Disclaimer: I really should just make one catch-all disclaimer and use it all the time, but alas, I write a new one every time. So it's gonna be the same old I don't own Gundam Wing, but I did write this story so please keep my name on it if you're gonna pass it along.
Author's Notes: Not much to say other than this has been a long time project (mostly 'cause I kept going back to rewrite it because I wasn't happy with it) of mine that just stemmed from a picture I once saw of Duo sitting in a window watching the rain outside. If you're looking to listen to the song that inspired this fic, "Away From Me" by Evanescence, it is on the Origin album.
And yes, this is a multi-part story…I'm probably going to keep to one chapter equals one day since while I had initially wanted to write this as a one shot and as a songfic, I thought these changes suited it better.
Warnings: angst, language, yaoi implications

Away From Me
Chapter 1

by JeiC

I hold my breath as this life starts to take its toll

"Mr. Maxwell, please have a seat." Oh, this isn't good. To rate a 'mister' is bad, but to be told to sit is worse. Une looks directly at me once I have seated myself in front of her desk. "Do you know why I have requested your presence?"

A comedic reply is the first thing that comes to mind, but I know better than to piss her off. "Honestly, no, ma'am. I may listen to what the rumor mill is saying, but I know not to believe what cannot be backed up with facts." I also know that Une prefers to hear the whole truth no matter how trivial or unrelated it may sound. Sometimes coming from me it is over the top, but I can't be accused of withholding information.

The Preventers executive grabs a file from the top of the pile to her right and opens it. "We need to talk about your most recent training exercise…"

Schooling my outward expression as to not give her the advantage, I inquire, "What do you wish to discuss, Lady Une?" I don't like that the rumor mill has been pretty accurate on this one. That and all this proper talk is killing me.

"You're an exemplary officer, and up until now, you've had a spotless record. This is obviously an isolated incident, but I do have some questions about the report you submitted." Une waves a packet of papers that I recognize as the said report that I turned in. "In here you state many reasons, all quite valid, for your actions, but nevertheless you still broke protocols. Why is that?"

Silently I take a deep breath before beginning my explanation. Not sure how much good this is going to do me, and during my moment's pause, I absently run a hand through my bangs. "Ma'am, even though this was a training exercise, I still treated it as if it was a real mission. Stuff went wrong and my goal was to keep my teammates alive as well as rescue the hostages. To achieve those goals, given the circumstances, I had to break protocol."

Not the best speech I've given, but I have to admit, I've come quite far for a street-rat. I don't need to regurgitate my report, just summarize the reasons for my actions in a way that might appeal to Lady Une. That and if I rambled too much, she might simply shoot me. The former OZ soldier is definitely a woman who doesn't like to mince words.

Une nods, acknowledging that she actually listened to what I just said. The silence is broken only by her flipping the pages of the report, most likely to compare what I had just stated. "I understand your reasoning, Maxwell, but the fact of the matter is that it was a training exercise. This is where people are allowed to make mistakes so that they can learn from them before they get out into the field." She sits back in her chair and folds her hands on her lap.

Reigning my temper in, I counter, "Pardon my bluntness, ma'am, but this was a high-level training exercise – there were mistakes being made that only the trainees should be making. It was simple carelessness."

The head of the Preventers raised an eyebrow at my comeback. "I admit that you are indeed correct about the performance of the others and I admire your standards even when it comes to a training exercise, but that still does not excuse your breaking protocol. What do you think the others at your level would have done?"

Here I have to admit defeat, "They most likely would have stuck to protocol even though they would have lost some of their teammates and the hostages despite their best efforts, given the same situation I was faced with." It isn't a total defeat for me though.

"I understand your dilemma, but I wonder if perhaps you have been under a lot of stress lately, which might explain your reaction to the training exercise." Une flips open my file. "I'm concerned about the amount of time you spend on the job." Somehow, I don't like the turn that this conversation has taken. "You're here sometimes seven days a week and anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours…enough that most people believe that you live in the dorms, not an hour out of town. Why?"

Irk…this is not cool. Every reason that I have wouldn't make sense to her and any reason that I can come up with quickly, that is true, sounds pathetic. My hand runs through my bangs again, trying to come up with a reason that is actually feasible other than I have nothing better to do with my life.

"Are you having trouble with your roommate? Your housemates? Something else in your personal life?" I think I'm more frightened of Lady Une when she pulls out her version of being a mother hen than when she was trying to kill me during the early days of the first war.

Snapping my attention away from my introspection, I reply quickly, "Nothing like that. The guys are great." I don't like being thrown off my game like this. "I just…" Shit, she really does want an explanation – I was half hoping that I could wait her out. "I take pride in my work." Yes ladies and gentlemen, I picked the lamest excuse I could find, which isn't a lie – I just don't have a life outside of work.

The Preventers head sees right through my pathetic attempt. "If it wasn't for the fact that you consistently ask for more work, I'd ask if your workload was too much. Not to mention all the time you spend both in training and in the field. In the time you've been with the Preventers, it seems you've logged almost as much time in both than Yuy and Chang combined." Une closes my file and looks straight at me, "Help me out here, Maxwell, what is wrong?"

Is there something wrong? I resist the urge to tug on my braid to make sure that this is real. "I'm not sure I understand what the correlation is between my performance in the training exercise and my work ethics, ma'am."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Une sounds almost dejected, "I guess I have no other choice than to take you off of active duty and have you report to a base psychologist for evaluation. Consider this me making you take at least a portion of the vacation time you have stock piled."

Biting my tongue, I glare right at her. Anything I say from here on out to her can be used against me, so I have to choose my words even more carefully than before. I need this job – more to have some direction in my life rather than for the money. Have I yet mentioned how much this absolutely sucks? Great way to be a total fuck-up, Maxwell. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, ma'am?"

"No, but I do want you to take care of yourself. I brought you boys on board because all of you are extremely talented, I don't want you working yourselves into the ground though." As Lady Une stood up, I mirrored her movement. "Go home, Duo. Get some rest. Start a new hobby or pick up an old one. We know how to find you when we need you."

"Yes, ma'am." Taking that as a dismissal, I turn and leave her spacious office.

Halfway out the door her voice stops me again, "Someone will be contacting you to set up an appointment."

"I understand." Closing the door behind me, my jester's mask slides into place – no need to upset the rest of the employees here.

Everything is going downhill at breakneck speeds and I want to get off. Of the five of us, I know I'm the most fucked in the head, but the last thing I need is to see some damn shrink. At least not a single person that I pass in the halls thinks I'm anywhere near as pissed off as I actually am, well, except for the one coming up behind me.

"Maxwell," a smooth, slightly accented low alto speaks.

"Hey, Chang," I greet in the manner to match my smile. His walk is easily identifiable among the others. Great guy to work with, but I'm just not in the mood for his dry, sarcastic humor. I hope my best friend here has some sense of self-preservation.

"Glad to see you in such a good mood. I take it Une granted you the time off you requested," The Chinese man says off-handedly. I can feel his eyes glancing at me from the side. He knows, but he's saving me face – he doesn't have to. "So what are your plans for your vacation?"

Though now I have to play along, "Nothing spectacular. Just going to stay at home so it'll be easier if I have to pop back into the office." Not that Lady Une would allow anyone to call me in for anything at this point.

"That's a shame. I was hoping you were going someplace interesting." Wufei wants the whole story, but he's not going to push, nor is he going to blow the cover he set up for me.

I shrug nonchalantly. "I've got a doctor's appointment coming up. Besides, I see the world and the colonies more than I see my own apartment."

My hall companion laughed lightly, "That is most certainly true, my friend. Sometimes I wonder why you bother paying rent."

Our banter continued lightly to disarm the rumors floating about as we make our trek to my office. To be honest, disarming rumors tends to be a lot more tedious than disarming most bombs. Wufei is one of the coolest guys I've ever worked with once I got past the masks he wears. Sometimes he's like a walking fortune cookie, though I wouldn't try to bite him.

At least he's keeping the dry sarcastic humor to a minimum while collecting the information he wants. I'm not fond of the code we're using to talk since it is even a stretch to go from asking for vacation time to actually being forced to take a vacation. It's bordering on that deadly line of lying.

Reaching my office, I unlock the door and enter first with Wufei not far behind me, who shuts the door to allow us some privacy.

In my line of sight is my Preventers Special Ops certificate. Was this really the path I should've chosen? Should I have just gone back to the scrap yard after the incident with those terrorists? I had been contemplating getting a degree in something or other, but when Sally dragged me back into action, I was still trying to decide what. My decision of "if" had been finalized before that – mostly by Hilde threatening to kick my ass (or attempt to anyway) if I didn't. "What" and "where" were my last two questions to find the answers for.

Maybe in the end I was just kidding myself on all of it. Digging my bag out from under my desk, I start packing up what little I kept here – a couple of pictures, an extra hair brush, some spare change I kept in my desk for when I needed to raid the vending machine…

"I'm taking it you weren't joking about the 'doctor's appointment,'" Chang comments as he takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, observing my actions.

"Psych eval," is my only reply.

Running a hand over his sharply pulled back hair, his expression tells me that even he thinks it's a bit much. "That aside, you really are long overdue for a break, Duo."

His usage of my first name grabs my attention. The proud Chinese man only uses it in private when he's being serious about an issue. It's odd how you get used to how people use your name to determine their mindset, though he's never used it in the office before. "Am I?"

"For the love of whatever it is you believe in, yes." Mentally I snicker since that's a line he picked up from me, but I admit to feeling a bit odd having it used on me. "You're going to work yourself to death, and that is a most dishonorable way to die for a former Gundam pilot."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "What about Quatre?"

Wufei stares down my attempt at redirecting the conversation. Bastard. "Winner knows how to delegate."

I laugh lightly at how my attempts to run and hide so I can regroup are being shot down. To cover my falter, I jibe back, "That and you can't seem to kill him anyway…"

"Duo…"

Dammit.

"You have to take care of yourself otherwise you'll be good to no one."

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head towards the door, yanking it open with slightly more force than necessary. "This is all I'm good at, Wufei."

Halfway out the door, his voice barely reaches me, "Time to find out what else you're good at."

Beating the pulp out of someone right about now sounds like something that I'd be good at also, but that'd kill whatever decency Une gave me in retreating. My mask is in place so none of the people I pass in the halls thinks any different than what they had seen before on my way in. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary here, just going home way ahead of schedule. Oh, wait, these people never see me leave. Damn…maybe they'll think I'm heading out on a mission or something.

Normally I don't care what people that I really don't know think of me, but for someone who soaks up the rumor mill and sorts through what is fact and what is fiction, the last thing I need to hear about is the braided blunder. I try to stay out of that which I study, though there's always something benign and completely fabricated floating about – usually about my availability for a date.

I'm supposed to set an example for the others, not be fucking my whole career up like this. As I make my way to the parking garage, my mind goes through scenario after scenario of what I could've done to achieve the same results. My specialties are in stealth and explosives, as opposite as those two are, as well as hacking. I can hold my own against Heero, though I'm not the master himself. It usually takes a lot of fancy dodging and weaving to not get hacked by him, but I digress.

Unlocking my truck, I hop in and just sit, staring at the sleek, black hood of the Jeep. Deathscythe, buddy, you could take me a lot farther away, though I'm not saying that what I'm driving isn't a good, rugged vehicle, it's obviously no where near the same. Mostly in that I don't have the same repertoire with my truck as I did with my mobile suit.

Speaking of Heero, he's going to kill me for sure when he hears of my massive fuck-up. He's still scheduled to be out on a mission for another thirteen days. Thirteen days without someone who I consider closer than a best friend to talk to about this and thirteen days 'til I die. I shove the key in the ignition to punctuate the sentence in my head.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I start the Jeep up and think about it for a moment. The blue-eyed Japanese man wouldn't actually kill me since I might have just committed career suicide, but I think I'd be out of a place to stay.

Waving at the gate guard as I pass off the grounds, who looks quite perplexed at who is passing him, I begin my long drive back to the apartment. It's odd really…I can't recall the last time that I saw my surroundings in daylight. When I started, I stayed long hours right from day one since I wanted to prove my worth and therefore I had a lot to learn, and eventually it just stuck. That and I learned to leave early very quickly in order to beat rush hour traffic and found sticking around later made it easier to get home once the traffic had died down.

My mind wanders to things far unrelated from recent events with the music playing as my body manages to get me home on autopilot. Sometimes, I can perform truly frightening tasks while zoned out. Maybe someday I should get these crazy stories out of my head and onto paper. Well, there's something for me to do during my sudden large amounts of free time. There's probably stuff that needs to be repaired or whatever around the house as well.

As I pull up in the driveway, another thought crosses my mind: I should start packing. Not sure where I should go, but I should be prepared to have to move out when Heero comes back. Won't take me long so I can wait until next week sometime.

You know, I never really realized how huge this place is. For a 2-tenement that normally houses three single guys, sometimes five if Quatre and Trowa are in town, it's big enough to allow us a fair amount of privacy even if we are sharing an apartment.

Letting myself into the house, I trudge past Wufei's apartment door as I head upstairs to reach the apartment I share with the blue-eyed Japanese man. Fumbling with my keys, I find that I'm getting annoyed with myself over such a small detail – I never have this problem with my office door. That and it might be faster if I picked the lock instead…though Chang or Yuy would surely kill me if he ever found out that I had. We sort of have this unspoken agreement to try to not use our skills here unless absolutely necessary.

My hand doesn't even go for the light switch – guess I can't help keeping up my ability to navigate in the dark, though it's midday so that doesn't matter anyway. That and Heero's bedroom is closer to the door than mine so I would wake him up if this were night and he was here…do not wake up the former Gundam pilot of Wing and Wing Zero if you can help it. Just trust me on this one. I still think that the Zero system is messing with his head, but that's just my crazed, non-factual theory.

Dropping my bag after I secured the door, I move to take my boots off next. I have to admit, whoever started the tradition deserves recognition – saves so much on having to clean after dirty shoes tracking through the place. I place my boots along the left side of the doorway, glancing back at the empty right side. Thirteen days until most likely mud-caked boots will be placed there. I'm still not sure how he manages to come back so filthy, but…I stop my thoughts there. I feel like some damn school girl with a crush, but at least unlike said stereotype, I know better than to hope or allow my feelings control my actions to possibly screw up what little good I have going.

Picking my bag back up, I wander off towards the room that I have claimed as my private sanctuary. There isn't much here, I notice as I plop my bag beside my desk, but out of the way of the chair. I've gotten the wheels caught in my bag straps enough to know better. A bed, my clothes are in the walk-in closet, the desk, nightstand, and a small table beside the desk holding various items…my high school diploma being one of them.

Picking the small portfolio-style frame, I read over the wording and wonder how much I've been kidding myself. High honors – that's a joke. Guess I busted my ass for nothing once again. Placing it back down before I decide to something stupid like throw it, I put it back down, placing the gold cord that I wore that night carefully back over it.

Hilde had tried to convince me to braid it into my hair rather than drape it around my neck. I told her that if the ceremony wore on too long, I wanted to have a back up to hang myself with – wasn't sure if my neck tie would do the trick.

Having lost myself in my thoughts again, I realize that my hand has come up to loosen the one that I'm currently wearing. I've honestly never been fond of these things, but in order to look more professional since I'm allowed to keep my overly long hair, I opted to put a noose around my neck everyday.

Tugging the offensive accessory off with slightly more force than necessary, I glare at the oversized, warped excuse for a ribbon before throwing it in the laundry basket for dark clothes. No point in staying in uniform, though I don't own much else – kind of outgrew a lot of clothes. Shrugging to no one but myself, I find enough satisfaction in just undoing the top two buttons of my short-sleeve, dress shirt for now.

Leaving my bag to unpack later, I pad back out to the kitchen to take stock in what I might be able to not completely destroy for lunch. I admit that I'm always eating out or grabbing something from the cafeteria. Cooking was never really on my list of priorities since I don't eat much to begin with – I figure as long as I can zap it in the microwave, boil it, or eat it cold, I'm good.

Crap…looks like I'm going to have to consider actually shopping for groceries as well. Glancing over at the few cookbooks Heero has collected, I give up on the idea of lunch for a moment. Maybe learning to prepare actual meals is a good idea because instant ramen isn't appealing to me right now. Wonder when I got so picky.

Flipping through the books, I try to look for what looks like the easiest things to make, jotting down ideas on a notepad next to the refrigerator. With the blow to my self-esteem I took earlier today, I wonder how bad I can screw even the simplest of recipes up. Looking over the list I created, I pick one that I can try tomorrow and make out a grocery list, grabbing a nutrition bar to snack on to curb my hunger.

With that done, I wander around trying to find something, anything…well, almost anything…to distract myself with. My eyes fall on a mostly forgotten video game console. Entertainment is entertainment, and from what I hear, that'll beat daytime TV hands down.

Pulling out a game that I've played off and on since I moved here five years ago, I find that I'm also pulling at my collar. While the annoyingly long RPG loads, I set about opening up windows to let in the late spring air and hopefully cool this place off a bit.

Somehow I find it annoying that it is late spring, nearly summer and not a cloud in the sky. Never really bothered to keep track of the seasons, just the weather. Barely keep track of the months, but I'm into celebrating people's birthdays…as long as it isn't my own.

Just seems wrong for the amount of shit I've gotten myself into now. The least it should be doing is down pouring, but I'm used to nothing ever going my way.

Shaking my head, I wonder how I ever got to the point of sounding like the whiny, bratty kid that I do now as I sit down and grab the controller for the game. Maybe it is time to find out what else I'm good at. Definitely time that I made decent progress in this game also, I decide as I lose myself in the game.

Die, you ugly-ass bastard! I mentally cheer as another God-forsaken creature disappears in a swirl of little iridescent lights. Okay, now where…

There's a loud banging followed by one irate Chinese man's yell, "Dammit, Maxwell! I know you're in there!"

Hitting pause before I drop the controller like it's a hot potato, I run for the door. Pissing Wufei off is bad. Yanking the door open, I bow and apologize, "Sorry, Wufei. Guess I got engrossed in what I was doing." Looking up, Quatre and Trowa stand not far behind him. "Um, hi guys, what brings you Earth-side?" I ask as I open the door to allow them in and glance at the time. I managed to waste about six hours on a video game. I don't think that's something to be proud of considering I would've wasted more until my need to find food or sleep made itself known. Though now that I think about it, I am hungry…especially as Trowa walks by carrying a couple of pizzas.

The green-eyed man pauses as Chang makes a comment, "You haven't finished that game yet, Maxwell? You've been playing it for about five years."

"That's a good game…very long though. Hope you're leveling up your characters early." With that said, the tall, soft-spoken man continues with supper into the dining room/kitchen area.

"Um, yeah, what Tro said – long game…that and leveling up characters takes forever," I throw back feebly, following Quatre, who is carrying a couple bottles of soda while contemplating the fact that Barton is a closet gamer.

The blonde Arabian comments as he unloads his burden, "I hope you don't mind us dropping in like this. Wufei said you probably didn't have anything to eat in the house besides nutrition bars and instant ramen."

Chang never turned around to retort as he pulled glasses and plates out of the cupboards, as if he was more of a resident in this apartment than I was, "Barton was the one that wanted pizza, and you were the one that wanted to feed Maxwell."

"Well, I didn't want Duo to starve," the head of the Winner Corporation reasoned, helping his partner set the table once my first floor neighbor brings the dishware.

There's just something wrong about the fact that I'm not doing anything besides standing here and watching the others go about as if I was the guest.

"I don't think it is possible for Maxwell to starve since the cafeteria food is inedible. I'm still not sure how he can eat that poison and still be standing," the former Gundam pilot of Shenlong and Altron tosses back.

Taking a seat after the others, I find myself out of the conversation and I need to get a hold of it damn fast if I want to try to get information out of these guys. "Gee, Chang, I feel so loved. The food isn't that bad – you just have to know what to get."

"Bite me, Maxwell."

I grin widely – hook, line, and sinker, "Name where, and you know I will."

Quatre chokes on a slice of pizza while Trowa tries to hide a smile. Wufei growls at me, "You're twisted, Maxwell."

Snagging a slice of pizza, I continue our sparring, "Next time don't talk about me like I'm not here." I have to keep up appearances that nothing is wrong with the world. These guys are going to be extraordinarily hard to fool. I'm thankful that Yuy isn't here – he is almost impossible to fool.

"Sorry about that, Duo. I guess we got carried away," the blonde manages to choke out after he manages to swallow what I nearly involuntarily killed him with.

I shrug, pulling Quatre into the web or words I have begun weaving. Nonchalantly I comment, "Q, you never did tell me what brought you away from L4," and then take a bite out of the slice dangling in my hand. It's all about leading them with both words and actions to get them to tell you what you want. I got good with cracking the hard ones when we have to do interrogations.

"Une called last minute for us." I turn to look at Barton who had responded instead. His eyes try to pierce me. So I'm bending those unspoken house rules that I mentioned earlier a bit. It isn't an interrogation, just information collecting. Yeah, your reasoning is as pathetic as always, Maxwell.

Trying to cover lost ground, I slide past his blunt, verbal roadblock, "Heh, when she says jump… Did you fly commercially or take your own shuttle?"

Feeling black eyes on me, a voice quickly jibes, "When was the last time you took a commercial flight? I think that should have been a fairly easy assumption." Crap, bad move, now he's onto me.

Shrugging in response, I admit, "Well, I'm paranoid, but who knows about the rest of you."

In my peripheral vision, I can see the blonde shaking his head, "Dammit, Duo, I hate it when you do that." I guess I've got an innate ability to confuse even empaths. At this point, I won't even look at him – the whole eyes are the window to your soul thing still hangs with me. When you've got a roommate that for the most part expresses himself through his eyes, you learn how much information you can get without words, so you learn to be damn careful.

Going back to my food, I silently apologize for slightly turning my skills on them.

"How come you're still in uniform?" Trowa asks quietly, breaking the awkward silence.

My head snaps up to look at him straight across the table.

To my right, Wufei smirks obnoxiously, "To be honest, this is the first time I've seen you close to out of uniform in probably two years." He points at my missing tie and unbuttoned collar with one hand while bringing a slice of pizza up to his mouth with another.

I grumble at him, "Dickhead."

"Fuck you too." The Chinese man is smiling, knowing how infantile it sounds, but playing the foolish game none-the-less.

"Oh, Wufei, I didn't know you fantasized about me." I grin from ear to ear. If nothing else, he can pull me out of a funk temporarily.

The glare he gives me is intense, but I've weathered far worse. "Get your mind out of the damn gutter, Maxwell."

Opening my mouth to retort that he started it, my attention turns to follow a sound that came from my left where a small blonde man is in tears from laughing so hard. Noticing he has become the center of attention, though his silent companion is calmly eating his food while trying his hardest to ignore us, the head of the Winner Corporation asks, "Is this common for you two?"

Shrugging, I answer first, "Yeah, pretty much. Sure as hell can't get banter like this with Heero."

"Speaking of Heero," Trowa breaks his silence, "When is he due back?"

Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat at the thought of what is going to happen when he returns, I know I just showed one of my cards, but I'm not sure if anyone saw it. "Thirteen days," I notice Wufei raising an eyebrow at how readily I had that information, "Hey, I've got to restock around here before he gets back."

Apparently my reasoning is again falling short of credibility with the Chinese man, "If that grocery list on the counter is any indication, you're going to be restocking sooner than that."

In an attempt to regain lost ground again, I counter, "Figured I'd try cooking for once – a man can't live on take-out forever." Though for the past five years, I've been trying to prove that theory wrong.

"Hell's frozen over," a green eye turns it's attention to Wufei, apparently an inside joke.

The blonde Arabian beams, "Please make enough for four then. I've got to try this. What were you planning on making?"

The discussion goes into what food I should prepare as the meal on the table disappears. We banter lightly about the differences between cooking food and cooking explosives. Now cooking explosives I've got down to an art. Cooking food I always seem to mess up somehow, but that may be because I've held onto my notions for preparing explosives.

As the inane chatter continues, I set my mouth on autopilot and return to the shadows of my mind to lick my wounds. I know what my friends here are trying to do, but I'd honestly rather be alone. It was my judgment call and I fucked it up beyond fucked up. Now I've just got to pay for the consequences, which looks like losing my job, being deemed insane, and getting kicked out of the apartment at least…maybe Wufei will take pity on me and let me live in the garage until I find my own place.

Don't get me wrong, insane can be fun, but we're talking about the extra-long sleeve white jacket and a padded room type of insane…that's not such a fun version.

"Dammit, Maxwell!" Hands slam on the table to further punctuate the curse. I blink and quickly check my mental recordings to catch up on the conversation, not noticing anything to explain the exclamation. "Stop taking off mentally and leaving your mouth running."

I laugh lightly and shrug at being caught red handed. "Sorry, man."

"You have the ability to do things that disturb me sometimes…" He runs a hand over his tightly pulled back hair.

Trowa's unibang shifts direction as he turned his head to look at the Chinese man, "We should be going."

Quatre smiled disarmingly, "I think we've imposed on you enough for one night. I hope you don't mind us dropping in like this." Another words, they've gather all they're about to gather in terms of information from me for tonight.

"Q, you know that you and Tro are always welcome to drop by. Besides, I can't complain since I got free food out of this." My expression matches his as I stand up, "I'll clean this up, you guys head on out – you've got to be tired having flown from L4 with little notice."

Saying polite farewells, and other words of friendship, I finally regain the apartment to myself for at least a short period of time again. Setting about the cleaning I offered to do, I find my attention focusing on the mindless tasks if only to avoid thoughts of my current situation. It's almost like strange type of meditation, allowing me to regain some sort of balance with myself.

Finishing with that task, I find myself staring at the game that held my interest for six hours without any energy to bother continuing to play now. It takes me a few minutes to save the game since the nearest save point is in the middle of nowhere, and I flip through the channels, knowing that nothing is on, but looking never-the-less. I could go down and use the mini-gym we built in the basement, but I don't want to disturb them beating the shit out of the punching bag as well as myself.

Leaving it on some remotely interesting martial arts action flick, I sink further into the recliner and stretch my legs out. Maybe Chang was right – maybe there is something else out there that I'm good at…I just need to find it. Just what though? My whole life, I've been getting my ass kicked by Father Maxwell's God and serving the God of Death…I really don't know anything else.

I jump at the sound of a gun going off and immediately hit the floor…until I realize I had dozed off in front of the television and feel like a complete moron.

Standing up slowly, I think about how ingrained my reactions are and wonder if there is really anything else out there for me. The thought follows me as I turn off the old western that was playing and head towards the room I have claimed as my space. Might as well get some sleep in attempt to not disrupt the cycle I have.

I've always been fond of the darkness, even before I got into this routine of moving about in the dark as to not disturb my housemates – especially my roommate. Well, apartment-mate, but that just sounds stupid. Of course I'm stupid so you'd expect something like that from me.

Amazing how I can turn things around on myself. That's probably why enemies couldn't get to me – I have always done worse to myself. The only one that ever really got to me was Heero after he stole parts off of Deathscythe. That pissed me off to no end, but eventually I became enchanted by the one guy that seemed like he could keep pace with me…until I realized that I was way out of my league. Though that didn't seem to stop me from continuing to challenge him and try to learn as much as I could.

Still not sure why he agreed to let me share the apartment with him…maybe he felt bad for Wufei because otherwise he'd be stuck with me instead most likely. Hey, I never said I pretended to know what went on behind those blue eyes. I've tried to find out, but if you think I can hide things, Yuy's got his welded shut in a gundanium box.

Crawling into bed after having changed up, I'm mentally berating myself for thinking about the Japanese man at a time like this. With the situation I've gotten myself into…this guy demands perfection without saying a word and apparently I can only keep it for so long before I manage to screw things up again. Just wondering if I can recover from this before he comes back. With less than two weeks left before Heero returns, I'm going to say that the odds are against me – especially with the psychological evaluations Une is ordering. Needless to say, I know what is involved with them since I've had to have others go through it in the department and there's a lot more involved than just talking to a shrink. The higher you are and if you're in Special Ops or anything closely related, there's a whole battery of tests you have to go through when someone requests a psych eval. I've hated having to do it, but when it comes to fieldwork, I can't have a loose cannon out there armed and more dangerous than normal.

Apparently I'm the loose cannon now. My how the tables have turned. Then again, I never claimed to be the sane one of the bunch.

Damn, this is so not good. Eventually I fall asleep with thoughts of mad scientists poking at my head.

Fin
by JeiC
June 2006