Heero couldn't understand why anyone would want a mobile doll model. It was just silly. It wasn't even in scale. The buster was also the wrong type. He was sure it was the one Epyon used.

"Isn't it cool? I really wanted Deathscythe, but Mom said she couldn't get one. So I guess I'll just be glad she got anyone at all. Look, it even has a tube of glue. It's almost impossible to keep one of these snap-together things together unless you glue it too."

Heero eyed the bits of plastic with some misgiving. Something was – not right here – but he wasn't sure what it was. Something was nagging at the back of his mind.

"You get started on this. You need to cut the pieces from the trees and trim them. The guard has allowed us to have a craft knife. But only for an hour, and we have to use it at the guard station. You go there and do this part of the job. I want to connect and check my email."

Pete sighed. After the fiasco of the camping trip Heero had been made a trustee. He was sending open emails to some friends of his. Pete wished he could email his parents but they had special filters that prevented any spam, and the signature on his emails was spam as far as the program was concerned. He'd been forbidden to change anything in their computers, so he couldn't mail them without getting into trouble. Like Heero, he was determined to keep himself out of trouble so he could get out early on good behavior.

Heero had been in touch with Duo for the better part of two weeks now, exchanging emails in the open. The Headmaster had made Heero and Pete both trustees, which meant that they could have a computer here in the room of course it was closely monitored but neither of them were sending anything that couldn't be read by the authorities.

Heero however couldn't bring himself to send more than "I'm ok, l love you" mail. Duo sent chatty stuff about what he'd done that day. Heero had to smile, neither one of them felt comfortable sending anything they considered ‘sensitive' so they only sent chatter, but it was better than nothing.

Heero had managed to get the Headmaster to allow Pete to room with him. The other boys Pete's age were harassing him and making his life miserable. He was way too smart to be rooming with a couple of jocks, so Heero got him moved in with him. Pete was happier than he'd been in a long time. Heero was his hero (he had to laugh at that); they got along well. Heero wasn't talkative but Pete wasn't really much of a chatterbox either. He wanted to do his homework, chores, and not be bothered. So did Heero. They were in most of the same classes. When Pete had told Heero about testing out of a class, Heero had seized on that with a soft snort. He'd managed to test out of several classes that were requirements and was now happily going through the books for several more.

"Heero, the headmaster wants to see you. He's not happy, so you better hurry."

Heero didn't bother to close down his computer. He wouldn't be gone very long and there wasn't anything sensitive in it anyway.

"Heero. How's Pete doing? I've gotten a complaint from his mother. She thinks he's being harassed."

Heero nodded. "He was, Sir."

The Headmaster waited for Heero to elaborate. Finally he gave an encouraging nod and waited again. Heero realized that he needed to explain better.

"The boys in his age group are all jocks or thugs. Not much brains to go around the bunch of them. They pick on him. That's why Anderson asked to put him in with me. I'll be better for him. I don't expect him to do things he can't, and I help him with things he wants to do." Heero smirked slightly. "He wants to learn to keep up with my exercise routine. It won't happen but I'm glad to teach him. He's no bother. And the other boys know better than to mess with him . . . now."

"I see. Well . . . I'll reassure his mother. Heero, you are a very unusual young man. I'm not used to dealing with your sort here. You're responsible and reliable. I still don't quite believe that you did what you did. It's incredible. I want you to make it here. So far you've done very well. The only complaints we have are you don't socialize well. And some of the boys seem to be afraid of you."

Heero shrugged slightly. "I don't want trouble. I don't want to socialize with a certain element that is here. It can only lead to trouble. Trouble I don't need. The ones who are afraid of me tried things they shouldn't have. I discouraged them. "

"I see. Well . . . we don't want fighting, but if you don't start it we usually try not to interfere with interpersonal relationships. If you understand me. Don't start anything."

"I never start anything but I'm not going to lie down and take it. I'll try really hard not to harm anyone. I hope that is acceptable."

Headmaster Compton sighed. "That will have to be, won't it?"

Heero ducked his head, hiding behind his bangs. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"Don't think that for a second. You're less trouble, when you're being trouble, than some of these boys are when they're not."

Heero wondered, not for the first time, why someone who'd gotten a break like winding up at Fitzroy would mess up. He was not exactly happy here but not miserable either. He wasn't going to take a chance of being sent somewhere else. If he could keep out of major trouble for another three hundred and twenty-five days he'd be eligible for parole. And Anderson had told him when he'd asked that he was going to get it unless he really screwed up.

"I won't tell you not to fight, you wouldn't obey me. I will tell you that, unless it's self-defense, you're in big trouble. We still haven't gotten your records, and I'm not fool enough to ask you. I won't tempt you like that. I will say that our observations have shown that you are disciplined, self-starting, extremely intelligent and astonishingly self-contained. Whatever you were before you came here, I don't see you as some common vandal. Whatever trouble you're really in, it stayed outside the gates. Do you understand me?"

Heero gazed at Mr. Compton for a few moments. "Yes, Sir. I think I understand. I would like to thank you for your treatment of me. I'm afraid that I expected something completely different when I first came here. You've actually been kind to me. On a different note, I'd like to talk to you about Pete." At the headmaster's nod, Heero continued "He doesn't belong here. His health isn't good. He has some kind of breathing problem; I'm not sure what it is. He isn't as strong as he should be. If he has some kind of medical problem, I'd like to know about it. I'm a trained field medic. If something happens to him, I need to know about any preexisting condition so I can help him."

"Pete is the son of one of our ESUN representatives. His Father is old school and doesn't believe in special treatment for members of his family, which I respect. But Pete has low lung capacity. He was raised in low gravity and his lungs just aren't up to full gravity and he's struggling. The condition is lessening but it's going to be slow going, and he doesn't react well to dust. We're not set up for people like him. He should have been sent to a boarding school for rich first time offenders but his father wanted to teach him a lesson. I'm glad you decided to take him under your wing. " Mr. Compton didn't understand Heero's slight smile.

"He reminds me of someone dear to me. I'll take care of him. I don't need to fight on my own behalf and I won't need to fight on his. All I have to do is let certain people know that I'm displeased."

Compton cleared his throat and smoothed his desk pad. "I see." He handed Heero a reader. "I want you to read this. There's no hurry. It's the full rules of this school. Been around for years. I want you to be a bailiff for the facility student court."

Heero simply took the reader and nodded. He stood, went to the door and opened it. Then he turned back and said softly, "I'll try not to let you down. Thank you."

~ * ~

When he got back to the room, Heero noticed that Pete was still at the guard's station working on the MS pieces. He dropped the odds and ends of the kit back into the box and put it on his shelf, Pete's shelf was too crowded with books and action figures as well as pictures for him to add one other thing. Heero's shelf contained one picture, four books and the box.

Heero opened a file and started typing. He used a bat board instead of a keyboard, and he could type with one hand and do other things with the other. In this case, he was holding up a page to which he referred from time to time. If he got his homework done in time, he could IM Duo for an hour. They'd gotten over their paranoia about that when they'd discovered a relatively little used forum and found out that the cache was tiny. It would dump their messages after only ten lines.

Pete stumbled in the door, his hands full of parts in plastic bags. He dumped the whole mess on his desk and scuffled around looking for something.

"Heero, how can you type on that thing? And what are you working on?"

"I've been typing on this, thing as you call it, all my life. I don't use a regular keyboard unless it's necessary. And I'm working on a paper on obscure and obsolete laws, rules, and regulations. Mr. Compton gave me this e-reader with all the regulations of the facility, and I thought it would be a good paper for history since I have to know them anyway. I'm going to be a bailiff, if you can believe it. Did you know that it's still illegal to force your wife into a two-seat car in LA? Some of these laws are so old they've got mold on them."

Pete eyed Heero for a second wondering if he was joking, but then decided he wasn't. He didn't know if Heero knew how to joke. So he leaned over Heero's shoulder and read the monitor.

"Holy shit. It's still legal to flog your servants in China? That . . . that's just nasty. And stupid. Just fire them."

"It's not always that easy. Social obligations sometimes make it hard to get rid of a servant, and, if they are a debt servant, you don't want to get rid of them. So . . ."

"Well . . . lock them up for a while."

Heero sighed. He knew Pete wasn't trying to be difficult; he was just young and didn't see things the same way as the old time lawmakers did. Which wasn't such a bad thing, now that Heero thought about it.

"Why the sigh, you'll wear your lungs out."

"To answer your questions . . . You're too innocent for your own good. And, as to locking them up . . . if you lock them up, they can't work; you're wasting resources feeding a non-working WB, and many servants in that era would do things to get locked up. They worked long hours for no pay, didn't have days off, and shared beds. Think about it."

Pete thought, then nodded. "I see. It makes sense, now that you explain it. But still . . . "

"If you had a choice; which would you do?"

"I'd rather be locked up. Well, I . . . am, come to think of it. What about you?"

"I think I'd rather be beaten."

"What!?" Pete looked shocked.

"It's over much more quickly. It . . . I heal quite quickly, and I would have a hard time locked up. Especially in solitary confinement. Not being able to see the sky or stars. I don't think I could do that for long. Not again."

Pete wisely changed the subject.

"Well . . . I got all the pieces trimmed. What do we do now?"

Heero examined a few of the pieces. Pete had done a good job with them. They were neatly trimmed.

"Very good. The next thing we do is check the fit of each piece with it's guzinter." Heero waited for Pete to bite.

"It's what? What's a guzinter."

"It's the piece the piece in question goes into." Heero smirked at Pete's exaggeratedly shocked expression.

"That's a groaner. But . . . oh shit! I forgot. I've got six chapters of history to read. And a bunch of calculus to do. That maths teacher is a bear. He must think he's the only one who assigns homework."

"You can do it. All you have to do is sit down and concentrate. I'll finish my emails and my home work. If you have any questions I'll be glad to see if I can help."

Pete smiled at Heero. He was glad to have such a roommate. His old ones had been more trouble than anything else. They'd done nothing but torment him about his size, his father, and his connections. His intelligence and anything else they could think of. They couldn't understand why they constantly had bowel problems or stomachaches.

~ * ~

Heero shut his computer down and sighed. He'd spent the last ten minutes IM-ing with Duo. They'd caught up a lot in the last few days. And Heero was glad to hear that all the others were doing well. He couldn't believe that Quatre had actually hired them all. Duo in a suit was a vision in his head that made him sigh.

"‘s matter, Heero. Bad news? If you like, I'll see if my Dad will put in a good word for you."

Heero shook his head. "That's not necessary. It wasn't bad news. Just . . . I really miss Duo and my other friends. They're all together at one of Q's estates. I don't believe it, but my best friend is working for Winner Enterprises. It's really strange. You know?"

"Yeah." Pete assumed a wise expression. "I bet it does seem strange. Too bad you can't be with them."

Heero looked at the calender on the wall. Pete had made it for him. Just underneath the date was a number counting down the days until he was eligible for parole. "Soon."

"Yeah. And I am going to have my Dad put in a recommendation for you. It can't hurt that an ESUN Representative sent in a rec."

Heero checked his notes and gathered the pages together. He had taken them on the e-book that he'd been given. His paper was coming along well, and he was hoping to be given a pass on this class. He wanted to take quantum mechanics and he had to clear his schedule of three hours of classes in order to do so.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I"ll help you with that model after supper. Come on."

"Ok, but tonight is goulash. You want mine? I hate it. Mystery meat." Peter shuddered dramatically.

"Not either. It's formed and textured soy protein compound."

"And what the hell is that?"

"Don't swear." Heero poked Pete in the arm with his finger.

Pete sighed; he was so small that everyone forgot that he was almost sixteen. It bugged him.

After a supper spent ignoring the less desirable element of the school, if any of the inhabitants could be called desirable, Heero and Pete returned to their room to work on the model. Pete wanted to get it done in time for his parents visit in three days time. He didn't want his mother to think that he didn't appreciate her efforts in his behalf.

"She tried really hard. I think she just doesn't understand that all suits aren't alike. I'd really like to have had Deathscythe. But . . . "

Pete started picking over the pieces, trying to figure out what went where.

Heero got out the instruction sheet. "When all else fails."

"Blow something up!" Pete gave Heero a silly grin.

"Read the instructions." Heero ruffled Pete's hair and sat down beside him.

They spent the next hour trying to get the pieces trimmed to fit. Heero had a more delicate touch than Pete. He seemed to always take off just that much too much. They were going to have trouble with this stupid thing no matter what. Little did Heero know how much trouble and how soon.

~ * ~

Heero woke the next morning and blinked at the wall calender; he realized for the first time that in the lower right corner of each dated square was another number. Today was numbered ten. Ten? Heero couldn't think what significance that might have.

Pete grumbled as he fought his way to wakefulness. He woke slowly and rather noisily, grumbling and moaning. Morning and Pete were not friends. Heero watched with some amusement, and realized that, while Duo would sleep if he could, he woke quickly and quietly.

"Pete, better get up. If you want a shower before the goon squad gets up, that is." Heero tossed a towel at Pete and gathered up his toiletries.

They showered together so that Heero could protect Pete from the ‘shower shenanigans.' Heero thought it was ridiculous to torment each other with towel snaps and other such foolishness, as well as dangerous. The floor was slippery enough without coating it with shampoo and body wash in an attempt to make another boy look like a fool.

At breakfast the loud speaker announced that both Pete and Heero were wanted back at their quarters. When they arrived, there were two Guards at the door waiting for them.

"These your quarters?"

The man's attitude set Heero's back up in an instant.

"Yes. Why?"

"I'll ask the questions." Heero bristled, but Pete just looked scared.

"Clark. Back off. " Anderson was the other guard and he didn't look pleased in the least.

"Mr. Anderson, what is going on?" Heero trusted Mr. Anderson but not the other man whom he didn't know.

"We've got a search order from the front office. Someone says that you have a prohibited substance. I'm sorry, but we have to look into it."

"I see. And could you tell me what that substance is? Sir." Heero knew they didn't have any drugs or other prohibited substances in the room, so he didn't worry too much.

"No, the kick was anonymous. You know how it goes." Anderson finally let his companion go into the room. "Mr. Clark will help me search so we can get this over with."

Mr. Clark, finally let off his leash, started tossing the room with brutal efficiency. He jerked the covers off Pete's bed and threw them on the floor. Pete yelped and Mr. Clark rounded on him with a snapped command only to be reined in by Mr. Anderson.

"Clark, cut it out. That's not the way we do things here. You just transferred in, so I'll let that slide. This is a minimum security facility and we run it on a completely different philosophy. We don't do anything to start trouble. Now. When we're through, I don't want this room to look any different than it did when we came in. Do you understand me?"

Clark sulked. There was no other word for it. But he nodded his head and grunted "Yeah."

Mr. Anderson took over and apologized to Pete. Heero started remaking the bed for Pete. And missed the next bit. He was brought back to awareness by a soft sigh.

"Ohh Heero. Dammit. Where did you get this kit?"

Heero froze. Prohibited substances? He hadn't bothered to look at the list. He didn't do any drugs so he hadn't thought it was necessary.

"It was sent in sealed. There shouldn't be anything in it that shouldn't be there."

Mr. Anderson took in Pete's white face and Heero's puzzled look. Mr. Clark just reached out and grabbed Heero. Who simply gave him a look of disgust.

"Let me go. Where do you think I'm going to run to?"

"You'll come with us without trouble."

"Clark, let go of him. I told you not to start anything. We don't grab unless they start to fight."

Pete got behind Mr. Anderson, he didn't want to be in the middle if Heero did decide to make a fight of it.

Mr. Anderson made the only decision he could. He gathered up the whole mess and took it to the Headmaster.

When he got a full report from a smart alec Clark, Mr. Compton just looked at the box then Heero

"This yours?"

Heero considered for a moment then said, "There are only two shelves in the room. It was found on mine."

Pete choked. "Heero. I . . ."

"Shut up."

Mr. Clark couldn't figure out what was going on so he stuck his foot in it.

"Someone's lying, I don't know why. That kid is getting out in ten days so I don't think he'd be stupid enough to have a . . ."

"Mr. Clark, if you can't keep your mouth shut, you'll be asked to leave." Mr. Compton didn't like Mr. Clark and didn't care who knew it. He was a transfer from upstate, sent to him as a last resort. He caused more trouble with his attitude than he was worth.

Heero sat so still that Mr. Anderson put his hand on his shoulder. Heero thought quickly. Pete was getting out in ten days. If he got a solitary, he'd be kept for the duration of that sentence. "Fuck."

"Son?"

Heero waited until Mr. Compton was through dressing Mr. Clark down.

"Excuse me, Sir. I'm sorry but . . . what are we talking about here. There aren't any drugs. And neither Pete nor I have a record of drug usage so . . ."

Mr. Clark snatched up the box and triumphantly produced the tube of glue. "Prohibited substance."

He smirked at Pete, who turned completely white and started to wheeze.

Heero just glared at Clark with a ‘later for you' look that worried everyone but him.

"Pete, breathe. . . . easy." Heero pulled Pete out of the chair and wrapped his arms around him. He pressed Pete's head down on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Don't say anything. You'll get out on time. Let me handle it. I'll be ok. Hush."

Pete started to hiccup so Heero looked at Mr. Anderson. "I think he needs to go to the nurse. Will you take him? Please, Sir."

Mr. Anderson, who could read lips, just nodded. He wasn't too happy with this whole proceeding. If not for Mr. Clark, they could have handled this a lot better. But he was a suck up and a tattler. He'd caused trouble wherever he was just because he could. So Mr. Anderson took Pete to the nurse and let Heero deal as best he could.

Heero waited until Pete was out of the room and then asked Mr. Compton if they could have a private conference. Without Mr. Clark.

"I don't like him and I don't want him privy to what I have to say." Heero pinned Mr. Clark with a look that would have made a smarter man think twice about opening his mouth.

"You don't tell us what to do, we tell you. I'm not going anywhere."

Mr. Compton finally had enough attitude and said so. He sent Mr. Clark to wait in the outer office, telling him that they had enough trouble on their hands without him alienating one of the most cooperative inmates there.

"All right, what is going on? You know. . ."

Heero held his hand up in a wait gesture. "I never thought of glue as a prohibited substance. I have no idea why. It's ridiculous."

"Heero, do you know what's in it?"

Heero recited the ingredients of Super Glue from memory, then sighed. "Yes of course. Huffing. I don't think like that. I've been suffocated before, it's not a feeling I'm fond of."

Mr. Compton just shook his head. He had a real good idea who Heero really was, but he didn't want confirmation. It would lead to things happening that he wasn't prepared to deal with.

"I see. You're amazingly naive in some ways and so . . . I'm not sure of the word I want."

"Stoic? Unemotional? Stone faced? I've been told they all apply. Enough . . . you're not going to put Pete in solitary and ruin his release. That bastard Clark would just love that."

"No, I'm not. You were in possession of that glue. I'm going to have to tell intake to make sure this doesn't happen again. The kit clearly says snap together. Why glue too?"

"The damn things don't stay together worth shit. Will you look up what the punishment is?"

"I know what it is, I deal with this all the time. I'm really disappointed . . ."

Heero interrupted. "I'm really sorry about this, Sir. If I'd only thought. It's all my fault."

"No, it's not, it's the staff's fault more that it is anyone else's. We should have been more aware as well. However, that doesn't change the facts. You were in possession of the damn stuff. I know it was really Pete's but you're right, it's not fair. It's not fair all the way around. But the rules are clear and there's not much I can do."

"Except let me take the blame. It was on my shelf, which clearly puts it in my possession. However . . ."

Mr. Compton interrupted Heero; they seemed to be doing a lot of that. "You aren't psychologically capable of withstanding a thirty-day solitary confinement. We're stuck. I don't know what to do."

Heero motioned to the computer on Mr. Compton's desk. "May I?"

Mr. Compton just nodded. Heero tapped keys and brought up some of the regulations of the school; he'd noticed them when he'd been studying. Mr Compton looked and blinked.

"You can't mean that one."

"Yes I do. It's perfect." Heero knew Mr. Compton wasn't going to be happy about this at all

"It's barbaric. I can't do that. I wouldn't even know how to begin." Mr. Compton shook his head; this wasn't going to be good, no matter what they did. Heero wasn't going to do well in solitary, and he wasn't doing well with this idea.

"I'm sure Mr. Clark will be glad to offer his services. It's only ten strokes and I'll be clear. No solitary, no black mark, nothing. I heal quick. It'll be over before the ink drys on the order."

"We have to figure out something else."

"What? I'm up for any idea. I'm afraid I have to say that you're not putting me in solitary. If you do, I won't stay."

"You can't get out of the cell."

Heero gave Mr. Compton a stony look. "Don't bet on it. I've walked out of tighter security than this cracker box."

"Don't say another word. I don't want to know." Mr. Compton gave up, Pete was out of the equation by mutual agreement. He knew Heero wasn't up to solitary, so that only left one alternative. The one Heero had suggested. He knew he was over a barrel, and he didn't like it.

"Very well, young man. I hope you really know what you're getting yourself into."

"There are quite clear guidelines. Mr. Clark will follow them or you can bring him up on charges and dismiss him without appeal. If he goes over the line, I'll make him stop myself."

Mr. Compton eyed the guidelines and sighed. There was really nothing he could do. If Heero chose to take a flogging instead of a black mark on his record and thirty days solitary, it was his choice to make.

"I'll ask you one last time. Are you sure?" Mr. Compton waited for Heero to think; Heero watched him for a moment then just nodded.

"All right. I'll make arrangements. I'm . . ."

"Now." Heero kept his voice soft and low. The very flatness of the tone convinced Mr. Compton not to argue any more.

"I'll call . . . who . . . I don't know of anyone in the facility that could do this without . . . training? " Mr. Compton sighed again. "I don't want you harmed."

Heero couldn't help the smile. "It'll take more than a few blows across the buttocks with a cane to harm me. Call Mr. Clark. He'll love it, and if we're really lucky he'll cut me. Then you can get rid of him."

"If we're lucky, before we go through with this insanity, I'll figure out a way to keep you out of solitary without a black mark."

"Not going to happen. If we go through with this, I won't lose my e-mail privileges either. Right?"

"Yes. All this to keep contact with a few friends that don't visit you."

Heero grimaced. None of the other pilots had permission to leave the county they lived in. They were on unsupervised probation but still they were lying low. He wanted to see Duo, even if they had to visit through a pane of glass.

"They are still the only friends I have. They'll come someday."

Mr. Compton called Mr. Clark into the office and told him exactly what was expected of him. He sneered at Heero and Heero just looked back

At Mr. Clark's command Heero bent over the desk, reaching out to grasp the other side of it. Mr. Clark tugged Heero's pants up at the waistband and smoothed them across his ass. He endured the touch without comment, and Mr. Compton waited to see what would happen next. He wasn't too pleased with the way Clark was handling Heero.

Heero waited for Mr. Clark to continue, but next he started reading the regulations to Heero and Mr. Compton. Heero knew that this was only meant to increase his fear of the punishment. He wondered if Mr. Compton would be mortally insulted if he fell asleep. He could hear him shifting restlessly, scuffling his feet and fussing with his suit jacket. Finally Mr. Clark seemed to feel that he'd increased the tension level as much as he could, so he straightened Heero's position by grabbing him by the hips and tugging him into the position he wanted.

"Hold on to the edge of the desk. Mr. Compton, you could hold his hands if you would."

"What?"

"If you hold his hands, he won't be able to put them behind him. It's a natural reaction and I don't want to hit his hands. Could do some serious damage. Heh. Wouldn't want that, would we boy?"

Heero just allowed them to do what they wanted. He was getting bored, the edge of the desk was digging into his hips, and he was just generally aggravated. He didn't mind Mr. Compton holding him. If he needed to get away, the man had no hope of holding him down.

The first blow echoed through the room and made Mr. Compton flinch. Heero blinked. [Ow? Not even.] Mr. Compton gripped Heero's hands in what he thought was a comforting gesture; Heero found it to be ‘interesting' and, strangely, it was comforting. The next blow smacked into him, making Heero snort softly.

Mr. Compton whispered, "Heero?"

Heero muttered, "I'm fine. Tell him to get on with it will you?"

Mr. Compton nodded, and instructed Mr. Clark to quit ‘fooling around' and get on with it. So Mr. Clark finished with a flurry of blows that Heero counted. When there had been ten lashes he just stood up and caught the last blow on the palm of his hand. He tweaked the cane from Mr. Clark's hand and snapped it casually in pieces with quick flexes of his fingers.

"I'll visit the Medic now. Mr. Compton, you need to come with me. He's cut me."

"Oh, little baby has a booboo?" Clark actually managed to hide his fear rather well. Heero saw it and gave him a tiny quirk of the lips that Duo would have called his ‘gotcha' smile.

"No, inmate is cut by guard, against written guide lines set out by the senior staff to protect the population from idiots . . . like you." Heero sneered at the man and started for the office with Mr. Compton right behind him.

"Heero . . . do you need help? Do you want me to carry you?"

Heero glanced up at Mr. Compton and shook his head. "No, I don't need you to. I don't think you're up to my weight."

"I'll be glad to try. The Sheriff managed."

"He's eight inches taller than you and weighs fifty pounds more. I'm fine. Quit fussing, we're here."

Mr. Compton was startled to realize that they were actually at the infirmary. Heero opened the door and nodded to the medic there. Mr. Compton and Mr. Clark followed, but Mr. Compton shut the door firmly in his face snapping, "Outside until I want you."

Heero dropped his pants and leaned over the examination table, pulling his shirt up to expose his buttocks. The medic took one look and snarled. "What the hell is going on here? Who . . . Mr. Compton, I'll be filing a report."

"Yes, I'll need a report. We've killed two birds with one stone. I'll explain later. Just take care of him."

The medic turned to Heero and instructed him to strip and get on the table. Heero looked at him like he'd lost his mind, all he'd intended to do was have the medic or Mr. Compton take pictures.

"Why? It's easier to get a good angle if I'm standing." Both men looked at Heero, who just blinked back. "For pictures."

"Oh. Uuumm . . . yes, of course, pictures." Mr. Compton turned to the medic and asked for a camera, had Heero turn around, and took several quick pictures. He checked the files to make sure he had what he needed, and snarled. He'd been careful not to stare at Heero, now he realized that Heero was bleeding freely.

"Dammit boy, why didn't you holler? He hit you way too hard."

Heero actually rolled his eyes. "Do you want a man like that on staff? I'm tough, I can take it, but most of the boys here aren't exactly hard cases. They're first time offenders. Think they're tough guys. They don't need to be exposed to this kind of thing, it'll ruin them. And he'd only make the real tough ones worse."

"No, I don't want him on staff, but this is outrageous. You should have stopped him. Told me . . ."

"Stop fussing, done is done. The medic will fix me up in no time. It's a lot better than having to set my own leg. Calm down."

Mr. Compton felt like he was going to hyperventilate or something. This boy was standing with his pants around his ankles, dignity intact, and telling him that he'd intentionally let a man cut him so that they could get the idiot off staff.

"It also kept you out of solitary." Mr. Clark's eavesdropping was the final straw for Mr. Compton.

"That's it. You clean out your locker and be off the grounds within the half hour. I'll send you your last check and release papers. Git!"

Mr. Clark did what Duo would have called a carp imitation and then just paled, turned, and left.

"Well . . . that went well. I'll go back to my room now. I'd like to be excused from my afternoon classes, if you don't mind."

The medic intervened before Mr. Compton self-destructed. "Young man, you'll lay down on that table and let me examine you. I need to fill out a report and, while you're here, I'd like to finish your intake report. You didn't get pictures taken. I'll go ahead and take them and attach them to your file. Along with the pictures of your . . . ahem. . . wounded extremities."

Heero couldn't help grinning at the man. He was calm where Mr. Compton was obviously upset. He felt bad; he liked the man and didn't like seeing him like this, so he made a conscious effort to explain to him.

"I'm fine. Really. I've been hurt a lot worse and had to medic myself, or rely on one of my friends to fix me up." Heero toed off his boots and shucked out of his pants and underwear. He started to put his clothes on a chair, but Mr. Compton took them out of his hands and took care of them himself. Heero nodded his thanks and handed him his shirt as well.

Heero stood unselfconsciously, waiting for them to tell him what they wanted him to do. He couldn't have cared less that he was naked in front of dressed men. It wasn't that unusual an occurrence to him. He grinned as the medic gulped. He'd started to take his own pictures for the medical file and focused for the first time.

"Holy shit. What the hell happened to you? I've never seen scars like that."

Heero grinned. "I got blown up. Shot, twice. Stabbed and whipped." The tech took pictures mumbling and swearing.

"Turn around."

Heero turned and heard Mr. Compton leave abruptly, slamming the door. The medic sighed and touched a small mark on Heero's back.

"Oh . . . that. Cattle prod."

"Dammit! You're so calm about it."

"If crying would do any good, I've got friends who would shed an ocean. Please . . . just take your pictures. Ok?"

"Sorry. I'm really sorry. This has got to be hard. I'll get around to tending you in just a second." the medic finished with the pictures. "There, all done. Crawl up on the table and I'll fix you up."

Heero obliged the medic, grinning at him again as he fetched a spray can from a cupboard.

Heero couldn't help it, he had to laugh softly.

"What? You're awfully cheerful. I'd be having fits."

"Oh, I just thought of a friend of mine. He'd be practically hysterical. Two real smiles in less than ten minutes, never mind ten days. He'd be checking me for fever." When the medic gave him a strange look, he just shook his head. "Inside joke. I'm known amongst my friends as Stony. My training was hard and I kinda forgot how to smile somewhere in there. Duo would be really rubbing it in."

"Ok." The medic eyed Heero's backside with some disgust. He carefully cleaned the blood off and realized that Heero wasn't really cut; the skin had burst where Clark had crossed lashes. So there weren't any long cuts, just a few small ‘nicks.' "You a bleeder? There's more blood here than I'd have thought from the size of the cuts."

"I'll bleed freely for a few seconds then stop. Helps prevent infection. You gonna doctor me or what?" Heero looked over his shoulder at the man, giving him a slight twitch of the lips.

"I'm doctoring, I'm doctoring . . . This will be cold. It's antiseptic, analgesic spray."

Heero shivered slightly; the spray was extremely cold. When the medic told him to get dressed, Heero just pulled his clothes on without a thought as to what it might do to his just-doctored bruises. The friction of cloth on flesh wasn't pleasant; Heero hissed slightly.

"Stupid. I'll give you this can of spray and these . . . no, don't put them in your pocket. You have to take them here."

Mr. Compton came back just then, reeking of mouth wash. Heero eyed the pills for a moment then handed them back.

"I'd rather not. I don't like pills. I'll keep the spray, if you don't mind. But no pills."

"You sure?"

Heero just nodded. He really didn't like pills, most of them didn't do much good and some had really bad side effects, side effects he'd rather not put up with.

"If the pain gets really bad, I'll get my room mate to spray me again. I'd really rather not have to sit through classes. If it's all right with you." Heero turned to Mr. Compton."I'll go back to my room and work from there. I could sit if it was really necessary, but I don't see that it's a matter of life or death if I miss English Lit. Will you give me a pass?"

"I've already seen to it. Oh . . . by the way . . . we're pressing charges against Mr. Clark. While he had permission to strike you, he was cautioned, by me and the regulations which he read to both of us, that drawing blood was not permitted. I'm so sorry. I knew this was a bad idea. Dammit, this is the first time one of my decisions has led to something like this."

Heero eyed Mr. Compton. He seemed determined to take the blame for this.

"I made the decision. I don't see where what happened to me is any of your fault. I went into this with my eyes open."

Mr. Compton wasn't having any of that. "I'm older than you and supposed to be wiser. I failed in my duty to you. I should have found another way. I was just lazy. I didn't want you to take a black mark, or spend time in solitary. I didn't want Pete to miss his release date. It was all because I wanted and was too lazy to work for it. You can't blame yourself. You're young, you haven't had the life experience I have." When Heero opened his mouth to argue, Mr. Compton held up his hand. "I know you've had a hard life, but being a mule for Oz and suffering with them isn't the same as being a grown up. It's all my fault. I'll have to make a report to my superiors. This is just a crying shame all the way around."

Heero blinked at Mr. Compton. They'd been telling him they knew who he was and didn't want his records so that they didn't have to treat him in certain ways. They really didn't know anything at all. He felt funny, like he was letting them down or something.

"Mr. Compton. I won't tell you things you don't need to know, but I will say this. I've been responsible for myself, and others, in situations that would have left a lot of grown men running for cover. I'm used to making life and death decisions at the drop of a hat. I'll say this. We decided, we share the blame. I've always considered it my duty to protect those weaker than I am. So now the rest of the inmates are protected from Mr. Clark. He would have caused trouble that this facility isn't set up to handle. May I go to my room now?"

"Yes," Mr. Compton gave up. Heero was determined to take responsibility for himself and Mr. Compton could only admire him. He took responsibility for his actions, a thing many grown men had trouble doing. "Go to your room. Relax. I'll have your homework e-mailed to your address. Don't fall behind."

"I'm still a trustee? Thank you." Heero got out before Mr. Compton tried to hug him or something.

~ * ~

Pete fell on him with a yelp. Heero caught him before he fell over his own feet.

"Heero, I'm so sorry I didn't know are you all right I . . . please."

Heero just dumped Pete on his bed and flopped down on his own.

"You ok? What was that wheezing about? Talk . . . then I'll tell you all about it."

Pete told Heero all about what had happened. He'd had a stress asthma attack. The medic had given him a shot from an inhaler then sent him to his room to rest. He ended, "So, now I've got this inhaler and the rest of the afternoon off. All I have to do is my homework. Now, spill or I'll . . . "

Heero rolled over and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll talk, I'll talk. Just give me a second to gather my thoughts so it makes sense."

Heero took his time explaining and let Pete ask questions as they went along. When he finished, all Pete could do was sigh.

"Heero, you really live up to your name. You're also crazy." Heero snorted. "Do you need me to . . . er . . . spray you?"

"Not yet, the effect should last three or four hours. If you don't mind, I'd really like to shuck these pants. The pressure isn't pleasant."

"Sure. Let me help you with your boots." Pete squatted at the foot of his bed. "Dammit. I forgot."

"What?"

Pete gave Heero a helpless look. "I promised to tell Mr. Anderson the minute you got back. He's gonna be pissed."

"Tell him you were helping me. Go . . . now."

Pete took the time to pull off Heero's boots for him, then went to find Mr. Anderson. He was just coming back from Mr. Compton's office, so he wasn't mad about Pete not coming for him.

Pete knelt beside Heero's bed and took his hand. Heero opened one eye and rolled it to see Mr. Anderson standing in the doorway.

"Hn?"

"How are you feeling? I just got a report from Mr. Compton. This is outrageous. I've never, in my fifteen years in corrections, heard of anything like it. If you need or want anything, I'll see about gettin' it for you. If you want to talk, I'll send for Mr. Terry. Ok?"

Heero hummed in the affirmative and Mr. Anderson sighed. They'd finally gotten Heero to talk more; he was afraid this little affair had set him back. Mr. Anderson gave Pete a significant look and left.

Pete asked Heero if he wanted anything. Heero just shook his head and said he really wanted to take a nap. Pete grumbled but didn't complain too much. He told Heero he was going to work quietly on his homework.

Heero fell asleep and didn't realize he was taking a nap for the first time in many years.