for the rest of the night, so he planned on going to bed early. A knock on his door would seem to interfere with that. The first thought to cross his mind was that it could be Duo and his heart skipped a beat. Duo used to be his only visitor, back when he used to live in the apartment. Heero didn't have any friends aside from the long-haired man and the other former Gundam pilots, but WuFei never interacted with him outside of work and if it was Quatre or Trowa, he would have gotten a head's up first. They always called when they were planning on stopping by on L1, as Quatre and his partner flew between the different colonies and Earth all the time for his business. The person knocked again. "… One second!" He rolled the wheelchair into the bedroom, out of sight, and climbed out of it. He scrunched up his face in discomfort as he straggled back to the front door to open it. "Oh" slipped out of him when he recognized the cloud of curly, blonde hair. Verreaux smiled at him cutely. "Hey you. Long time no see." "Yeah." What else was he supposed to say? "I was hoping you'd stop by the rehab center once in a while," she said with a pout. "Why? I completed my rehab." She chuckled at how dense he was obviously being. She waited in the hallway for a minute of uncomfortable silence until she boldly asked: "Are you going to invite me in?" He wasn't going to; the thought didn't even occur to him. But after being prompted he stepped aside and motioned for her to enter. She glanced around the living space but there wasn't much to look at. It was decorated only with the necessary pieces of furniture and everything was just a different shade of taupe. "This is exactly how I had imagined it," she declared. He hesitated a moment before closing the door. He wasn't accustomed to playing host for anyone. Whenever Quatre and Trowa came over, they just made themselves at home and he was fine with that. When he had still been living at the house, Duo was the entertainer. Heero remembered that the first thing the American agent always did was offer someone something to drink, so that's what he did. "I suppose you don't have wine or something?" He shook his head. "I should have brought some! Oh my God, I'm being so rude, coming over here with empty hands!" She made a face at herself. "I'll bring some wine next time." Next time? "I have water." "Water is fine, thank you." He walked over to the refrigerator, trying his hardest to hide his limp. He retrieved a bottle of water and a glass and handed both to her. "Thanks. Can I sit down?" She nodded at the couch. "Sure." She sat down, put her purse on the seat next to her, and poured herself a glass of water that she sipped delicately. Heero idled in the middle of the living room. He wanted to sit down because his thighs were aching, but the couch was only small and that made him uneasy. "How is your training going?" Verreaux inquired. "Fine," he lied. "How are your legs? Are you experiencing any pain?" "Only in my toe." That was only a partial lie to obscure the full truth. His entire lower body was in pain from the physical strain, but it was true that his toe still inexplicably hurt as well. "Would you like me to massage it for you?" "I can massage it myself." "I know, and so could I," she shot back smartly. He considered the offer briefly before agreeing. Her giving him a foot massage was something normal between the two of them – she used to do it all the time. Doing something normal would make him feel less out of his element. At least he'd have a better idea of how to act and what to expect. "Alright." She put the glass away on the coffee table and studied the couch for only a second before she suggested: "You should lie down on the bed. The couch is a little small." He didn't question her and started for the bedroom. She followed behind closely. When he walked into the bedroom he grimaced at the sight of the wheelchair and it had him freezing up. He hadn't wanted anyone to see it, not even Doctor Verreaux, regardless of how often she had seen it and had seen Heero in it. Verreaux walked past him without batting an eye and wordlessly rolled the wheelchair into a corner and out of their path. She didn't ask why he had been using it, she didn't even acknowledge that it had ever been there. She seated herself on the foot of the perfectly made bed and patted the mattress with an unassuming smile. Heero lay down on his back on top of his sheets. He was already barefoot. He was wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of baggy boxers. It hadn't occurred to him that he wasn't appropriately dressed to receive guests. With his head raised on the pillow, he could look down his body and he watched Verreaux take the right foot into her hand. She let the heel rest in the palm of her left hand and massaged the unarticulated toes with her right. He noticed she was wearing a pretty nail polish and frowned at himself. That was a random thing to notice. "I've missed you," she admitted. Heero stared. He wasn't expecting that and he didn't know how to handle that confession. "I really like you, Heero." "… Oh." She snickered. "I'm sorry for being so blunt. But I don't think you're the kind of guy who can figure that out by himself." He definitely wasn't. "I know it's not professional of me, but you gave me butterflies when we were working together." She looked away bashfully. "Since you're not my patient anymore, I figured I could tell you." She looked at him again, her eyes searching, but Heero didn't know for what. She continued her massage. It wasn't the actual massage that alleviated his pain, it took watching her – or his own – fingers touching his foot and not being able to feel it for his brain to register that the pain it had been experiencing wasn't real, since there wasn't any sensation in the limb. After a few minutes of observing her fingers digs into the silicone layer of skin, the throbbing in his toe subsided and he relaxed visibly. It was always a relief whenever it was gone. He knew it was only temporary, but he enjoyed it anyway. Living with the incessant pain was exhausting; it drained him mentally. Every day, all day, was a struggle to pull his focus away from the throbbing and sometimes piercing pain in his toe and redirect it to whatever actually needed his attention. "Feel better?" She asked, noticing the change in his posture. "Yeah." He let his head sink back into the pillow and he breathed in deeply. "That's good…" Verreaux said, her voice going soft. The mattress dipped as she scooted further up the bed until she was sitting next to his hips. He met her gaze and was drawn by her green eyes without understanding why. She had a mischievous little smirk on her lips that he recognized. Duo used to look at him like that, right before he'd whisper something dirty in his ear. Fueled by curiosity, Heero sat upright. When he noticed how closely they were seated together, he ducked his head between his shoulders slightly, but he didn't shy away. He did, however, find it too difficult to hold her gaze, so he looked down at his feet instead. "I want to make you feel good, Heero," she whispered. Her hand appeared on his body again, on his upper thigh that time, so he could feel it. As soon as he realized he was holding his breath, he forced an exhale and the breath came out shaky. He felt her hair against his cheek before he felt her lips against the corner of his mouth, placing a chaste kiss there. She pulled back only a little, not far enough for her curly hair to stop tickling his face. When she leaned in again, he turned his head just enough for their lips to meet. Her mouth felt soft and shy against his, it was unlike anything he was used to. They paused for a breath and then she kissed him again, but with more purpose. He parted his lips for her, the way he always parted his lips for Duo. Letting Duo take control had always been such a liberating experience and he was hoping she could offer the same. Unexpectedly, she chuckled against his mouth, but then she licked past his lips and coaxed his tongue into playing with hers. She pulled back again and disclosed: "This isn't how I had imagined it." "I'm sorry." She pressed smiling lips against his before assuring him: "No, no, I don't mean it in a bad way. I'm pleasantly surprised." She grabbed the hem of his shirt. "May I?" He shrugged and raised his arms over his head as she pulled the shirt off of him. Hesitant fingers traced the scars on his body, starting at the bullet wound on his shoulder from when Duo had shot him and then traveling down; following the scars down to the waistband of his boxers, into which twin scars from one of his recent surgeries disappeared. The scars were seams starting at the front of his thighs, at the bottom of his "stumps" and going all the way up in a straight line to either hipbone. It was how they had opened him up to replace his femurs with the Gundanium implants that connected his new legs. They kissed again and when Verreaux brought one hand up to cup the back of his head, he mirrored that and buried the fingers of his right hand into her thick hair. She leaned into him and her felt her breasts pressed against him. She was wearing nothing but a thin summer dress. Heero flinched when her other hand dropped into his lap and fondled him through his underwear. He hadn't even been aware of his cock getting hard, tenting his loose boxers, until she drew his attention to it. "Do you want me to stop, Heero?" Did he? "… No." She explored the shape of him before enveloping him in her hand and giving a few tugs that wrought a surprised cry out of him and he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. Masturbation hadn't provided him much relief lately and he was caught off guard by the pleasure that arced through his body. He didn't know why she could make him feel so good when he himself had failed, but he welcomed it. Before long he was lying on his back again and she had helped him take off his underwear. He didn't feel ashamed of his body around her, because she had seen him in his worst and most weak state and was apparently still attracted to him and that amazed him. It made him realize how much it hurt that Duo had discarded him, now that he was a shadow of his former self, but he pushed those feelings away and focused on the sensations in his body instead. She offered him a pleasure that clouded the pain. Standing next to the bed, Verreaux untied her dress and let it pool at her feet. She stepped out of her underwear before carefully climbing on top of him, straddling his hips. She bent down for another kiss – a deep kiss – and directed his hands onto her breasts and encouraged him to familiarize himself with her body. The kiss was endless as his fingers traveled over her skin. Everything about her was soft. Her skin was soft. Her breasts were soft. Her belly was soft. Her buttocks were soft. Her thighs were soft. She was unlike Duo in every way, but he liked it anyway. His penis was sandwiched between them and he felt her getting wet, in spite of the fact that he had no idea how to touch her and how to please her. Then she broke the kiss and sat up suddenly. She looked expectantly at the nightstand when she asked: "Where do you keep the condoms?" Condoms? He never used condoms with Duo, so he didn't have any. "I- I don't have any." "Oh, okay." She leaned forward to planted a kiss on his lips and he barely had time to react before she climbed off of him and the bed. "I'll be right back." He laid frozen in bed, wondering what she was doing. He drummed his fingers against his outer thighs. His cock was twitching. Verreaux returned shortly, holding something silver in her hand that she unfolded to show it were two foil packets. "Good thing I always keep condoms in my purse, just in case." She mounted him again and tore the two packets free from another. She put one on the nightstand and handed the other to him, sitting back on his thighs so she wasn't on top of his erection. He tore the packet open and put the slippery latex on the tip of his cock. He tried to roll it down, but it just bounced back up. Before he even figured out he was doing something wrong, Verreaux took the condom from him and flipped it over and then easily rolled it down his length with a light touch. Heero swallowed audibly. When she scooted forward and got into position, planting her hands onto the pillow on either side of his head, he instinctively put his hands on her hips. She reached down and held him at the right angle by the base and slowly eased herself down onto him. Her body welcomed him inside. His mouth dropped open in a soundless moan. She moved up and down, being careful not to hurt his sore hips and legs even though he never told her he had been hurting. She just understood this new body of his, better than he himself did. He let his fingers dig into her soft flesh and released a reluctant moan. He tossed his head back and bit his bottom lip. Her hands caressed his chest and then moved up his neck and cradled his face. Her lips descended on his sweetly. He had trouble returning her kiss; the pleasure was distracting. His abdomen tightened and he twisted his head away, holding back an orgasm that nearly caught him off guard. Verreaux's fingers threaded through his hair and she kissed his cheek and ear and whispered: "It's okay, Heero." And she smiled at him like she knew something he had never told her. That he had never been with a woman before. He felt guilty for taking pleasure without being able to return it. He didn't have that with Duo; Duo knew exactly how to generously give pleasure while taking it from him at the same time and Heero didn't have to worry about any of it. If he just let go, his body knew what to do when he was with Duo. But this wasn't Duo. And this wasn't Heero's body – not really. He groaned and tensed up, fighting the onset of his climax. Even with Duo he usually lasted longer than this, but it had been so long since he last had a satisfying release and he needed it. He put his hands on her breasts again and met her lips in another kiss, wanting to make her feel as good, but he didn't know how. "It's okay, Heero," his lover repeated quietly. "This is for you." "Nnn!" He shifted his hands back to her hips, holding them tightly but not able to stop them from rolling on top of him. He opened his mouth and a strangled cry escaped him as his orgasm would be denied no longer. Instinctively he rocked up into her, riding out the waves of his release. Her fingers petted through his hair and she whispered soothing words to him that he heard without understanding. Finally, he relaxed and he felt like his heavy body was sinking into the mattress. His head was heaviest of all. He closed his eyes and needed a moment to catch his breath. In the meantime, Verreaux slid off him, rid him of the condom – and he didn't know where it went after that – and she draped herself against his side. Her breath swept across his sweaty chest. "I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. He pried his eyes open but looked at the ceiling in favor of meeting her gaze. "Don't be. It was lovely." He felt tired and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He wasn't sure how much time had passed and whether he had fallen asleep in the meantime, when she spoke up next. "Can I ask you something?" "… Am I allowed not to answer if I don't want to?" "Of course." "Okay." More time passed, without him being able to tell if it was only a few seconds or several minutes. "Were you a virgin?" She asked softly. "No." "Oh… It felt like it was your first time." She hurried to add: "I don't mean that in a bad way. You were just so… sweet and tender." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He thought for a moment and concluded: "It was a first time, in a way." "In what way?" "I've only ever had sex with a man," he replied calmly. "Oh…" She shifted, but didn't roll away from him. He wondered if that was something he shouldn't have said; if it was something bad. He had never given the significance of it much thought. It seemed significant to Verreaux. "… 'A man' or 'men'?" She asked to clarify. He paused to consider the distinction and the relevance of it. "A man." "I had no idea." "How were you supposed to?" He countered. "Usually, I can see it sooner if someone I'm in love with is in love with someone else." Heero frowned, trying to figure out how she had come to the conclusion that he was in love with Duo. "But I didn't say that." "I know… But I can see it now." That didn't make any sense to him at all. He didn't think he was in love with Duo – he wasn't sure if he was capable of that – but he knew for certain that he wasn't in love with Verreaux and he apologized for not being able to reciprocate her feelings. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. I meant what I said: tonight was for you. I wanted to make you feel good." "… Thank you." He didn't know what else to say. She propped her head up in her palm and smiled at him. She kissed him one more time before resting her head on his chest and she told him: "Just go to sleep." He didn't expect to be able to sleep with her in his bed with him, but at some point his world went dark and everything disappeared into the blackness. When he opened his eyes again, he was alone, with the sheets folded over to cover him. He glanced sideways at the alarm clock. It was three thirty AM. He flicked on the light and pushed himself up into a seated position. He noticed Verreaux's dress and panties were no longer on the floor, but the second condom was still on the nightstand and he supposed that was some kind of message that was just lost on him. The pain in his thighs and hips was distant after getting some rest, but unfortunately his big toe was starting to hurt again. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and got out. He walked into the living room naked. The purse was no longer on the couch and even the bottle and glass of water had been cleared away from the coffee table. He lifted the phone out of the docking station and sat down on the couch, pulling his feet up into the seat and tucking his knees under his chin. The silicone skin felt cool. He pressed speed dial one but didn't even hold the phone up to his ear. He cradled it on front of him, listening to the muted tones as it rang and watched that single word light up on the screen. Home. For the first time, Heero hung up before the call was automatically aborted as it went unanswered. He put it aside and wrapped his arms around his legs and stared at the streetlight outside the window. He thought about the years he spent with Duo, the weeks he spent with the Runt-Pack and the night he spent with Verreaux. He needed to get away from it all; away from everyone's expectations and limitations, including his own. He wasn't the same person anymore, so if he wanted to move forward, he shouldn't stay in the same place, living in the shadow of his old self. He needed a fresh start.
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