It’s day five of the Duo Maxwell plague.
Haven’t heard of it? Ah, there’s probably a reason: most likely because it’s just this average, ordinary cold-thing that’s been going around. It’s nothing special; no big deal at all. I just started calling it that because I’m a morbid, melodramatic little fuck (Plague sounds so much cooler than sniffles, don’t you agree?) and it makes everyone else roll their eyes at me. I just love it when they do that. Anyway, a buncha the guys at work have the plague...er, cold, too--okay, okay, guys *and* gals--and believe me, there’s nothing quite so pathetic as a bunch of sniffly, hacking, irritable Preventers. *This* bunch is keeping the universe from going to hell? Heh. All humor aside, though, it’s served as a reminder that while we may be the first line of defense against terrorists, vigilantly maintaining the newfound peace...we’re also still just a bunch of human beings.
That’s right. Humans. Fallible, eventually tiring, yes, even eventually dying, delicate machines that are often prone to breaking down. Despite our best efforts to pretend otherwise, we really are weak--that’s not me being down or angry or negative...that’s just the way it is. We’re organic, imperfect; and sometimes it shows.
Heh...boy, does it. Like I said...day five. Once upon a time, this would have horrified me. I mean, after all, where I came from, to be sick was to be dead. And we’re not even talking the plague, the *real* plague here. I mean what would happen when such weakness was shown, how the predators of L2 would come stalking closer and closer, drooling at the chance to cull a person out of the herd. Anyway, now it doesn’t frighten the shit out of me like it used to--now being sick just annoys the piss outta me. Hey, I admit it--I’m a lousy sick person. I hate being incapacitated, and don’t hesitate to let any and all around me know that.
Heh. Poor Heero.
He’s been awesome, really he has. How many trips has he made for me now, getting soup and popsicles and juice and stuff? How often has he had to deal with requests for more blankets, no, make that less blankets, no, make that more blankets--eh, you get the idea, ne? And like now, look at how calm and peaceful he’s being, letting me blare X-Japan yet again. (Hey, you got a problem with twentieth century Japanese pop? Do ya? Heh, well, let’s just say I’ve rationalized it as trying to educate Hee-chan about his cultural history.) I think he’s just glad I’ve stopped watching the vids--even the good channels start to suck after a while, and I won’t even go into what they show during the daytime while he’s at work. But I had to stop the vids, you see--he’d started to hum along with this jingle for fish-shaped crackers. Um. Yeah, that’s what I thought. Weird-ness!
He took to repeated playings of J-Pop ballads like a champ, even sitting next to me on the couch when he could have hidden in another room. Well, sitting next to a Duo-shaped lump of blankets and kleenex, occasionally handing said lump another manga or Calvin and Hobbes book. (I don’t care how many centuries it’s been--there hasn’t yet been another comic to equal this. Howard introduced me to it way back when, and let’s just say my collection of books is rather worn.) And he’s been bringing me food and juice and stuff, even when I don’t ask for ‘em, and cleans up when I’ve finished. He even tucks the blankets around me more, makes sure I’m toasty.
Aw, man. It just melts me inside when he does that, when he looks at me with faint worry in his midnight blue eyes, when he brushes a kiss over my lips--despite the germs--and whispers “Rest, love.”
And this, *this* is perhaps the biggest reminder of all about how we’re all human, even him. Even Heero. Relena saw it, all those years ago; perhaps because she wanted to see it. But ojousan was right, even if it took some of us a little longer to realize it. I gotta admit--my heart knew it. I mean, I don’t think I woulda razzed him or given him so much shit like I did if I hadn’t had a little clue there was more to him than Mr. Roboto-Soldier Guy. But it was a while before I let my head agree with my heart, before I admitted to myself he was safe to have feelings for. Heh...that’s another story, really.
Anyway, he *is* human, and I can see it in the way he uses his laptop just as that, so he can snuggle with me on the couch. I see it in the way he gently pushes the hair back from my face, even though I haven’t showered since the day before yesterday. And when he never complains when the cat comes and drapes herself all over us, even though she gets cat hair all over the laptop (Yes, she’s black. No, she’s not named Shinigami. Gimme credit for some originality here! Her name’s Wing-chan. Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not my fault! Okay, maybe it is a little. It’s *our* fault.) And I see it in the way he sniffles slightly, as if in sympathy--’cause human or no, he does still have the immune system from hell that J graced him with. Lucky devil. What I would give for a constitution like that. Ah well....
Ya know...it’s not just now. He’s this way with me all the time; it’s just times like these that it’s most noticeable. But he’s always there for me, any time, any place--whether it be with a soft word, a gentle touch, a concerned glance. Like those times.... Well, I won’t lie. Those of us who were soldiers, who fought for the peace we enjoy now, we have memories. And sometimes those memories can overwhelm, can suck you back through the past. They get me sometimes in dreams--okay, I’ll be honest, in nightmares. But he’s there then to hold me, rubbing my back as he whispers things that sometimes I don’t even remember the next morning until the shaking stops.
And then there are the times when I’m walking along, everything’s normal...and then I’m *back* again. I’m not in my living room, I’m in the cockpit of Deathscythe, and I can hear the shrill squealing beeps as yet another damned system is blasted off-line and I can smell ozone and the acrid odor of burning wiring and I can feel my own personal earthquake and the world spin away as something slams into my Gundam, sending both of us flying, and I can see the lights flickering and the viewscreen fuzz into static, my choked, inarticulate scream echoing in my head as everything blacks out into nothingness....
He’s there, through it all. And he’s there, waiting, when it goes away as unexpectedly as it came, waiting as I snap out of my stillness, waiting to make *sure* I snap out of it. As I begin to chatter again, grinning like the cute little maniac I am, taking the bull of normal life by the horns as if nothing happened, he walks by, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder for just a moment before heading off to do his usual Heero things. And in that moment when he walks by, the warmth and solidness of his body brushing mine, I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the affection of that touch. He understands...and he’ll be here for me when it happens again. Because he’s human, and because he loves me.
And I’ll be here to return the favor, no matter the time, no matter the place, whenever and wherever he needs. Because I’m also human. And because I love him, too.
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