When you are the shining stars of the Preventer organization. The elite of the elite. The guys the experts call when they can’t handle something… you don’t ask for time off, you tell your boss you’re taking time off. And she offers to drive you home and pay for the pizza and beer.

It’s not something we take advantage of all that often, but I knew it was one of those times when I walked into the office I shared with Duo, and found him sitting on the floor, a box of spilled paperclips scattered around him, looking like the task of putting the things back in the box was light years beyond his ability to cope with.

‘You know,’ he said conversationally, as though sitting on the floor staring at office supplies was something he did all the time, ‘paper clips are really pretty damn ingenious.’

‘A miracle of modern technology,’ I agreed, and didn’t even get a smile.

‘I wonder who invented them?’ he mused, sifting through the pile in front of him, seemingly amazed when several of them clung together. I took in his almost vacant stare, the slump of his shoulders, and the battlefield of little metal clips, and knew we were done for the day.

I went around him to his desk, and pressed the do not disturb button on his phone. ‘I’ll look it up for you,’ I assured him, taking a quick scan through his email inbox before setting his out of office message.

‘You think the staple guy was pissed?’ he suddenly wanted to know. ‘Or… maybe the staple guy came after, and the paper clip guy was pissed?’

‘There seems to be room for them both in the grand scheme of things,’ I told him, pushing his desk chair in and moving on to my own desk to repeat the disturb/out of office thing. There wasn’t any answer, so I went and squatted down in front of him. It took him a minute to raise his eyes to mine, and when he finally did, he tried on the ghost of a sheepish little smile. ‘Uncle?’ he asked very quietly and I smiled.

‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘it’s time to go home for a while, I think.’

He looked relieved and I kissed his forehead while he closed his eyes to try to let the feeling sink in.

‘Can you clean this mess up?’ I prodded, and he had to look around to remember what mess I was talking about.

He nodded after a minute. ‘I… yeah. I should. I think I made it…’

‘Ok then, ‘I encouraged him. ‘Put them back in the box and I’ll call it in, all right?’

He nodded wearily, bending to the task with renewed focus while I went back to my desk, picked up the phone and dialed Une’s secretary’s line. ‘Audrey? This is Agent Yuy; Agent Maxwell and I are checking out early, we’ll be taking…’ I glanced back at Duo, finding him flirting with the edge of frustration trying to get the stubborn paper clips to go back in the box, ‘the rest of the week, at least. We’ll be in touch.’

‘Very good, sir,’ I was told. ‘I’ll inform the Commander.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and signed off without waiting to hear her wish us a good vacation; the paper clip box was about to meet its maker, and I could suddenly visualize how they had ended up on the floor in the first place. I quickly returned to Duo’s side and took the box away from him, ‘I’ll pack and you pick up, ok?’

Another weary nod and we settled in to quietly cleaning up the office.

Duo tells me that when I’ve reached the end of my rope, I get a little bit… maniacal. Duo just gets very… tired. Thankfully, our triggers are very different, so while it had been a long damn week for the both of us, I wasn’t quite as near my own edge.

God save Preventers if we ever slipped over that edge at the same time. I suspect the thought of it keeps Commander Une awake at night.

When the wayward paper clips were finally returned to their box, Duo let me pull him to his feet and lead him out of the office. We were half way down the hall before I noticed that he still had a paper clip in his hand. ‘I wonder,’ he said, holding it up to the light, ‘why they’re this shape?’

‘Optimal use of tension and surface area, I assume,’ I tried and he nodded, as though that made it all clear. We reached the end of the hall and I paused at the floor receptionist’s desk to sign us out, but Duo kept walking toward the elevators. ‘Denise, we’ll be taking the rest of the week…‘ I told the wide-eyed girl, who wasn’t really listening to me, but watching Duo fly his paper clip through the air. I finished signing my name and forging Duo’s, and jogged after him… Denise just blinked and waved.

‘Uh… ok, Agent Yuy. Have a nice weekend! You guys earned it!’

Thankfully, I caught up to Duo before he had a chance to do more than use his paper clip to poke the elevator button. ‘Look! It has other uses!’ he declared triumphantly.

‘Many uses,’ I agreed, saved from having to think of any when the elevator doors opened. I stepped back, pulling Duo with me, to allow the two passengers to disembark.

The first one, a guy I recognized from bookkeeping, smiled broadly. ‘Hey! Great job, guys! ‘ he greeted, and the lady with him went all doe-eyed when she recognized us. I gave Duo a nudge toward the elevator before the woman could follow the look up with the gushing that usually followed.

‘Thanks, Kurt,’ I said with a jaunty wave that was mostly meant to distract from the way Duo was protectively clutching his paper clip to his chest and eyeing them unhappily. ‘We’re late for a debriefing meeting though…’

Luck was with me again, as the elevator doors closed before Duo turned to me, looking like I’d just given him a box of worms for Christmas. ‘Meeting? I don’t want any more meetings…’

‘Just a ruse,’ I assured him, punching the button for the lobby. ‘She was going to start that hero thing.’

He shuddered and covered his paper clip with his other hand, as though shielding it from the very idea. ‘I hate the hero thing. It’s… gloopy.’

I couldn’t quite contain the snicker, but it made him smile, so I just agreed that hero-worship was indeed, pretty damn gloopy, and we made the rest of the ride in peace.

‘I’m going to call him Hank,’ Duo decided, just before we arrived on the ground floor, holding his paper clip out to show me. Just to make sure I got it, I suppose.

‘Hello Hank,’ I said dutifully, and it made him smirk at me. I’ve never quite been sure if it’s a triumphant smirk, that he’s corrupted me enough to talk to inanimate objects, or a smug smirk that I love him enough to talk to inanimate objects for him. Or maybe it’s just an amused as hell smirk.

Either way, I was quick to hustle Duo, his smirk, and Hank all out the front door as fast as possible… it doesn’t pay for other people to hear us addressing inanimate objects. It makes them nervous. And if they get nervous enough, calls are made and then we have to talk to the people in HR.

Apparently, it’s an odd coping mechanism.

But then… Duo has always been an odd person.

Personally, I find it odd that people are more apt to be understanding over my tendency to punch holes in things, than they are Duo’s little…

Well, whatever you would call what Duo does. Self distraction?

Though I suppose my punching holes in things is my own brand of distraction, and you’d think people would just be happy that Duo’s methods are quieter and less destructive. But, apparently, the quiet ones are the scary ones.

It was a gold-plated cinch that Duo was not going to be driving, so I saw that he was ok to settle himself in to the passenger seat and took the wheel myself. ‘Buckle up,’ I had to remind him, as I did so myself and he followed my instructions, but then frowned down at his paper clip.

‘Hank should buckle up too…’ he said, and there was a hint of something in his voice that I moved to quash.

‘He can ride in your shirt pocket,’ I soothed and the frown went away.

‘Good idea,’ he agreed, and carefully deposited the clip there, buttoning the pocket down for good measure.

I realized that not having Hank to keep him occupied though, would leave him without the all important distraction, so I set him to finding a CD in our small pile, for some music to play while I got us out of the complex and on the road.

He bent to the task with as much attention one would put on planning and executing a major search and extract mission. He narrowed his choices down with mumbles to himself, discarding several CDs based on some criteria known only to himself. But then he looked up, suddenly exclaiming, ‘I wonder what Hank would like?’

The thought had made him pause in a way that was not entirely good, so I was quick to speak for the mute Hank. ‘I think Hank is in the mood for something… soothing.’

The discarded CDs went back into the pile in his lap, and he started sorting again. I resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

It took him almost half the drive home to settle on something, and what went into the player was an instrumental selection that was so far away from Duo’s normal tastes, it wasn’t even funny. It wasn’t a matter of minutes before that frown was coming back and I could practically see him thinking.

Thinking, at that stage of his foray onto the edge… is bad.

‘What’s the name of that song?’ I blurted, desperate to stop the wheels in his head, and he leaped on the offering. Somewhere under the cotton cloud he was in… he was doing his best to work with me.

He found the case and then made a noise of amused derision, struggling with the pronunciation before giving it up. ‘Something to do with a mongoose. You listen to weird shit.’

‘It was a gift,’ I grumped, giving him a feigned glare. ‘From Relena and Wufei when they took that trip to Hawaii.’

He snickered some more, playing with the titles and mangling the Hawaiian spelling to utter mash. ‘What on earth possessed them, do you think?’

For a moment, he almost sounded normal, and I sort of forgot we were supposed to be playing the distraction game and not just having a conversation. ‘I think it was right after the Fenwick case, when I tore out…’

I really don’t know what alerted me, some change to the feel in the air, and I could have smacked myself. I bit down on the rest of it, too late, and turned to judge the amount of damage I’d done.

Duo was looking at me, the pain bubbling up to the surface. ‘Heero? Are you… all right?’ he suddenly asked through the fog.

‘I’m…’ I hesitated on the word, but then said it anyway, ‘fine.’ You weren’t fine after a week like we’d had, but in the grand scheme of things… I was fine enough.

I held his gaze until I had to look away to drive. I heard him take a breath that was ragged, and I knew the thoughts were beginning to boil again.

‘I don’t think Hank likes this CD,’ I dared. ‘Maybe you should find another?’

There was a noise that just made my heart ache, but then he floundered after my words like he was reaching for a life line. ‘He… I… don’t like it much either. It’s kinda boring. I guess it’s pretty, sort of.’

‘Relena said it was more fun hearing it in person,’ I offered. ‘I guess they played at the hotel they stayed at.’

‘For real?’ he asked, perking up a little. ‘I… I’ve never heard music live, I don’t think.’

‘Quatre’s niece, that one time,’ I grinned and it finally made him laugh.

‘She sucked!’ he crowed, and I felt guilty as relief flooded me, watching the fog settling in again.

‘She was five!’ I returned, but it didn’t stop him from expounding on just how bad a five year old piano player could be.

It carried us the last half mile, and then I was pulling into our garage and taking him through into the house. Sometimes there is a winding down, and food or showers come first, but this was not one of those times. I helped him undress, and I helped him to bed and he was asleep before I’d finished closing the blinds and turning off the lights.

Thursday for him, was done, despite it only being mid-afternoon, and Friday was on the chopping block. I think our worst episode had seen him check out for three days. Complete with autopilot, staggering trips to the bathroom that he didn’t even remember making.
If I was any judge, I’d be lucky if he came back to me sometime Friday evening.

I don’t know where he goes, but it offers him some healing, so I’m grateful for it. I sometimes feel guilty that when it’s my turn to be the point man, all I have to do is get him home intact. I’m afraid I don’t offer him that same sort of easy job when it’s his turn… I’m thankful I’ve never had to talk him down the way he’s had to talk me.

We’re the elite. The go-to guys. We’re considered the last line of defense, because if we can’t handle something… there isn’t anybody else to call. We never have the option of throwing up our hands and telling Une we can’t do it. We don’t get to draw lines in the sand that we won’t cross. When you’re handed the safekeeping of the peace of the entire solar system, you can’t be afraid of getting your hands dirty.

Sometimes you have to do things that don’t necessarily make you happy. Sometimes you make promises. And sometimes you make promises you know you can’t keep, in order to get the job done. Sometimes you kill people. Sometimes you let people die. And sometimes you let people die who don’t really deserve it, because letting them die keeps a dozen others from doing the same.

The needs of the many… the greater good…

We know the drill, but it still sucks.

I went through the motions; eating, showering, opening the mail that had piled up all week. I watched a little TV and spent the night on the couch… I find it entirely too unnerving to sleep next to Duo when he’s like that; the man could be in a damn coma for all the response he gives.

Friday morning, I checked to make sure he’d at least shifted in his sleep, and then left him alone.

We’d been away for awhile and the cupboards were pretty sparsely stocked. Plenty of canned and pre-packaged goods, but nothing fresh. I could have left the house and gone shopping, no problem, but it makes me weirdly uncomfortable to just leave Duo alone when he’s that vulnerable. We’ve never had to test his ability to come out of that place he goes, in an emergency, and I didn’t like the idea that it might not happen. So I made a list and called the neighbors across the street; the Wilson’s had a teenage boy who had run errands for us before, and was trustworthy.

I made sure to put comfort foods on the list for the both of us.

The rest of Friday I spent mimicking a vegetable; a lot of time was spent just lying around not thinking. I refused to touch the computer, avoided the news and just… waited.
The squirrels in the side yard were very entertaining.

I knew he was awake when I heard the toilet flush. I knew he was back in the land of the living when I heard the shower turn on. He wouldn’t be long, so I used the time to open some soup and put it on low so it would be there when ever we were ready for it.

He was still warm and damp from the shower when he came to find me, and we just stood in the middle of the living room in each other’s arms while the room slowly faded to dark as the sun went down.

It had been roughly thirty hours since I’d tucked him into bed.

Thirty-two hours since we’d finished our debriefing meeting with Commander Une.

Thirty-five hours since the official end of our last mission.

Forty-two hours since Henry J. Taylor, the unfortunate co-pilot who had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time had breathed his last breath.

Forty-three hours since Duo’d promised the man that he was going to be fine, and that we’d get him out in one piece.

Forty-five hours since we knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Sometimes… the job just sucks.

‘I’m sorry,’ Duo whispered against my shoulder, for… it didn’t even really matter.

‘I know,’ I told him, and let it go. He knew he didn’t have to say it. And I knew he needed to anyway.

Later we would eat our soup, and later still we’d talk it out. We’d tear it apart, trying to reassure ourselves that there wasn’t something we’d missed. We’d try hard to come up with the should-have, and pray to God we couldn’t do it, now that it was miles too late.

And somewhere before the sun came up again, we’d lie down to sleep, and Saturday morning would find us striving for a normal that was still a ways off. Duo would go for a run, and I’d sort the laundry. Hank the paper clip would be rescued from Duo’s pocket and somewhere between breakfast and his asking me if we could go to the funereal… we’d put the clip in the box on the dresser.

It would tuck in between the bottle cap and the pebble, sharing space with the nickel and the wooden button. Duo would name them all in his head, but would try to spare me the thoughts.

And we’ll agree… again… that when the box is full… we’ll be done.

Neither one of us can quite work out just how that makes us feel.

But for now it’s just enough to know we’re neither one of us in this thing alone.

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