Note: Upon deliberating over the restrictions associated with posting this story to this archive, I have decided to make certain edits to later chapters in accordance with the rules and guidelines. For the unedited version (that will include mature content), kindly visit AO3. Thank you.

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Back to One
~ Act One

The reunion, they say, was never going to happen. At the tenth year anniversary, it had been Heero, drunk and high, arrested by the LAPD for driving his car into a tree in Santa Monica. More often than not, the tree won against oncoming traffic, but this was Heero. The big, majestic oak more than a hundred years in existence cracked in half. The car was a total wreck, but Heero prevailed with only minor cuts and bruises. He was arrested, spent 30 hours doing community service, and had his license suspended for a year. They cancelled at the eleventh hour with a hoard of unhappy fans in their wake.

In the fifteenth year, it had been Heero - again, unable to attend while recuperating just months after a drug overdose at the same swanky rehab facility in La Jolla he escaped from time and again. The deal was five or none and in the end, there had been none.

This year was going to be the twentieth and in the days approaching, Quatre realized that this year, it was going to be him. Only two days shy of being released from the same rehab facility that had Heero running for the cliffs, he knew it was going to be a long shot. It would be difficult to stay clean once he was out of there. He tended to shy away from support groups. More specifically, he tended to shy away from people.

"I mean, I loved your show. I watched it when I was thirteen and couldn't wait for midnight to watch the uncut version even though it was a school night."

Quatre nodded, paying attention to his unmoving legs, not what was supposed to be the calming, crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean they overlooked. Not too far away, a number of surfers were getting wiped out.

"So will you be at the show's reunion?"

"It's not going to happen without me."

The rule was five or none. The same rule applied every time.

"Look, I even have some pictures saved on my phone. I was so in love with you guys."

Forcing himself to raise his head, Quatre looked at the ever-increasing cell phone screen size shoved a few inches too close to his face. He nodded. Giant robots with teenagers - that was not unexpected. Looking back on it, he felt a bit of nostalgia. They had been fifteen then, young and unknown. Not three years, two seasons and a movie after, it would be the role that defined their careers.

"That brings back memories," Quatre murmured with a hoarse throat. He'd been screaming for a fix this morning. That twentieth year anniversary was never going to happen. "May I ask for some… water?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

At his age, it was inappropriate but that patronization was the price to pay for his inability to look half-decent at that time of day. Twenty years later and he already felt so old. Thinking back on it, those had been better days. He remembered being scouted at his parent's country club by a television producer so fascinated with a boy literally named 'four'. Rumor was it that the whole numbering system on the show had started with him. They kept his real name, of course, which was not always the best of ideas, especially for his now severely broken self-image. But he was not to suffer that alone. They found four others with names that fit that preposterous numbering system. For the show, five of them, along with the main female protagonist, got to use their real names. For at least two of them, it was damaging.

Heero Yuy had been the star of the show. The son of well known Hollywood actors, he came from acting royalty. Naturally, the show had been centered on him. Perhaps it was the pressure of living up to his forbearers or the anxiety of being placed in the spotlight when he didn't want to be that undid him. Not a year after the release of the movie, he had gone on a downward spiral of drugs and alcohol. Typical of a washed-out childhood actor, he became a tabloid favorite. His arrest pictures were plastered and ridiculed all over just as the internet boom was beginning. Only Heero Yuy, the real person, had been damaged then. Heero Yuy, the main protagonist of the show, remained unblemished.

Duo Maxwell had always been the true star. His popularity with all the demographics made one wonder why he wasn't instead made the leading man. A true rags-to-riches story, his upbeat personality and natural charm helped him get along with everyone and not before long; he became everyone's first pick. Years following the end of the show, he received several offers and worked on movies exclusively. His career skyrocketed from there, along with accolades that ranged from most gorgeous man alive to Academy Award winning actor. He'd won it twice. The current buzz was that he'd win his third with his latest project.

Trowa Barton was an enigma. His background story was almost unbelievable. Supposedly having been discovered by his agent at a circus, he already had a burgeoning modeling career by then. The mystery was that no one knew if that really was his real name or whether it was simply his agent's agenda. Even with the dawn of the internet, no one knew where he came from or anything else about him for that matter, but for all intents and purposes, it served him well and his top-notch agent made sure it stayed that way. Unlike Duo, his expertise after the show came in directing but like him, he was an Academy Award winner, one award away from matching Duo's.

Wufei Chang's story was somewhat less remarkable. Coming from a middle class family in Hong Kong, he had less of a background story and spent most of the show to himself. Aside from his marriage at such a tender age, nothing sparked the interest of people. Popularity wise, he was the opposite of Duo, earning him lesser roles in Hollywood. Despite being severely underrated, after the show's end and his return to his homeland, he made several staring roles in action movies, becoming a star in his own right. One couldn't count the number of movies he made in a year. If there was anything Wufei was, it was hard-working and though no awards came his way, he was highly sought with a high-earning career to show for.

Last but not least was Relena, currently going by Relena Maxwell. One would think it was a charity case that Duo would wed the most hated character on the show. Distantly related to a long line of Scandinavian royalty, people might as well call her princess. These days she is no longer the hated girl so insanely - to put it lightly - in love with Heero. These days she is one-half of the power couple that ruled Hollywood. Coming out of her shell, she beat both boys with four well-deserved Academy Awards under her belt. Her hobbies, which are most saintly in character, are third world country charities and carting around three endearing, always well-dressed children that the paparazzi did not fail to photograph.

Quatre Winner. Where was he in all this? That was a story soon to be told.

"How are you doing?"

"Go away."

"Quatre, it's me."

He didn't need to look up much less repeat his previous request. All of a sudden, those surfers in the beach looked more interesting.

"Ah well, time to get this down on the blue bird and tell the fans Duo Maxwell is doing everything in his power to make this happen."

"Don't tweet about me."

It was quiet for a long moment, a long moment he wished that his glass of water would make an appearance before him. His throat was parched and the ocean air that was supposed to relieve his aching throat did none of that. But he digressed. Just take Duo away and it could possibly all be better.

"Here's your water." On cue, Duo offered a clear glass of liquid his way.

"Thanks."

"Just making sure you're up and ready for the reunion is all," Duo reasoned, taking the seat next to him to watch the ocean waves. No doubt he had a house of his own overlooking the Pacific. High-paying jobs made it easy that way.

"I'm not."

"It's been twenty years. We owe it to the fans."

Quatre sipped his water slowly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to talk and it was no less difficult to explain to Duo what his addiction entailed. He didn't get better in one week. This was the type of thing that dragged over time. Going cold turkey was worse than death and only in death would he be pain free, but he held no interest in that.

"Look, Heero's finally okay this year. I don't know what's happening with you, but I was really surprised when the news hit me. You've got no bills to pay, no mouths to feed. All you've got to do is take care of yourself. What happened to you?"

It was a not so subtle dig and Quatre knew that, he knew it the moment he heard Duo's voice coming in to his room to greet him.

"We can't all be pious philanthropists with acting careers to envy and children to dot over."

"Well fuck, I'm going to leave if you start with that whole crap about feeling sorry for yourself. You made your own choices."

"You might as well – leave, I mean."

Quatre motioned to the door while sipping on his glass of water. Soon, he'd need something stronger, something along the lines of 151 proof.

"Jesus, Quatre! You actually have a degree – in Economics, a master's even. Daddy can get you a job anytime in the company and you did work for him for a while. You don't need to stick with the whole acting thing if it isn't getting you any roles. At least you have something to fall back on. The rest of us have to earn where we're at."

There it was again – Duo's resentment of him coming fast and strong, very straightforward and cutting. He had gotten tired of those rags-to-riches vs. rich boy arguments over the years. Most people sided with Duo anyway. It was probably the reason why, after the show, they never really got along.

"Or is this about the stories they write about us? You know that I've got to deal with it too; especially Relena and you know what I mean. But alright, I get it. You're not really making puppy eyes at Trowa every second of the day and he isn't boning you—"

"Get out."

He looked up at Duo for the first time, perching his wobbling glass of water on the thin balcony rail. It was going to fall over, he was sure, and he didn't give a damn. The wind was starting to pick up and that didn't help.

"Fine," Duo said with a huff, an endearing huff most people would swoon over. Quatre was not in the mood for it. "But you better show up at the reunion. I'll have my personal assistant call you the night before."

"Good. Your assistant can call my assistant."

"You hired an assistant?"

"No."

"Then—"

"Exactly."

Duo never took offense to anyone's impolite responses and it was just as well. That was what made him such a likeable character. If there was going to be one out of the five with the best of personalities, it was always going to be Duo, except for that infuriating habit of his comparing each other's lives. It was like a never-ending high school reunion. Unfortunately, one of those ugly reunions was going to happen soon.

It took another ten and a half days. When he returned to his empty condo, he felt glad to be home. Silence truly was a luxury after driving on the freeway for the better part of two hours. The traffic had, surprisingly, not been bad, but the attitude of the LA drivers, however, had been. Letting go of his wheeled suitcase on the foyer, he went straight for the bathroom for a well-deserved shower. The showers kept his mind off what he craved and if that was step one to becoming clean, he would take pleasure in doing it.

He was in the middle of washing the shampoo off his hair when he heard it, the doorbell announcing the arrival of an uninvited guest. He made three guesses, all family members, and in the end, just hoped and crossed his fingers that it wasn't any of his sisters. He didn't have twenty-nine of them - his dearest, still alive mother would never have survived it – but he still did have four of them and four was more than enough.

"I got the dog from your neighbor." The face of Heero Yuy greeted him looking bored and uninterested. Nevertheless, the golden retriever next to Heero jumped up at him and it took all his control to keep the towel on his hips from dislodging. His next door neighbor was an older socialite and it would do no good to mistakenly flash her lest she keep on claiming he'd been seducing her ever since he'd moved in. Noam, his best friend, was definitely happy to see him, using his full height to rest his front paws on his bare shoulder before licking his face all over.

"I missed you too, buddy," Quatre said between chuckles and attempts to dislodge his face from a long, wet tongue. If there was anything he missed about being away, it was this. He rubbed his favorite friend behind his floppy ears, enjoying the warmth and the inexplicable amounts of comfort the animal gave him.

"You have the body of a drug addict."

Just as quickly, that bit of satisfaction ended.

"You would know. Thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"So I got you some groceries," Heero said, revealing a too bright neon green reusable grocery bag on the hand that was not holding on to the dog's leash.

"Please tell me it isn't another one of those fad diets."

"Of course not."

Quatre reached into the bag to retrieve a bottle of vegetable juice with disgust. The next item was a bunch of green vegetables, vegetables he had trouble identifying offhand.

"Kale," Heero said. "It's all the rage these days."

He nodded, took a bite of the leafy item then shrugged. It was fine. He was not averse to salad. Putting it back in the bag, he dug again, finding a bag of grains or something resembling grains. He read the label.

"Quinoa. It's good for you."

"Is this like that açaí berries fad?" he questioned, looking the bag over for instructions. "I don't know how to cook this."

The phone went off then and it was with quick steps that he reached for the contraption, making sure that it wouldn't go straight to voicemail. There was this constant need to let people know he was fine.

"Hello," he said before making a face and then adjusting the towel on his hips. "Yes, I know it's four whole days earlier than what we agreed on. - No, I don't plan on going back today. I just drove back to LA- I know you live only a couple of miles away. I'm sorry I didn't drop by before leaving. - No, please don't tell dad I left early. He'll tell mom then she'll be worried. - I had to, okay. We have this reunion thing I have to go to. - Tomorrow. - Twenty years."

He spent another few minutes listening to her complaints wondering if he should have just blown Duo off and stuck with rehab. The facility had been nice, upscale and right next to the ocean. They gave him sleeping aids, muscle relaxants, that whole Zen exercise thing and a personal aide. True, he had been irritable but he had still been comfortable. But Duo had been right. It had been too long and since Heero was now the picture of health, they might as well have done it now.

"Okay. I love you too. Bye!"

"Sister?" Heero questioned. The front door was closed with the groceries on the kitchen counter. Heero was now lounging lazily on the sofa with his socked feet up. "You sure she won't have someone hunt you down and drag you back to rehab?"

"Feet off the coffee table," he said then, walking to his room to get dressed.

"So Duo managed to convince you," Heero voiced a bit louder given their distance.

"No. Yes. How did you know?"

"Twitter."

There was a sound of irritation followed by silence. Quatre left it at that. There was no use stopping Duo from doing what he wanted.

"So why didn't you visit your sister before coming back?"

He pulled his drawer open and retrieved the first shirt he could find. It was at this time that Noam trotted to the room to join him. Heero's voice was loud, reaching the distance between the living room and his bedroom.

"Her husband thinks I'm gay and you could guess what a bad influence he thinks that would be to their two boys."

Pulling his shirt down quickly cooling skin, he grabbed a pair of boxers next and put them on. The wet towel was tossed on the bed.

"Does your sister know?"

Quatre moved on over to the closet for some jeans and a hooded sweater. His ever present companion licked his hand.

"It doesn't matter. I'm a bad example anyway with the drugs. You can't have the uncle coming to their home looking the way I do."

Heero did not respond to that, but minutes later padded into the room quietly. "You okay?" he asked with a frown that said a million things he wouldn't voice.

Forced to do a quick self-examination, he looked at his hands. They were shaking. It took seconds to realize that it wasn't just his hands. His whole body was shaking and Noam was whining next to him. He really did look that bad and this was supposed to be a good day. He'd just gotten out of rehab a couple of hours ago. It couldn't have been this fast.

"You might want to stay in today," Heero suggested, directing a thumb at the unoccupied bed. "Trust me. It's going to hurt like a bitch."

Sliding down the side of his closet was the best he could do to steel himself as every bit of muscle in his body felt like it was contracting in all the wrong ways. Even his head could not escape the onslaught. He needed it gone stat and the only way was with opiates he currently had no access to. Noam sat next to him, placing his two front paws on his upper thighs. Heero left the room then, coming back a few minutes later with a glass of water.

"Hydration might help," was his recommendation as he put a straw to his lips. "It helped me anyway."

Nodding and partial sips was the only thing he could do by then. It was getting cold quickly but he was sweating and he couldn't help himself from scratching his scalp insistently. All he could think of to keep his mind off what he needed for relief was that it was definitely the right decision to keep away from his nephews.

"Duo can't always get what he wants," Heero voiced, sitting next to him on the carpeted floor. "I'll drive you back to La Jolla if you want."

"Do you have any?" Quatre asked then promptly took it back. "I'm sorry."

Whether he was offended or not, Heero did not give any indication of it. Neither did he offer any of the illegal substances Quatre was seeking. He simply stood up, rubbing the also distressed dog on his head.

"Get to bed," he instructed. "You're not coming tomorrow. I'll call to cancel."

…So much for that twentieth year anniversary.