Small Gestures
			LH-chan! 2000

*	*	*	*

	We lost.  Now everything's gone to hell.

	Long strands of my unbound hair fall over my shoulder as
I turn my head away from my throbbing right arm.
	I lean my head against the wall.  I know my arm's
broken.  I don't wanna look.

	"That arm needs to be set."
	Heero, my cell mate.  Straight to the point as always;
nevermind how many times my stomach turns over just thinking about
setting my own broken arm.
	I scowl at him.  Sure, it's childish, but I don't care.

	He's probably in worse shape than I am.  Judging from the
bruises I can see in the dim light, and the numerous strips of torn
green tank-top holding cuts and breaks together.
	There's a guy who doesn't even think twice about setting a
broken bone.

	He sighs and sits down beside me, the bench I'm sitting on
groaning in protest as it accepts his added weight.
	"Take off your jacket.  I'll set it."
	I blink at him, surprised at the offer.
	Really, I'd rather protest.

	He's right, though, so I focus my energy into getting my
torn, bloodstained jacket off with only one hand.

	I'll really have to stop wearing this priest's collar, it's
the hardest part.

	Down to my light grey tank-top at last; I hazard a quick
glance at my arm.

	....

	I know the color has drained out of my face.

	This is gonna hurt...a lot.

	I can see a lump where the bone has nearly pushed through
the skin.
	Heero runs practiced hands over the break, no doubt planning
how to set it.

	Ah, it hurts like hell already.  I wish I could just pass out.

	Heero takes my wrist in one hand, and presses hard against my
shoulder with the back of his other palm.  His grip is strong.  I know
he's superhuman, but it still surprises me.  His true nature doesn't
suit his small frame at all.
	He looks up at me.  His eyes draw me in, I feel reassured...
a little...
	"Ready?"
	I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and nod.
	"Three,"
	"Two,"
	"One."

	I have no idea what he did.  But it involved pushing my 
shoulder, pulling my wrist, and causing a blinding pain that brought
tears to my eyes.
	"Boys...don't...cry..."  I grit out under my breath.
	But it's quite a while before I trust myself not to.
	When I finally look up, Heero is wrapping my arm with yet another
strip torn from what's left of his green tank-top.

	The moment he finishes, he's on his feet again, ignoring his
injuries.  Prowling the walls for a means of escape.

	"This is it, isn't it?"  I voice what I've been thinking.
	"It's not over 'til the very end," Heero answers easily.
	"Not even my braid survived," I say, shaking my head and letting
my hair fall loose into my face for emphasis.  "Everything else I've been
through, my braid's always survived.
	I lean my head back against the wall; turning away from him.

	The bench creaks as he sits down beside me again.
	His strong fingers brush my cheek as he pulls my hair back over
my shoulder.
	"Heero...what?"

	I become very still once I realize what he's doing.  I don't think
I've ever been so surprised.
	He combs his fingers through my tangled hair; separating, then
working it together with skill, binding the ends together with an
intricate knot.

	He rises again, back to the mission of escape.

	It takes me a moment to find the proper words:

	"Thank you...Heero..."

	I rise stiffly to help him find the escape route he's seeking.

	Yeah, we'll make it after all.

*	*	*	*

		Owari.