"Forest of Memories "

Fic #4 in the Following Hearts Arc

Written By: Zazu

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I own the characters. I have borrowed them here for some fun and creativity, and this is not for profit. I do, however, own the plot mentioned here, and any instances that you may find similar to real life events are purely a coincidence.

Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries

Rating: G

Pairings: 1+2+1

Notes: MUCH thanks to ShenLong Deb for beta-ing. I'm so grateful!

The song "Forest of Memories" is sung by an artist named Deep White. The song is sung in Mandarin, and the English interpretation/translation is entirely my own. This is the first of five fics in my Following Hearts Arc. This Arc is meant to depict Duo's point of view regarding his relationship with Heero, and the relationship progresses through the five fics. Each one will feature a different song by Deep White, all from the only CD 'That Someone'.

/blah/ denotes song lyrics.

Summary: Duo reflects on his past with Heero and is determined to move on.

Written: August 24, 2006

"Forest of Memories "

Written in Duo's P.O.V.

I shuffled out of the theater after sitting through some movie that I paid for and didn't really watch. Looking upwards, I see no sky, but the curve of the colony, L3. It's the night cycle, and somehow, even though I grew up on a colony, I'm not accustomed to the fact that I can't see the stars when I look up.

/Tonight’s darkened skies, I cannot see the stars.
Stars I saw just yesterday./

It doesn't take long for me to get my bike and make my way back to my new home. An apartment, completely furnished with a couch and entertainment center, a proper kitchen and a single room and bath, as well as a laundry room and balcony. The bedroom contains a single, twin-sized bed, my clothes and most of my belongings placed into the closet or the bathroom. My laptop sits on the desk, along with my working files to the left. I leave my keys on the hook by the door along with my jacket, then drop my cell phone onto the kitchen table before I get myself a glass of water. I shake my head; I don't even own a house phone. There was simply no need for it.

I'd tried to add some more furnishings to this apartment. I’d really tried. In the past, I'd had no problems making a place feel more like home. But now, I couldn't seem to put up any sort of decoration without thinking of my old home.

My old home shared with Heero.

The few pictures I'd kept, as well as the CDs I'd brought with me when I’d moved to L3, all sat in a box under the bed. That's right, I couldn't even find it in me to listen to music anymore. This entire apartment had been furnished by someone from Preventers, and the state of the art entertainment system that I once would have enjoyed, now served to do no more than show me the morning or evening news, whenever I chose to turn it on.

What? You think I'd leave a high paying job like Preventers just because I broke up with Heero? Don't be unrealistic. I simply asked for a relocation at my own convenience and I took advantage of that, catching a shuttle to L3 after I'd left the beach to pack my clothing and few other belongings and necessities. That had been three months ago and I hadn't been back to Earth since. Several times, I've received emails from Trowa and Quatre, as well as Wufei. Quatre continually inquired about my well-being, while Trowa and Wufei simply tried to keep in touch. I never heard from Heero, nor did I ask of Heero; and they never mentioned him either.

But somehow, even though I've never been to L3 with Heero, I can't help remembering him every time I turn around. Then I realized I remembered him from the daily rituals. I tell myself that it's no different than remembering the other guys. Just like how I would think of Quatre every time I made tea; he'd taught me how to brew something decent and not use teabags. These actions are simply shadows of my past and I just happened to have more shadows with Heero, that's all.

It hurts to think about him. I admit that it does. I admit it took some time, as well as doses of sleeping pills at times to get used to sleeping alone and waking up alone. But after the first month, I'd become increasingly depressed, until I could only remember our petty arguments towards the end of our relationship. The sleeping pills became necessary again, as well as anti-depressants.

/Why do I love you; I thought used to know.
Just that no matter what I can no longer remember./

I told myself that it was a good thing I couldn't remember the good times. It would have been harder if that were all that I remembered. Life became routine in my depression, ranging only from work and home to the occasional movie just so I could sit amongst other humans. I went to the grocery store every Wednesday and jogged around the neighborhood every evening. And each week just repeated itself, over, and over. Despite these routines, despite the fact that I knew my way well around the area, there was no feeling of home in this place. There were no local stores or restaurants that knew me; nor did I know the people. Over and over I'm reminded of how displaced I feel on L3; yet over and over I tell myself that this is my present life.

/These familiar streets, familiar displacement.
Thinking of us, of our very past./

Saturday nights involved my pulling out the box of treasures from under my bed and simply flipping through the various pictures, looking at the CDs and touching, if not wearing, the one shirt from Heero that I had taken possession of. It was a bad idea, a constant reminder of Heero, yet I was so addicted to that ritual that I just couldn't bring myself to throw the shirt away. Call it self-infliction of mental anguish, but every Saturday night I dug up the past I tried to keep buried away, if not forgotten. As I look at the pictures of me and the guys, or just me and Heero, I try to remember how life had felt back then. Certainly, not like this. But then again, I could never decide if I wanted to feel the same vibrant life thrumming through me. For some time, it just didn't feel right to seek that when so much has changed.

/A soundless movie, flashing screen by screen.
Once I had been happy, but who was that, really?/

Then there was that bottle of sand. The other bit of Heero I retained, the sand that I had captured from his shadow the very last time I saw him. The last time I spoke to him, kissed him, and touched him. I leave that in the drawer of the desk, locked up for the most part. Sometimes though, I just take it out and wonder to myself why I kept it. Another action of my depression I guess. It's no longer just sand in there, several times I've thrown the small bottle down in anger, frustration, or just plain weariness. Or perhaps it's disappointment that Heero didn't come to me after our break up and plead with me, tell me he felt he'd made the wrong choice. The bottle now contains fragments of sand, glass from the bottles I've broken, and a bit of my blood as I tried to gather the sand back into the bottles. Perhaps I'll never learn, but every time I throw that bottle down and break it, I would try to gather the sand together, not caring if I cut up my fingers in the process. In the end my head would clear and I'd get myself another container before sweeping up the sand, taking out the larger fragments of glass and just funneling the contents into the new bottle.

"You've fallen into depression." Quatre's eyes are concerned and sad. He likes to call me at work on occasion, where I do have a videophone.

"I know, Quatre," I sighed. "I'm trying."

"Come to L4," he pleaded. "Just for a small vacation."

"No." I shook my head. "Please, Quatre, I'm trying. Let me deal with this myself."

"You've grown thinner, Duo, and there are circles under your eyes. You don't even call me Q anymore-"

"Quatre, I just-" I trailed off and tried to gather myself again. The joker side of me had gone when I'd moved to L3 and most noticeable was my inability to call Quatre, or anyone else, by a nickname. I just didn't want to tie myself to another human with that kind of closeness anymore. "Give me a bit more time."

"It's been three months, Duo. Let me help you."

"How?" I whispered. "Can you make me forget?"

He made a slightly strangled noise before he whispered his answer, "No."

"Then let me try it in my own way," I pleaded quietly.

/I cannot find peace, and I can only continue moving forward.
Until I can forget your faces and expressions./

I don't think I can take this any more. Quatre was right; I'd fallen into depression. I'd thought to myself that I couldn't seek the same vibrant need to live within myself. But why the hell not? I deserve to live. Albeit, I know things will most certainly be different, but I should be determined to do better than I currently am. I didn't survive the streets, the training, or the war to be torn down like this. I'd told Heero before that I'd love no one but him, but even if I couldn't love another human, I could love life; couldn't I?

/How long must I run? Before I decide to let go? To never turn back?
How long must I ache until I understand...that it’s gone?
That there are no more reasons to persist?/

"Heero's not coming back." I grip the bottle of sand in my hand. "And that's all there is to it."

I glanced towards the bed and took a deep breath. Just one more time and that's a promise to myself. I knelt down and pulled the small box out, then opened it.

First, I pulled out Heero's shirt and put it on. His scent has long disappeared, but I can still remember it. Out come the pictures that I flip through slowly. The group pictures, or pictures of me with the other guys, are always placed on top. The ones at the bottom are pictures of Heero and I, or pictures Heero took of me. I read the dates and captions on the back of the photos, but instead of committing them to memory like I usually did, I simply let the words and numbers, as well as the images, slide over my mind. I want this to honestly be the last time that I'll look through this box. Then, I looked over the CDs I used to love, flipping through them and remembering the excitement of buying them, recalling a few memories that went along with some of my favorite tracks.

/I walk the path in a darkened forest, where memories float by soundlessly.
All that was and used to be, simply passes me by.
The broken pieces form a quiet path of past and passing footprints./

At the very bottom, in it's own little box, is a shard of Gundanium. I had melded the two small scraps of Heero's and my own Gundam and kept it in the box. It was oddly shaped, but I didn't care. I let memories of the war float over me, from when Heero and I met, up to when we finally got together. Then, I shoved it back into the box. I hadn't thought of our happy memories in a long time; in fact, sometimes I would lie in bed and just try, but they just wouldn't come to me. Now was not the time to dig them up.

/I cannot find peace, for I’ve endured too much hurt.
Until my entire person has become...empty./

Slowly, I arranged the pictures back into the box, along with my CDs, vowing to myself as I put each item in, one by one, that I would not take them out again until I had completely moved on. I pulled off Heero's shirt and sniffed it, suddenly satisfied that I couldn't even imagine his scent on it anymore. On a whim, I got up and grabbed the anti-depressants I'd been taking, along with the sleeping pills and the bottle of sand. These, I placed on top of the shirt.

/How long must I run? Before I decide to let go? To never turn back?
How long must I ache until I understand...that it’s gone?
That there are no more reasons to persist?/

There will be no more running. Duo Maxwell will learn to live once more. Heero will not come back. There is no longer any reason to look at the physical memories of my past. There is no need to be angry, weary, frustrated, or disappointed. Heero Yuy has moved on without me, and even though I still feel like an empty bottle with an incomplete soul, I too, will move on. I will not be angry with Heero because it was my choice to let him go to Relena without a fight.

/How long must I run? Before I decide to let go? To never turn back?
How long must I ache until I understand...that it’s gone?
That there are no more reasons?/

I shoved the box under the bed after I sealed it. Then I went to the humane society and got myself a collie conveniently named Cue, or Q, as I preferred.

"Just you and me now, Q," I said, petting the dog as I sat on the couch and punched a series of numbers on my cell phone. "I've always wanted a dog."

Q nuzzled my hand.

"You won't leave me, right?" I smiled as the dog surrendered to my touches.

"Duo?" Quatre's voice was concerned if not panicked; it’s the first time I've called him.

"Hey, Quatre." I smiled. "Remember the last time you called me at the office?"

"A week and a half ago," Quatre stated.

"It's done, Quatre," I said. "No more anger, no more dwelling."

"Really?" he asked, his voice full of genuine emotions of relief and surprise.

"No," I admitted. "Right now, I still don't think I will ever love another human-"

Quatre made a noise in his throat, but I didn't let him interrupt.

"But I've started with a dog. A collie, from the humane society."

Quatre smiled; I could hear it in his voice. "It's a start, Duo. I'm glad. Really."

"Thanks, Quatre. My dog's name is Q. C-U-E. But I like it with just the letter Q. I think I chose him partially because his name reminds me of you."

Quatre laughed, genuinely. "I'm really glad, Duo."

"I'll send you pictures, Quatre," I murmured. "But things will be fine."

"Will you visit then?"

I shook my head, not that he could see me. "I've a dog to take care of now. But when the annual vacation comes along, I'll consider coming to see you and Trowa, provided you get me a shuttle that is pet-friendly."

"Consider it done."

I smiled again as Q barked and Quatre chuckled. "You've got mine and Q's agreement. Catch you later, Quatre."

I let Q lick my cheek as I sat down on the ground. Suddenly, life seemed a little brighter, and my shoulders felt a little lighter.

“A new start for the both of us, Q.”

Q simply barked his agreement.

~ * ~

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