"What I want..." Heero looked away from me, his arctic blue eyes fastening on a patch of nothingness. "What I want is irrelevant to the mission. I must not fail."
"Everyone fails sometimes, Heero," I began, a trifle desperately, taking a step towards him. "It's a part of being human. You survive, you pick yourself up and go on..." No response. He wasn't ready to listen to this. "Trying to kill yourself isn't the answer, Heero."
His eyes snapped back up to mine, and I registered a brief moment of undisguised panic before the barrier slipped down over it once more. "I did not try to kill myself," he snapped, a raw edge of tension to his voice.
I knew better than to press the issue about the wound on his wrist. I took another step forward, then another, and lowered my voice so that the other two pilots couldn't easily hear, giving him some semblance of privacy. His excellent hearing would pick up my next words, I was sure. "But you are, Heero. Did you think nobody could tell? You're freezing yourself, choking yourself, cutting yourself off from everything. Something's eating you from the inside out and it will kill you, sooner or later. And you're letting it happen, Heero."
He stared at me, his features drawn tight, eyes impossibly wide. I knew I'd said something important, something that cut a little too close to home. I watched him carefully, trying to feel my way to the heart of the problem judging by his responses. But there weren't any -- he didn't move, didn't make a sound, and I wasn't even sure if he was breathing. He didn't say anything -- he didn't deny it, either. I drew in a deep breath, and took a chance. "Heero. Talk to me. Tell me. Whatever it is, let it out. You can trust me. Please?"
One frozen second passed, and then another, and I then I saw him draw in a ragged breath. My heart leapt wildly into my throat as he sagged against the wall, letting it support him, and I leaned forward as he began to say something. A name.
Something passed through the air then, drawing across my taut nerves like a rasp, slicing off the beginning of whatever Heero had been about to say. Alarmed, I blinked and twisted my head around, to see if the other pilots had felt anything; Wufei looked unsettled and uneasy, while Trowa just seemed confused. In my moment of inattention, Heero pushed himself away from the wall and retreated step by step away from me. "Heero?" I demanded sharply.
"I need to go," he said, from between clenched teeth. "I need to leave now." He saw me about to speak and shook his head, a snarl peeling back his lips. "Don't ask, Quatre, just don't. It has nothing to do with you. You are not involved." His voice had returned to the cold threat I had learned to dread, and I felt the doors I had struggled to open slam shut once more. He swung his freezing gaze past me, raking across the other two pilots, and then turned and nearly ran down the corridor away from us.
Re: Torn 4
Date: 2006-02-21 11:14 am (UTC)"What I want..." Heero looked away from me, his arctic blue eyes fastening on a patch of nothingness. "What I want is irrelevant to the mission. I must not fail."
"Everyone fails sometimes, Heero," I began, a trifle desperately, taking a step towards him. "It's a part of being human. You survive, you pick yourself up and go on..." No response. He wasn't ready to listen to this. "Trying to kill yourself isn't the answer, Heero."
His eyes snapped back up to mine, and I registered a brief moment of undisguised panic before the barrier slipped down over it once more. "I did not try to kill myself," he snapped, a raw edge of tension to his voice.
I knew better than to press the issue about the wound on his wrist. I took another step forward, then another, and lowered my voice so that the other two pilots couldn't easily hear, giving him some semblance of privacy. His excellent hearing would pick up my next words, I was sure. "But you are, Heero. Did you think nobody could tell? You're freezing yourself, choking yourself, cutting yourself off from everything. Something's eating you from the inside out and it will kill you, sooner or later. And you're letting it happen, Heero."
He stared at me, his features drawn tight, eyes impossibly wide. I knew I'd said something important, something that cut a little too close to home. I watched him carefully, trying to feel my way to the heart of the problem judging by his responses. But there weren't any -- he didn't move, didn't make a sound, and I wasn't even sure if he was breathing. He didn't say anything -- he didn't deny it, either. I drew in a deep breath, and took a chance. "Heero. Talk to me. Tell me. Whatever it is, let it out. You can trust me. Please?"
One frozen second passed, and then another, and I then I saw him draw in a ragged breath. My heart leapt wildly into my throat as he sagged against the wall, letting it support him, and I leaned forward as he began to say something. A name.
Something passed through the air then, drawing across my taut nerves like a rasp, slicing off the beginning of whatever Heero had been about to say. Alarmed, I blinked and twisted my head around, to see if the other pilots had felt anything; Wufei looked unsettled and uneasy, while Trowa just seemed confused. In my moment of inattention, Heero pushed himself away from the wall and retreated step by step away from me. "Heero?" I demanded sharply.
"I need to go," he said, from between clenched teeth. "I need to leave now." He saw me about to speak and shook his head, a snarl peeling back his lips. "Don't ask, Quatre, just don't. It has nothing to do with you. You are not involved." His voice had returned to the cold threat I had learned to dread, and I felt the doors I had struggled to open slam shut once more. He swung his freezing gaze past me, raking across the other two pilots, and then turned and nearly ran down the corridor away from us.