Pairs: Trowa, Quatre, Duo (friendship, various combinations if you squint) Warning: second person POV, angst Note: Haven't posted here in a while! For GW500's challenge, “all the king's men.”
Three years, and you still can't put on a space suit without shaking. You try to hide it, but Quatre knows exactly what the problem is, and he refuses to meet your eyes as he gently helps you into the suit, winding your arms through the sleeves, helping to secure the boots, adjust the body, that thick lead-lined material enclosing you in soft walls so you can't breathe, or touch, or smell anything but the plastic. And then the helmet. Duo is watching at the door with a grim expression, and you glare at him half-heartedly, but he doesn't take the bait. You both know he's going to end up holding your hand in a few moments, and Quatre knows it too, which is why he bites his bottom lip and refuses to say anything at all.
Quatre is holding the helmet and doing his best kicked-puppy expression. You take it from him, and try to bring yourself to put it on. Memory of the fog of your breath against the cold inner glass makes you shudder, and you hesitate. You remember the way your tears floated like shining wet crystals between your face and the glass, and you remember when it became so cold you'd stopped shivering and began to fall into a dangerous sleep, the tears had frozen into glass shards, and floated around in your helmet, bouncing off your face every time you made any sudden movements. The blood had frozen too by then, and you remember how one of the blood crystals landed in your mouth when you lay sprawled in the dead of space, gasping for breath. Your tongue had absorbed the moisture because you were so thirsty, and you remember thinking it was the sweetest iron tang you'd ever tasted.
But you know that will never happen again, and you'll be able to breathe for days even if you do get stranded, which you won't because your friends will be there and they'll help you get through it. You know you can do this; you don't have a choice.
Duo uncrosses his arms and enters the room in that casual predator slink of his that always makes you wonder if he'd been some kind of jungle cat in another life. With a very soft sigh, Duo takes over Quatre's place, and sets the helmet on against your wishes. He won't let you guilt him out of this, but you try your best when your breath hitches, the initial panic rising to your throat in a low whine you don't dare release. Quatre watches like he's witnessing a train wreck, but Duo is almost dispassionate as he locks the helmet in place for you, checking to make sure the rest of the suit is secure. You know better, because you can tell by the stiffness of his back that Duo isn't dispassionate at all, but he's mastered the ability to hide his insecurity over the years. Absently, you think he's taken it from you and mastered it to his own persona, and you wonder if it's too delirious to ask for royalties. But then you decide that you never were very good at hiding your insecurities at all, and more power to Duo if he could do what you couldn't. You just express things differently than the rest of humanity, you think; being quiet doesn't equal stability.
Duo tilts his head like a perplexed feline, and smiles something with teeth that is probably meant to be comforting; you wrap that manic smile around you, and let it distract you from the truth. You'll be useless when you get out there, because your photographic memory remembers the cold like it nearly killed you five minutes ago, and you can still taste the iron tang on your tongue, which makes your mouth water hungrily. You want desperately, but what, you couldn't possibly say.
You know he's afraid for you, but you thank him for knowing enough to hide it. Duo gives Quatre a look, and Quatre nods to himself, leaving the room. He'll be in command, giving orders, and some childish part of you wonders why Quatre can't be in your place, because you would love to stay inside, far away from the emptiness that is barely shielded against the thick metal walls of the ship coasting near the outer rings of an L1 colony. Quatre might even be more useful out there—but you know you're only lying to yourself for comfort, because Quatre has his place and you have your own, and this is the way that it should be. But you barely remember how to breathe when he disappears through the doorway, as if Quatre had displaced all the oxygen in his path, leaving you with shattering explosions and half a tank of air that you'll need to make last three days before they find you. Before Duo finds you, and you hide away in Cathy's arms like a coward.
Duo locks his own helmet into place, and he guides you to the bay. The shaking increases to small convulsions, and you pretend not to notice. He doesn't give a moment of sympathy for your plight, knowing that seeing his own pain in watching you suffer will give you the perfect excuse not to follow through with the mission.
You know this is foolish. Three years, and you've done this countless times, and every time is like the first. You can't help remembering the cold. You can't help not remembering who you were, which doesn't say much at all because you still don't remember even four years after stealing a dead man's name, after forcing yourself to think that name in your thoughts, no matter how deeply ingrained it is for you to think yourself as empty as the space that you fear, as cold as the glass tears and the iced blood you crave. You can't help the scream that bubbles into your throat, a mindless, no-name kind of scream that you violently cut off before more than a whisper is spoken.
When you're at the hatch, he takes your hand and holds it in a firm grip.
Quatre's voice is soft over the radio. “Are you ready?”
Never.
Duo holds your gaze like he holds your hand, tight enough to cut off circulation. The world pauses, breaths caught and hearts held at mid-beat. And then, “Yeah.”
You nod, though you really mean to shake your head in hopeless denial. There is a very slight smile on Duo's lips that is perhaps the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, because it's encouraging, and boils the frozen horror inside until it melts you into a soft, pudgy goo. His eyes glisten. They remind you that you can do this. You've done it before. And someday, you'll do it alone, and you won't think to hesitate for a second. You won't remember the cold, or the devastation. You'll remember nothing, not even enough to fear being empty.
The air in the hatch is eased back into the ship. You're left with nothingness and Duo. It's not empty, because he's there with you.