21-May-2000
revised: 15-Sep-2002
This is the (very slightly) revised version of Itai Chap. 1, soon to be followed by (gasp) a second chapter! It's a little bit rough towards the end, because Tekka sort of fizzled out on me. [glares at muse]
Tekka: [regards fingernails, which suddenly appear very interesting]
Warnings: Angst. And... yeah. Angst.
Notes: No particular timeline--all the pilots have met, but Hee-chan hasn't experienced the Zero System yet.
["Itai": 1. (adj.) painful; 2. (noun) dead body.]
I stumble into the current base from another mission, grimy and beaten. So far today, one bruised rib, lacerations on both legs and my chest, a large part of the skin on my left cheek scraped off, and a few sprained fingers. All in all, not too bad. The fingers are the only things that bother me.
My mission was successfully completed, which is the important thing.
For the world. Secondary is the pain. Secondary, but just for me. All for me. I am exhausted and in my exhaustion I am strangely elated; bone-tired and I want to lie still and feel it for a while.
As I step out of the hangar, Duo runs up to me. Shit, not him now. I don't have time for this... "Oi! Heero! Back already? How did it go?" His eyes sparkle at me, arrogant and slightly manic. Hands on hips, he is a neon sign reading 'I am feeling merciless.'
"Hn. Ninmu kanryou." The completion of the mission is enough for me; it leaves me satisfied, if also hollow.
But it is never enough for him. He likes to talk, and to ask questions; he is quick and dead and utterly annoying. Unfortunately, he is an excellent pilot and therefore not expendable. "Well, that's good," he says. "Oi, you're hurt, man. Here, let me help you; I bet you got another broken rib... where's the tape? I know I saw it here somewhere..." He continues to babble as we make our way back to the room we share out of necessity. Bruised, I think. Not broken.
His unceasing questions irked me from the start, but did not fool me for long. Duo may sound harmless, but he is anything but. And he has a keen intellect I doubt people credit him for. Unfortunately, this wit and his drive to understand everything have made me his new target. There is nothing more that I want now than to lie down and close my eyes and bask in the pain of my body and the completion of my mission, and anyone else would've left me alone. Wufei--he just nods at me whenever I return to a base he inhabits, and then leaves me to my own devices. He understands that words and companionship are unnecessary and wrong for a soldier returning from battle. Trowa looks at me and I see in his silent gaze that he understands. We do not bother one another. And Quatre... if I glare at him he generally gets the idea.
But not Duo Maxwell, no... he's curious and persistent and totally impervious to threats. He sees me as a puzzle to solve, a brain teaser. "Na, Heero, you have to start taking more care of yourself. How many times are you going to break your ribs before they start not healing right?"
"Shut up, Duo."
As usual, he ignores what he doesn't want to hear. "Na, how can you just throw away your life and health like that? You don't even try to guard yourself from injury. Offense is the greatest defense and all that, but don't you think a little defense is sometimes necessary?"
"Stop scolding me, and let go of my arm."
"Quit whining and let me take care of you."
"I. Don't. Want. You. to take care of me." I grind out in freezing tones.
He chuckles softly. "I know that. But if I don't you won't so I'm going to anyway."
I hate him at moments like this, when my body is screaming at me and all I can do is follow him into the our room and to the first aid kit lying on the bed. I don't know why, but I can never resist him when he is in one of his relentless moods. I think because I know that when Duo is like this, nothing makes him stop. But I try anyway. I cannot let him believe he controls me, and I don't want him to touch me, so I punch him hard in the gut, and he flies a little way across the room.
Chuckling again, he calmly picks himself up and resumes cutting the bandages, a dangerous smile on his face. Duo rarely smiles a real smile, but then, I have never seen anyone smile a real smile, except a little girl, a long time ago. "Leave me alone."
"No." He begins to wrap my arm in gauze. I don't want it wrapped! I want it open, I want it to sting...
"Na, Heero, what do you think a hero is?"
I hate his questions, and I usually do not answer. However, he is in his Shinigami mode tonight, and if he has to I know he will resort to violence to find out, to have his precious understanding. . .the idea strangely excites me. I cannot let him see this, though, so I win by surrendering. Make a tactical retreat and burn the villages as I go so the enemy will not have supplies. "There are no heroes. There are only humans, and machines, and the stars."
"Sou ka... " He is cleaning the scraped mass of nerve endings that was my cheek. It stings. Good.
He sees my eyes change, and suddenly he looks at me and narrows his own. He swipes the iodine over my wound again. It's good, good. "Heero... do I see a piece of the perfect puzzle falling into place? You like this, don't you?" Duo is an animal now, a predator scenting prey within its reach; he swoops in for the kill--his prize: comprehension of my world. Ironic how a solider desperately fighting for peace at the same time likes nothing better than to invade human souls, turn them upside down, and dislodge all their secrets like a raptor claws out the entrails of its victim.
He disgusts me. He interests me. He is not as strong as I am but as persistent, and faster. I glare at him, and with Shinigami's manic grin he suddenly pours iodine over his hand and slaps my face, hard. I have never felt anything quite like that pain. "You like it when I do that," he says, in the tone that one says "the sun rises in the East," yet somehow managing to retain a note of discovery in his voice.
I can play this game with him, give him what he wants, or I can fight him, beat him until he leaves or I lose consciousness. But the pain of my cheek sings along every nerve in my body and he would have to be an idiot not to see it. Follow your feelings... "Yes."
Duo is happy, vital. His whole body and mind are thrown into the moment. He could consume me raw. "And do you know *why* you like it, when I hit you like that?"
"No." And if I did, it would be folly to tell him.
"Do you want me to do it again?" The dangerous smile again; the game we are playing is deadly. Those are his favorite kind.
Mine, too.
"Yes." Oh god yes, more than I want to breathe. Every pulse of my blood through my veins wants it again. More, more...
"Then you will give me what I want."
"What do you want?"
"The answers. To my questions. Now, to the best of your ability, without pause." Suddenly, as if to illustrate his seriousness, he leans into me and his hand, serpentlike, darts out and clamps like steel on my crotch. It is not sexual, but I don't know exactly what else to call it. I have never been good with words or emotions, and I'm not sure there are words for this. We are on forbidden territory; this I know. And Duo Maxwell's downfall will be his need for answers.
"Itai."
"It should hurt." He is not satisfied with my answer. He withdraws his hands.
"There are two Japanese words that sound like 'itai.' One in English is 'painful,' like 'ouch,' and the other means 'corpse.'" This is as far as I can go; even I do not precisely know what I mean. I've never thought about the why of it before.
Duo considers this. Finally, he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. "Good boy," he says, like he might to a dog. Dog, little girl and a dog... He recoats his hand with iodine and slaps the wounded cheek again. For each word I utter after that, he slaps me in a different place, along the lacerations, all up and down my body, as a reward. I am floating on a river of pain. Nothing else has ever felt so right. All this at the hands of Duo Maxwell, whom I hate. Who I understand in this moment is my true partner.
"I slap like slap to feel slap it. slap "
"You like to feel it." He starts to stroke soothing strokes all over my body, almost absently. Every so often he digs in his nails, for variety's sake. Unwillingly, I lean into his every touch. My body has learned what he can do to it, and cries to him for a command. I don't want to be soothed, but his hands are cool over my skin and I let myself be cooled. I like it. "Here's what I think, Heero."
So he has found his answer? He will get to sleep tonight after all.
"I think you like to feel pain because you can't feel anything else. I think that it's the only thing you're capable of and you relish it the way anyone relishes their one true skill. As long as you can hurt, you can tell yourself you can still feel."
That's fairly obvious, I think. I could've come up with that myself.
He bandages my cheek. "Does it make the guilt go away, Heero?"
*What?* My head jars to one side so quickly my vision swims as I stare at him.
"Does it? Is your punishment enough? You like it after missions. I've watched you. Does the punishment you give yourself make you feel better about all the people you kill? Do the dead haunt you in your sleep, Heero?"
He's coming too close now. He gives my skin one last sharp pinch at the end of his question and looks at me through the slitted eyes of the cat who has just found the cream and is lapping it up. I slam the mask over my face again so quickly it hurts, too; one hurt among many. "Shut up, Duo." If he is dangerous, so I too can be dangerous.
"Does the pain atone for the death, Heero? Do all those corpses hurt you less when you hurt, too? As long as you suffer, can you forget your guilt--" His head rocks back with the force of my fist, and a quick jab to the stomach has him doubled over on the floor again.
So now he is hurt as I am hurt. I should never have played games with him; underestimating your enemy is inexcusable. Inviting the enemy to attack, even worse... but welcoming the attack, believing it sweet... can that, in a soldier, ever be forgiven? In the end, as always, the mistake was paid for. On the inside, I am coming apart slowly. All the pieces of me are flying in different directions, and I vaguely wonder if the shrapnel will hit anyone important.
On the outside, there is still a little pain left to focus on--the ache of my ribs and my sprained fingers.
Only the fingers bother me. It's hard to type with them. I crawl into bed. And, wordlessly for once, Duo crawls in beside me. The feeling is new, but not precisely wrong, so I allow it. He laughs a little. "Itai ne, Heero?" He settles down to sleep.
"Aa."
End Part 1
(:./cutter/itai1)
