"Warheads"

Written By: ExecutiveShrimp

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. Written for pleasure not profit.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Post War, angst, fluff, psychological issues, lemon

Pairings: 2x1

Summary: Duo and Heero try to become more than comrades in their attempt to be normal young men. They settle down but find that peacetime is difficult to adjust to and with only each other to rely on, it is a struggle, especially for Heero.

" Warheads "

Part XXX - Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails

The small space of the office had an unfamiliar feel to it. I had been avoiding the room for fear of drawing Heero into it as well, back to his laptop which currently collected dust on his desk by itself. Looking at the machine was almost painful, because I knew his heart was gathering dust as well. More and more I reconciled with the fact that Heero needed a purpose in his life that could not be met by the grind of household living. Sometimes I even felt guilty, even though it wasn't my fault he wasn't an active agent at the time. But I was the one who had to face the consequences, who had to face the reality. The one to watch him wither away on the couch, watching nature specials with clear disinterest. A lady of leisure he was not.

And neither am I, I thought with a quiet sigh and turned back in my desk chair to face the bookcase. I grabbed handfuls of textbooks by their spines and pulled them from the shelf. Neatly stacking them up on the surface of my own desk. History, English, Colonial Literature and Algebra, amongst others, weighed down on the furniture. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I asked myself inwardly as I pulled the last of the books from their designated spots. With the books gone, the bookcase was left completely empty. With every surface bare and Heero's black laptop becoming grey with layers of dust, the room looked abandoned. Looking around myself, I morosely wondered if it bore any resemblance to the interior of Heero's heart; sheltered and abandoned and only memories too painful to hang on the walls or display on the shelves.

I mindlessly fingered the feathering cardboard cover of "Engineering Basics", my elective class, one hour a week where I could use the skills I had long mastered and excelled in like no one else. One hour a week. Wasted potential. I realized there was a lot of wasted potential sharing this apartment, but I was too afraid to comment on it. My head incessantly reminded my heart that the world, with all it's violence and depravities, needed someone like Heero - and there was no one else like him, to replace him. But my heart stubbornly argued that Heero has given enough, he deserves a life that is his own, rather than a function that served the life of others. Both made a good point, but neither reflected the subtext: that I was too scared to let him go; too scared that if I will, he will not return to me - not in any other form than the way Levelt was returned to his family.

I cursed under my breath. When I promptly decided to quit school, I had no idea it would leave me in such an emotional predicament, struggling with this turmoil of contradicting thoughts and feelings. I guess when I was in school, it was easier to avoid the issue. There was nothing to consider, I was in school, that's what I did, no use contemplating what I should be doing and when my mind would stray to Heero, it was a matter of telling myself to pay attention to the information in the textbooks. Now it wasn't so easy. The textbooks were closed, they would be forever, I hadn't even the slightest intention of going back, but with my eyes and my mind free to roam I was confronted with matters I'd rather just ignore.

Through the thick fog of my own musings, I vaguely registered the sound of the bell ringing via the intercom. Knowing that Heero was in the kitchen and closer to the intercom, I remained seated, lost in thought, waiting for him to answer. But I couldn't dive back into my sea of thoughts, the ringing continued, at it's annoying pitch and kept resurfacing me. I frowned and focused my hearing. I could clearly hear Heero in the kitchen, putting away the dishes we had just washed. I was about to either rise to my feet and answer it myself, or call Heero's name - I hadn't yet decided - when he appeared in the doorway of the office, his expression halfway between blank an uncomfortable, edging more and more towards uncomfortable with each ring of the intercom.

Finally, after refraining himself from biting his lip, he announced dryly: "Someone's at the front door."

I assumed my expression to be somewhere between blank and dumbfounded. "Yeah, so I gathered."

"Aren't you going to answer it?" He asked and I swore he fidgeted.

"Aren't you?"

He vehemently shook his head, looking embarrassed and apologetic.

I offered him a small smile, realizing he didn't want to answer, probably because he wouldn't know what to say and how to interact with whomever was ringing so persistently. "Okay. I'll answer it buddy." I tried not to make a big deal out of it, even though to me it was and to him it should be, getting up from my seat and walking past him. Heero remained where he was, but his eyes were focused intently on me, I could feel his gaze burning holes in my shirt and heating the skin underneath. It seemed he was observing me for future reference, even though I doubted he would ever be willing to face a stranger by himself, even with the safety of the intercom.

As Heero watched, I answered the ringing of the intercom. Before I could even muster a coherent greeting, my whole train of thought was derailed by a loud voice coming through the low quality speaker. The voice said just my name, my full name, in an accusing and dangerous voice and even though it was a tone I wasn't familiar with, I recognized the voice and the accent anywhere and unwittingly greeted with a chipper note: "Hey Sooks."

"I'm here with Aston, buzz us in." She continued in that ominous tone.

"Uh, okay." I briefly glanced over at Heero, who was completely impassive. I pressed another button and through the intercom I could hear the front door of the building buzz and unlock. The line was disconnected and I knew they would be at the door in a matter of seconds, so my gaze swept across the room to ensure it was presentable and landed on Heero. "You don't mind, buddy?"

"I'll just wait in the bedroom." He said monotonously.

"What? No!" I whined childishly and chased after him before he could flee the living space. "Please stay. They're my friends, they're harmless. For the most part." I jested, wrapping my arms around his waist and looking into his eyes.

"They are your friends." He emphasized and he looked away, something sad and pitiful flashing in his blue orbs.

"Please?" I softly begged, holding him to me a little closer. I was about to lean in for a gentle kiss when a determined knock on the door sounded. He gave me the slightest nod, so slight he could later deny ever consenting, should the situation require so. I reluctantly moved away from him - Heero stood nailed to the floorboards - towards the door to open it. Before turning the knob I looked back at him over my shoulders, standing there resembling a pillar of strength, but I knew him to be hollow for the most part, his strength limited to an outer facade that successfully created the illusion of inner strength. But even the slightest crack would expose a dark void inside.

"Hey guys, how are you?" I tried to inquire lightheartedly as my eyes immediately fell on Aston's defeated frame, my gaze lingering on his purple and yellow bruise across his cheek and the clumpy bandages on his earlobes.

Sookie pushed past me and once she had claimed her space in the living room, she started: "Will ya tell me why the hell I just had to hear from Danny's smug lips that ya quit school?"

"Oh." I sputtered, unprepared for her demanding question. I stalled by guiding the more withdrawn character of the two inside and with the four of us just standing in our chosen spots, each with their own thoughts and expressions to match, I realized I still didn't quite know what to say, so I politely offered everyone a drink.

However, before anyone could accept my generosity, Sookie waved her hand at me. "Hellooo? I asked ya a question."

Based on her demeanor, I knew what I should start with. I apologized to her, not for quitting school, but for not telling her. This sincere apology seemed to deflate her anger significantly and even made her shoulders slump. She stared at me for a long time, biting the inside of her cheek, before she finally spoke: "Water would be nice."

I smiled and hurried to get her and Aston a glass of cool, fresh water - Heero wordlessly refused. From the kitchen I could hear Sookie greeting Heero, a sentiment echoed quietly by Aston. I didn't hear Heero.

"Please, sit down." I said, returning to the living room to find everyone where I left them. Aston still by the door, Sookie in the middle of the open space and Heero close to our bedroom. I guided them to the sofa and the big lounge chair. Heero inched closer, but didn't sit down with us. "I really am sorry I didn't tell you Sooks, yesterday was so surreal..." I commented.

"It sure did piss me off hearin' it from Danny. Why did ya quit? I mean, I know what happened, but why did ya quit?"

Aston bowed his head, his hands cupping the cold glass of water.

"It made me realize that I don't really fit there anymore." I couldn't say much more on the matter, Aston didn't know the truth and he never would, but I shared a meaningful look with Sookie that seemed to dawn understanding to her eyes. "And what they did to Aston was cruel. To have them get off with a slap on the wrist changed things for me. Made the entire environment unacceptable. I really couldn't stand it, not even a second longer. What was Danny even doing at school, I thought he had at least been suspended for a week."

Sookie shrugged. "Don't know. He didn't attend classes. Probably just came to gloat. Ya quitin' doesn't bring any justice. Those douchebags think they've won, that they ran ya out."

I chuckled. "No they didn't. They know exactly what happened. But I'm fine with whatever they want to make people believe. They know the truth and it'll gnaw at them."

"What exactly did ya do?" Sookie asked with a mischievous wink.

"Kicked their asses, that's what I did. They asked for it. They had to be put in their place."

"It doesn't stop 'em from still being the biggest assholes in school." Sookie briefly looked at Aston, who seemed to withdraw himself from the conversation. "They may have not run ya off, but they did chase away Hunter. He is gonna transfer to another school because they wouldn't let him play on the basketball team anymore. The coach has nothing against homosexuality, but all riled up by Danny, the entire team petitioned Hunter to leave and when the coach tried to bring him back, those damn kids got their parents involved."

"Oh Jesus. I'm sorry Aston."

The young boy shrugged.

"Are you feeling better?" My eyes were drawn to his bandaged ears.

"I'm fine."

"Are they giving you guys any shit?" I asked protectively.

Aston looked away, his fingers fidgeting with loose threads from his worn jeans. "I haven't been back yet."

"Just the same old." Sookie responded, as the silence in the living room grew to be especially tense and uncomfortable.

I sighed, looking over at Heero who was still idly standing by, pretending not to be listening, his face a disinterested, stone mask. "I wish things would just change. Every time you think it has, things just go back to the way they were."

"Maybe ya could come back sometime and kick their asses in front of everyone. Show those ignorant douches that gay guys are still real men, even by their non-imaginative, straight perception of what a real man should be like." Sookie suggested jokingly. She turned in her seat and said to Heero: "Ya should come too, maybe make out a lil'?"

Heero's lips grew stiff with discomfort and his eyes shifted towards me. The untrained eye would not have seen the blush on his cheeks, but my eyes were experts when it came to the minimalist expressions of Heero's face. I gave him a warm look, hoping it would reassure him.

Suddenly, Sookie admitted with an uncharacteristically soft-spoken voice: "I'll miss ya." And she looked away as if ashamed.

We would still be friends, whether or not we attended classes together or not. She knew that, I did not need to remind her, or assure her. But things would be different, our lives would be different and therefore our friendship might have to shift and evolve as well. So I responded: "I'll miss you as well." We shared a look and even though we didn't waste any more words on the matter, I knew that our eyes made promises to each other, a promise that I intended to keep: to fight for our friendship, no matter what.

I turned to Aston, who seemed to be cowering and shrinking in his seat. With a mild tone I assured him that he need not blame himself for the way things had transpired. Danny, Eduardo and Parker deserved the punishment they received at my hand and I willingly acted out their sentence. Nothing he could have said, would have changed anything and I finished with a smile that I hoped would convince him and ease him of his self-inflicted mental punishment. Furthermore I made both of them promise me to inform me if the threesome started giving them serious trouble, so I could help in, in the most primitive, yet effective manner I knew.

"What are you going to do now?" The blonde boy wondered.

I didn't have the answer to that yet. "I don't know."

"Will you go to another school?"

I chuckled bitterly. "Definitely not. I didn't leave because of them, Aston. I left because of me. I'm getting too old for this shit." I joked with a grin.

"How will you find a good job without a diploma?" Aston's inquiry continued, he sounded genuinely concerned for my well-being, still burdened by the illusion that he was the cause of my current situation.

I shared a brief look with Heero whose steadfast gaze affirmed my notion that achieving a diploma wasn't much more complicated than locating the right database - hacking it posed an ever lesser challenge. I answered carefree: "I'm sure I'll land on my feet. I have certain, unrivaled skills."

Sookie bowed her head and hid a smirk behind her tall glass of water.

Aston just went "oh" and although being the genius that he was, never thought much of it. Looking at his sullen face I pitied him, even though pity never did anyone any good. As a soldier, my instinct is to fight and defend, but the enemy facing him and threatening him was not one I could challenge to a fist-fight. It was that bit of ignorance and selfishness that was once in all of us at one point, only those who dared to open their eyes were ever enlightened. Danny and the others had kept their eyes tightly shut and I didn't know if I - if anyone - could ever open them far enough to see the truth. To see that only thanks to Hunter did they enjoy a long-lasting winning streak on the court, until last Friday. To see that Aston would probably later come to invent or theorize something that they soon could not imagine their life without. To see that Sookie's warmth and care is the most resilient and she will make every person in her life most happy, like only few people truly can.

Not to mention that four of the five young men largely responsible for protecting justice and their very lives, are gay and amongst them. But of course they must never see that.

All I could do was hope, hope that one day things would change. Just like I used to hope that the war would come to a positive end.

Again I looked at Heero and I smiled at him. It would be good to see him bursting free from the restrictive shell of the soldier, but I should never forget what he once risked his life for to achieve. I was one of the few to know, one of the few to be awed. Heero surely never asked for acknowledgement, nor gratitude, he was a true, selfless hero, content with anonymity, but I presumed there would be no harm in reminding him once a while how amazing he was then. And how amazing he is now, for completely different reasons. He wouldn't take the compliment well, no doubt, but like me, he should never forget either.

He quirked an eyebrow at me as my stare had unwittingly grew inappropriately lengthy. I just brightened my smile and adored the confused perplexity across his features.

"I guess we'd better go." Sookie announced, finishing her water. "I promised my grandparents I'd be back to make dinner. Ya both should join us sometime." She suggested, looking at Heero and me.

I didn't think Sookie or Aston could feel it, but I immediately sensed the air became dense, solidifying, becoming rigid as did Heero's entire form, it was a little harder for me to breathe, but I managed. "Maybe someday. We'll see when we are ready." And the air became breathable again.

"Okay." Sookie hugged me and kissed me on my right cheek. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Yer not gonna get rid of me this easy."

"You call quitting school easy?" I challenged playfully.

"Honey, I've had people send me across state borders to get rid of me. Yer lazy ass attempt isn't gonna cut it."

I cast my gaze down. With "people" she meant her parents, not quite the doting type. With that constant twinkle in her eyes and that smile on her full lips, one would never guess she's seen hardship too. I admired her for that. At the same time, something inside me just hurt. How much heartache can a person suffer till that possibility of a smile vanishes forever, like the memory of a skill you no longer posses.

I sighed, my heart was exhausted from aching.

Sookie brushed off her comment and hugged me again before stepping out through the front door.

Aston paused in front of me before he followed her across the threshold. He hesitated momentarily and then looked up at me to say: "Thank you."

"Don't sweat it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But I hope I'll never have to."

He nodded and then he, too, left.

I locked the door behind them. Part of me felt the burden of guilt, for leaving them in a hostile environment. It was like leaving a man behind in the gun-powdered fog of a battlefield. "Fuck." I muttered to the closed door, leaning my forehead against the wooden surface. I turned around and faced Heero, looking at me curiously. "If something happens to them..." I tried to explain.

"Something already did. And you saved him and avenged him." Heero calmly spoke. "If something happens again, you will be there for them again."

I smiled gratefully, even though it only eased my heavy feelings slightly. "Just like old times." I commented, briefly being a willing victim to nostalgia. Heero never left a man behind. The memory of his face lighting up white in the beam of light from the freight train was clear and vivid. I walked up to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. I kissed him on his cheek, enjoying the surprise in his eyes and the vague blush on his cheekbones. "Come on." I said and I guided him towards the office I had been emptying out, "let's go get me a diploma." I sat him down in his desk chair and booted up his laptop. As it hummed to life I had a strange feeling, like more was being booted up than a machine, but I shrugged it off as silly, which it was, which most of my concerns were, though persistent.

It was a simple enough hacking job, I could have done it myself, but I wanted Heero to do it, hoping that it would boost his confidence, after being confronted with so many things he was uncertain about and unfamiliar with.

Heero's fingers quickly found their rhythm ghosting across the keys, his intense eyes fixed on the blue screen with white lettering scrolling by fast. "We have to input some grades." He commented.

I leaned in and smugly said: "Why not make them all A's?"

Heero shot a look at me. "It would be suspicious."

I frowned. "What, like no one ever graduates with just A's."

"You wouldn't." Heero muttered under his breath and he ignored my request, but flattered me by not giving me a grade south of B minus.

Once he finished the list and inputting all of my personal information, I looked the form over. There it was, my high school diploma, attained in less than ten minutes, only an "ENTER" away. If only all of life's goals could be accomplished that easily. I had a knot in my stomach, guilt again, but it was negligible. My eyes traced the information one last time, not because I had no faith in Heero, but because I needed that extra moment. I had never done things the easy way, cheating my way through life taking shortcuts and unjust advantages. But how easy had it honestly been to get here? How much blood have I shed? How many tears? I took in a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do it."

Heero's finger tapped the "ENTER". The computer processed briefly and then the screen went entirely blue, except for a single line of text in the top left corner.

INPUT COMPLETE.

And that was that.

I darkly joked: "Aren't you going to congratulate me on my academic success?"

"Congratulations." He replied dryly. "Regrets?" He added as an after-thought.

"Not about this. Just about the things that led me here."

"The fight you mean?"

"No." I smiled sadly. "Getting in a dark limousine one midnight on L2." I leaned in and pressed my cheek against his. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine. I draped one arm over his shoulder, across his chest, feelings his torso move as he breathed. "Luckily good came out of that too. A lot of good." I tilted my head and kissed him. I chuckled. "How do you think we would have been if we hadn't..."

"I don't believe there is much use in considering the "what if's"." He stated stubbornly.

In spite of his comment, I asked him: "Do you think we would have met if we hadn't become Gundam Pilots?"

"No." He replied adamantly. "We we're living on different colonies. The odds of meeting would have been unfavorable, to say the least."

"Then I take it back. Then I have no regrets, about any of it." I kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, then his full lips. Resisting the urge to deepen the kiss, I teased his lips with mine with just a feather light touch of skin against skin. My hand was at the back of his neck, but I slid it up to bury my long fingers in the softness of chocolate colored hair. I twisted my fingers into the strands and pulled his head back to give me more freedom to claim his mouth. He welcomed my tongue with ever-hesitant, exploring touches of his own. My left hand had been dangling down the side of my body passively, but by then it had taken a strong grip on my loose fitting jeans to prevent myself from guiding that hand down his abdomen for a remake of last night's erotic episode. Even though every fiber of my body yearned to touch him more, truly yearned, wanting it so much that not having it hurt.

Maybe he yearned for my touch as well. He had a hard time sitting still in the chair. His sweaty palms were rubbing back and forth on the armrests and he kept slightly shifting in the seat. But it didn't matter if he, too, experienced yearning. The only thing it would mean was that we would both be denied and we both suffer pain, because a reigning part of me was adamant not to take it further than I had by evolving our lip-lock into a passionate French kiss. My body felt that the most important things in the world right now is sex, but those are hormones whispering false nothings in my ear, I knew. Nothing should be rushed. Nothing should ever make him feel like he had no choice, like I forced him, like he didn't want it himself. Nothing should ever remind him of-

I broke the kiss, suddenly startled by my own thoughts and accompanying image.

"What?" He innocently asked with ill-feigned concern.

"Nothing." I managed. I lifted one corner of my mouth in a quasi smile. I stroked my hand through his hair and placed a final, light kiss on his lips.

The cruel and unusual workings of the world. It seemed I was more bothered by Heero's molestation than he himself was. I blinked a few times to clear away the image of a bulky, horny teen towering over a young and frail, barely recognizable version of Heero. A version that kept returning to my eyes each time I laid them on Heero, his frailty became increasingly apparent to me, to the point that I started to become afraid to touch him, afraid of what would or could be broken. And just when I thought I was looking upon the real him, he would freeze over with something cold and impenetrable and my heart clenches.

I looked in his eyes and saw a defiance that soothed me, even though maybe this defiance best be gone, for him and for me. It was this defiance that kept us immobilized in both the physical space and the space of time. It was comforting to see he was still the same, still himself - it meant he was still strong - but at the same time it placed a heavy burden on my heart making every beat one in duress - it meant he would never be happy with himself.

What a conflict to find yourself in Duo, I told myself later that day, watching what appeared to be an empty shell lying stretched out on the couch with glazed eyes aimed at the television screen. I barely struggled through my own issues of adjusting and changing, how much of a helping hand could I possibly be to him? For a moment it felt like my heart didn't have the strength to beat anymore, with the weight crushing down on it. Love is a burden like wings. It can make you fly, but it's a heavy weight on your back. Someone once whispered that in my young ears. I didn't know what it meant back then.

Now I know all too well.

"Something wrong?"

I blinked at Heero, making contact with his cool eyes underneath his curious frown. I lowered my hand, it had been covering my heart. It started beating again, relieving some of the aching I felt. "Fine." I lied. I just didn't know how to tell him the truth. The truth that being with him was hard on my mind - which already felt impossibly old - and hard on my body - which was young, vital and did not share any of my heart's concerns.

When we went to bed, the closeness of our bodies I only interpreted as a snide remark to the distance between our spirits. Heero succumbed to sleep quickly, the ease with which his consciousness could depart his body always made me jealous as I spent nights tossing and turning, fighting with myself. Certain he was asleep as the alarm clock just read 02:00, one of my arms snaked towards him, slipping under his sheets. As always he was turned away from me and my hand found his back, covered with the thin grey fabric of my borrowed TAMPA high shirt. I wouldn't be needing it anymore, but I'd be damned to give it back, I enjoyed it far too much to see him wearing clothing of mine.

I splayed my hand against his back, the tips of my fingers slightly moving, feeling the soft cotton and absorbing the warmth underneath. My hand trailed down, down to the hem of the shirt, I was touching his ass, lightly and had to refrain myself. I brought my hand back up, but close to his body, so on it's way up it would slip under his shirt and run across smooth skin and the slight bumps of his spine. I kept my hand to his body, not moving it, just enjoying the feel of his torso as his ribcage moved with each sustaining breath. I could even feel the beat of his heart underneath my palm. It lulled me to sleep, but not before I allowed myself to fantasize.

In this fantasy we shared a double bed, a real double bed, we were spooning against each other and we were both naked, presumably because we just had satisfying sex. I was breathing in the scent of his hair as my hand lazily caressed his chest, sometimes brushing a nipple, but with no intent. The fantasy wasn't about sex, it was about feeling comfortable with each other, about closeness. About lying together and touching intimately and just have it be an extension of your state of minds. Unison in body and in soul, trust in an unwavering stability, void of unbearable memories and inexperienced social behavior.

When I woke up, my hand was laying on a cold and empty mattress, hardly the closeness I craved. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was long past the hour I usually parted with my bed, but I realized I had no interest, much less motivation, to get up and leave the warmth and comfort of the sheets and my perfectly fluffed pillow. With no school to rush off to, I gave in to the fact that I felt so very tired, my eyelids drooping. I briefly struggled to keep them open, but I was overpowered. They slid closed. When I forced them open again it had seemed like only a second had passed, like I had only blinked, but the alarm clock told a different story. It was almost noon. I argued with myself that I deserved a day to rest and surprisingly I was able to find sleep yet again, shortly after that.

I woke up a third time that day to Heero's face, very close to my own. He seemed a little surprised and embarrassed when I suddenly opened my eyes and stared into his. After a few moments of just looking at me with his mouth agape, he asked: "Are you ill?"

"Just tired." And I enforced my point with a particularly tired smile.

"Shouldn't you eat?"

"I'm not hungry. Just tired."

"You'll disturb your natural rhythm." He pointed out dryly, masking his concern in a way that may have fooled anyone other than me.

I grinned. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

He frowned his adorable frown, admittedly I wasn't making much sense. He left me alone and soon I slept again. I don't think the tiredness was sudden, I think it has been lurking in my subconscious for a long time, maybe since the war ended, maybe since the war started, maybe since I got into that black sedan or maybe since I watched the orphanage burn down, the flames reflected in my welled up eyes. I cashed in on sick days I had never gotten, trying to regroup myself. Hoping dreams would bring answers to my questions, but they were all surreal and incoherent. The most memorable of which was not even an event, experience, or a sight, just a feeling that I was impossibly small, dwarfed by something impossibly big.

Heero surprised me pleasantly. He took care of me. He came with offerings of food and water. He wouldn't wake me up, he'd just sit on his own side of the bed, cross-legged and sometimes I woke up to him watching me and he'd promptly offer me a piece of fruit, a sip of coffee, or tea and sometimes placed a cool washcloth over my forehead, opening up the possibility to me that I might have a fever, but I didn't register it. He was confused by my behavior, I could see the questions in his eyes. It was painful looking at them, it left me with a guilty feeling, a feeling of letting him down, of disappointing him. But the best thing I could do about that at that time was close my eyes to his aching gaze. I wasn't ready to wake up yet. There were things I hadn't decided yet, things I preferred to know before I'd venture back into life.

Like, what the fuck was I going to do with my life? Who was Duo when he wasn't a soldier and wasn't a student? My mind trailed back to the purposeless life I led on the streets when I was an unrecognizable young child, my braid a mere ponytail reaching no farther down than that bump of my spine low on my neck. I didn't want to return to an aimless existence like that, I had promised someone important that I wouldn't.

I just couldn't see myself grinding away life behind a desk, performing some mediocre job that was in the realms of possibility for any mortal soul. My ego valued me higher than that. But what else was out there for an "eighteen year old" with a "high school diploma", with an "uneventful youth on L2", who is supposed to have no more extraordinary skills than the next post-high school kid? Who is supposed to have no more combat experience than level 23 of "DEF CON 2" and no more strategic insight than a ten-win-streak on "IN COMMAND: strategic warfare". All my skills and life experiences rendered moot because I wasn't supposed to have them beyond the two-dimensional world of a computer screen.

I sighed and opened my eyes. I didn't even know what day it was, but I knew the rest of my life was waiting for me and getting impatient with my second guessing. Whoever would have expected me to be such a cry baby about it? "Shut up and do it, boy." G barked at me on the precipice of completion of my very first mission, the ear piece crackling as his loud voice came through. "We didn't spend all that money on you to have you chicken out!" That voice said in my ear and even though he was miles away and I could have disappeared forever and he would have never found me, that night a fifteen year old boy, stricken with tears, shot a man - a father, a brother, a son, who knew? - between the eyes.

And here I fooled myself into thinking I was so much different from Heero. The greatest deceit. The part of us that is repulsed by what we are, is equaled by the part that knows it's who we are supposed to be.

I turned over on my back and spread out my arms. The room was hot and humid, outside the sun was shining brightly and even the thick curtains were defenseless. The door was closed so the bedroom could not benefit from the air-conditioning in the living room. My thin white tank top stuck to my chest and my back and my braid, a disheveled mess, felt heavy and hot across my bicep. My ears perked when I heard the front door open and someone entered the apartment. I was tense only briefly. However strange it may sound, Heero's footsteps were instantly familiar to me, even when he doesn't limp. He has this confidant, strong walk, I always liked to compare it to an advancing tank, formidable and unstoppable. Even in these times that were so strange and alien to him, he had never lost that gait. I think it's a "wounded gazelle" kind of thing, an animal of prey, like a gazelle, tries to hide any evidence of it being wounded or sick as good as it can, or otherwise it would make itself vulnerable to attack from a predator, which are always lurking.

Less than a week out of school, almost all of it spent unconscious in bed, and I already had seen too many nature specials.

The bedroom door open, fresh air drafted in.

He definitely looked wounded. His forehead was scarred with a deep, tired and confused frown, his eyes were dark and heavy lidded, unreadable pools of cobalt blue. His shoulders looked weak and slumped but his fist was gripping the doorknob like he was strangling any possibility of life out of the inanimate object. Suddenly he became aware of my eyes on him and the animal of prey hid his weakness behind a stone facade that expressed with mild surprise: "You're awake."

"Barely." I frowned, concerned what may have happed while I was out. "Do you want me to get up?" I asked, and I hope that he understood that I meant: "Do you need my help with anything?"

"No." He shook his head, but his bangs didn't move, they were plastered to his forehead, it must be really hot and humid outside. "In fact, I want to lay down."

"Join me." I invited and removed my spread out arm from his bed, knowing that he might feel uncomfortable otherwise.

Heero sat down on the edge and toed off his shoes. He relaxed his shoulders and rolled his neck before laying down, it helped with cramping of the muscles around his previously dislocated shoulder, that would start to bother him if he lay on it too much. He settled on his back, kicking the sheets away. Luckily he had kept the door open, so some cool and dry air seeped in and offered some relief from the near tropical climate in the bedroom.

"Did it help?" He asked, his voice soft and breathy.

I looked over, his eyes were closed, his mouth was slightly open. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat that enhanced the golden tone of his complexion. "Did what help?" I asked in return, my overly concerned mind battled the carefree desires of my body.

"Sleeping for three days straight."

"Oh... No. I don't think so."

"Damn." He muttered. "Does anything help?"

"With what?"

"With... life."

"Nope... Only one thing you can do and that is live it and hope for the best." I replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

"Than why have you been hiding out in here?" He shot back and sounded accusing.

I shrugged. "I'm not perfect Heero. I don't have all the answers, you know that. Sometimes I hit a brick wall, just like you and I'm stuck and can't figure out what to do." I looked at him and caught him staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

"Who do you go to to help you figure it out?" He asked in a tone that implied he already knew the answer.

No one, I had no one to turn to, not really. That's messed up, I realized. The blind leading the blind. I was leading Heero, but who was leading me?

"So what can't you figure out?" He asked after a long silence.

I smiled at his endearing, possibly unintentional attempt to help. "What I'm going to do with my life..."

His frown intensified. "I thought you were happy with your decision."

"I am. I just hadn't completely thought out my plan."

He snorted, but it was amused. "That seems to be a recurring problem with you."

I rolled over onto my side to face him with a stupid grin. "Heero Yuy. Did you just now crack a joke?" I teased and poked him in the side. Ah yes, I remember now, we are teenagers somewhere inside.

"No." He said stubbornly.

"I'm quite certain that you did."

"I didn't." He said but he struggled with a chuckle that made it past his lips halfway.

I laughed, but it died out as I saw the merit vacating Heero's eyes.

"Nettle wants me to visit Levelt's grave." Heero suddenly said and he seemed to deflate.

I was momentarily stunned, the change of subject and mood had caught me completely off guard and my tongue struggled mutely for an embarrassing expanse of time. When I found my composure I managed: "You went to see Nettle today?"

"Yes. It's Friday."

Oh, right. I propped my head up on my arm to look at his face. He looked like he too could use a day or three of sleep. But he didn't just look tired, he looked tired of something, of himself I think, of these emotions that he just couldn't seem to master and maybe never would, not nearly as much as he desired. "Why does she want you to visit his grave?"

"I don't know." He replied in an agitated tone. "I don't get anything she does or wants me to do."

"Do you want to visit his grave?"

"No." The answer was quick an adamant.

"Maybe that's why. Because you feel so strongly about not going." I offered carefully.

"I see no use in visiting a grave. What good does it do Levelt to have me visit his body?" He questioned with an arch of his eyebrow as he stubbornly folded his arms across his chest.

"Well..." I started, delaying to map out my words, "if there is one thing that I learned when I was a young kid at the orphanage adjacent to the graveyard is that people don't visit the dead for the sake of the dead. They do it for themselves. You are right, it's not going to matter to Levelt, but it could matter to you. And obviously Nettle wants you to go for you, not for Levelt."

"That is selfish." He argued.

"Maybe. But maybe you deserve to be a little bit selfish. I think with saving the world twice and all it won't bring your Karma out of balance."

"You want me to go." He stated, narrowing his eyes at me.

I did, I was curious how it would affect him, I hoped positively. But I didn't admit to that. "I want you to do what you want to do." That was not a lie.

"I'll think about it."

And that was that.

I wanted to close the distance between us and kiss him, for no good reason other than the fact that I loved him more than I imagined possible, but I suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that I had not showered nor brushed my teeth in three days, so close proximity was probably not particularly desirable for the progress of intimacy in our relationship.

I finally got out of bed. Life continued and I was determined to stink less as it did.

The cold water from the showerhead washed my body clean but not my mind. I indulged in dirty thoughts that no matter how low I turned the temperature, could not be subdued. Lust was driving me insane, sometimes I was afraid the lust would grow so powerful that it would even overshadow the love and it might let me do something that love would never let me do. I pushed away any sense of guilt to the best of my abilities and at the same time focused my efforts on keeping quiet as I masturbated under the cold spray of water. I leaned my arm and forehead against the tiled wall as I neared climax. I bit my lip as I brought completion to my sin. Yes, my sin, that's what it felt like. That's what it feels like when you fantasize about having sex with your boyfriend when he has been violated and abused.

Was our life always this fucked up and did I only just come to realize it?

I gave my body a final wash and aimed the showerhead at the wall to clean off the mess I had made.

Over dinner I must have been sulking, because Heero kept staring at me. Our meal was - as is often the case - brought to us in cardboard boxes, but for once we decided not to consume it in front of the television, but rather at our diner table, supposedly to create some normalcy. I struggled with the chopsticks more than I usually did, it was difficult to focus and control my fingers with Heero's gaze assaulting me, it was like a laser trained on my forehead, trying to gain entry to my brain and spill all it's thoughts out over the table for him to dissect and understand.

I looked down at my mu shu pork and suddenly lost my appetite. It seemed my mind could not only provide detailed visuals to my more erotic fantasies, but to the more gruesome ones as well. I stuck my chopsticks in the food like a flag post and pushed the box away from me.

Heero, still studying me, raised an eyebrow. As time had progressed he had learned to read me increasingly well and though it was cause for hope, I also grew to realize the disadvantages of this newly acquired understanding of my behavior, mannerisms and facial expressions. So he noted with a scrutinizing gaze: "You haven't had a decent meal in three days, yet you're already done with it?"

"Didn't burn much energy, so I don't need to replenish much." He didn't fall for that, of course, we had spent too much time together of the course of several years that seemed long one moment and short the other. He knew I never passed up on the opportunity of food. So before he could shoot his next, skeptical question, or bomb me with a dry remark, I confessed: "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"Like..." I sighed. "It's not important."

He looked down at his own meal and picked at it with his chopsticks without any clear intent to eat any particular piece of stir fried vegetable. "Important enough to thrash around in bed for three days." He mumbled to his chap choi.

"It's just complicated." I rubbed my eyes with my palms, I didn't want to talk about it because I didn't want to think about it. I told him that, hoping he would understand and drop the subject.

He snapped his head up to look at me. His eyes were openly bewildered and then narrowed to glare my way in anger.

Without him even saying anything, I realized my own hypocrisy. After all, the past few months both I and Nettle have been forcing Heero to talk about the things he didn't even want to remember, arguing that it could possibly do him good, which I still believed. I was being unfair and unreasonable. Didn't I just say to myself how much more alike Heero and I are than I previously thought? Why should different rules apply to him as opposed to me? What was good for him, surely would be good for me. The same logic applied. "I'm sorry." I said. "You're right, it's not fair of me to deal with this in secrecy. We we're going to share things."

His eyes softened slightly at my genuine apology.

"It just hit me..." I tried to explain, my hands making meaningless gestures above the surface of the table. "I don't know where to go from here."

"You could join the Preventers."

I blinked at him. I knew him better than to dare to think he was making a joke - two in one day would be especially unlikely - but I naively hoped he wasn't being serious.

Heero caught my stare an interpreted it as intended. "You don't have to become a field agent." He explained. "The Preventer agency offers lots of positions. I don't presume you'd have any trouble applying for a function within the agency." He looked up at me pointedly. "You have excellent credentials."

I sighed. Though I dreaded molding myself into a uniform that, no matter which way you put it, was associated with violence - however necessary for the maintenance of peace - Heero's point was indisputable. Only when applying at the Preventer agency could I list "co-savior of the world" on my résumé. But did I really want that? Wasn't this new life about leaving the old one behind, shedding it like an old skin that had lost it's purpose? I scoffed inwardly, my options were limited in the most pessimistic sense of the word. What kind of job offers are available with a young man my - fake - age with just a - fake - high school diploma and no official experience in any field?

Still, the thought of being lured back... scared me.

"No." I said and I shook my head determinedly, even though I wasn't nearly as certain as I tried to portray. "But I take it this means you've been looking into alternative options?" I inquired hopefully.

"I talked with Une briefly. She expressed willingness to place me in any position I desired."

I chuckled.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"You make it sound like she made some sort of perverse sexual offer." I explained sniffling.

"You know what I mean." He retorted, annoyed.

"Yes, I'm sorry." I picked up a single chopstick and stirred my dinner but my appetite could not be salvaged. I couldn't swallow any food with that lump stuck in my throat. "So... is there a position you have your eye on?"

"I'm not sure yet." He chewed the inside of his cheek and cast his gaze to the side, away from my face. "Wouldn't it be selfish to do anything other than what I do best?"

"There are more things you are the best at, Heero." I said softly, reaching out for his hand but he pulled it out of my reach. "You are also the best hacker... The best mechanic..."

He looked at me sharply and something lit up in his eyes. "Really?" He asked and he seemed to be hiding a self-satisfied smirk.

I chuckled. "Yeah."

"I never would have expected you to say that." He admittedly candidly and shyly looked away, almost bashful? No, I must be imagining things.

"Well, I've never known any other guys to repair a completely fucked up mobile suit in a single night, all by himself. I could argue the morality of your methods..." I trailed off and grinned at him. "Not the best pilot though." I continued to tease. "You lucked out with Wing's stiff controls, you would have crashed Deathscythe with those lead feet and jerky moves of yours." For a moment I feared he would take it the wrong way, take it as unnecessary criticism, that he might be upset and feel offended. That moment passed quickly.

He smiled. It was playful and mischievous and brightened as he retorted: "And how many times did my lead feet and jerky moves save you from catastrophically failing your mission?"

"More than I care to remember." I stuck my tongue out at him.

He molded his face back into something more serious and restrained, but his eyes were still beaming.

All of a sudden I imagined myself laying down in one of the many horrible bunk beds we had shared. Top bunk of course, because Heero never put up much of a fight for it. And staring at the ceiling, chest still heaving, body still pumped full of adrenaline, I'd talk to him. Blabber more like it. Vividly describing explosions and evasive maneuvers, even though he had been there himself and had witnessed everything with his own eyes. I guess sometimes it just seem like he didn't see it, because it never appeared to affect his calm facade much. I didn't know any better back then.

Usually the conversation was one-sided, I talked and he listened, or not. Only when my story strayed from truth into the awesomely spectacular and unrealistic, would he prove to me I actually had his undivided attention, with a cynical snort. And sometimes I would argue with him - however fully aware of my own lie, or rather "tweaking of the truth": "What? I totally did that!" "You can't take credit for that. You stumbled. It was mere luck you stumbled right when that soldier was going to shoot you from behind." And I would tease something along the lines of: "Was it?"

Strange how, in hindsight, things appear so much more idyllic than they were. We did horrible things but I was... happy. Not about what we did per se, but simply the fact that we were making a difference and the means were justified by the end. That feeling that you had a purpose, one that no one else could fulfill, even though no one ever told you so; you were irreplaceable. That was a shamefully great feeling. I imagine Heero tried to hold on to that feeling by volunteering for an active position in the field as a special agent. I wondered what I would do to try to recapture that feeling.

Later that night we crawled into bed and I shut off the light. Neither one of us had spoken much beyond the necessary since dinner, we were both caught up in our own musings. I couldn't sleep. Not surprising, I had been sleeping for three days after all. My mind had rested so much, it started doing overtime and seemed to try to cramp three days of thoughts into one night. Strings of thoughts mingling, becoming one, no end to one, no start to another. Just endless chatter of voice I didn't recognize, despite the fact they were echoes of my own. It was so overwhelming they started screaming at other and the volume kept building. I managed to decipher them.

"You're a soldier it's in your blood!"

"It's what you did not who you are!"

"What if something happens that you could have prevented?"

"You don't want to dive into that pit of snakes again!"

"You helped start this peace, now you must help maintain it!"

"You've done enough, this peace is yours to enjoy!"

"What else can you possibly do with your life?"

"Think about Heero, you have to protect him from this!"

Everything went quiet abruptly when Heero softly called out my name.

I reveled the silence momentarily and then responded: "Yeah?"

"I want to go to Levelt's grave." He said hesitantly, like he already started to regret his decision.

I wondered what the voices in his head had been screaming at him. All I could say was: "Okay."

"You'll go with me?" His voice sounded so vulnerable and alone in the dark.

"Of course." I breathed, still reeling from all the activity in my head that had been cut short.

"Thank you." And with that the awkward exchange came to an end.

It was silent for a little while longer and then murmurs became audible.

"This is a good sign..."

"He's not ready..."

"Maybe he'll finally show some real emotions..."

"He's going to disappoint you..."

"He could pleasantly surprise you..."

"He won't be able to show you what you need to see..."

"Maybe he'll finally be able to let everything go and open up enough to cry..."

"He can't cry, you're wasting your time..."

I stared up at the ceiling and kept staring through the entire night, finally witnessing the sunrise through the curtains. I got out of bed as soon as the room turned light and savored a cup of dark, black coffee sitting in the windowsill of the bay window in the living room. When I felt I had regained some energy that had been drained out of me during the restless night, I got dressed in plain jeans and a faded T-shirt to go on my routine bagel run. The bakery lady responded to my quiet in kind, only offering slight smiles in hopes of cheering me up, but I wasn't really present, just going through the motions. My mind was several hours ahead of me, trying to imagine myself and Heero on the grass field of the Preventer graveyard. Trying to imagine him standing in front of the headstone. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't see his face in any of my fantasies.

Upon returning to the apartment I could clearly hear the shower running and the water occasionally hitting the tiled wall as Heero moved under the spray. I prepared our breakfast leisurely, still preoccupied with my own thoughts. I had certain expectations of that visit to Levelt's grave that I knew I'd better shed, to save myself from disappointment. I didn't know how to express it sympathetically and in a way that might make sense in some way, but I wanted him to cry. I needed to see it. I needed to know he was capable of it. I needed to know that I wasn't fighting for something that Heero was fighting against.

His words from another night still echoed through my head: "I wish I was just dead inside, like I used to be!"

I was startled by Heero's presence which was suddenly very close to me, it was like he had just magically appeared by my side. I jumped and I would have dropped the knife with peanut butter to the floor if Heero's lighting reflexes hadn't enabled him to catch it in freefall. His eyes were apologetic as I looked at them.

"I didn't hear you coming." I explained sheepishly and somewhat out of breath. I looked him up and down. "You look nice." I noted. He was wearing his black Preventer slacks, paired with a fitting black button-up shirt. Although the occasion for the attire was grim I couldn't help but admire the way he looked, dressed in all black. It accentuated the elegance and slim, lean build of his body. His legs were so long and his waist so narrow. I might have envied his physique to shameful extent had he not been my boyfriend, which just made me proud and giddy, like I suppose one should feel regarding their boyfriend. Life would be so awesome if we were regular teens, I mused and I could just touch that body whenever I felt like it and show him off to others.

Heero cocked his head to the side. I had been staring inappropriately long.

"Really nice." I added and smiled at him.

"Black seemed most appropriate." He said, looking down at himself, already starting to second guess himself.

"You're right." I tried to assure him. "It's respectful." I looked down at my worn jeans and shirt that had once been red but not so much anymore. "I wasn't planning on wearing this. I just threw this on..." I tried to explain, making nervous gestures with my hands.

He nodded and accepted his breakfast from me. The bagel with the extra generous amount of peanut butter.

I wolfed mine down, realizing he might have planned to go early and I would be delaying him. "I'll go change." I said with my mouth full with the last bite. I rushed into the bedroom and ripped the closet doors open. I had no shortage of black clothes, yet most of it wasn't suitable for a trip to a graveyard. Most of my black pants were dyed jeans, some even with rips in decidedly inappropriate places, but I managed to find a decent pair of slacks. When I put them on I discovered the legs were a tad too short, considering how much I had grown lately, but nothing that couldn't be temporarily solved with black socks. I picked out a black button up shirt much like the one Heero was wearing, so to prevent us looking like outfit-coordinated twins, I paired it with a neat black jacket, which the heat of the sun would later make me regret.

Properly groomed I stepped out of the bedroom and suggested we'd go. Heero just nodded.

Outside the rays of the sun were beating down on us and all the heat got trapped in the black fabric of our clothes, but neither one of us complained. We took our time heading towards the train station, I adopted an extremely low pace, pretending it was for my own benefit, arguing that physical strain would cause embarrassing sweat stains, of course in reality it was all a thinly veiled attempt to have Heero and his busted up knee take it slow.

Once we arrived at the station I made a slight detour from our projected path to the familiar platform. I stopped at a little flower shop inside the underground station and - still shamefully using Heero's Preventer money - purchased a bouquet of white flowers, mostly lilies and roses. I gave it to Heero whose confused look intensified by tenfold.

"It's for Levelt." I told him and guided him towards the platform with a gentle touch to his shoulder.

"He's dead." Heero dryly stated.

"Well, yeah, I got that. It's tradition to bring the deceased flowers when you visit their graves. It's to show them and other visitors that they were loved."

"I didn't love him." Heero snorted as we sat down on a bench to wait for the train.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Okay, cared for then."

With that he didn't argue, so I guess that meant something. He looked at the flowers that lay delicate in his lap. Sometimes the plastic wrapping rustled from the strong draft traveling through the tunnels. I watched his fingers touch one of the petals of the lily softly, he seemed pensive and withdrawn.

"Having seconds thoughts about going?"

"Yes." He said bluntly, but he remained seated and didn't get up until an electronic voice announced the nearing arrival of the train.

We waited at the edge of the platform where the pavement stones were painted green, the doors lined up with the green stones as the train came to a half at the platform and we boarded quickly, picking forward facing seats near the door to make for an equally speedy exit.

Heero surprised me when halfway into the journey he asked as he kept his eyes firmly on the scenery outside: "Have you done this often?"

I think I knew what he was asking me, but because we could both be dense from time to time, I verified: "Visiting a graveyard?"

He nodded, frugal with words.

"Yeah. I used to live next to one." I chuckled, it was a nervous chuckle, out of place, but I couldn't stop it. "I had hundreds of neighbors and they were all dead." I bit my lip. Stupid, insensitive joke, I berated myself. "But... I only visited the grave of one person I actually knew in life. We buried him in a vacant lot on L2... we didn't... you know... have money for anything else... I visited him a lot. Till the lot was sold and they built a huge apartment complex. They found his body during construction and brought it to the local cemetery for cremation. Then he became one of the John Doe's, the cemetery had a special corner for those. Lot's of John Doe's on L2 those days."

"Why didn't you identify him?"

I sported a wry smile. "Local police handled identification after the fact. And uh... I was quite sought after by the local police... couldn't just walk in there to tell them his name. Besides, they don't really care, we had carved his name into a brick and had placed it over his grave in the lot. They just ignored that and registered him as a John Doe."

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely and made heartfelt eye contact.

I smiled. "Thank you."

The train halted and we got off. We took our time strolling down the winding path towards the stretching graveyard. Heero, uniquely, made no objections, I presume he was stalling.

At the entry of the field we stopped and just let our eyes trail the slopes dotted with identical headstones. The occasional large oak stood guard, leaves frolicking in the wind. "It's a nice place to rest." I commented.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I took his hand in mine and gave it a firm squeeze. "Come on, let's go, I know where he is." It took a gentle tug to get him to step out onto the grass with me. He followed me as I guided us to the right headstone by memory, trying to ignore the graves we passed. As we neared it I already recognized it without being able to read the script. Being a fresher grave the grass had not fully grown over it and of all the graves in that particular section of headstones, it had by far the most flowers, all fresh, unlike some other graves, where the flowers were as dead as the recipients.

"There he is." I said, stopping a few yards short of it and I pointed at it to clarify. With a final, reassuring squeeze I let go of his hand, it was sweaty.

He took a step forward, then stopped and looked back at me. "You're not coming with me?"

"I'll be right here."

He looked hesitant, fearful almost, but regardless he carried on without me, stepping up to the colorfully decorated grave.

SPECIAL AGENT A. LEVELT, I could read at a distance, including the subtext: "It is a blessing to die for a cause, because you can so easily die for nothing". A quote from a pre-colonial author, I knew, but his name had been lost on me even though I'm sure it had been included in the curriculum. What a farce, I chastised cynically, what a patriotic farce. During every battle I ever fought, be it from within the cockpit of my Gundam, be it with my own bare fists, there was only one thing I remember thinking, saying it to myself over and over: I want to die old and peaceful in my bed. Certainly Levelt too would have preferred that anonymous faith to a bullet through his frontal lobe. I pushed away my own thoughts and focused on Heero. I felt a little guilty for approaching this situation like some sort of social experiment, but I was curious, I guess some things a guy just needs to know.

Heero quietly looked at the grave at his feet, the bouquet of flowers cradled in his arms. He looked back at me over his shoulder. "According to you logic, he was well loved." He observed.

I looked past him at all the flowers, many of them were bright arrangements, cheerful, almost too cheerful. A recurring flower was the sunflower, I doubted a man like Levelt had a favorite flower, it was more likely his mother's preference. Every single bouquet was placed delicately, like the collection of bouquets was as carefully arranged as each individual. "Yes." I retorted. "He was. Give him the flowers." I encouraged.

Heero looked back at the colorful assembly and then at the bouquet in his arms. "They will look out of place."

"It doesn't matter. They are your gift to him."

He sighed, annoyed. "I still don't understand what good it can do. He can't see them."

"His mother can. When she comes to visit him, she will see them and she will be happy that someone else has come to honor her son."

He frowned and looked back at the grave again. I had expected him to make more objections, but he didn't. For a few moments nothing happened, he just stood there, letting the wind play with his hair and pull his clothes taut against his body. I thought maybe nothing was going to happen, when he shattered the frozen moment by kneeling at the grave and - with what seemed to be careful thought - placed the bouquet of white flowers amidst the others. He lingered, almost so briefly one could not tell he lingered at all, then he got up. Heero stared at the headstone a little while longer, perhaps studying the inscription, perhaps criticizing it, like I had, perhaps longingly agreeing with it. I could hardly read his face on good days, let alone the back of his head.

He flicked his gaze over his shoulder at me, peering at me through the corners of his eyes. "Should I say something?"

"You could, but you don't have to. Whatever you want."

"Want" is a word that still confused and frightened him, something he had such a weak grasp on he might as well claim to have caught the wind in his bare hands. "Want" is a fleeting, shifting concept to him, that is never truly definable. "Want" is something he has had to deny, disregarding how much he longed, craved, yearned. "Want" has been blacked out and between the other blacked out lines someone has scribbled "You want to fight in this war" and now he faced the impossible matter of trying to read through the layers of dark ink to try to make sense of the original writing.

So I was not surprised when he retorted moments later: "What should I say?"

At the very least I presumed we could establish that he had somehow decided he wanted to say something, as opposed to not saying anything. "Anything."

He looked back at me again. "Should I discuss the mission with him?"

I smiled sadly and faintly shook my head. "Maybe not anything." I spoke softly, unabrasively. I couldn't well have him point out Levelt's faults which had caused the mission to go awry in some sort of strange debriefing. He was dead, I knew he wouldn't hear, I knew he wouldn't find out, I knew he wouldn't take offense, but exactly because he was dead I felt uncomfortable with it. You can't accuse someone who can't defend himself.

"What then?" He urged.

I was a bit taken aback. I tried to blame it all on lack of confidence and lack of expertise, but the mechanical way with which he approached this situation disconcerted me. Had I really expected him to cry? Had I really expected to see something honest and heartfelt? Looking at him now, it seemed so silly and naive to have ever hold such hopes or expectations. He was looking back at me impatiently, annoyed with my lack of helpful guidance.

Unbeknownst to him, I needed help too. I needed help to save my hope from drowning.

He turned away from me, realizing I had nothing to offer him. I think he managed to find words on his own, I think he said something, but I couldn't make out what. The wind carried only incoherent mumbles my way. Whatever he said, it wasn't much, he was done quickly and walked back to me. He frowned and said: "I don't feel any different."

I sighed, not knowing what to say. I guess we had both hoped he would.

"I don't understand why Nettle would send me here, if it wasn't going to make a difference."

"I don't know either." I touched my hand to his shoulder slightly to guide him back. I felt so tired again all of a sudden, like I could sleep for three more days.

We found our way back to the cobble stone path and followed it to the train station. Neither of us said a word.

Waiting on a bench on the platform I cocked my head to look up at the looming glass tower of the Preventer agency. A building so tall and proud, a city in and of itself, but a city filled with dark secrets and even darker sacrifices. I caught Heero looking at me. I had expected him to pretend he wasn't, to look away, but he kept his intense eyes fixed on my face, scrutinizing it, trying to draw clues from my features. With a frown he wondered: "Are you thinking about joining?"

I looked back at the building. "The Preventers?" I verified.

He nodded.

"Actually, I was thinking about all the reasons why I shouldn't join."

"But you are considering it?"

"No." I blurted, without even really thinking about it. "I mean... I don't know. I feel like somehow it's my only option, but that's another thing I don't like about it..."

He didn't understand but he didn't ask.

"I know that I will be good at it," I started, seeing as we had ten more minutes to kill till the arrival of the train, "and I know I would be able to do some good. Like, in the world, you know?" I looked at him but he didn't respond, so I just continued: "But I don't know if it will be good for me. I like the idea of saving lives, I'm a sucker for the hero-complex too, but... I also like the idea of saving my own life. And yours." I looked at him intently.

"Are the two mutually exclusive?"

I wasn't prepared for that question, I definitely wasn't prepared for him to ask it. I thought I knew the answer, but as soon as he questioned it, so did I. I guess I still had a lot to figure out. I told him so.

He nodded.

I dwelled in the loaded silence between us. Asking myself questions that I couldn't possibly form any answers to. But in a grim way I appreciated the irony. I thought that once I was just out of school, with a diploma to move me along, things would just fall into place, answers and possibilities would just come to me and I would be propelled into the life I was always meant to lead. After all, when you work so hard to get to that point, you expect to be rewarded for your efforts. But it didn't work like that. Even after all the hard work that I had already delivered, the hardest part was still to come. Stuck in this dilemma, I was more a high school student than I ever was, going through what everybody goes through. How could I expect things to go any more easy for me? If anything, my life has always been harder.

I looked at the Preventer head quarters again. For some reason I felt like I would be giving into G if I joined. That I would be proving him right. That being the God of Death was all I was ever going be good for.

Heero was quiet and contemplative at my side, staring into the distance. Occasionally there was the all-consuming rumble and whine of jet engines powering tons of steel and carbon fiber into the skies and beyond. A noise so loud that it vibrated in our chests, as if my own restless heart wasn't causing enough disturbance in my body. I wondered where they were headed, what trouble they are to prevent and what they would sacrifice in the process. How many would return stricken and how many would return cold and blue? How many headstones would be erected in their honor?

I couldn't live that life again. I had lived it, not a lifetime, but it sure felt like it and I had barely survived. Someday I suspect myself of not having survived at all, just deceiving myself into feeling a heartbeat. But the scary part of risking my life, was not the prospect of dying. It was the prospect of being forgotten. Who would place flowers on my grave when I'm gone, who will pay tribute to my life on the anniversary of my death? It just didn't seem like something Heero would do. It's a scary thing, I realized, loving someone who has yet to learn to love to the full extent of it, trusting someone who may never trust you, thinking constantly about someone who may not think of you when you're gone.

Overcome with sudden curiosity, probably as a way to take my mind off other things, I broke the silence between us with a softly, hesitantly posed question.

"What did you say at the grave, before we left?"

He didn't look at me, he kept staring at the ground. For a moment it appeared he had not even heard me but then he took a deep breath. He sported a slight, pained frown when he faced me. His mouth was open but it was way ahead on his words, it took him a little while longer to answer, his eyes shifting in the meantime, finding it hard to look straight into mine. "I apologized to him." Was the first thing he managed to produce with his tongue and lips.

He cast his gaze far away, his expression frozen in what was an admirable carved image of pain and pensiveness on the most exquisite features. His eyes narrowed, his brow slightly furrowed, his lips barely parted, wisps of hair falling across his face just perfectly. I could look at him for hours, admire every angle of his face, but I was curious about the elaboration and realized I had to force it, so I spoke up.

"What for?"

His eyes darted back to me, they were unsure, but challenging and stubborn. I couldn't quite read him. He finally continued: "I apologized for him being right."

I frowned, it was a strange thing to say.

Heero explained: "That he was right that I could, indeed, kill him. That J had prepared me for it. I said I was sorry about that, because if I hadn't..." He trailed off, but the words that were implied struck like a bomb as much as the words that were actually spoken.

"Heero," I reached for his hand, it was cold, "he would have died anyway, you couldn't have moved him in time, before the building collapsed. You only made it quicker and painless."

"Is it?" He wondered.

"What?"

"Is it painless?" His eyes held a desperation to them.

Obviously I could never answer his question knowing for certain, having blessedly been spared the experience of a bullet passing through my brainpan. The only answer I could give him was the answer that helped me sleep at night, one I firmly believed, perhaps only because I chose to. "It's too quick for him to have felt anything."

Heero was visibly relieved.

The screeching of the train coming to a halt at the platform startled us both. Our bodies tensed up and instinctively I held Heero's hand a little tighter, but Heero instinctively drew his hand away. I chuckled nervously, sheepishly and rose to my feet. "Let's go home." Shoulder to shoulder we walked through the train doors and found seat that suited us both.

On the short way home across the rails, I analyzed our previous conversation, processing it with a clearer state of mind to make sure there wasn't anything important that I had missed. As we passed the second to last stop I realized, shamefully, that I had neglected something, potentially important. I jerked my head to the side, to look at Heero. Heero was staring at the back of the seat in front of us, his hands in his lap. To the inexperienced eye he was relaxed, daydreaming whatever normal kids our age daydream about - something along the lines of sex I presumed, but I may be biased - however I could clearly tell that he was tense and nervous, perhaps regretting that he had confided in me, perhaps realizing that I had become aware of a hint of a secret in our conversation that he may not have intentionally spilt.

"Heero?" I called, to draw him out of his own thoughts.

The only affirmation that he was listening was a slight shift of his eyes and even tenser and straighter shoulders.

"What did you mean when you said J had prepared you for it?"

Heero cringed, as much as the Perfect Soldier ever would. His jaw was clenched shut. He struggled with himself for a long time. The train was reaching our destination and soon we would lose the relative privacy of our little booth. "I'd prefer not to tell you." He admitted, sounding very formal while he was obviously being troubled by emotions.

"I'd prefer to know." I hoped he understood that with that I meant I had to know, he had to tell me. There is nothing worse than being aware of the existence of a horrible secret, but not knowing the details. The mind is allowed to create substitutes of the truth by itself and with my track record I was pretty sure my mind would create unbearable things. I guess I always will remain true to my youth in the way that I never failed to hope that the truth might actually not be that bad. How naive, especially considering how many times I have been proven wrong over the course of my life.

Together we disembarked the train, avoiding the stream of people desperate to get onto the train before the doors closed and it took off. To the backdrop of shuffling feet, whizzing trains and a can of coke falling to the bottom of a vending machine, Heero leaned in closer. "I'll tell you." He said reluctantly. "But not here."

I nodded and followed him off the platform to the large main hall that let to the outside world. I was a little more eager to get home now, but I didn't rush it. I figured it wasn't good for him physically as well as mentally. So we trotted home as gingerly as we left, both apprehensive of what was about to come. Normally Heero always walked like he was in a terrible hurry, now, if anything, it appeared he was dragging his feet when we rounded the last corner and the entry to our building came in sight.

The heat was relentlessly blistering. I could blame the heat for my profuse sweating, but I knew that wasn't the entire truth. I was nervous, maybe even scared. I was about to learn about another of J's horror techniques, I knew and they only seem to be getting worse. And so far Heero seems more upset about revealing this one, than any of the previous. That small part of me that was still a teenager, hoped things wouldn't be as bad as I imagined, the other part, well, I suppose it just knew better. Eagerness turned to dreading, because I was afraid of the time when a certain secret would be unveiled that would tear into all hope. Something insurmountable. Each time I feared: This is it.

Heero wanted to take the stairs. I suppose as a manner of stalling, more than stubborn determination, but I held him in the lobby by a handful of his shirt and had him wait for the elevator.

The elevator was suffocating, not just because the common areas - including but not limited to the elevator - had no air-conditioning, but because what we ourselves radiated; an insufferable atmosphere that built painfully in the small space. The little box seemed smaller than it had ever seemed. I was grateful when the doors opened, I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Sliding the keycard through the lock made an obnoxiously loud sound of plastic grinding against metal in the quiet of the hallway. Inside the apartment I practically lunged for the remote of the air-conditioning and turned it up to the fullest. Cold air blasted into the living space, making the sweat on my back feel cold as I stripped myself from my formal jacket. "Do you want some water?" I asked Heero, noting the sweat on his brow.

He didn't say anything, I just got him an extra bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to him. We exhibited an example of a way in which we are polar opposites. When I am nervous, I have difficulty swallowing, so I just took a tiny sip of water, I felt like my body couldn't handle any more than that. My lacking water consumption during missions never failed to draw monotonous warnings from him. Contrary to myself, Heero put the bottle to his lips, tilted it back and in a rapid succession of swallowing, emptied the whole bottle. He screwed the cap onto the empty bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were big and full of discontent when he looked up at me.

I put my water away on the counter, it was hopeless anyway. As an alternative method to cool my body down, I undid the top few buttons of my shirt. I started: "Do uh... do you want to sit down? Or something?" I scolded at myself, I sounded like a teenager in one of the many romantic comedies I have seen where the guy stumbles and fumbles his way into his first time.

"No, I'll stand. It's cooler here anyway." He said and he nodded back at the AC above the front door, blowing fresh and cool air our way. Until the machine had managed to cool down the entire apartment, which could take quite a while, it was still unbearably hot anywhere other than in the direct stream of cold air.

"Okay." I wasn't very eloquent during moments like these, if I ever was.

"It never gets any easier telling these things, does it?"

I could have fed him a lie, maybe I should have, but I didn't. "I don't know." I responded honestly. I swallowed audibly. It never gets any easier hearing them either, I thought, but I kept that to myself.

"I went on my first mission when I was fourteen." He started mechanically. "It went wrong, very wrong. A mobile suit fell over due to the blast of the explosion and fell into a neighboring civilian building. J never told me how many people died, but I know I took at least two lives and even that is too much. I was shaken... I was basically useless for a couple of weeks, no matter how much he whipped me, he could not get me to obey."

A shiver ran down my spine and I didn't think the air-conditioning was to blame.

"He changed my training schedule to include another aspect, ridding me of emotions, or at least to the point that his every order overruled them. I didn't know that yet. I just knew that after three weeks of getting beaten, but not being able to... move, my cell door opened one day, they turned on the lights for the first time since the mission and instead of coming to get me for more punishment, J brought a puppy into my cell. He didn't say anything, he just left it there with me. It was very young. I don't know what breed it was, maybe a golden retriever, like the one we saw in the park... I don't know... I grew attached to it. It was comforting to have... a friend..." He looked me in the eyes briefly, pained, but holding it all back, "J left me alone with the puppy for a few weeks, there was no training, no mission, I could just stay in my cell and play with it, share my food with it and have it sleep next to me in my cot. I remember being..." He paused, his eyes shifting, narrowing as he searched for a befitting word. He bit his lip then said: "happy." The word sounded foreign coming from him.

My heart was beating so wildly, it was like listening to a horror story, it wasn't bad yet, but you knew it was going to be and you're just waiting for it to go wrong, waiting for fear and distress to overcome you.

"Then J came to my cell again and he took me and the puppy to the training area, some concrete space underground. He took the puppy out of my arms and placed it on a table and then he handed me my gun."

My heart skipped a bit and I started to get a sick, ominous feeling in my stomach.

"He told me to shoot it, to end it's life quickly and painlessly. If I wouldn't kill it, he would..." Heero slowly shook his head, lost somewhere in his memory, I could almost see grey concrete reflected in his dull and distant eyes. "I couldn't. J started yelling at me, taking hold of my gun and making me aim it at the puppy. I was crying." His voice had an odd tone to it, like he couldn't imagine himself with tears across his cheeks. "He was screaming at me to kill it, but I couldn't, I wanted to take it back with me to my cell. I wanted to keep it forever... When J walked over to one of the guards standing by and got his gun out of his holster, I thought he was going to shoot me, he was so angry with me. I wish he had, but instead, he shot the puppy..." His lower lips quivered slightly, but he caught it with his white teeth to hold it still till he had composed himself, till he had scurried back behind the stone mask and then continued on, "He didn't shoot it in the head. He shot it in it's hips and it was yelping... J told me again to shoot it, but still I couldn't. I wanted to help it, to heal it. J shot it in the stomach. It was in so much pain. He told me killing it would relieve it of it's pain, but I wouldn't, I just stood there and cried. J took my gun from me and grabbed my shoulders tightly and he made me watch till it died of it's wounds."

I let out a shaky breath. My eyes were welling up with tears, I was less successful than Heero at holding them back. I wanted to bawl and hug him and tell him everything was okay even though I knew it wasn't, but I was frozen and the horror story wasn't done yet.

"He brought me back to my cell and the next day... I got a new puppy, the same kind of dog, they all were. They had probably snatched a litter from an animal shelter or something. This one I wanted to protect, I held it in my arms each time someone came by to give me food and I fought when a few weeks later J came for us again. And everything repeated itself. I couldn't execute it, so I had to watch J kill it slowly and painfully... I tried to keep my distance from the third puppy, but being locked up together for so long... I couldn't help but become attached and then it happened again... I think it was the fourth puppy, considerably older than the first by the time I got it, that I finally managed to kill after J had already shot it twice. And the fifth puppy..." He took a deep, trembling breath through his nose and finished: "I killed it before it ever got that far... I snapped it's neck the day after I got it." The way he looked at me when he said that was chilling. "There were no more pets after that."

I didn't think I was going to cry till I felt a warm tear roll down my left cheek and trail towards my mouth. I licked my lips and tasted the salt. With a faltering voice that barely sounded like my own, I tried to convey how sorry I was that he had to go through that, but "sorry" sounded so damn stupid and insignificant that I stopped mid-sentence and found myself at a loss of meaningful and reassuring words. Did there even exist a breed of words that could absolve a pain like the one he must have suffered?

His eyes darted to my face and he seemed slightly surprised. "You're crying." He pointed out, even though it was a statement, his voice sounded questioning and confused.

"Yeah..." I said coarsely. I read worry in the way his brows furrowed.

"Should I?"

I didn't give him the answer that I thought was true, I played dumb. "I don't know."

We just stood there for a while, both sporting thoughtful expressions, mine adorned with the occasional tear, but the last of which were not prompted by the sad story, but by the lacking effect it had on Heero. He was obviously sad and upset, but surely he felt more than he was showing. I had to believe that, because if there wasn't more... than that's an even worse truth that that he is just holding everything back.

"Did you give them names? The puppies?"

"No... I wanted to, with the first one, but I couldn't think of any."

"So... this is why you got so upset in the park?"

He shrugged. "It's not the first time a dog has reminded me of it. It quite a common breed, but recently... I have been... feeling more." He looked at me, hoping he was making some sense. "It used to leave me unaffected, I would remember, but I wouldn't feel. But when I saw that dog I was suddenly overwhelmed with bad feelings. I suppose it has to do with talking to Nettle and talking to you. Opening myself up to that sort of thing... I don't like it much... those feelings..."

Maybe I shouldn't have asked my next question, it might have been harsh, but a part of me wanted to provoke him, see what more emotions could come out of him. Assure myself that J's technique had not succeeded, that the soldier could not overrule the emotions. "How did you feel when you shot Levelt?"

He looked at me sharply, feeling the intended sting of the question, but he looked more distrusting than distraught. "Angry." Was his answer. "Angry that he made me call on that part of my training and reminded me of it." He almost sneered.

I didn't say anything, I just wiped my tears away, hoping that with them gone I would feel less exposed, vulnerable and, frankly, less silly. I announced that I was going to rid myself of my sweat soaked outfit and barged off to the bedroom. Normally I'd leave myself more exposed when changing clothes, hoping to catch him peeking, but now I really wasn't interested in any of it. I shut the door behind me, wincing at the snap of the wood of the door meeting the wood of the doorpost.

"Stupid, stubborn boy." I mumbled, peeling the fabric off my back. I could be referring to either Heero or me, even I didn't know. Before getting dressed I stepped into the shower briefly, washing my body with one hand as the other pinned the length of my braid against my back. Drying off was a much easier and quicker job without a soaked curtain of hair against your back and I was done in no time, jumping into a favorite pair of jeans and a simple shirt. I toyed with the idea of hiding out in the bedroom, to have some privacy with my own thoughts, but I couldn't stand the small space of it, after having just spent so many days cooped up in it. It wouldn't be healthy to return to bed, my brain numbed at the mere thought of it.

I ripped the bedroom door open and jumped when I was suddenly face to face with Heero, who apparently had been waiting right outside the door. "Wha-?"

"I was going to change. But I didn't want to disturb you." He explained, his voice on the meek side.

"Oh." I stepped past him and cleared the way into the bedroom.

Without saying anything else he stepped inside. Curiously, he left the door open, but I refrained myself from treating myself to a show and shuffled over to the kitchen for an early lunch - reheated take-out from last night.

Heero came out of the bedroom too soon to have showered. But he hadn't been sweating nearly as much as me, since he hadn't been wearing a jacket. He had changed into one of my preferred outfits on him and I wondered if that had been intentional. I leered at him - yes, leered, I could not help myself, hormones never excused themselves - as he crossed the room in his dark blue jeans that fit him in all the right places, combined with a grey T-shirt of the thinnest, most supple fabric that fell off his shoulders excellently. I just sort of cowered in a distant corner in the kitchen, earning myself a single, curious glance from him. "Hungry?" I asked to dilute some of the awkwardness.

"No." he sat down on the couch in his usual stiff and controlled manner and reached for the remote. The apartment filled with indiscriminate noises pouring from the television set. I watched him flip through channels like a champion, he had learned from the best - me - by way of observation. Being used to being the "flipper", I never really realized how annoying it was to watch someone else go through all those channels at that pace.

I moved around so I was standing behind the couch, in view of the television but focusing on the back of his head, eyes lingering on the hair at the nape of his neck, still a little darker due to sweat. I couldn't believe myself! I shook my head. I was angry at him and disappointed with him and felt sorry for him - for reasons he did not seem to be able to help - and still I managed to lust after him! It was so overpowering it was insane. It was like the lust was becoming me and lust doesn't have the capacity for anger, disappointment or pity. It was crazy what these teenage hormones did to me. They had me becoming addicted to him, to the smell, touch, taste and sight of his golden skin, chocolate brown hair and rosy lips.

Crazy and scary.

I redirected my attention to the television screen as Heero still mindlessly changed channels, paying attention to each individual one only shortly before he'd judge whether or not it was worth more than two seconds of his time.

"- Oh John, I love you more than life itself, the way you touch my body, it-"

"- welcome my second guest of today's show, he's written three bestsellers -"

"- worry. I will help you find your friends Timothy Tigger, I promise -"

" - not just asparagus, the wider setting also makes short work of cucumbers, -"

After the kitchen appliance infomercial came the news station and the sight of it immediately had Heero lowering the remote, ending his incessant flipping through channels.

The female news anchor, sitting in front of a blue background, was more striking to look at than to listen to, but I doubt her abnormally symmetrical physique had captured Heero's attention, rather I suspect the smaller screen in the top left corner. A picture of a haughty, smug looking man to the backdrop of the Ethiopian flag. The subtext was even more disconcerting: PRESIDENT N'GASI

"- following the mysterious and unexpected death of the Ethiopian president, former senator NgGasi wasted no time taking his place. Against all democratic procedures, the senator has announced himself the new president of Ethiopia, much to the dismay of the people. Many civilians have poured onto the streets where protests quickly turned into riots. NgGasi is not very popular with the majority of the public due to his controversial suggestions regarding dams and taxes. The riots didn't last long however, the military, fully supportive of their new leader, dealt with the crowd violently and mercilessly. Eyewitnesses have reported that the soldiers fired live rounds and that the oppression of the riot cost several protesters and bystanders their lives, but NgGasi has denied these reports, claiming only "righteous arrests" had been made. Our correspondent Nasira Ruqayah is standing by in Addis Ababa. Nasira, can you-"

Before the image could switch to the correspondent and damaged homes and bloodied streets, I stepped forward and snatched the remote out of Heero's limp hands, I pressed a random button and we found ourselves back at the kitchen appliance infomercial where they demonstrated how their invention peeled and diced a zucchini.

"You shouldn't watch that." I said.

Heero didn't respond, he just sat on the couch with his arms folded across his chest, a stern look on his face.

"Don't even think about it." I told him vainly. I felt a knot in my stomach, even I couldn't stop thinking about it. It had always been a possibility, but I had just hoped that somehow we'd be spared this news - either by it not happening, or us just not hearing it. I knew how we felt, it's one of the few feelings we both had good understanding of.

It's a feeling that never stops gnawing, never stops hurting and the questions never stopped: Should I have done something different? Would someone have done it better? Is it my fault? Could I have stopped it? Do they blame me?

I remember my own, most recent, failure. I remember it like yesterday, it sure still hurt like it happened yesterday. I was supposed to destroy an OZ base in South America, they were recruiting young boys off the streets and using them as foot soldiers in run down, malfunctioning mobile suits, basically they were bait, to be sacrificed in the first wave of battle. I thought I could handle the mission by myself, so I left Heero sleeping in his bunk bed at one of those dorms we shared, he was still healing from a nasty head wound. By myself, however, I couldn't break through the base's line of defense and when Deathscythe's right arm got busted, I had to retreat to avoid capture. The next day troops were sent out from that base to battle remaining factions of the Alliance and every last one of those kids lost their lives. The day after that, Heero and I trashed that base. He was following orders, I was acting out revenge.

I knew that revenge is a concept Heero would deny, but the turn of events had made it all the more likely that Heero would have himself reinstated as an active field agent, to correct his mistake; to undo his failure, because failure isn't something the Perfect soldier can live with. It made me feel sick, sick with fear.

"Heero?" I leaned over the back of the couch and touched his shoulder.

He winced and then lied: "I'm fine."

"Heero, it's okay to be upset..."

"I'm not upset." He argued stubbornly. "Give me back the remote, I want to see the rest of the report."

"Heero..."

"Give it back, I want to see." His voice sounded dangerous.

"Fine." I threw the remote onto the cushions and walked away, towards the bedroom. I didn't need to see the news and I didn't need to see his stone cold face.

"- I talked to a woman whose husband was shot in the streets. She said he could have survived if he had received medical attention in time, but ambulances never came. Several hours after the fact, military vehicles came to clear the bodies off the streets and scare people into their homes and into silence. President NgGasi still denies every report of unnecessary violence -"

I shut the door.

 

 

Chapter 31

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