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There was definitely a flaw in this plan.
Heero gripped the edge of the counter and braced his arms, refusing to let the elbows wobble no matter how much they wanted to. Elbows don't dance. They don't even march.
He would have slapped himself if he could have trusted himself to let go and remain standing. Instead he attempted to blank out his mind, force it into quiet submission where it would STOP whatever it was trying to do.
A moment of silence.
There are too many penguins eating lunch. I'm obviously made of fish.
"Kuso!"
Okay. Stillness and silence had failed. Heero began mechanically naming the types of mobile suits.
"Leo. Aries. Taurus. Apple juice. Cheddar cheese broke my van in pieces." He stopped before another word passed his lips. Heero might not be able to prevent the randomness, but he could certainly recognize it after a moment.
Only one option left. Hands shaking, he reached for his phone. His vision was blurring and staying upright was about as useful as playing with Doctor J's feet in a fruit basket. His fingers touched a button and he pressed it on instinct.
The frequency connected and a voice that sound like a panda came on. "Zero One? Zero One, are you all right?"
"I have a sheep doing roofing over at my house," he managed. "I smell. The raisin got into my brain."
"Oooookay, why don't I just come over then?" replied the panda. "With help. Lots of help."
"Watch me dance a hologram."
Heero felt the phone drop, but that was all right. The ninjas would catch it. A whole bunch of birds were trapped in the ceiling, and the tadpoles were hatching. He could watch over them until the panda finished eating. It was dark and pandas liked the dark. Or was that bats? Wizards?
Well somebody liked the dark, which was good, because it was getting really dark…
Completely later, Heero woke slowly, feeling oddly comfortable and rested. He wasn't sure he could remember feeling so entirely at ease and relaxed. He realized his eyes had slipped open and he was blinking in pale light. Awareness came slowly, and he reveled in the luxury of such comfort.
Until he remembered exactly why he had never let himself be so relaxed.
Soldier. Assassin. Gundam pilot. Preventers agent. Danger around any corner. Right.
Heero's mind snapped to attention to take in the situation around him. At once he realized he was in his own bed, under a pile of blankets. A real pile. In fact, Heero was certain he didn't even own this many blankets. Where had they all come from?
"Heero? How are you?" came a soft voice.
He started to whip his head around but it made the room spin a little. He felt a weight settle on the bed beside him.
"It's Quatre, Heero. You're secure. I promise."
Those words allowed Heero to bring his screaming instincts back under control and he let his eyes close until the sense of spinning stopped. Reopening them, he now saw Quatre, blond hair dusky in the low light, sitting beside him. But not bending over him – the Arab knew Heero hated to feel crowded.
"What…happened?" His tongue suddenly felt exactly like a ball of feathers, and about as responsive.
"Approximately twenty hours ago, you signaled that you were in distress," Quatre answered evenly. "Duo picked up the emergency transmission first and alerted the rest of us that you seemed to be…compromised. When we got here, you were…not quite yourself."
"Quatre," Heero interrupted, "don't be political with me."
"You were out of your mind," Quatre sighed, resigned. "You also had a nasty wound to the stomach and a concussion. We concluded you had been injured on your recent solo mission and attempted to care for it yourself. But the wound got infected, and when you added the concussion to whatever you took to deal with it to your altered biochemistry, it had a very potent impact on your rationality."
"I remember the mission," Heero said haltingly. "And I remember coming back here and trying to treat my symptoms and…then it becomes more unclear."
"I'd imagine so," Quatre said with a wry smile. "Anyway, we called Sally but she said your system would probably purge the imbalance if we gave it time and handled the infection, so we've been keeping an eye on you. I sent the others home to sleep a few hours ago."
"Did I hurt anyone?" Heero had to ask, and hated that he did.
"No," Quatre reassured him quickly. "No, you were fairly talkative, but not violent at all. Now that you're coherent again, you should just need a few days of rest to finish healing and you'll be fine."
He rose with a gentle smile and Heero couldn't help but relax in return. He wondered what it would have been like to have had that kind of warmth and caring to watch over him as a child. He was grateful for it now beyond words. But he knew Quatre, an empath, could tell.
A day or two later, as he became much more mobile and much less helpless, he received a visit from Trowa, who handed over a data disc with a tiny smirk.
"I stole it from Duo. You owe me," was all he would say.
And when Heero viewed the disc, he understood. The footage was obviously shot on Duo's phone, and his ringing voice was clear.
"Hee-chan! Over here!" his voice was almost lost in the giggling.
"The jungle of squirrels wants your hair," Heero saw himself say completely seriously to Duo, eyes almost brown with whatever was in his system. "They'll build nests in the colonies and throw stars at the moon. Did you water the spaceport? I need to install the pink hangars for the rodeo."
"Maxwell, put that away and leave the man what he has left of his dignity," Wufei grumbled. "Stop being a menace."
"I'm going to roast you alive, you giant mushy mushroom friend," Heero said to Wufei absently.
The camera shook as Duo doubled over in laughter. There was the beginnings of a commotion as Quatre and Trowa apparently attempted to talk Heero into uncurling from around the leg of a table so they could put him to bed, but Heero cut off the vid feed before he could see anything else.
He stood and moved to his med kit, which was in a state of disarray from his fevered searchings. With a calm, business-like serenity, Heero purged every single vial of pills except the most basic that he knew did not impact his physiology in any unpredictable ways. Then he wrote in permanent ink on the lid of the case.
"If there is any risk of concussion or infection, call Quatre or face the reality of providing Duo with unimaginable blackmail materials and owing Trowa another favor."