Archive of Our Own

Late February found the city of Brussels recovering from a harsh winter and a difficult war. It was the year AC 197, a year of peace as the citizens of both Earth and the Colonies had hoped. Winter was slowly making room for spring, the thick piles of snow  dissolving into clear puddles that reflected the sky. Up above, a layer of clouds merged into a blanket of white and grey, lightly tinged with blue. The weak rays of the European sun filtered through the clouds, gracing the streets below with a warm golden touch. Like a rain of gold, the rays came and went, never touching the same place twice, pouring down to Earth where ever the clouds granted them passage. Cobblestone streets and tall Gothic buildings greeted the sun as if begging it to shed some light into their gloomy world.

Brussels stood as a beautiful display of ancient architecture, blessed with the rich range of medieval design. Massive buildings stood tall and proud as a testimony to a gone times. The Gothic structures and Baroque masterpieces were the pride and joy of Belgium, one of the few European countries that somehow managed to preserve its classical and ancient appearance.

Thousands of people walked among the vast squares and luxurious cafés, filling the city with their joy. The scars of the recent war were not seen on the surface. The end of the long, harsh winter and the coming of spring symbolized the new time of peace. People reached out to grasp joy like a lifeline, turning to the luxuries of life in order to avoid the darkening pain. Various street-artists played music and danced for the crowds: clowns and jugglers, magicians and other street performers did their best to raise a smile on people’s faces and earn a few credits.

Even nature struggled to revive itself within the city, as little green sprouts persisted in appearing between the cracks in the cobblestone roads and park grounds. The large canal flowing through the city made the landscape richer, reflecting the sky’s heavenly blue as the boats on the water and bridges over it burst with life.

In the city gardens, the soft brown earth began to nourish new plants, and lush green treetops swayed lazily in the chilly breeze. The gravel roads were wet with rain, a few droplets still dripping off the bushes. Children ran after each other, laughing, as mothers pushed strollers down the winding paths of the park.

On a lonely bench in the park, a young man sat, watching the people around him with solemn blue eyes. He watched a man walk his dog as the two walked past him and slowly, almost lazily, shifted his gaze to a pair of young men jogging down the path.

He sat quietly, his body gathered into himself as if trying to appear as small as possible. His features were young, but full of pain. His dark cobalt eyes spoke volumes of sadness and anguish. He seemed lonely, but none of the passersby spared him a glance, ignoring him as they ignored all homeless people. The young man didn’t fit the neat societal image, and was thus shunned with all the others, made invisible by apathy.

His clothes, a checkered wool jacket and black trousers, were shabby and old, riddled with tears, and far too big for his small frame.  His dark brown hair was disheveled, messy bangs obscuring his eyes. There were stitches on his forehead, veiled by his hair, and a bandage wrapping his left wrist. His clothes masked the remaining extent of his injuries. 

Next to him, lying on the bench, was a small duffle and an empty bag of tortilla chips. He sat slumped on the bench, tired, depressed, and exhausted in every way possible.

It had been a very tiring day for the boy, known as Heero Yuy to the people he trusted enough to give away his name.

He had woken up in a sterile hospital room three weeks after falling unconscious at the end of an excruciating battle. The injuries were caused by a reckless move he had made for peace, a move that almost cost him his life, but that most certainly ended the war. For peace, he was willing to die. He had been almost relieved to die, and the first thing he felt when he had opened his eyes was the deep sorrow for being able to wake up.

The doctors said that it was a miracle that he had survived the crash and made it through surgery. They said it was even a bigger miracle that he had woken up after a three-weeks long coma. The way he saw it, it was more of a curse.

They wanted him to stay in the hospital until he was able to move on his own. For the lack of nothing better to do, for he knew that nothing waited for him outside the hospital grounds, he agreed. Two weeks after waking up, the doctors deemed him healthy enough to be discharged. They gave him some clothes, ones that were too big and smelled like an old man, a small duffle, and asked him if he wanted the hospital to pay for a cab fare. It was a painful reminder that he had nowhere to go, no one was waiting for him anywhere. He refused the offer, signed the papers, and left the building.

One step into the street and he stopped, simply looking around him. In front of him, the city of Brussels spread as far as the eye could see, enormous buildings in a rich variety of shapes, forms and designs. Each building had a unique ornamentation, fascinatingly complex in the way that only European architecture could be.

The historical structures were something that he, as a colony born, was not used to seeing. For years he had been trapped in a narrow cockpit, surrounded by battles and scorched metal, and the sight was a blessing to his sore eyes. He took a minute to absorb it before returning to deal with his current problem.

Where should he go? Left or right? It was such a simple choice. Chose a direction and start walking. Left or right? Perhaps forward? It would be nice to move forward for a change. And so he did. For hours he walked aimlessly through the gray streets of Brussels, trying to find a cause.

During his wandering he stepped into a local bank and withdrew the little money he had left in an account he had opened before the war. It was money he had stolen, hacked from various accounts, for the sole purpose of use during the war. He cashed out what little he had left and vowed never to steal money again. That practice belonged to the war, and the war was over. He should start living on his own, by his own means. If he could only find a reason to do so.

With his duffle full of 5000 Euro credits, he continued to wander through the city. He bought newspapers to catch up on things, and, when he was convinced that the war was indeed over, and that peace was there to stay, he threw them away and continued walking. Like a stranded dog, he wandered from one street to another, from shop to shop, until he came upon a small grocery store.

There he bought some basic necessities, such as a toothbrush, a bottle of water, and something small to eat. For a reason unknown, he stopped by the snack section and, for ten minutes or so, stood there and stared at a bag of tortilla chips.

He had never eaten a snack in his life. As a soldier, he was always on a strict diet, one his superiors decided for him. Even though they were long dead, he still ate according to that diet, never daring to break the rules he had been trained to follow.

But now, the war was over. The loneliness and confusion he felt were proof enough of that. He shouldn’t act by their rules anymore. He was his own person.

His hand shook as he reached for a bag of barbeque-flavored tortillas. It was forbidden, his mind told him, but he pushed the persistent voice aside. This was the first day of the rest of his life, he would do whatever he wished.

He took the chips and stared at them for a while. He remembered that, during the war, Duo used to thrive on the stuff. His fellow pilot, now nothing more than an ex-comrade, always munched on that particular brand. He saw him eat it while fixing his Gundam, when he lay on his bed listening to music, and, even when piloting Deathscythe towards a bloody battle, he kept a bag in his cockpit just to calm his nerves.

Were they really that good? Heero wondered, carefully placing the bag in his shopping basket. It felt wrong, so terribly wrong, but it was something he wanted to do. It was the first decision he had made for his own sake ever since he became a soldier. He wanted to get used to the feeling, if only because he knew he had to. No one would tell him what to do anymore. He had to learn to make his own decisions, not for the sake of a mission, not for the result of a battle, but for himself. He only hoped that, one day, he would discover a new reason to live.

In the late afternoon hours, he arrived at a small park on the outskirts of an old residential neighborhood. He took a seat on a wooden bench, and there he remained, watching the world pass him by. He opened the bag of tortilla chips and ate the first one timidly. They tasted odd at first, but after a few chips he began to like the flavor and found it quite addictive. Famished, he quickly relieved the bag of its contents.

He was tired. Even though he was allowed to leave the hospital his body was still weak, still healing. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t throbbing with either numbness or pain. He had pushed himself too hard with hours of walking, and now his body demanded rest.

It was getting dark, and the park slowly emptied. Heero sat still on the bench, his eyelids half closed as his head slowly sank toward his chest, plummeting towards slumber. He quickly jerked awake, forcing his eyes to remain open. The street lamp next to the bench flickered three times before lighting up, shedding a pale purple light onto the bench.

Heero sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling very lonely and very cold. He was too tired to get up, and he didn’t have the strength to go search for a place to stay the night. His body was becoming heavier, sinking slowly towards the bench. In a last effort to move, he brought his duffle under his head, using it as a pillow. Heavy eyelids slid shut, body relaxing in spite of  the cold. He gratefully fell into an oblivious sleep.

He awoke to a scream. For a split second, he was sure that peace had been a nightmare and that the war still raged outside his dream. Before  even coming to full awareness he was ready to jump out of bed and run to his Gundam, ready for battle.

But, when he opened his eyes and saw the bench he was lying on and the trees in the park, that sense of purpose was crushed, along with all hopes for peace to vanish. That’s why he hated hope so much. That’s why he did his best not to harbor it in his heart. It hurt too much.

In a flash, everything came back to him, including the aches in his body and the stiffness of his cold limbs. Shakily, he pushed himself to a sitting position, and listened carefully.

The scream echoed through the park again, a female voice that called out and then released a stream of what could only be curses. From his distant position, he couldn’t recognize the language. But, whatever  was said did not matter. He knew that, whoever she was, she was in trouble.

For some reason, he felt the need to help. With the speed of a well-trained soldier, Heero jumped off the bench, threw his duffle over his shoulder, and ran towards the direction of the voice.

From a distance, he could already see the damsel and her obvious source of distress. A gang of malicious looking men surrounded the young woman, trapping her against a lamppost, shoving her around, pulling at her clothes, and calling her names. Now he was able to recognize the language as Dutch. He didn’t understand their words, but their foul meaning was apparent.

The woman kicked and slapped them, shouting back her own share of obviously foul Dutch words. When one of them grabbed her by the hair and tried to pull down her skirt, she screamed again.

Faster than the eye could follow, Heero took that man down before he could see his intention to fruition.

The gang turned to look at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, before they focused their attack on him. He took them down quickly, with the efficiency of a well-oiled fighting machine. The gangsters soon realized that they were no match for him and ran away, unwilling to risk his wrath, and thereby their general health, for a woman. The last of them staggered to his feet and hurried to follow his friends, wailing in pain as he ran.

Once he was sure that the enemy had retreated, Heero turned to face the woman.

She was sitting on the dusty ground, where she had fallen after being pushed by one of the men, looking up at Heero with wide, stunned eyes. Heero gave her a quick once-over, examining her properly for the first time. She was older than him, around her mid twenties, and, by her questionable appearance, she was most certainly a prostitute.

Her most distinct features were the two intense stripes of color in her hair- one side green and the other red - each covering half of her locks. Her hair was long and spiky, sticking out in every direction. At a closer look, he noted another odd detail about her, she wore contact lenses, one green, one red. Whereas the left side of her head was dyed in green, her left eye was red, and visa versa. The sight was quite unique, if not disturbing.

Quickly gathering his wits, Heero reached out and offered her a hand. She took it, and he helped her get up.

“Dankjewel (Thank you).” She said, bending down to brush the dust off her short leather skirt. “Stomme gasten (Stupid jerks)!” She continued angrily, trying to tidy her long spiky hair.

Heero did not speak Dutch, although he was familiar with several European languages. In an attempt to answer her, he asked: “Est-ce que vous parlez français ? (Do you speak French)?”

The young woman looked surprised before waving her hand dismissively in the air. “Oh, oui, oui (Oh, yes, yes.)”

She then smiled, and with a slight accent added, “Est-ce que tu parles anglais ? (Do you speak English?)”

Heero resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and sighed in exasperation. “Yes, I do.”

The woman smiled again without looking at him as she adjusted her bra. “Good, because I can’t speak any Chinese.”

“Japanese,” Heero corrected, watching her make sure her breasts were sitting in place, properly hinted at by her cleavage.

“Whatever,” the woman muttered, finally looking up at him. “Anyway, dank u.”

He stared at her for a moment more, trying to sort out her broken English, before nodding his head. He turned around, ready to go back to his bench and let his aching body continue its interrupted rest.

“Tu as un peu d'argent ?” She suddenly called after him, and Heero stopped, standing with his back to her. She took a few steps towards him.

“You got some money?” The hooker asked again, softer this time.

Heero sighed, his back still facing her. “I’m not interested in sex.”

“Comme si je te le proposais ! (As if I was offering)!” The woman snorted. “I’m hungry.”

Heero turned to her, frowning. “So?”

“So, I’m asking if ya got some cash to buy me dinner.”

Heero stared at her, speechless. He had just saved this woman’s life and she had the nerve to ask him to buy her dinner?!

“Well?” She asked impatiently, planting her hands on her hips, “Tu es hungry or what?!”

If he had to be honest, he was starving. His stomach was cramping in a desperate attempt to find potential nourishment,  for all he had eaten that day had been a bag of tortilla chips, hardly a filling diet. And, as tired as he was, he couldn’t refuse her request. Dinner sounded tempting, although he couldn’t fathom a reason for her to join him. Despite that, he decided to oblige her. ‘What the heck!’, as Duo would have said.

“Fine,” he finally grumbled, preparing to leave. The young woman grinned nastily, and hurried to run after him.

“I know a great place!” She called with her light French accent, and wrapped her arm around his. Heero hurried to shake her off of him, glaring down at her. She gave him a careless shrug, and continued leading the way, leaving a trail of her perfume behind her. Heero had no idea why he had bothered to acknowledge the scent, but he found it very pleasant.

She led him back towards the streets a few blocks away from the park. He memorized the route, simply out of habit. All of his senses were screaming ‘DANGER!’, but he couldn’t care less. Whatever had to happen, would happen. That’s how it had been ever since he could remember himself. He never saw a point in caring for his own well being.

The streets were dark, the gothic buildings suddenly threatening under the guise of darkness. They loomed above the empty streets, as if watching, guarding the city as they had done for centuries. A few men stumbled drunkenly down narrow alleys, and punks gathered around a stone bench in front of a liquor store. Once is a while a motorcycle or a car whistled as they passed by, cutting the silence of the night.

They entered a small diner standing at a corner of two streets. The large wall-to-wall windows allowed some light to be shed upon the street, giving it a welcoming aura, as if beckoning the weary night travelers to its fold.

“Ignace always keeps the place open,” the young woman informed him as she stepped into the diner. She greeted an old waitress, and headed to a table by the window. Heero followed her silently.

The place looked filthy and cheap, Heero mused as he sat on the opposite side of the table. The young hooker motioned the waitress, and the old woman slowly waddled towards them.

“Een hamburger, een patatje en een sinas alstublieft (Give me a hamburger, fries, and a soda).”

The waitress nodded, curly gray hair falling into dark eyes. She turned to Heero, an impatient,  almost disgusted, look on her face. “En voor jou (And for you)?”

Heero glanced towards the menu standing at the head of the table, but it was all written in Dutch. He turned back to the waitress, clueless as to what to say. He had never eaten in such a diner before. He couldn’t remember ever eating something that was deep-fried. His diet always consisted of vegetables, fruits, and grilled fish or beef, all tasteless and without an ounce of fat.

“Geef hem maar gewoon hetzelfde als mij (Just give him the same as mine).” Heero’s unwanted companion finally said, and the old woman nodded, rolling her eyes. She left the table, muttering to herself.

Heero turned to glare at the woman he had rescued.

She just gave him a wicked smile, her unnaturally colored eyes glinting with mischief. “Trust me, kid, you’ll like it.”

“Don’t decide for me.” Heero growled, his features angry. She had no right to take away his freedom of choice, especially not after he’d just barely regained it.

The woman nodded carelessly, as if she wasn’t listening, “sure, sure,” she said, playing with the tips of her spiky hair. “By the way, I’m Adèle.” She turned to look at him with her unnerving red/green eyes, “you?”

Heero cast his gaze down. He was, in fact, nameless now that the war was over. “Nobody,” he finally mumbled, and turned to look out the window. He examined his reflection, suddenly aware that he looked so young, and almost frightened next to her. The large, grandfather-like jacket he was wearing didn’t help, as it also made him look younger and smaller than he was. He tried to compose himself by hardening his features, but he was weary of keeping his mask on. His pale features made him look like a ghost anyway, which only added to his lost and terrified visage.

Adèle smirked and shrugged his answer off as unimportant. “Well, it’s nice to meet ya, Monsieur Personne (Mister Nobody). Thanks for asking me out for dinner.”

“You asked yourself out,” Heero reminded her with a glare, turning away from the window.

She chuckled hoarsely, amused. “But you agreed!”

She had him there, Heero mused, and turned to face the window again. He was not interested in any more conversation.

The elderly waitress served their meals, glaring at Heero as she placed the order on the table. Adèle gave her a smile, and the old hag retreated, muttering to herself again.

Heero watched his dinner companion raise a greasy, gravy-dripping burger from her paper plate, and he watched with a horrified expression as she devoured it savagely. Gravy leaked down her chin, and pieces of vegetables fell from the greasy bun. She was quite an obnoxious sight, eating with her mouth open and wiping the gravy with the back of her hand. She was half way through her burger in a matter of seconds, and he hadn’t even looked down at his own meal.

“Are ya gonna eat that or what?” Adèle asked, with a mouth full of bread and meat, and reached a hand into their shared basket of greasy fries.

Heero forced himself to look away. Not even Duo was that obnoxious when he ate.

He sighed, and timidly picked up his own burger. He stared at it as if it was an OZ mobile suit he was debating whether or not to crush. Gravy slid down his fingers and he stared at it, fascinated. Duo liked burgers, he suddenly recalled, he ate them like a pig, and then ran three extra miles to make up for it. Heero never saw the point; were they really that good? The tortilla chips were to his liking, so perhaps the greasy pile of dead meat would be too.

Slowly, he brought the burger to his mouth and took a timid bite, it tasted awful. He resisted the urge to cough it out of his throat and forced himself to swallow. With a sour face, he put it away and reached for his soda.

Adèle, who was also sipping her soda through a straw, opened her mouth and laughed, nearly choking on her drink.

“That’s the first REAL expression I’ve seen on your face, Monsieur Personne!” She laughed, wiping the soda and gravy off her chin with her sleeve, “that burger must be really shitty!”

Heero glared at her, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Adèle calmed down, and gave him a softer, less teasing, smile. “So, ya dun like it?”

Again Heero frowned. Like it? He never had any likes or dislikes for food. He ate whatever J put on his diet. Even after J died he continued eating according to that diet. He was somewhat glad to have found a dislike. It was better than nothing.

“I hate it.” He finally said, pushing the burger away.

“Suit yourself.” Adèle shrugged, and grabbed the uneaten burger. She shoved it into her mouth, ingesting it like a cow. Heero wondered how she could be so skinny when she ate like that. Never before had he met a woman who was such a... brute. He was used to well-mannered, sweet girls who followed him around to various private schools. Adèle was the complete opposite however.

He watched her finish her second burger, and begin to pick the leftovers from between her teeth, using her long red and green fingernails. Heero stared, appalled by her boorish behavior. She took her time with the task, like an animal picking dirt from its fur. He wondered if she would start licking herself anytime soon.

“Are you done eating?” He finally asked, tired of waiting.

Adèle looked up at him, a finger still in her mouth, “ya in a hurry somewhere?” She asked, cocking a green eyebrow. Only now Heero noticed that her eyebrows were also dyed, one green, one red, like her eyes.

“No,” he mumbled, confused. The whole situation was new to him, he was unused to human interaction outside of the battlefield. Her green/red gaze was making him uncomfortable.

“Figures,” she snorted, and resumed picking her teeth.

“Why did those men attack you?” Heero asked, not really interested, but he preferred a conversation to the sight of her so-called dental flossing.

Adèle stopped, a bit abruptly, and looked at him silently for a while. She sighed, brushing a few colorful bangs out of her eyes. “If you must know, Monsieur Personne, I ran away from my pimp. And no pimp means no protection on the streets, get it?”

Not quite, but he didn’t want to get into that too deeply. It really wasn’t his business.

“And what about you?” She asked casually, looking at him up and down, “ya ran away from home or something? Wearing your grandpapa’s jacket?” She chuckled at her own joke, and reached for the last greasy French fry.

He resisted the urge to shift in his seat, for he was uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. He wasn’t used to people looking at him so closely, he’d never allowed it before.

“So what’s your story, Monsieur Personne?”

“Nothing.” He answered curtly, his features hardening, “and stop calling me that.”

Again she laughed, and threw the last piece of fry into her mouth. “Isn’t that how you told me to call you? How old are you, boy? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

Heero didn’t answer. She was asking too much of him. He was tired, hungry, and his head hurt along with every other part of his body. He wanted to sleep. Without another word, he got up and threw some cash onto the table, turning to leave.

“Oh, allez (Oh come on)! You don’t have to be so rude!” Adèle called after him, and hurried to get up. She shoved some napkins, salt, ketchup, and mustard into her jacket, and hurried to follow the boy out of the diner.

She caught up with him on the street, panting as she approached.

“That was some exit!” She huffed between breaths, brushing her spiky bangs out of her eyes. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

“Nowhere,” Heero grumbled, turning away from her. She stood still, staring at his back.

“Well, uh, okay. Have a nice life, Monsieur Personne.” She muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes behind his back. “Thanks for dinner.” She added, and then turned to walk away in the opposite direction of where the boy was facing.

Her high-heeled boots tapped loudly on the pavement, echoing in the still night air. She stopped after a few meters and slowly turned to look over her shoulder. The kid was still standing by the diner, looking like a lost puppy waiting for his owner.

She frowned at her own thoughts. The boy was nothing like a cute little puppy, he was more like a Rottweiler ready to bite. Despite his poor and gloomy looks, there was something almost feral, almost deadly, in his eyes. She watched him for a moment more, biting her lower lip in thought, he seemed so lost and alone...

“C'est pas mes affaires (It's none of my business).” She muttered under her breath, and continued walking.

Exhausted and in pain from his injuries, Heero made his way back to the park. He settled  down on a bench, his body too heavy to carry itself any further. The night air was chilly, and a thick layer of fog hovered above the ground. He curled into himself, shivering. Despite his discomfort, it wasn’t long before he fell asleep.

Unlike before, it was the feeling of sudden warmth that pulled him out of his slumber. While his legs were frozen stiff, his upper body tingled with a much welcomed warmth. Under the webs of sleep, he reached for the source of warmth, pulling it closer to him. He inhaled deeply, letting warm air into his lungs to banish the cold. The wonderful scent of perfume teased his senses and pulled at his awareness. He knew that smell. It had enchanted him before.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, struggling to lift heavy eyelids. For a moment, his vision was blurred as cobalt eyes refused to wake just yet. He found himself staring into a pair of red/green eyes looking down at him in amusement.

His eyes flew wide open and he gasped, flinching back.

Adèle, who was kneeling by his bench, smiled cockily. “Bonjour, Monsieur Personne (Good morning, Mister Nobody).” She said softly, “I thought I might find you here.”

Heero looked at her in confusion before he realized that he was clutching her jacket close to him. Ashamed, he let go of it and sat up. He winced as his ribs protested, reminding him that they had not yet healed.

“What do you want?” He asked hoarsely, his voice rough from sleep. Unconsciously, he reached for her jacket again, pulling it close to cover his aching chest.

Adèle slowly rose to her feet, giving him a sympathetic look. “I have a place not far away from here. It’s small, but it’s warm.”

Heero frowned at her, but she only offered a smile in return. “Just think of it as a thank you for saving my life and buying me dinner.”

Heero sighed, slumping his shoulders. He was tired, cold, and aching all over. A warm bed sounded far beyond tempting. And, it was not like he had anywhere else to go. What would Duo say? ‘Take what yer offered, man, cuz ya can never know...’. He forgot the rest of that particular pearl of wisdom, he was too drained to even think.

Adèle didn’t wait for his answer. She could see the boy slowly nodding off to sleep, his body tilting forward as his hold on her jacket weakened. She helped him up to his feet, chuckling as he opened a confused pair of eyes, tensing at her touch.

“Come on, it’s not far.”

Heero nodded, barely registering what she said. Her body was warm as she pressed close to him, supporting him as he walked. He didn’t mind when she slipped an arm around his waist. After a few moments of walking, he even leaned his head on her shoulder.

It was almost dawn by the time they arrived at Adèle’s one-room apartment. The apartment was very small and extremely messy, clothes and other assorted junk strewn everywhere. The interior décor reminded Heero of something Hindu-like, warm colors, colorful fabrics, rich beaded curtains at the doorsteps, and even a large narghile by a battered beanbag. The heavy, sweet scent of incense filled the small flat. A large bed stood in the center of the room, covered with crimson sheets with a golden pattern.

He was walking on his own by the time they arrived to her place, her warm jacket still hanging on his shoulders. Adèle threw herself onto the large bed, and began to untie her boots. Heero looked around, and decided to make himself comfortable on the beanbag, despite the pile of clothes on top of it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Adèle yelled at him, looking at him with wide red/green eyes. “Ya really think I’m gonna let ya sleep in my closet!? You sleep on the bed like a big boy.” She shook her head like a rebuking mother. “Oh mijn God! Wat een stomme kleine jongen (My God! What a stupid little boy)!”

Heero gaped at her, unable to process the long stream of words that had come from her mouth. He blinked slowly, tiredly, like a sleepy child.

“I don’t bite!” Adèle exclaimed in annoyance, tapping the bed next to her. “Come! You’re falling asleep standing up!”

She yanked her large boots off her feet and threw them aside. “Mijn God, I’m exhausted!” She said, throwing herself on the bed, spreading her limbs everywhere.

Lacking the strength to argue with her, and not really caring where he lay down as long as he did, Heero settled heavily on the bed. He lay on the edge with his back facing her, her jacket still hanging over his shoulders.

“Here,” Adèle said softly, and threw a blanket over his huddled form. Her warm fingers brushed against his skin briefly and he shivered, pulling even further away.

“Thank you.” He whispered with a sigh, drifting into sleep.

He awoke in the early morning hours, perhaps an hour or two after falling asleep. It took him a while to remember where he was, but he was still sleepy enough not to care that he had accepted Adèle’s offer. As long as he could lie in a warm bed, nothing else mattered.

Wondering why he had woken up, Heero noted that he had fallen asleep with his shoes and Adèle’s jacket on. He woke up because he was uncomfortable.

Sighing quietly, he heaved himself up, preparing to take off his shoes. When he moved, the bed shifted under his weight, and someone moaned.

Heero tensed, his senses alert. Then his mind supplied him with a name: Adèle. He slowly turned around and looked down at her lying next to him. The sight was strange, unnatural. He never slept with anyone on the same bed before. No one was ever this close to him while he was vulnerable, not even the other pilots.

He studied her face, which was now calm in sleep. Her green/red hair was sprawled all over her face and the pillow. She was still wearing heavy makeup, which glowed under the soft morning sun. There were heavy black bags under her eyes, due to the heavy makeup surrounding them. She looked less chaotic than she did last night, something akin to the calm after the storm.

His eyes wandered slowly down her figure. The blanket was clinging to her skinny frame, emphasizing every feminine curve of her body. He swallowed, looking up at where her large sloppy shirt revealed her slim shoulders, sliding down the side of a pale arm.

Her pale white skin attracted him somehow. Without a conscious thought, his eyes traveled down to where a hint of her breasts was showing, the fabric of her shirt clinging tightly to the round mounds.

Suddenly, he realized what he was doing, what he was looking at, and hurried to turn away. He kicked his shoes off and threw himself back at the bed.

Adèle turned in her sleep and he could feel her smooth, bare legs brush against his under the blanket. He shivered and pulled himself further away from her, to the very edge of the bed. He listened to the wild beat of his heart before finally falling asleep again.

Hours later, Heero awoke to the delicious aroma of cooking. Bacon and eggs. They used to serve it in one of the private schools he had attended in Great Britain. His mouth watered. He didn’t like bacon, but he was incredibly hungry.

Opening his eyes, he found himself facing the small kitchen in the corner of the one-room apartment. Adèle was standing by the stove, her back facing him, wearing a pair of boxers and the sloppy shirt. The wide collar slid off her right shoulder, exposing her pale skin. Her hair lay over her shoulder blades in a spiky heap of red and green.                        

He watched her flip the food out of the pan and into a plate. She turned to serve it to the table and finally noticed that he was awake. She gave him a bright smile and placed the plate on the table.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Personne.” She greeted, and turned to the stove again to fill another plate. “I took some money for the groceries,” she informed him casually, and then added: “Mijn God, you’re loaded!”

Heero glared at her as she served the second plate to the table.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take more than necessary.” She sat down and picked up her fork. “Come eat.”

Heero didn’t know what to say, so he simply kept quiet. Groggily, he got out of bed and headed to the small table in the kitchen. He looked down at his meal: bacon, eggs, toast and cheese. His stomach grumbled angrily and Adèle laughed.

“I hope you’ll like it better than them burgers.” Adèle said, laughing. He looked up at her, noticing that she wasn’t wearing her contact lenses or her make up. Her eyes were actually naturally blue, and without the makeup she looked far more pleasing to the eye. Now that her features were bare, unhidden, he saw that they were pale, slight, and tender looking. She was prettier without the makeup.

“How old did you say you were?” He asked, just to see if he had guessed right.

“You don’t ask a woman for her age, Monsieur Personne.” Adèle laughed, with her mouth full of eggs. “I’m twenty seven.”

She looked younger; he had guessed no more than twenty-five. He couldn’t believe she was ten years older than him!

“Do you like the eggs?” She asked, reminding him of his meal, and of his hunger. He didn’t take the time to answer her question, and instead devoured his breakfast.

He didn’t know what to do when he finished eating. He watched as Adèle ditched the dishes into the sink, and he watched her throw the clothes off the beanbag and onto the bed before sitting down. She stuffed cotton between her toes and began painting them, alternating one red, one green. The apartment was silent, and the atmosphere was getting heavier as Heero simply sat by the table and watched her paint her nails. Each time she bent down to reach her feet, the wide collar of her shirt hung low, revealing almost everything. She wasn’t wearing a bra, Heero realized, and looked away. He felt anxious every time he caught himself looking at her like that. Was he no better than the average horny teenager?! What was wrong with him?!

“You can wash the dishes if you want.” Adèle said, and reached for the stereo system sitting on a table by her side. There was a mountain of CDs on top of the stereo, along with a lacy thong and suspender belts. She turned the player on, and the small flat was filled with the rich and soothing sound of New Age music. Heero was surprised that it was not heavy metal bombarding his ears.

“And when you’re done,” Adèle spoke while carefully smearing green nail polish on her little toe, “you can go and take a shower, there’s a joint shower room down the hall.”

Dishes, then a shower. It was something he could do, a small purpose to achieve, but it was better than nothing. Without a word, he got up and began cleaning the dishes. The kitchen was filthy, and the sink was full of dishes from what seemed like weeks ago. On a whim, he cleaned them as well.

“You’re quite handy, Monsieur Personne.” Adèle commented from her beanbag, leaning back and wiggling her freshly painted toes.

“Heero,” he mumbled with his head bowed, as if it would somehow help to hide the name he had spoken.

“Pardon?”

“It’s my name,” he said, voice louder than before, looking up at her, “so stop calling me that.”

She smirked, and her eyes glinted with mischief. “Monsieur Heero ! Le grand héros de la révolution (Mister Heero! The great hero of the revolution)!”

Heero sighed, and looked down at the sink again. “Ne vous moquez pas de moi (Don't make fun of me).”

“But of course, mon ami!” she called, her laugh taking on a cruel edge, “La dernière chose dont tu as besoin c'est qu'une putain à cinquante dollars te fasse souffrir  (The last thing you need is a fifty dollar whore to hurt your feelings)!”

Heero turned to face her, glaring. “Qu'est-ce que c'est censé vouloir dire (What’s that supposed to mean)?”

“It means that you should lighten up, Heero. That’s all.” She said calmly, looking at him with a pair of serious blue eyes.

Cerulean, Heero corrected himself. They were as bright and clear as the sky. Why did she hide them behind a pair of bizarre contacts?

“Tu vois quelque chose qui te plaît, monsieur Heero (Do you see anything you like, Mister Heero)?” She asked teasingly after noting that he was staring at her, and not for the first time.

“Pas vraiment. (Not really).” He muttered, looking away. He was making a fool out of himself. And furthermore, what was he still doing in her apartment?!

“Here,” she threw some clothes and a towel at him, “go shower. You smell like a disgusting old man.”

And that concluded their conversation for the day.

Heero left the apartment for the showers. When he returned, wearing a pair of her boxers and a sloppy shirt, Adèle was still on her beanbag, blowing bubbles in her smoking bottle, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the large window to her side. She seemed to be deep in thought, and he did not wish to bother her. Silently, and without much thought given to what he was doing, Heero crawled back to the bed and lay next to the plies of trashy outfits she had thrown there earlier. He curled under the blanket and drifted off to sleep. Adèle didn’t say a word about it.

When he awoke it was dark, although he could see the soft flickering spots of candlelight dancing behind his closed eyelids. There was a strong scent of vanilla in the air, from both the candles and the incense burning in the room. The smell was intoxicating. New Age music still played softly in the background, whispers coming to him from the dark. He was warm and comfortable on the bed, so cozy, that he didn’t even want to open his eyes.

He listened to the music, letting it carry him upon it like mellowing ocean waves. Caught between sleep and wakefulness, he drifted upon shallow waters, lying on a raft that rocked slowly from side to side. Peace fell upon him, and without knowing, he let out a small moan, so relaxed he was that he did not even realize it.

“Il dort comme un bébé (Sleeping like a baby).” A low, husky voice whispered bitterly. Wistfully. It was the first time he had heard Adèle speak so gravely, without a trace of teasing in her voice. He opened his eyes and looked at her, immediately pinning her gaze with his.

“You’re awake.” She stated quietly, a sad smile hovering over her lips. They were very thin, her lips, but not in a delicate way. They looked sad, abused. In the candlelight, sitting alone on her beanbag, the young woman’s face seemed almost... arid. Lifeless. Her lips caved under her sadness, pressed into a thin, poignant line. How many men have kissed those pale lips? How many times have they been bitten, hurt? Is that what has made them so thin and weary? So slight instead of lush? Were they still soft?

Heero looked away from her, ashamed of what he had been  thinking.

Adèle gave out a bitter chuckle and looked away. She raised a glass full of golden liquor and ice that rattled as she served it to her lips. She gulped it down quickly and reached an unsteady hand towards the bottle sitting on the floor next to her.

“Did you sleep well? You were sleeping so hard that I couldn’t wake you.” She said, pouring herself another glass.

“I’m sorry,” Heero murmured, his voice coming out as nothing more than a whisper. He felt weak, as if no matter how much sleep he got, it would not be enough. “I should leave,” he added, but made no move to get up. He was so comfortable. He’d never been comfortable before in his life, he didn’t want the feeling to be so short lived.

“Fais comme tu veux (Do as you want).” She said, taking a long sip from her liquor. Her voice was as bitter as the alcohol on her lips, her eyes did not spare him a glance as she spoke.

Heero watched her silently. He was unsure of what to say, of how to respond to her sudden change of behavior. Why was she so upset all of a sudden? He tried to remember what Duo would say in such a situation, but nothing came up. He sighed, and stared down at the mattress.

The silence stretched into forever. Finally, Heero dared to look up at her again. She was sitting slumped on the beanbag, one naked leg thrown over the other, her boxers sliding high up under her and revealing her pale thighs. The glass was lying in her limp grasp, ice cubes mingling with the remnants of golden liquid. She wasn’t drinking anymore, simply staring out the window where the city lights twinkled in the dark. Her blue eyes seemed to be gazing deep into the darkness, sinking and mingling with it until her eyes became indistinguishable from the night’s blue darkness.

The mattress creaked as Heero finally got out of bed. He crossed the three steps distance between them and sat on the Hindu carpet next to the beanbag. He fixed his intense gaze on her, watching the woman silently as if trying to solve an impossible enigma. Adèle didn’t move until Heero reached for the bottle of liquor. He brought it up to his face and watched the golden brandy shake inside it in a game of light and liquid. When he opened the bottle, Adèle smiled sarcastically. “You’re too young to drink.”

“I’m too young for a lot of things.” Heero replied solemnly, and put the cork aside. The strong scent of alcohol assaulted him at once, already making him lightheaded.

Adèle snorted. “Here,” she said, handing him her glass. She held it for him as he poured himself a drink, and watched with amusement as he gulped it down quickly. The brandy went down like acid in his throat, burning him from the inside. He coughed, almost choking, as his veins combusted into flames. Adèle watched him and laughed.

“Stupide petit garçon (Stupid little boy)! You could have killed yourself!”

Despite the tears stinging his eyes, Heero glared at her. He coughed, the sharp taste burning his tongue. He raised the glass again and handed it up to her. With a defying glare commanded: “More.”

The woman let out a small chuckle, “you really want to lose your life to that bottle, don’t you boy?” She said with a mocking lilt, pouring him another glass.

“Ce ne serait pas une grande perte (A miserable life is hardly a life to lose).” Heero whispered, his gaze downcast. He gulped down his second shot, face turning red and twisting in disgust as the fire flowed down his throat.

“Au contraire, mon ami (On the contrary, my friend).” Adèle replied smoothly, waving her hand in the air in an all-knowing gesture. “Being miserable... at least that’s something. You can even lose that and then what? Then you have nothing left.” She turned to look at him and gave him a small, sad, and wistful smile. “Be grateful for what you have.”

Perhaps it was the brandy, but Heero found himself giving her a weak smile in return. He raised his glass and made a toast, “Aux malheureux (For the miserable).”

Adèle took the bottle from the floor and raised it as well. “For the miserable,” she repeated, and took a long sip from the bottle.

Most of the candles burnt out by the time they were satisfactorily drunk, bodies burning from the alcohol running through their veins. The room felt like it was on fire, and the shadows dancing on the walls only added to the illusion as candles flickered silently in each corner. They lay together on the floor, simply looking at each other with glazed eyes. Heero’s mind was hazed, wandering left and right, his thoughts swirling around in an incoherent dance. It felt nice, being unable to think. He swam in his own little world, feeling as though he were surrounded by lukewarm water, a world in which nothing mattered. There was no sorrow, no pain. No consequences.

He thought about Duo. What he would say if he saw him like this? During the war he had always tried to get him to loosen up, and failed at each attempt. Then, Heero wondered why he was thinking about the baka. He wanted to tell him: ‘see, Duo? I can do these kind of things too’. He didn’t know why it was so important to him, but he wanted Duo to know he was trying to get better.

Slowly, he floated up to the surface of his mind and remembered where he was. Glazed cobalt eyes came to focus, and he turned to look at Adèle, suddenly recalling that she was there next to him. The young woman was watching him intently, a faint smile on her lips.

“I thought I’d lost you, Heero.” She whispered hoarsely, “where were you?”

“...nowhere.” He whispered back, and then smiled leisurely. “It was wonderful.”

Adèle’s eyes glinted in amusement when she saw him smile, “you’re very handsome, you know. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes,” he answered, frowning, “girls at school used to chase me all the time.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “with that attitude of yours? J'ai du mal à le croire (That's hard to believe).”

Heero coughed quietly, the Brandy tickling the back of his throat, “yeah.”

They fell silent again, watching the candlelight flicker on the walls. Heero ran his eyes over the small apartment. Everything looked so much more beautiful in the candle’s dim orange light. The beads in the beaded curtain glittered in a wonderful display of colors. There were so many rich colors around him. He wasn’t  used to being around such rich colors, and space was always so gray and gloomy. His eyes drank in the warm colors hungrily, the alcohol flooding his brain making everything swirl and merge into a colorful mixture when he moved his head.

Adèle reached for the Brandy bottle, which lay somewhere above her head. She made a disappointed face when she found it empty, sighed, and tossed it away. It landed on the beanbag. She cursed softly in French, and ran a hand through her wild green/red hair. Heero watched her, fascinated by the colors that adorned her body. Her large sloppy shirt was a bold purple and her silky boxer shorts were an intense orange. Her red/green hair and bright blue eyes added to the celebration of colors. He smiled at her, enjoying the colorful sight.

Slowly, in an almost lazy manner, Heero’s eyes began wandering up her frame. She was lying on her side, like he was, one bare leg thrown over the other in a casual, restful, manner. Because of that position, her boxers pressed tightly against her round bottom. The candlelight cast a golden hue on the pale skin. For a few long moments his eyes drank in the sight of her thighs before traveling up her skinny frame and settling on her breasts. The collar of her shirt hung so low it revealed almost everything. Unconsciously, he licked his bottom lip, which had suddenly turned dry.

“Do you want to touch me, Heero?” Adèle asked quietly, watching him with calm cerulean eyes.

Heero looked away, the alcohol making some room for logic. He had no right to ask for anything. Not of her. He had no right to want anything. Not from her, not from anyone. Not for himself.

“Heero,” She whispered, and reached for his hand. His arm jerked up a little when she touched him, but he didn’t pull away. Carefully, he shifted his gaze up to look at her.

“Another shot of Brandy and you’ll be able to do whatever you want...” She said in a low, tempting voice.

Heero shook his head, and pulled his hand away. “No, thank you,” he whispered back, “I told you I’m not interested in buying your sex.”

“I’m not selling it to you. I said that you could do whatever you want.”

“What I want...” Heero mumbled, bowing his head to look at the floor. He never did what he wanted. Not ever. No one ever asked him what he wanted. Therefore, it was only natural for him to assume that his will did not count.

“De quoi as-tu peur (What are you afraid of)?” She asked, and her eyes shone as she looked at him in compassion.

“Not knowing what to do...” Heero admitted quietly, his eyes shining in distress. Everything was so... unfamiliar... to him. Not just her, not just peace, but he – himself – as a person. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to ask all of the questions he wanted answered. He didn’t even know what those questions were. It was just a feeling, deep inside of him. Confusion. Everything was confusing. Unknown. Unreachable. Inside himself he screamed, calling out a name he did not know, searching for a voice that will reply and say: ‘It’s okay. I’m here. It’s me. I’m right here. I’m you. Do you see? This is you’. But no one answered. Inside of him there was only silence. And it hurt.

Adèle moved closer to him, and took his hand again. Their gazes locked, noses nearly touching. “Have you ever known a woman before?”

“I don’t even know myself...” He murmured, looking away from her piercing sky-blue eyes.

Adèle smiled in sympathy, and squeezed his hand. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, slowly guiding his hand to her breasts, “sex is one of the easier things to learn.”

He looked at her, feeling his hand slowly being settled over her soft flesh. A small tremble went down his spine as her palm retreated, leaving him alone in uncharted territory. Their eyes met. There was no mockery or accusation in her eyes. She was being patient with him. He looked down at where his hand lay over her chest, cupping a single breast.

“What do you want to do, Heero?” She asked him calmly, looking at his thoughtful face.

He wanted to... to lick her. To suck her flesh. He wanted... he wanted many things he did not know.

“N'ayez pas peur (Don’t be afraid).” She guided his hand under her shirt and let him touch her just above the heart. Her eyes were watching his face the whole time, reading every reaction that flickered in his deep blue eyes. The boy was clearly nervous.

“Du réconfort pour les misérables (A comfort for the miserable).” Adèle whispered with a melancholic smile on her lips. “Sometimes all the miserable have left is each other.”

Adèle rose up, leaning over him. He turned to lie in his back, feeling the rough carpet beneath him. He watched her warily as she hovered above him, supporting herself by placing two arms on either side of him. Her spiky red/green hair cascaded down to frame her face. She was lovely, he mused, looking into her eyes. She was so close that he could see that her nose was a bit crooked, probably from her being beaten far too many times. Duo’s nose was the same, the baka had a bad habit of breaking it.

Heero frowned, realizing that he’d been thinking about him again. Adèle leaned down and stole that thought away with a kiss, playing with his earlobe between her teeth. Surprisingly, the feeling was very pleasurable. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, to go back to the warm waters he had sailed upon earlier. It was hard to do when someone was so close to him, so intimate with him. His body trembled and he could not control it. He was afraid of the things he did not know, the things he couldn’t even begin to understand. No one had ever been so close before. No one even held his hand before. And now this. It was too much. It hurt.

“Relax. It's all right.” Adèle soothed him between kisses, touching her lips to his neck and down to where the collar of his shirt revealed his chest. Very carefully, she settled above him, straddling his torso. He reached an unsure hand towards her, wanting to touch but not knowing where to.

She smiled in understanding, and looked deep into his eyes. She could read the hurt and confusion in his deep cobalt pools. Her own eyes reflected many of the same feelings she saw in his. With their gazes locked, she took off her shirt and threw it over her head. Heero studied her body quietly. There was a long, ugly scar running down from the underside of her left breast to her mid abdomen. It looked like someone had tried to cut her in half. The candlelight danced over her pale skin, and the shadows caressed her leisurely. The orange light only made the scar stand out even more.

He turned his gaze up to Adèle’s eyes and studied her features. A story full of horror and pain hid itself behind a murky mist in her eyes. Her features hardened in defense of her dignity, daring him to say a word.

“Changed your mind?” She asked insolently, lifting her chin up slightly as she spoke.

Heero didn’t answer. With some maneuvering, he lifted his upper body, and took off his shirt. Adèle looked down at his naked torso, muscled flesh stretching under pale golden skin. There was a large scar across his stomach, still red and raw, barely a month old. Another long scar went from his upper left arm, up to his shoulder, and then down his back to his shoulder blade.

They looked at each other in silence, both pairs of eyes telling a tale without words. Adèle slowly leaned down and kissed his scars, tracing the outlines of each of them with her tongue.

Heero closed his eyes and simply breathed, allowing the sensation to wash over him. His hands suddenly gained the knowledge of where to touch, where to explore. He reached to her, desperately, trying to answer his body’s wants without knowing how. Her skin was soft, her flesh heated with desire. With the tip of his finger, he traced the scar on the side of her breast and felt her shudder at his touch.

She kissed him on the lips, hot and wet, with the expertise and intent of an experienced woman. His first kiss. He responded with his own tongue, tasting the brandy in her mouth and the tobacco from her hookah. She was warm and moist, a strange sensation on his tongue. He tried to drink her with a hungry mouth, the need to feel her growing inside of him.

They began to move together, waist against waist. His body was no longer under his control. Adèle knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss and tease him. He lay there panting; his eyes clenched shut as she introduced him to his own body, to feelings he never knew existed.

Moving down his body, she removed his boxers, slowly peeling them off over his arousal. She leaned down and kissed the weeping tip of his cock, and Heero fought back a moan. She licked him, and he thrust his head side, struggling to trap another groan deep down in his throat. His breathing came hard and shallow. His responses to the pleasurable stimulation were much like his reactions to torture. He tried to keep silent and unmoving as she swallowed him whole. He wanted to let go, to scream, but the barrier of silence refused to be lifted.

His mouth hung wide open as she sucked him, treating his most private part like candy. Behind his closed eyes, he could picture a burning flow of white energy bubbling just beneath the surface of his lower body, begging to come out. He was hard and aching, caught between pleasure and pain. There was a loud scream caught in his throat as he thrashed beneath her, shaking with both anxiety and pleasure. Small cries forced themselves out of his mouth. He turned his head away in shame, and clenched his fists tight. His body wanted to move, to dance around her, inside her, everywhere with her, but he fought the urge. Every muscle in his body tensed as he refused to surrender. The white energy inside him sizzled and boiled, turning incredibly hot. He wanted to explode, to scream, to jump off the carpet and into her body, but he didn’t give in to the urge. He couldn’t.

She took him deeper into her mouth, her teeth scraping against his hardness. Another cry died brutally in his throat as he thrashed beneath her, his back becoming red and raw from being scrubbed so roughly on the carpet below. He punched the floor, over and over, his eyes clenched in an attempt to remain unaffected by her skilled tongue. He wanted so badly to let go, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t!

“Don’t fight this...” Adèle whispered, withdrawing from him. He opened his eyes to look at her, his chest heaving up and down as he panted. “Just let go...”

“I can’t!” he cried, his voice on the verge of desperation. His eyes shone sorrowfully, begging her to teach him, to show him, to help him surrender his iron control. His erection cried for release, leaking badly. It was throbbing so hard it hurt.

Adèle looked down at his flushed features, feeling compassion for the tormented young man. She removed her shorts, and crawled towards him again. She straddled his hips, and then slowly, carefully, took him inside of her. Heero threw his head back, and his fists clenched tightly until his knuckled were white. He bit his lower lip to keep back a loud moan. He could feel her engulfing him, hot and moist, pulsing with life. He opened his mouth wide and gulped for air, breathless as she started to move around him. Up and down, over and over, in a slow, agonizing rhythm.

She watched him, her features blank as she moved against him. Heero looked up at her, panting, sweat trickling down his temples and into his hair.

“Just let go.” She repeated, reaching a hand down to touch him. Her fingers hovered softly over his abdomen, slowly trailing up to his chest. She began moving faster, throwing more of her weight down onto him. Heero let out a small sound and closed his eyes, turning his head away. He raised his hips up to meet hers, thrusting himself more and more deeply into her.

Adèle let out a small moan, and her head dropped limply down. Her breathing became heavier, her hands gripping him more strongly. Their bodies moved together in a maddening primal rhythm, both coated with sweat. The pure whiteness of extreme arousal pumped through Heero’s veins with each wild heartbeat, making his entire body tingle with the intense sensation. Something powerful formed inside of him, getting too strong for him to control. He jerked beneath her, thrusting hard into her again and again and again. He was lost, his mind miles away from his body. Everything simultaneously hurt and burned with pleasure. His heart was beating so fast he felt as if he were being electrocuted. The torture was too much to bear. He let go. He caved under the sensation and simply let go.

His body tensed, preparing to explode. Adèle got off of him quickly, but it was too late for him to realize the loss of her heat. Nothing existed. For a few seconds he simply died, right there and then. With a small whimper, barely contained, he came. He ceased to exist. For an instant, there was pure, blessed nothing in the world. Just white, sparkly fireflies dancing behind his closed eyes, and rivers of fire flowing down his veins, pouring out of his body.

In that small instant, he recalled the explosion that took him down at the end of the war. Wing Zero’s crash had felt vaguely the same, only then the fire brought pain and darkness. Now, however, death was far more pleasurable. But short. Too short. In a matter of heartbeats he returned back to the living, slowly descending back to the floor where he lay, naked, and shaking with the aftermath of sex.

He took a deep breath, like a drowning man who’d just been revived, and opened his eyes. Adèle was sitting next to him, completely bare, watching him with quiet eyes.

“How did that feel?” She asked, drawing closer to him.

“Like dying...” Heero whispered, exhausted from his struggle against her.

Adèle smiled. “La petite mort...”

Heero smiled back tiredly, his eyelids moving heavily up and down. He watched her reach her hand towards his groin, and only then realized that she didn’t let him come inside her. He had ejaculated all over himself. Adèle wiped off some of his cum with her finger. She turned to him and presented the thick white liquid to his face.

“Do you know what this is?”

Heero nodded, looking at her with a puzzled expression.

She smirked. “Well then, what is it?”

“...sperm.” He mumbled, embarrassment painting his cheeks red again.

“Your sperm.” Adèle corrected. He nodded, still confused.

“It’s much more than that, Heero.” She said, and took his hand. She smeared the semen on his palm, and turned to meet his eyes. “This is life, Heero. You’re holding thousands of lives in your hand right now.”

His eyes widened briefly, remembering the lives he had taken, before narrowing into a thoughtful expression. “That’s beautiful.” he whispered, awed, “I never thought about it that way.”

Adèle smiled, kindness shining in her eyes. She lay down next to him and cuddled close to his body. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She threw a hand over his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He whispered, looking down at the top of her red/green head.

“Hey, as long as you’re paying...” She whispered teasingly, a smirk dancing on her lips.

Heero rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“And you’re buying the groceries tomorrow.”

He snorted. Looking down at her, his features softened into a small smile. He reached one hand over her towards the bed and pulled the blanket off of it. He threw the blanket over the both of them, and they both fell asleep on the carpet, fatigued from liquor and sex.

He didn’t ask to stay, and Adèle didn’t ask him to leave. It was almost as if it were expected of him to go shopping the next morning while Adèle showered. She even let him borrow a few of her more masculine, baggy, clothes, muttering something about how she didn’t like the way he smelled.

When he returned to the apartment, Adèle was standing by the bed, wearing only a thong as she rummaged through her pile of clothes. He watched her dress, pulling her hair out of her shirt and throwing it over her shoulders. She walked into the kitchen and, without a word, unpacked the groceries he had bought: a carton of milk, a baguette, some cheese, vegetables, minced meat, and a large bag of tortilla chips. She gave him an infuriated look, and then threw the snack at him in an almost disgusted manner. He caught it quickly and walked to the bed, not caring that she wasn’t pleased with his purchase. He liked tortilla chips.

He settled down on the bed, next to her pile of clothes, and opened the snack. For about an hour he simply lay on the bed, leaning on the headboard, and munching on his snack. There was nothing better to do, and he felt great knowing that. It was his little celebration of freedom. The plastic bag rattled each time he reached his hand inside. The sound seemed to annoy Adèle. She gave him an angry glare and turned the stereo system on. When the soft New Age music began playing through the speakers, she made an irritated ‘tsk’, and violently pressed a button to change the CD. A husky French singer began singing her blues about life, love, and death.

Adèle threw herself onto the beanbag and began making the arrangements to light up her hookah. Heero watch her silently as she placed a burning coal on the top and covered the head. Soon the room was filled with the scent of fruit-flavored tobacco. She took the tube and blew air into the narghile before settling into a more comfortable position to start smoking.

“Are you angry with me?” Heero asked, looking at her sprawled on the beanbag, gazing at the ceiling as she smoked.

“No.” She grunted, and took another drag of flavored smoke through the pipe.

“I can leave.”

“You can stay. I don’t mind.” She turned to look at him, raising her eyebrow in daring way. “Or, do you have someplace better to be?”

He didn’t bother with an answer. Instead he took a handful of tortilla chips and shoved them into his mouth. He leaned his head back to stare at the stains on the ceiling, and continued eating silently.

Adèle’s mood seemed to lighten after a few more minutes of smoking. She reached a hand up to the stereo and changed the CD again. The player made a slight buzzing sound as it rotated the CDs inside it before more cheerful melodies filled the room. Heero, who had been dozing off on the bed, opened his eyes to look at her.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, smiling at him.

“Not really,” he muttered, studying a large stain on the wallpaper above him.

“Well, I am.” Adèle informed him with a tone that hinted that she was expecting him to do something about it. He sighed.

“Do you want me to cook?”

“That would be great, thank you!” She called sweetly, and turned to her smoking bottle. Heero watched her change the coal again. She then reached for a small plastic bag and added a ground mixture of dry leaves to the tobacco. He frowned.

“Are those drugs?”

Adèle didn’t answer, and instead attended to the coal, moving it with a pair of metal forceps. “Just some marijuana,” she picked up the tube and offered it to him, “want some?”

“No.” Heero grunted, and got out of bed. He crossed the six steps distance into the kitchen, and opened the mini fridge that was under the sink. He began chopping vegetables with fast and angry movements, creating a cacophony as the knife collided sharply with the wooden cutting board. Adèle didn’t seem to be bothered by that, and kept blowing circles of smoke into the air. Pots and pan rattled as Heero searched for a decent pan, and then slammed it on the stove. He didn’t know why he was so angry, but he was. And he didn’t give a shit about trying to hide it. He fried some beef with vegetables, stirring them with a wooden spoon. He didn’t add any spices, not even salt, and then suddenly realized why he was so angry.

It was that stupid diet! He was cooking on automaton, preparing the food he had been taught to eat for most of his life. He didn’t want that! He didn’t want to fall back into that routine!

He whirled around, and stalked over to the beanbag. In one fluid motion, he snatched the smoking tube out of Adèle’s reach, and inhaled a large intake of smoke.

Down below, Adèle watched him, her eyes wide as saucers.

Heero coughed, but despite that sucked more smoke out of the tube. It tasted like fruit, sweet and sour in the same time. It scorched his throat as it went down to fill his lungs. Without a word, he handed her back the tube and walked back to the stove. Adèle followed him with her gaze, completely stunned.

“Are you all right?” She asked, her tone amused.

“Just fine,” Heero croaked, voice hoarse from smoke. He reached for whatever spice he saw lying around the kitchen, and added it to the dish. When he was satisfied with the taste he threw it all into a bowl, and slammed it on the table.

“Food’s ready.” He grunted, and threw himself into a chair.

His head hurt. He leaned his arm on the table, and rested his head on it, willing the world to stop spinning.

“It smells wonderful.” Adèle remarked cheerfully as she settled on the chair in front of him. She took her fork and ate without offering him any. Heero just sat there quietly and watched her eat. His head felt as if it were full of cotton, the world swimming in and out of focus. He was tired again.

“You should go to sleep.” Adèle said with her mouth full, and shoved more food inside. “You look like shit.”

Heero snorted. “Thanks a lot.” He muttered, still holding his head as if it would fall off.

Adèle shrugged, and stuffed another fork-full into her mouth. She chewed on it gracelessly, chomping with her mouth almost hanging open. Heero looked at her from between the fingers he was using to support his head, she was acting like a pig again.

“So,” she said, chewing loudly and waving her fork up and down, “you wanna have sex?”

Heero sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Why not?” She asked innocently, leaning towards the bowl and digging around it with her fork.

“Because.”

“Because what?” She looked at him in question.

He turned away from her and struggled to get up. “I’m tired.”

“Oh. Well. Later then.” She said casually, and shoved the fork into her mouth. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah.” Heero mumbled as an answer, unsure of what exactly he was answering to. He didn’t know what felt heavier, his head, or the rest of his body. He dropped dead on the bed and was asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

Awareness returned to him at the sound of a zipper being pulled quickly shut. His eyelids flew open as one thought crossed clearly through his mind: Duo was leaving for a mission. No doubt about it. The baka always made so much noise when he tried to be quiet in the early morning hours. He sighed, and turned to the source of the sound, a nasty comment waiting on the tip of his tongue. By the time he was facing the other side of the room, he remembered. There was no Duo, and no missions. The war was over. Adèle was leaning over his duffle, wearing a tight leather mini-skirt and a shirt that revealed her bra. His money was in her hands as she moved quickly away from the duffle.

“Where are you going?” He asked, voice still rough from sleep.

She jumped, startled, but tried to hide it by pushing back her red/green hair. “Out.”

“With my money.”

She turned to look at him, glaring with a pair of green/red eyes. “Yeah, with your money. Is that a problem?” She asked poisonously, and, without waiting for his answer, she shoved the bills down between her breasts. She walked to the small dresser with a mirror in front of it. The dresser was packed with junk and scattered cases of makeup and jewelry. He watched as she smeared on makeup with swift, expert movements. There was a glass of liquor on the table, and, when she was done putting her makeup, she finished it with a gulp.

“Are you going out to the streets?” He dared to ask.

Adèle turned to him with a nasty smile, “Baby, why would I? I have you.”

“So, where are you going?”

“What’s it to you?” She asked in annoyance.

He had no answer for that, so he looked away.

She chuckled. “Let me know when you get horny again,” she muttered sarcastically, and left the apartment. Heero watched her leave, and, when the door closed with a silent ‘click’, he closed his eyes and returned to sleep. He was beyond caring, about anything and everything. All he wanted was rest.

After tossing and turning in bed for almost an hour, Heero gave up on returning to the dark oblivion of sleep. Exhausted, but awake, he crawled out of bed and walked around the apartment. There wasn’t much room to walk, merely a few steps in each direction. There was nothing to see but a horrid mess, Adèle’s things scattered everywhere possible. Eventually, he settled on the beanbag and just sat there, staring at the narghile. Out of pure boredom, perhaps some sort of curiosity he wouldn’t admit to, he lit it up. Very carefully, he mimicked the steps he had seen Adèle perform. He reached for a nearby cabinet, the one with the stereo on top, and chose a package of strawberry flavored tobacco. When the head was ready, an aluminum foil covering the tobacco inside, he placed a burning coal on the tip.

Hesitantly, he took the pipe and blew some air inside, making bubbles. He then settled down Indian style on the beanbag, and carefully started smoking. He had to learn how to inhale and exhale the smoke, and, after a while, he got used to the sensation of the fruity warmth running through his airways. It tasted good, and it was quite soothing to concentrate solely on breathing, like some form of meditation. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, and he sat calmly on the beanbag, blowing bubbles, and exhaling strawberry flavored smoke.

He looked out the window and gazed at the stars. He wasn’t a romantic, never was and probably never will be, but there was something very calming about watching the stars. He often saw them as a battlefield, littered by hundreds of corpses and scorched mobile suits, but tonight he saw something else in them, distant memories that were surprisingly pleasant.

Such as his time on the space battleship Peacemillion along with the other pilots, it had been the first and only time he was ever part of a group. They were guerrilla fighters, they worked alone, but up there they had fought together as one, for the same purpose. He wondered how they were all doing.

Chances were, that they were doing a hundred times better than he was, lying on a battered beanbag in a prostitute’s apartment, smoking from a narghile that was usually full of hash. He sighed, and looked away from the window. For a few long moments, he concentrated on the smoke, blowing air in and out of the pipe.

They all had a place to return to. Quatre had a home, a family. Trowa had the circus, and Catharine, who was like family to him. Wufei was a loner, but he was sure that he had managed, that he found a new cause to fight for. Probably to maintain the peace somehow. Maybe he was a Preventer, like Sally. He knew that they were fond of each other. Or, at least, she was fond of him.

Turning back to the window, Heero wondered what Duo was doing with his life. He didn’t have a place to return to, but he was the type who managed no matter where he was. Starting a new life was probably not a problem for the likes of him. It hurt to admit it, but he was envious of Duo. He always has been jealous of him, sometimes even angered by Duo’s ability to adjust, to fit in, to smile despite of everything. They were so different from one another. It was a wonder they had become friends. Or, at least, the closest thing to a friend Heero had ever had.

Duo. Somehow, it always came down to him. Duo did this, and Duo did that. There was no reason to think about the baka. He wasn’t important to him. He’d never been important to him. If he had been, Duo would have waited for him when the war ended, like he did after Libra. But, he didn’t. No one did. He didn’t need them anyway, he was fine on his own. He had Adèle, if only for the time being. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that it wouldn’t last forever, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it. Duo used to recite that proverb with a maniacal grin on his face.

Heero sighed, and looked away, refusing to think any longer. He was tired of thinking. He reached for the cabinet by his side, and pulled out a bottle of tequila. Not bothering with a glass, he opened it and took a long draw. Drinking didn’t suit him, much like everything else he’d done in the past two days. Strangely enough, he didn’t care.

He was at the end of his second head – mint flavored this time – when the door opened, and Adèle walked in. Heero was lying on the beanbag, sprawled out like a lazy cat, a half empty bottle of liquor by his side. He didn’t look up to acknowledge her, instead simply bringing the smoking pipe to his mouth. He blew some air inside, making bubbles, before inhaling the smoke and releasing it languidly into the air. Adèle stood by the door, watching him with amused eyes.

“Having fun, I see.”

Heero did not answer, but turned a pair of jaded eyes towards he. She smiled and came closer, he could smell the alcohol on her even from afar.

“Care if I joined your little party?” She settled comfortably by his side, forcing the beanbag to adjust to her weight as well. Heero sighed in annoyance when she ruined his perfectly comfortable position.

“Don’t add anything to it.” He grunted, and handed her the pipe.

She chuckled. “Of course not, I saw how you reacted to it last time,” she teased, and took a long inhale of smoke.

Heero rolled his eyes, and turned to stare at the tequila bottle on the floor.

“I brought you something,” Adèle said, and reached for her large black bag. Something rattled when she reached inside, and Heero turned to face her again. She handed him a bag of tortilla chips.

“Barbeque flavor,” she said with a smile, and opened the snack. She threw one into her mouth, and then licked her fingers. “Not bad.”

“Give me those,” Heero grumbled, and reached for the snack. Laughing, Adèle took it out of his reach.

“I get the first honor, Monsieur Personne.” She placed one chip between her lips, and leaned towards him, feeding it to him from her lips. Heero did not refuse her invitation, and their lips met when he rose to take a bite out of the chip. Adèle pulled away, smiling. She handed him the bag ,and, without a word, he began munching on his favorite snack.

For a while they sat silently, Heero eating and Adèle smoking her Hubble-bubble. She leaned over him and reached for the alcohol he’d been drinking. She noticed that it was half way empty.

“Do you know how expensive this shit it?” She asked with mild annoyance.

Heero threw another chip into his mouth, and didn’t even spare her a glance.

“Don’t you be drinking my stuff alone,” she muttered, and took a long gulp from the bottle.

“Don’t spend my money on your own.” He retorted in an indifferent voice.

“What, we’re having a fight? I don’t remember marrying you, boy. I only fucked you once, that’s all.”

Heero shoved more tortillas into his mouth. “I didn’t ask you to.” He said with his mouth full. There was no annoyance in his voice. He was too drunk, too relaxed, to be angry with anyone.

“Ch.” She snorted, and shoved her spiky hair out of her eyes. “Sale gosse (Annoying brat)!”

“Sale pute (Dirty whore).” He cursed back, voice empty and cold.

She slapped him. Hard. His cheek burned with red fire, and he turned to glare at her. She glared back, her face contracted in anger. Heero yanked her towards him and pressed a firm kiss on her lips. She struggled against him, just for the hell of it, and he answered her struggles by crushing her wrists in his hands. They shifted on the beanbag, fighting for dominance, their tongues clashing in a heated battle.

By the end of their scuffle he had her pinned underneath him, lying on the beanbag with her head resting on the floor and her legs up in the air. They were both panting and bruised from violent, drunken, kisses. Gazes locked, they looked at each other without blinking as their bodies struggled for air.

Adèle wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him closer. Panting, Heero allowed her to guide him closer until he was leaning just an inch above her, their noses nearly touching. He looked into her red/green eyes, feeling her hot breath tickle his throat. She reached up a hand to push his sweaty bangs aside.

“Are you going to fuck me now?”

He nodded hurriedly, so desperate that he didn’t care much for talking. His mouth was hungry for her taste, his fingers aching for the feel of her skin. His loins burned, screaming for him to act, to move, to drown inside her body. He had little idea how his body knew what it wanted so badly, so precisely, so simply. It was wonderful to have no uncertainties, to know exactly what needed to be done. He wanted to die inside her again, to lose himself in that white heaven that obliterated everything else, if only for an instant. He wanted her to kill him with pleasure, so he moved against her, ripping her clothes off, tossing his own garments aside, lost in a world of heated flesh and savage feelings. Nothing existed but her sweaty body writhing beneath him, her voice screaming for him to move harder, faster, deeper. Orders he could oblige without any given thought. He ravaged her body, giving in to his own savage needs. He had one goal: to lose himself again, to surrender to the little death she was offering him.

Dying had never felt better.

Days went by, forming into weeks. Heero remained with Adèle, spending his days in bed, and his nights in sin. Most of the time he lay sprawled on her bed, drinking, or munching on his tortilla snacks. And having sex. Lots of sex. Sometimes, Adèle danced for him, holding a glass of liquor in her hand, the ice rattling as she moved. He would sit on the beanbag, smoking from the narghile as she moved seductively around him, touching him, teasing him, driving him to the edge until he could no longer restrain himself, and he had to devour her. Not that he ever tried to restrain any of the needs she awakened in him. He was addicted to her, completely devoted to her taste, the feeling of her skin, the pleasure he got from dying inside of her over and over again.

Adèle was his way of dealing – or rather, not dealing – with the wounds that the war had left on him, in him. She became an addiction, along with the booze she poured into him and the pot she smoked in her hookah. She was his protective bubble, his shield from both the world and from himself. He did not think, didn’t have to think, when he moved inside her. There wasn’t any room for pain in his heart when all she gave him was pleasure. When she was not around, when she was out doing whatever it was she did, he would go crazy, like a man on withdrawal.  Some nights she took him out to a shady club where Heero usually sat by the bar with a drink and watched Adèle dance and flirt with people. When she would get too cozy with someone he’d look away and gulp down a shot of liquor. Then, they would go back to her place, and he would ravage her body until sunrise and beyond.

He wasn’t sure he knew who he was anymore. He spent most of his time in drunken oblivion, living a life of pure needs and wants. He indulged in it, drowned in it, did everything he could to lose himself in it. As a person who had known nothing but rules, orders, and discipline, he was easily addicted to the taste of freedom. Adèle erased all of his confusion and pain. She was his gateway to liberty, a way out of the dark world he had been trapped in for as long as he could remember.

There was no love in what they did. There was hardly even an attraction between them. He was too young for her, as she often said, and she only enjoyed his inexperience. After sex she would often laugh, and tell him that his virginal ways were something refreshing to have in her bed. She liked reminding him how much he had to learn, and his reply was always that she should teach him. That’s not to say he was attracted to her either. She often disgusted him, mostly when she was high. The only thing he liked about her were the little deaths she offered. She was something simple and easy to obtain. She was something he could handle. In a way, she became his replacement for life.

It wasn’t right, and he knew it. It went against everything he’d been taught, every belief he had conjured for himself. He didn’t care. Not one bit. Living like that was the only way for him to keep living. He liked the idea of doing the complete opposite of what he’d been taught, trained, to do. It was his way of showing the world – or, maybe just himself – that he had the freedom to choose, and no one could, or should, try to stop him. His life was his, and his alone. He no longer wished for true death, only for the little ones, the pleasurable ones, that banished the pains that came with being alive.

He was still panting from their regular afternoon sex as Adèle sat on the beanbag, waxing her legs. He sat on the Indian carpet, leaning against the bed, a large bag of tortilla chips in his naked lap. Unless they went outside, Heero hardly bothered to put his clothes on anymore. It was too much of a bother, and he felt so much better without them. Droplets of sweat trailed down his skin, making it shine under the golden rays of the setting sun. His body was relaxed, slumped against the bed, basking in the numbing aftermath of sex. He ate his chips quietly, a content expression on his handsome face.

Adèle smeared hot wax on her leg and pressed a long white strip to it before she pulled it away quickly. Heero watched her, and winced.

“That looks painful.” He said, crunching down on a crispy tortilla chip.

Adèle snorted, and reached for the jar of wax. “Yea. It hurts like a bitch.”

“So, why do it?”

She smirked, and looked up at him naughtily. “So you wouldn’t mind my wrapping my legs all around you while you thrust into me.”

It was Heero’s turn to snort before he threw more chips into his mouth. “Che. Like I care.”

“No one likes a broad with hairy legs. And, believe it or not, people work hard to feel attractive.”

He chewed on his chips silently for a while, contemplating her words. “I suppose that as long as you do it for your own sake then it’s all right.”

Adèle rolled her eyes, and pulled another strip full of wax. “Oh, thank you for your approval, Monsieur Personne.”

Heero shrugged her words off and continued eating, content with the peace that fell upon him.

“Do you feel attractive?” Adèle suddenly asked, and looked up at him in question.

Heero halted, holding a chip in mid-air. He slowly brought it to his lips and chewed thoughtfully. “I, ah... never thought about that before.”

“But you know you’re good looking,” she snorted, “well, for a kid your age.”

Heero ignored her teasing comment, and shook the bag in search for more tortillas. He made a sour face when he found it empty.

“It’s not the same.” He finally answered, and lifted the empty bag above his open mouth, to catch the falling crumbs.

“Of course not.” Adèle agreed, and smeared more hot wax on her leg. Smoothing it carefully, she looked up at him again. “So do you?”

Heero sighed in irritation, and threw the empty bag away. “I said that I don’t think about it.”

“You don’t care how you look?” She asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well of course you don’t,” she snarled, “because you know you’re gorgeous.”

He turned to glare at her. “That’s not the reason.”

She gave him a nasty, yet knowing, smile. “You should do something about those eyebrows.”

Heero rolled his eyes, and looked away. “You’re impossible, it’s no use talking to you.” Instead of looking at her, he decided to glare at the wall in front of him. He always enjoyed looking at her uniquely designed wallpaper. The colorful patterns never failed to mesmerize him.

“Ah... the truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Adèle continued teasing, “Is it really too much to demand of you men to work a little harder for us? Like we do for you?” She pulled off another strip and winced a little at the pain of ripping out her own hair.

“You do it for the money, so why does it matter?” Heero grumbled, his gaze still fixed on the wall.

Adèle laughed. “That’s a great comeback, Heero. Very good.” She smeared more hot wax on her thigh, working in silence as she pressed another white strip to her skin, and wincing as she pulled it away.

“Do you find me attractive?” She asked, and threw the dirty strip away.

Heero sighed, and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Not particularly.”

“Then why did you fuck me?”

The ceiling failed to occupy his mind for more than a moment, and he sighed, looking away.  “I don’t know.” He turned to look at her. “I was drunk.”

Again she laughed at his answer. “That excuse doesn’t work for you, Monsieur Heero, even drunk you are far too stressed out.”

He looked away, frowning. “I just needed...” he let out, his frown deepening as he searched for the right words, “...something.”

“And I was there to give it to ya.”

“Yeah.” Heero said with quiet guilt, lowering his gaze to the carpet.

“How convenient.” She grumbled, and pulled a wax strip off forcefully.

The carpet was the most beautiful object she had in her apartment, Heero mused, running the tips of his fingers over its surface. It was soft, and rich with color. He still had marks on his back from it from when they had quarreled passionately on the rug, but, then again, so did she. Sometimes they were too rough, too demanding of each other’s bodies. After all, he was still recovering from nearly fatal injuries. Sometimes the sex was too wild for him to endure without pain. But he liked it. He liked it a lot. It was a welcomed pain, a wonderful release.

“Do you masturbate?” Adèle suddenly asked, and he tensed at the sound of her voice. Slowly, he looked up at her.

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, and returned her attention to her legs. “Everybody does, so I was wondering if you did.”

“It’s not the same as sex,” he hesitantly admitted.

Adèle smiled softly, “of course it isn’t.” She reached for some moisturizing cream and smeared it on her aching legs. “So, why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he began slowly, thoughtfully, “I can’t help myself.”

She smiled again, almost kindly this time. “So, you jerk off just to get it out of your system?”

Heero nodded slowly, his gaze still locked on the floor.

“What do you think about when you do it?” Adèle asked after a while, her tone light and casual. Heero knew from his time with her that she chose the most bizarre topics to speak about, and that she treated most taboos as appropriate material for everyday conversation.

Still, he couldn’t help but frown at her question, unable to see the point behind the conversation. “What do you mean?” He asked, and turned to look at her.

“Exactly what you heard. Do you think about anyone? About anything specific?”

“Not really...” He mumbled, and looked away. It was still hard to be so open with her. With anyone, for that matter, but Adèle was good practice.

“So, it’s a mechanical thing for ya?”

Heero bit his lower lips in thought. He always tried hard to answer her questions simply because he wanted to know the answers himself. She never asked anything about his past, about his injuries, about his fear of contact, or his inability to let go of his control. She asked about little things, things only she seemed to care about, or to notice. She asked questions that were hard to answer. He liked that, and he tried his best to find an answer, not for her, but for himself.

“I... it’s not that I want to think about... anything,” he said slowly, carefully, “I just want it to... to be over. Like you said – to get it out of my system.”

“So you do think.” Adèle concluded for him as she picked up a small hand-mirror and a pair of tweezers. Looking in the mirror, she began pluck her eyebrows.

“So, what do you think about?” she repeated her question, “what turns you on enough to touch yourself?”

“I don’t need a reason to masturbate.” He looked at the wall again, almost desperate to find an answer. “It just... comes to me when I’m...”

“Under the shower jerking off.” She finished with a smirk on her face, and he turned to glare at her.

“If you must be so blunt, yes, that’s right.”

He sighed deeply, and turned away. There was silence for a few minutes as Adèle tweaked her red/green eyebrows and Heero studied the patterns on the walls. The city hum drifted through the open window, cars passing by and people shouting down in the street below. The sun was sinking behind the city’s tall gothic buildings, shedding its last few rays of gold into the small apartment. They washed over Heero’s nude body in warm, tingly waves, caressing his skin as if kissing him goodnight. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, absorbing everything into himself. It helped him relax.

“There was this guy...” He suddenly let out, so relaxed that he hardly even realized that he had found his answer.

“A guy, huh?” Adèle smirked, and her eyes lit up in mischief.

“Would you shut up and listen?!” He growled, and she laughed, lifting her hands – with the mirror and tweezers – up in surrender.

He relaxed again – it was getting easier to do that – and turned to look at the wall. “He was my roommate in the school dorms.” He continued slowly, remembering. “He brought a girl to our room one night... he thought I was asleep.”

“Ahh...” Adèle let out in understanding, “so you had to listen to them fuck.”

Heero took a deep breath, recalling the events. “They were really quiet about it, but still... I could hear... everything.” He licked his lower lip that had suddenly become dry. “Sheets, clothes, moaning... I heard it all.”

“And it turned you on.” As always during these types of probing conversations, there was no accusation or mockery in her voice.

Heero bowed his head, and nodded slowly. “I’d never felt anything like that before...”

“Is that when you started masturbating?”

He sighed, looking down at his hands, “I couldn’t help it.”

Adèle smiled in understanding, “who do you think about when you do it?”

He stared at the floor in thought, running that memory through his head. The darkness left so much for his imagination. The sound of sheets rustling, the mattress creaking under their slow, passionate, movements. But most of all, there was the sound of their heavy breathing. The little grunts Duo let out, the small sounds he drew out of his mate. The sound of heavy breathing swirled in his head, hot and stinging like a summer storm. Duo’s breathing was so much louder than the girl’s. His voice drowned everything else.

When he touched himself, his breathing would fall into sync with Duo’s as he played the memory in his head. The hot, desperate panting echoing in the hollows of his mind as he brushed his hand over his arousal, sinking into the memory over and over again.

He shuddered, trying to keep himself from gaining another erection, he was too tired for it now.

“Is it the girl or the guy?” Adèle persisted in asking, plucking a few red hairs out of her eyebrow.

“Neither.” Heero answered quietly, “I didn’t see any of it.”

“Hmm.” Adèle let out thoughtfully as she finished tweaking her eyebrows, “I guess it doesn’t really matter, as long as it helped you discover your sex drive.”

He snorted, “sex isn’t really all that important.”

Adèle got up, tweezers and mirror in hand, “no, it’s not.”

She settled on the carpet behind him, and placed two hands on his shoulders to gently turn him to her. He leaned back without question, knowing full well that she liked to play games, and  in the most odd of positions too. She bent down to kiss him, moving with him as he leaned all the way back until his head rested on her lap. He looked up at her blankly, dazed by her kiss.

Adèle smiled, and ran a hand through his fine hair, wrapping the thick brown strings around her fingers. She teased him a lot about his hair, telling him that it made him look like a child, which, according to her, he was. He closed his eyes, and let her play with his hair. It was very soothing. She tousled his bangs, her fingers brushing against the stitches on his forehead. He needed to get them removed.

When she pushed his bangs aside, clearing them out of his face, he opened his eyes to look at her. There was a cocky smile on her lips, and he knew that she was up to no good. She raised the tweezers, and he frowned at her as a warning.

Adèle, however, never heeded his warnings.

“Now, let’s do something about those eyebrows...”

She had the first group plucked even before he had time to blink, and he jumped, unused to this type of pain. Adèle had taught him many new things about his body and this time was no different. He winced as she plucked the hairs from his eyebrows in quick, expert movements until finally he got used to this new type of pain. He closed his eyes, and his frown deepened, though he let her do as she wished.

“You’re insane.” He mumbled, and she laughed.

“It took you this long to notice!?”

Time flew hastily by, the days and nights mixing in Heero’s mind until he no longer could keep track of time. It didn’t matter. Time was of no relevance to him. He had learned to live without it, no longer caring if it left him behind. He was willing to stay forever trapped in an endless day if it meant remaining as content as he was now.

There was so much freedom hidden within ignorance, within the simple act of discarding time, of giving it little importance in life as you live one moment after another. Worrying was left for later, and later never came when one lived in an endless moment. He wasn’t due anywhere, wasn’t needed anywhere. No one was expecting him to perform any duty. No one was expecting him at all. In a way, he felt almost none existent when he had absolutely no strings attached. That feeling was far more intoxicating than the oblivion found in drink. He lost himself in it like he lost himself in Adèle, though she was far more pleasurable than the other.

So used to that freedom, it was hard for him to acknowledge the fact that he had to leave his cocoon, his small haven, to attend a small errand. Adèle couldn’t be bothered with shopping or housework, and sent him to do everything for her. It was annoying at times, and his annoyance usually lead to a useless argument over it, which he habitually lost. Adèle would make up for it later though, when the two of them were in bed, on the carpet, or in a dark lavatory booth in some bar.

Sex was her answer for everything, but he didn’t mind, perhaps because he never allowed himself to think about it. Thinking required too much effort, and had a bad habit of guiding him down dark, unwanted paths. He surrounded himself with as much physical stimulation or brain-numbing activities to avoid having to think. Adèle often teased him by saying that he was becoming a drunk. He didn’t mind. Not yet, that is.

It was early March, and the streets of Brussels were painted with golden sunshine. Clear blue skies stretched above the city, replacing winter’s gloominess with brighter, richer colors. The roads were wet with rain – as it always rained in Europe – but glowed with the radiance of spring. Wet cobblestones reflected the soft sunshine,  shining like gold. The air was still chilly, but crisp and fresh.

Everything was beautifully vibrant in the springtime. People walked leisurely down decorated streets, dressed in colorful outfits to compliment the season. Life was renewing itself once again, filling the streets with color and laughter.

Heero walked down an ancient pedestrian-only street, making his way through a large bazaar. The makeshift stands around him were packed with a variety of goods: fruits, vegetables, pastries, clothing, and more. He was carrying a large paper bag full of groceries in one hand, and a dark-red apple in the other. Content showed on his handsome face as he took a bite from the apple, enjoying its moist, yet crisp, texture in his mouth.

Children ran past him, laughing as they chased after another child who carried a large blue balloon. Heero smiled, somehow touched by the sound of their childish laughter. It had only been three months since the fear vanished from their eyes. He watched the people around him live their busy lives: smiling, arguing, talking, and walking along the street without a care. The city was blossoming in the peacetime. It was a lovely sight, one he enjoyed often when he went out on errands.

He took another large bite from his apple, and chewed on it contentedly. Living with Adèle  for the past two months had made him realize so much about himself. His likes and dislikes about many things, as trivial as they may seem to some, were something he had never been aware of before. He had never enjoyed food before, but after going to the market with Adèle one day – one of the few times they had gone out in the daylight together – Heero discovered the simple joy found in fine cuisine. As they walked from one food stand to another, Adèle offered many different things to his lips. She showed him how to pick the sweetest, reddest apple, and helped him find his favorite type of cheese. Later, when night had fallen, and they returned home with bags full of goods, she taught him how food could be used for more than just eating.

Heero smirked as the naughty memory played in his head. Memories of that night raised a smug expression on his face, an expression which made him look no better than the average horny teenager who’d just scored with a girl. He knew that the people who were watching him at that moment saw it on his face as well. He just didn’t give a flying fuck, as Duo used to say.

A few girls giggled somewhere next to him, and he stopped, suddenly realizing that he was probably making a total fool out of himself. He looked around, searching for the source of laughter, but whomever it had been, they were long gone. He sighed, and cast his gaze down, berating himself for letting his mind wander so freely out in public. After he scanned the crowd once more, he continued walking.

Then he saw it. Just a few stands ahead, standing by the entrance of a tall, ancient building. It was only there for a second before it disappeared. A long, thick, chestnut braid. Heero’s eyes only caught a flash of it, swinging between the crowds before vanishing again behind a colorful pile of souvenir tee shirts.

Duo. He was here! He... he had come back to look for him!

The apple fell from his hand as he clutched the grocery bag close to his chest and opened his stride up into a run. He sprinted between the masses of people, frantic as he ran. It had to be Duo. He’d recognize that braid anywhere. He was here, searching for him. It made sense. The hospital was only two blocks away. Duo probably got word of his stay in the hospital. It was him. It had to be him!

He reached the souvenir stand in less than five seconds, and then stopped abruptly. Panting, he looked left and right, his blue eyes wide as he searched the crowd for any hint of a chestnut braid. The sound of his own heavy breathing was loud and desperate in his ears. And then he saw it! There! Just a few meters away. He was standing next to the cosmetic stand, talking to some girl.

Heero approached slower this time. He pressed the paper bag closer to his chest, suddenly nervous. He knew he was being foolish, but he couldn’t help it. He only hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Duo’s back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see his approach. He stood behind him for a second, hesitating, before finally speaking.

“Hey.” He let out quietly, regretting not having anything better to say.

Duo turned around, slowly, until he was facing Heero. For a split second, he was certain that he had been right, and was actually happy, relieved, that someone did care for him, that someone did come back for him. But, it only lasted for as long as it took his brain to process the image his eyes were sending. The person standing before him was not Duo.

It was a young, teenage, girl with a long, chestnut braid and a pair of large, pretty, green eyes that were looking at him with an aloof expression. Her friend, the one she was talking to before, also turned to look at Heero, and they both looked at him in disgust.

“Oh, c'est le pervers de la dernière fois (Oh, it’s that pervert from before).” The braided girl spoke to her friend while she ran her eyes over him in revulsion.

The other girl snorted, and glared at Heero. He had to hold himself from shying away. They were obviously the girls who had giggled when they caught him grinning like a sex-crazed teen only a moment ago.

“Tu crois que tu peux rivaliser avec nous ? Dans tes rêves (Do you think you can score with us too? Forget it)!” The braided girl’s friend said angrily, mockingly, and Heero was speechless.

It took him a moment to find his voice again. Embarrassment was not something he was used to. “Non, je... j'ai cru que vous étiez quelqu'un d'autre (No, I... I thought you were someone else).” He mumbled as his mind whirled with humiliation. He was too accustomed to being safe and oblivious inside his timeless ignorance that he easily lost his composure when faced with an awkward situation.

“Casse-toi, espèce de pervers (Go away, you pervert)!” The braided girl spat angrily, and turned around. Her friend followed, and they walked away, muttering amongst themselves.

Heero watched them go, well aware of the fact that people were looking at him. He felt so stupid! Not for the mistake he’d made, but for the fact that he actually allowed himself to believe that it was Duo he was seeing. For about a minute or so, there had been hope in his heart, something that had been absent from the battered organ ever since he was a child. He had actually hoped to see Duo. He was happy that he came looking for him. Hope had blinded him, and made a fool of him once again.

And he didn’t understand why. He felt both disappointed and confused. But then again, why was he so happy in the first place?!

Heero decided that it would be best to ignore the unwanted sense of confusion. He had no room for it inside his bubble, inside his half-life. He returned to Adèle’s apartment with the groceries, and, after three shots of Brandy, pretended that nothing had ever happened.

They had sex, as usual, and Heero allowed himself to sink inside her, to lose himself in her depths. Duo’s panting echoed loudly in the back of his head, as a reminder of that night at the dorm. He drove deeper into Adèle, desperate to quiet the voice, trying to ignore it as he came closer and closer to his little death. His mind exploded when his orgasm came, shattering everything within, silencing everything else with the roar of the blast.

As he died, the world dissolved into nothing. Nothing had happened at the marketplace. Duo never brought that girl into their room. There was no peace, no war, no ache in his heart. Everything was as it should be – sweet, blessed nothingness sparkling in ripples of white in his head.

Once again, there was silence as he collapsed back onto the bed, numb and unfeeling as a corpse. His eyes were wide open, but unseeing, still adjusting to the blow of the orgasm. As he slowly returned to life, floating up in lukewarm waters, towards a dark, cold, surface, Heero heard Adèle’s soft laughter.

Her long fingers caressed the skin behind his ear, playing with the sweaty edges of his dark brown hair. She muttered something about his superb performance that night. Knowing her, she was aware of his unstable mood. He was always rougher, fiercer, when he was troubled, and she often enjoyed the results of his frustration and anger.

Heero couldn’t care less. Exhausted, he hurried to sink into another oblivion, the realm of slumber, where he could hopefully rest in peace a while longer.

When he awoke the next morning, after a thankfully peaceful slumber, the bed was empty. It was unusual for Adèle to be up before he was. But an empty bed suited him just fine. He didn’t want to be bothered by anyone, not even her. It didn’t matter where she was, she often left him alone and went about her business, whatever that may be. He didn’t care enough to ask if she was purchasing drugs or selling her body to more men. It wasn’t his business.

Just when he was about to fall asleep again, the front door creaked open. He looked up, and was surprised to see Adèle standing in the doorway, dressed in the least trashy outfit he’d ever seen her wear: a pair of tight blue jeans and a large, loose shirt with a collar that revealed both her shoulders. Her red/green hair was tied back and under a blue bandanna. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of her head.

“Get dressed.” She said with a barely hidden smile, and walked towards the kitchen.

Heero watched her put a kettle on the stove, and frowned. “Well, that’s new...” He muttered, and sat up. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Just get dressed, will ya? As gorgeous as you are, I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to walk outside naked.”

“We’re not going to a club, are we?” He asked in annoyance, and glanced at the clock. From his experience, if Adèle was offering they go out, it was usually to some shady club. “It’s only ten a.m..”

“No, it’s not a club.” She answered calmly, smearing jam on a piece of old toast. She turned around to face him, leaning on the kitchen counter, and took a bite from her toast. “Now get dressed, handsome.”

Sighing heavily, Heero dragged himself out of bed, and grabbed a pair of boxers from the floor. He wasn’t sure if it was his or hers, but it didn’t really matter to him. After a quick shower he dressed in the simple clothes he had bought at some cheap department store. Adèle served him breakfast – dried toast with jam and coffee. As he ate, Adèle packed a few groceries in a bag. She still refusing to tell him where they were going.

It all became clear to him when they stepped outside the apartment building and a small, red convertible was waiting for them. He turned to look at Adèle, who rattled the keys in her hand, grinning.

“Ah, don’t worry. It’s a rental. It won’t cost you more than 40 credits a day.” She assured him, and jumped into the driver’s seat. She put the food she’d packed in the back.

“Are you taking me out on a picnic?” He asked, still standing outside the car.

“I thought we might try something different for a change.” She said, adjusting her sunglasses while looking in the rearview mirror.

“You’re joking.”

She turned to him, frowning. “Why would I? You’re feeling down, right? It’s all part of the service.” She grinned maniacally, “not bad for a fifty dollar whore, huh?”

Heero sighed, and shook his head, not even bothering to comment on that. He got into the car and settled in the passenger seat. It felt nice taking the passenger position for a change, after being behind the controls for so long.

Adèle smiled, and started up the car. The radio came to life along with it, playing a cheery tune. He opened a bag of tortilla chips Adèle had brought for him and leaned back into his seat. Munching on his snack, Heero kicked back and relaxed, his peace of mind slowly returning.

He watched the city pass them by, the wind caressing his body as they drove up the main highway. The road led them out of the city center, past the suburbs, and into the country. Houses and shops were replaced by green hills and a clear blue sky. The greenery stretched into the horizon where it kissed the sky in a beautiful contrast of rich green and heavenly blue.

Fluffy white clouds floated above like a herd of sheep. Far off into the horizon two mountains met, their slopes sliding down to meet at the bottom. The clouds accumulated between them, flowing down like a waterfall to create an ominous gray mass inside the infinite blue of the sky.

Cows pastured in vast green meadows, where winding mountain streams splashed happily about. The water flowed along the road, racing against their car in splattering white currents. Once in a while he could spot a small house on a hill, surrounded by limitless farmlands. Lush green pine trees huddled in groups to create a forest, climbing up the mountainside in a gravity-defying way.

Everything was so beautiful. He never stopped to appreciate nature before. Earth was something he’d always taken for granted. It was something he needed to protect. No one ever bothered to give him a reason why. No one ever showed him, ever told him, about green prairies, forests, rivers, and hills, about the breathtaking sight of the green earth below the vivid blue sky. It just went on and on, further than the eye could see. It was so much more than just a blue sphere orbiting in the blackness of space. There was just so much in it. So much life. So much nature. It was too much to take in.

“What are you thinking about, handsome?” Adèle’s voice interrupted him softly.

A bird flew past the car, soaring higher into the sky. He watched it disappear into the sun.

“Earth is beautiful.” He whispered in a quiet, awed voice.

“Yes, it is.” she agreed, smiling, “Can you believe that people wanted to destroy all of this?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed at the sky, up where some of the clouds hovered lower than the rest, their shadow passing over the greenery. Gazing up at all the different layers of clouds, scattered above him in different shapes and heights, an enormous sensation filled his heart. Something too big for him to identify. He was overwhelmed by nature, by the tremendous magnitude of it. For the first time, he realized where he had been piloting Wing. He had actually been up there, among the clouds and beyond. He felt sorry for not appreciating that beauty earlier.

“I wonder what if feels like,” Adèle spoke up again, and Heero turned to her. She smiled at him. “To save the world.”

He frowned at the bizarre question. He did not anticipate that kind of question, even from her. It was just too... philosophical. And it hit too close to home. He had never hinted about his past as a Gundam pilot, and it was odd that she was bringing up such a question.

“What kind of question is that?” He finally managed to say.

Adèle shrugged casually, as if there was nothing unusual about asking such a question.

“I’m just wondering,” she gestured at the green landscape, “what does it feel like to know that you saved all of this.”

Heero turned to the skies again, silent and thoughtful. He studied the clouds quietly, trying to name the great feeling in his heart.

“I suppose that it feels much like watching the sky,” he said thoughtfully, his gaze somewhere between heaven and earth, “too big to grasp.”

“Must be.” She agreed, laughing.

Two and a half hours out of Brussels, Adèle took a turn off the highway and onto a dirt road. A rather bumpy ride led them through the mountain ridge and into a forest. The engine hummed loudly as she sped up the mountain and then somewhat downhill until finally arriving at a small valley within the ridge. There was a forest clearing in the middle of the small valley, where a narrow river flowed across a green field. The small meadow was littered with large black boulders. The black rocks seemed a bit out of place in the pastoral picture, but they still allowed it to remain breathtaking.

“My favorite picnic spot.” Adèle said, watching Heero’s astonished face. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“You do this kind of thing often?” He asked, finding it hard to believe.

Adèle shrugged, and began driving down the slope, towards the valley. “No, but if I did it would be my favorite.” She chuckled bitterly, and adjusted her sunglasses. “Actually, I can’t remember the last time I was here.”

She sounded grim, a tone of voice Heero rarely heard from her. Usually she would smoke hash or drink before she became that bitter. He didn’t ask any further, as a part of their unspoken agreement. She didn’t ask about the nightmares he sometimes had, and he never asked why she sometimes cried when they had sex. A glass of liquor usually made all of their worries go away. At least for a while.

As they approached the clearing, Heero realized that the black rocks he saw from above were no ordinary rocks. In fact, they weren’t rocks at all.

“What the hell?!” Adèle cried angrily, and stopped the car. “What is this shit doing here?!”

Heero didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He simply gazed at the green meadow, where the deep blue river splashed mellowly, and large, scorched hunks of metal soiled the land. Mobile suit parts.

“I thought that all the battles took place in Brussels.” Adèle said in disappointment, her gaze pained as she looked upon the metal graveyard.

“They did.” Heero said quietly, and stepped out of the car. “This is... something else.” He whispered, his gaze fixed on a large metal rod that lay like a bridge over the river, a long, round blade on its edge. A scythe.

Cobalt eyes narrowed in both pain and sorrow at the sight. He could hear Adèle step out of the car and slam the door, cursing in her colorful language.

“This sucks!” She cried angrily, kicking a small piece of broken, half molten metal. “Who the fuck dumps a mobile suit in a place like this!?”

“These aren’t regular mobile suits,” Heero said quietly, as if in some sort of trance, “they’re Gundams.”

“Say what?!”

Again he avoided answering, and began to slowly walk towards the wreckage. He scanned the scattered remains of the once great and fearsome combat suits. He could still recognize some of the parts. Sandrock, Heavyarms, and Deathscythe lay in rusting pieces over the lush green land, silent, scorched, dead. Dead, as if they’d ever been alive...

Heero’s features were blank as he walked among the debris, his movements awkward and stiff, entranced.

Behind him Adèle followed silently, as if she too was paying her respects to the sacred ground. Or, perhaps she was just being tactful, giving him his much needed space.

He ran his hands over the scorched metal, the soot blackening his fingers. The metal was warm from the sun, rough and unyielding under his palm. So much power used to flow through these now useless pieces of metal. So much hope they had carried. These now worthless machines were responsible for the future of so many people. Now they lay to rot under the sun, left to be swallowed by nature, and buried in the ground. As they should be. There was no more room for them in a world of peace. Quatre, Trowa and Duo had know that when they self-detonated their suits.

Duo...

He turned around, his eyes drawn to a large, bulky piece of black metal. It was larger than the rest, and rose about two heads above him. It still reeked of smoke and burnt rubber. There was an opening at the top, facing the sky. A cockpit.

“What are you doing?” Adèle asked, when she saw him climb up the mass of burnt metal, his hands searching for something to grab onto as his feet sought a proper footing.

Heero didn’t answer, and swiftly pulled himself up to the top. There was little room to stand  as the cockpit’s entrance was wide open and took up most of the space on that side of the structure.

Inside he could see the pilot’s chair. The cushioning was all gone, and all that remained was the metal skeleton, melted into a steel waterfall, but still in the vague shape of a chair. He hopped in.

“Hey!” Adèle called from behind him, but he ignored her. He settled into the chair, which required him to lie down and prop his legs up on what should have been the cockpit’s floor. He had a direct view of the sky, where clouds still trailed across the heavens like sheep after a shepherd. He reached a hand to the control stick above him – where the front of the cockpit, if it was facing the right way, should be. He closed his fist around the decaying metal rod, a familiar sensation washing over him. He closed his eyes, allowing the power, the pain, and remorse flow through him.

“Are you okay in there?” Adèle’s voice broke his trance, and he opened his eyes to see her peering down the cockpit’s entrance.

“What, you had dreams of becoming a mobile suit pilot? Too bad for you kid, the war is over.”

Heero ignored her. He wanted to know which cockpit he was sitting in. He could not determine that by simply looking around, everything had been destroyed beyond recognition.

He reached for the small storage compartments scattered in various corners around the cockpit. It was where he and the other pilots usually kept their personal belongings, from fake IDs to a toothbrush to a change of underwear. Most of the compartments were empty, giving him no clues. He could feel Adèle eyeing him strangely as he continued to raid the cockpit.

“Are you insane?! What are you looking for in there? You ain’t gonna find a corpse.”

“I know that.” He muttered and reached up behind him, towards a small compartment above the broken monitors. Small pieces of glass cracked loudly as he opened it slowly and reached a hand inside. It was where the pilots usually kept their pistols – because it was forbidden to pilot while having a pistol at your waist, for safety reasons. But Heero knew one pilot who used that slot for a different purpose.

His fingers searched inside until something rattled when he touched it. The sound was pleasantly familiar. A smile touched his lips. He retrieved a small, wrinkled bag of tortilla chips. Barbeque flavored, of course.

Adèle’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me that this is yours!”

“No, it’s not.” He answered quietly, looking at the bag in his hand. Like he had suspected, he was sitting inside Deathscythe’s cockpit. Duo’s cockpit.

“So you... you know the dude who died here?”

“He’s not dead.” Heero answered without looking at her.

Adèle frowned, and shook her head. “Okay. Whatever.” She looked at him lengthily as he stared at the snack, and then sighed. “Ya know what? I’ll be in the car.”

Heero merely grunted in response, and felt the cockpit shake a bit as she climbed off. Then there was silence, and he was left alone with an old bag of tortilla chips and his grim thoughts.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the warmth of the sun touching his skin and the quiet sounds of the forest. So peaceful, a suitable resting place for the machines that had seen so much death and destruction.

Heero smiled, and opened his eyes. He was humanizing them. Like the other pilots had done. He had never considered Wing as anything more than a tool. Now he could understand the other pilots’ attachment. The Gundams were their lives. It must have been hard to leave them here and move on.

He opened the snack. It was old, tasteless, and too spongy to be any good. He ate it anyway, and leaned his head back to gaze at the skies.

Duo. The last time he saw him was when he had punched him in the gut and made him fall unconscious so he wouldn’t be in the way. He used him for a chance to save the world, but that was not an excuse. He could have gone about it differently, shown a bit more concern. He hadn’t been fair to him. Not ever. It was no wonder Duo didn’t wait for him at the end of the war. It made sense now.

The only reason he had been there at the end of the first war – after Libra – was because they had all been there. All of the pilots. It was circumstantial, nothing more. They had lived together for a year, but he never took the time to get to know Duo better. He was always busy keeping track of world affairs, waiting knowingly for the outburst of another battle. And when that was over, where did that leave him? Alone. Completely, utterly, alone. No matter how many times he joined Adèle in her bed, the two of them were always alone.

That night he had no desire for Adèle’s games. He was not in the mood for any of it. He didn’t want to be touched, or even looked at. He lay on the bed, brooding. Adèle sat on the beanbag and smoked. She sat in silence, without even turning the stereo on, to make it clear to him that she was bored. Heero ignored her, and stared at the ceiling, a harsh, hardened expression on his face.

Adèle watched him for a long minute, and sighed heavily.

“Are you okay?” She asked with concern.

Heero’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. He didn’t answer.

“Vous vous conduisez comme un petit garçon capricieux (You’re behaving like a stubborn little boy).” She muttered in annoyance before inhaling from the narghile.

First a horny teenager, and now a stubborn child. It was amazing how wide the scale of emotion was. Apparently there was more to life than just remaining content inside a single moment. His bubble had been burst and it threw his entire world off its axis. Why? He had been so comfortable with his ignorance!

Duo. It was all because of him. It always came down to him. But why? They were hardly friends. They slept in the same dorm room a couple of times, saved each other’s asses a time or two, even fired at one another on a few occasions. But never beyond that. It was never beyond the mission.                                                                                                          

When he thought about it, he hardly knew Duo at all. He had never paid much attention to him. Or did he? He knew what Duo would have to say on just about anything. Why was that? He hardly ever listened to his constant chatter. Duo talked so much, even when there was no one to listen.

How could he know so much? When did he take the time to notice? And why was he thinking about him so much? Why did Duo bring that girl into their room anyway?! He thought about that the most. There were a million other places for them to be that night. Why their room? Why when Duo knew that he wasn’t sleeping! How could he sleep under such circumstances!? Duo had done that on purpose. He let him listen as he fucked that girl. It was cruel. It was humiliating. It hurt.

Now Heero realized how much it had hurt. Duo had hurt his feelings. No one had ever done that before. No one came so close to touching his heart like that ever since... a very long time ago.

A few clanks were heard as Adèle picked up a bottle of liquor and a glass. Heero turned away from the ceiling and watched her pour the alcohol into the glass. She gestured to him with the glass, her movement making the golden liquor dance from side to side.

“Want some?” She asked, with a softer tone than before.

Heero sighed, and looked away. “No.”

“You’re refusing a drink! This is serious!” She laughed.

Heero rolled over to lie on his side, turning his back to her. He cradled his head in one arm, trying to hide from the world, from the troubling thoughts that returned so suddenly, so unexpectedly, into his world.

“I thought you couldn’t last a day without a drink.”

“I’m not an alcoholic.” He muttered in annoyance.

Adèle snorted. “Not yet, you mean.”

“Shut up.” He snapped, and brought a hand up to hide his face. She was right, and it aggravated him even more. He depended too much on liquor to quiet his mind, and now he could no longer do it himself. He just kept thinking and thinking and thinking! His head hurt. Or was it his heart?

“I bet you can’t make it through the week without drinking at least one shot.” Adèle teased, and gulped down the liquor. “It’s what keeps you going.”

“I’ll wager you on that.” He retorted in a streak of sudden determination, a shadow of his old self.

“You’re on.” She said, chuckling, and poured herself another shot. “The winner gets a bottle of Brandy. Not the cheap stuff.”

“Whatever.” He muttered as an agreement, and closed his eyes. Perhaps sleep would help to ease his mind.

“Well, if you dun wanna drink, do you want me to suck your dick?” She asked, as if she were offering candy to a child, “that might help make you feel better.”

Unlike the many times before, her offer repulsed him.

“No.” He growled, pulling further away, to the other edge of the bed.

“What, are you sick of me already?” She raised a green eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He breathed, although he wasn’t sure if it was true.

Adèle laughed at his answer. “As blunt as usual. I like that about you.”

Heero didn’t answer. He stared down at the sheets, recalling all of the times he had poured his sweat into them, basking in the pleasure she gave him. Escape. It was all for escape. Why couldn’t he return to that?

“This lifestyle doesn’t suit you,” Adèle said softly, as if reading his thoughts, “I knew it from day one.”

He sighed heavily, and contemplated over her words. “I had to find out for myself,” he finally answered, feeling a strong sense of finality in his heart. Perhaps it was time.

“Do you regret staying with me?” She asked, her eyes serious.

Slowly, he turned to face her. “No.”

She smiled gently. “Is this goodbye then?”

He turned back to look at the ceiling, lost in thought. “I don’t know yet.”

Adèle sighed heavily. She turned to watch the window, a forlorn gaze in her eyes as she raised the narghile pipe to her mouth. She remained silent for the rest of the night.

Heero fell asleep, and dreamt about Duo.

Clouds drifted across the moon, tainting the pure white orb with stains of black. The wind raced across dark hills, laughing madly as it toyed with the helpless vegetation. Foliage covered the ground at the feet of bare trees, swirling with the wind. Naked branches knocked loudly against the dormitory’s windows, and rain poured in a consistent drizzle that tapped on rooftops and windows alike.

The moonlight filtered in through the stream of water, illuminating the room with waves of faint light. Heero lay in bed, listening to the storm. His eyes were open, staring at the wall in front of him. The blanket was drawn up to his neck, protecting him from the cold. His disheveled hair lay sprawled over the pillow in a mess of dark brown, bangs obscuring his eyes. He was tired, but he could not sleep. The room was too empty.

Duo wasn’t back yet. He had been gone for quite a while, without mentioning where he was going. There was no reason for him to be out so late. It was unnerving, suspicious, and... worrisome, although he would never admit to it.

The door creaked as it opened. Heero watched as a rectangle of light formed on the wall in front of him. Two silhouettes walked into the middle of the golden frame. One was Duo’s, the other was a girl’s.

Heero tensed under the blanket, but forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, and listened.

“Are you sure this is all right?” The girl asked. He recognized her voice. Ashley Morganat, one of the prettier girls in class, though not overly popular. At least that’s what Duo had informed him at lunchtime that day, somehow thinking that he would care for such information. He didn’t at the time, but now it seemed vital somehow. What was Duo doing with a girl in their room at this hour at night?

The answer was obvious, but Heero refused to acknowledge it.

“Yeah, sure it is.” Duo said casually, his voice barely above a whisper, “we won’t wake him.”

It wasn’t a lie. Duo never lied. But, he was an expert at manipulating the truth.

“What if we get caught?” The girl whispered again.

“Don’t worry about it...” Duo whispered back, his voice taking a tone that Heero had never heard before. Low, husky, seductive. His skin crawled with goose-bumps, but, in denial of his feelings, he blamed it on the cold.

He opened half an eye, and looked at their silhouette on the wall. Duo was kissing her now, their arms wrapped around one another. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it, as he did with everything that had to do with Duo. This time however, ignoring Duo was nearly impossible.

The room filled with breathy pants as the door slid shut. Under the guise of darkness, Heero opened his eyes again slowly. He could see nothing, just the wall, but he heard Duo’s bed creak as they both settled down on it, panting.

“Duo...” The girl breathed, panting, and then gasped. Heero felt something inside him twitch, and closed his eyes again, tight, trying to be somewhere else, as far away as possible.

“Shhh...” Duo reminded her, and the bed creaked again. Sheets rustled. Clothes were tossed to the floor.

Heero listened. He didn’t want to, but he listened. The bed creaked, and Duo grunted, the girl moaned and gasped. The mantra repeated in a cycle, spinning wildly as a tornado. A creak, a grunt, a gasp, and a moan. A thrust, a grunt, a gasp, and a moan. The sounds smothered him, taunted him.

Duo was playing a malicious prank on him. He refused to feel any of the hurt and the betrayal that insisted on gripping his heart so painfully. He did not care. He could not care. Not for Duo. Not for anyone.

A hand touched him. Warm, gentle, with long, smooth fingers. It slid slowly under the blanket, gliding over his bare shoulder. He didn’t recall falling asleep with his shirt off. The night was too cold, he was rather certain that he went to bed fully dressed.

There was a low moan, just above his ear. He shivered at the feeling of warm breath against the hollow of his neck.

The hand continued further, sliding down the scar across his upper arm and down to his chest. It caressed his muscled body, slowly, sensually. He shivered at the warmth radiating from the long, smooth fingers. He never imagined Duo’s fingers to be so soft.

He gasped when they ran across the scar on his abdomen. A scar he had gotten in a battle that hasn’t occurred yet. It made little sense, but he was too absorbed into the feeling of Duo against his skin to dwell into it.

Lips touched his jaw, soft, slick, and somehow familiar. A tongue traced his jaw line, hot and wet. He had no way of telling, but he knew that it wasn’t Duo’s.

The hands became bolder, more demanding as they slid deeper under the blanket, pushing it away. He shivered from the sudden cold, and heard a small chuckle.

“Viens donc jouer avec moi (Come out and play with me)...” A familiar voice droned seductively, as a hand slipped into his shorts. Laughing, Adèle wrapped her fingers around his growing erection.

Heero opened his eyes, and yanked her hand out of his shorts.

“What are you doing?!” He demanded with a glare.

Adèle, who was sitting casually by his side, flipped her hair back, and shrugged. “It looked like you were having a nice dream, so I thought you probably missed me.” There was a nasty grin on her face.

“Don’t assume too much.” Heero muttered, and turned to face the wall.

“Oh, don’t be like that. We didn’t have sex all day yesterday and you were asleep the whole night. I was lonely...” She let her fingers wander over his left arm, across the long scar, following its path all the way down to his back. She leaned down, and kissed the edge of the scar, just bellow his shoulder blade.

Heero pulled away, and moved to the edge of the bed. “Stop it.”

Adèle sighed. “I’m not going to beg you to fuck me.”

“Good.” Heero grunted, and yanked the blanket up to cover his naked torso. “Because I’m not going to.”

“Why the heck not?!”

Heero didn’t answer. He curled under the blanket, and closed his eyes.

Adèle growled angrily, and jumped off the bed. She threw a pillow at him, and cursed.

“I give you a warm bed to sleep in, and in return you have to put out! That’s the deal, asshole!”

Heero didn’t even stir at the sound of allegation and disdain in her voice, which made her anger boil even more.

“Espèce de sale gamin susceptible et trop gâté (You stupid, spoiled, moody little brat)!” She screamed poisonously, gathering a bunch of her clothes from the floor. “And to think I let you stay around for so long!” She raged on, and then threw the clothes at him violently.

Some landed on his back, some on his head and face. He pulled them away slowly, tiredly. She was often like that when she didn’t smoke pot, or drank too much. Usually he’d agree to sleep with her, and she would calm down. But not today.

“Ungrateful son-of-a-bitch!” She muttered, and stormed around the apartment, picking up various liquor glasses that held a few more drops. She emptied them one by one as she fumed about his incompetence in bed and poor foreplay skills.

Heero stopped listening, and simply lay on the bed, brooding. He heard her opening his duffle, brutally tearing the zipper open. She was surely after his money again, but he was beyond caring as to what she did with it. There wasn’t much left anyway.

“If you ain’t gonna keep your end of the bargain then you better get the hell outta my place!” She barked, and then slammed the door behind her.

Heero sighed, and rolled over to lie on his back. They had never made such a bargain, not in words, but now that she had mentioned it, he wondered which one of them was really the whore. He was willing to be with her as long as she helped him forget. She needed him to do the same for her. It was a fair exchange, but he couldn’t do it anymore. The thought of lying in her bed for a second longer disgusted him.

He got out of bed, and dressed in his cheap clothing. After a while of rummaging through his duffle he found some money, and noted that he didn’t have much left. With a few bills in his pocket he threw his old-man’s jacket – the one Adèle hated so much – over his shoulders and walked out of the apartment.

The morning light greeted him with its bright, warm embrace. He squinted his eyes against the flood of light, and stepped blindly into the street. A large interchange rose above the street only a few hundred meters from Adèle’s building. The heavy traffic filled the streets with pollution and noise. The apartment building was located in the slums, which were very close to the hectic city center. Modern skyscrapers elevated above smaller, older buildings in sharp disparity of new and old. Blue skies stretched vibrantly over the city, marking the approach of summer.

It was a warm mid-spring morning, and the streets bristled with activity. Men and women in flashy business suits hurried past one another on their way to work, harsh looks on their faces. Old women struggled with heavy grocery bags as children ran past them with school bags jumping up and down their backs. Shopkeepers opened their business for the day as buyers crowded around the doors in anticipation. Engines roared as vehicles drove down the cobblestone paths and into the modern asphalt roads, sparkling under the morning sun in a colorful morning traffic mosaic.

Swallowed by the morning haste, Heero walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, his hair obscuring his eyes. He scanned the crowds from behind the shelter of his bangs, looking longingly at the people as they rushed past him. He envied each and every one of them. As he looked at the tired, yet resolute looks on the people’s faces, he felt miserable at his incompetence. The war was almost four months behind him, and he had achieved nothing in that time. He wanted to stride down a street and know where he was headed. The people around him did not seem content with life, but they had no idea how lucky they were. How much emptier their lives would be without work, without the constant struggle to get through another day. He wanted to be a part of their world, he wanted a life that was worth living.

In his wandering he found himself walking down one of the main streets of central Brussels. There were large department stores, office buildings, and cafés on either side of the road. Lush green trees decorated the sidewalks, and a tram-rail cut between the two-lane road. The tram’s bells rang before it rolled through the street, and then disappearing behind a curve.

He stopped to look around as people continued to walk by him, muttering in annoyance for having to walk around a person standing in the middle of the street. Once again, it seemed like he did not fit his surrounding. It was no mystery either. His eyes were searching for a place to go, while they knew exactly where they were headed. He was lost, they were not. It was hard to fit among such people. He felt much like in the day he was released from the hospital. For a split second, he longed for the blissful ignorance of Adèle’s warmth, but he pushed the feeling away. It was the closing of a circle, one he did not wish to repeat. He longed for guidance, for a hint, a clue, a thrown bone, anything that would show him what he must do. He didn’t want to go back to Adèle.

A flash of light caught his eyes, and he turned in its direction. It was a large neon sign on the other side of the road. The sign flashed in green and red lights, blinking and winking in his direction. At first he took it for a sleazy bar, perhaps because the red and green colors reminded him so much of Adèle, but when he read the sign he couldn’t help but smile.

* Hell’s Pit Internet Café *

* Live music * Full bar * Coffee * E-mail * Magazines *

* Surf and Ye Shall Find *

It was late evening when Heero returned to Adèle’s place. He found her hunched in front of the small dinner table, wearing only a black bra and matching boxer shorts. Her shoulders were slumped in weariness and despair. The long spiky strands of her hair seemed to have stilled, lying in a defeated mass of red and green. Her head was bowed, red/green bangs hiding her face. Her fingers were curled limply around a large bottle of Brandy. She did not move when he entered, and continued to stare at the golden liquid in a deathly silence.

Heero stood and looked at her before slowly closing the door. There was a sense of forbiddance in the air that neither he nor she was the cause of. It was something that was bound to happen, and they both knew it.

“You’ve been out for quite a while,” Adèle murmured, and brought the bottle up to her lips, taking a long sip. “Does that mean yer leaving?”

“Yes.” Heero replied quietly, still standing by the door. He needed to keep a safe distance from her in case she tried anything. There was no telling what she might do when she was bitterly drunk. She might try to seduce him again, which he wasn’t strong enough to face yet. Or, she might lash at him with the bottle. He wasn’t ready for that either. It was still hard to bid both Adèle and alcohol goodbye, but he had to. Otherwise, he would never be able to do it, he would be lost and addicted, just like her.

“So that’s it,” she muttered tiredly, “just like that?”

“Did you expect it to be any different?” He asked, and took a small step forward. Adèle took another long sip of brandy, and wiped her mouth. Her back was turned to him so he could not see her face, but the bitter tone of her voice painted a clear picture.

“No, of course not,” she whispered into the bottle, and gulped down another mouthful of liquor.

He looked at her smooth white back, bent over as though every will of life had been beaten out of it, and his eyes narrowed with sorrow. It was the first time he felt sorry for her.

“It was nice, though, wasn’t it?” Adèle suddenly muttered, and slammed the bottle on the table.

“Yeah,” Heero nodded slowly, “for a while.”

She chuckled, her voice was laced with self-loathing. She hated being reminded of her status, Heero knew. She hated to be reminded of anything at all. Adèle was all about forgetfulness. He could not live like that anymore.

“So,” she turned to him with a fake, sleazy smile, “Where ya headed to?”

He was silent before finally letting out a quiet answer. “The L2 cluster.”

“L2, huh?” She turned back to the table, and reached for the brandy, “I guess that L2 is the furthest place anyone can escape to, ain’t it?”  She mumbled sarcastically, and took a long sip.

“I’m not running away, Adèle.” Heero answered sternly, and took the final steps towards the table. He glared harshly at both her and the brandy. “Not anymore.”

“Right.” She snorted skeptically, and drank some more. “Pas d'alcool et pas de sexe ? Qu'est-ce qu'il te reste alors ? L'apitoiement ? (No drinking, and no sex? What do you have left then? Misery)?” She turned to him, and pinned his gaze with her own cold pair of blue eyes. “Are you going to be miserable for the rest of your life?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He answered solemnly, and took a seat in a chair across from her. He returned her harsh gaze with his own, though his eyes shone with determination, unlike the dead, glazed over gleam in her eyes. “I don’t really know yet.”

Adèle sighed, and looked away. She wrapped her palms around the cool brandy bottle, and stared at it quietly. Heero studied her, suddenly seeing her in a new, clearer light. She was not the strong person he had mistaken her for. She was weak, broken, and defeated. Perhaps even beyond repair. All she had were the men who helped her put her mind at ease, and the liquor that offered oblivion when it flowed through her veins.

Adèle was misery, she was what people become when there was no other place for them to go, nothing more to aspire for. In a way, her fate was worse than death. He had been a fool to believe that the little deaths she had offered were a blessing. They were the seeds she planted in him, the invitations to her own dark world. She had no ill intentions, he knew that, but all a dead person could spread was death, not love, not light, not hope. If he stayed and continued to die in her arms he would only end up in a hell like hers.

That was unacceptable. If he was to die and spend his life in Hell, there was a different kind of death he wanted to find there. Whether that certain death would be gracious enough to meet him was yet to be known. But he would try. He had to, because seeking him, seeking death, was the only reason he could think of for living. Ironic as it may be, Duo Maxwell, the self-proclaimed God of Death, was the only connection Heero had to the living.

He turned his gaze back to Adèle’s face, hidden somewhere behind a mass of red/green hair. She was still staring blankly at the bottle that was cupped in her hands. His eyes traveled down her hunched form, following the path of the scar that went from the left side of her bra-clad breasts, down across her lower belly.

He often wondered if the reason she never demanded that he wear a condom was because she no longer had a uterus. The scar cutting across her body suggested that was the case. It was the center of her being and the center of her pain, both physically and spiritually. He never dared to ask, though, just like he didn’t want to be asked about his own scars – the ones that went deep into his heart and soul.

“Are you going to keep living like this?” he asked carefully, even though he knew that it was useless.

“If anyone’s willing to waste fifty dollars on damaged goods.” She gave him a twisted, spiteful smile. “I’m not going to change, Heero.”

“I know,” he said, sighing.

“And certainly not by you.” She added maliciously, and picked up her bottle. “You were just a good fuck, that all.”

“So were you.” Heero retorted bitterly, and watched her empty nearly half of what was left in the bottle with a single gulp.

“But it was getting old.” Adèle added, as she withdrew the bottle from her lips. “Allez vous trouver quelqu'un de votre âge (Go find someone your own age).”

Her words managed to raise a weak smile on his lips. “I’ll try.”

She snorted, and placed the bottle on the table. Her hands were shaking, she was so drunk. Heero watched her silently, noting the dark look in her eyes. Adèle was doing her best to escape the events of that night. It was as if she was trying to forget every moment mere seconds after it passed. It was his fault for causing her pain, but there was nothing he could do about it.

A bitter laugh tore out of her throat, laced with alcohol and contempt for life. She turned to him with a sarcastic smile.

“Maybe I’ll make a habit outta picking up stray kids from the streets, yanno?”

He offered a weak smile in return, if only to humor her. “And then sleep with them until they run out of money?”

She raised the bottle up in the air, and grinned. “I’ll drink to that!”

They fell silent again. Having nothing left to say, Heero bowed his head and stared at the tabletop. Adèle busied herself with the alcohol until her hands shook so hard she could no longer handle the bottle.

“You won the damn bet, yanno.” She slurred drunkenly as she struggled to lift the bottle. “I guess you can rest assured that you won’t become an alcoholic.”

Heero looked up at her, a pained look in his eyes. “It hasn’t been a week yet.” He said sadly as he realized that she had lost all track of time. He hurt for her because he knew that when one lost track of time one only suffered more. A childhood spent in solitude and confinement had taught him that well. When people lost track of time they were held forever trapped in a single, torturous moment. A permanent Hell. That is why he had been so determined to discard time, to forget all about it with the help of sex and liquor.

Adèle’s way of dealing with it was escape, a glimpse into the outside world when she let men enter her body. He, however, did not want to settle for fleeting moments. He wanted to break out of the cage he’d been forced to endure for so long.

“Really?” Adèle cut into his thoughts with a puzzled expression, “not even a week?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s only been a day.”

“Oh.” She let out quietly, and turned to stare at the brandy. “It doesn’t matter, I know you’ll win.” She mumbled sadly, her forlorn eyes gazing into the bottle. “Bastard.” She snapped, and swooped the bottle off the table. Her movements were uncoordinated, hazed with alcohol, and she couldn’t even aim the bottle to her lips anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Heero reached a hand to help her. He steadied her wrist and served the bottle to her lips. After she drank, he wiped her mouth and chin with his sleeve, and placed the bottle aside. She gave him a sad, goofy smile as her eyelids slowly slid shut.

Heero offered a weak smile in return while he held her hands in his. He studied her alcohol-flushed features for a moment or two, and then caressed her cheek gently.

“Thank you.” He whispered, an honest look in his eyes.

“You’re welcome, Monsieur Personne.” She replied sweetly, though her voice was slurred. She released her hand from his, and laid her head on the table, cradled it in her arms.

“Try to keep quiet when you leave.” She mumbled sleepily, her eyes closed. “Don’t wake me up... okay?”

“I won’t.” He promised, knowing that he couldn’t even if he tried.

He left a fifty-dollar bill on the table before he left, knowing that Adèle would appreciate the joke. She was still snoring softly when he turned to leave, her red/green hair sprawled around her. For a moment, he felt sorry for her again, but then discarded the feeling. She never asked for pity, and he respected that. He decided to never feel sorry for her again. It was the least he could do.

With one last look at the woman who helped him find life in death, Heero threw his duffle over his shoulder, and walked out of the apartment.

He spent all of his remaining money on a fake passport and a shuttle ticket to colony L2-V08744. He boarded the shuttle anxious and penniless, devoid of anything but fear for the worst and hope for the better.

The flight was to be about 36 hours long (being that it was a commercial shuttle and not a Gundam), which left him with altogether too much time to stare out the window and think. He regretted taking a window seat. He hated space and the blackness it represented in his life. He watched his refection in the window as nagging thoughts ran ceaselessly through his head. He was headed to see Duo, yet he still had no idea what he was going to say when he got there.

A simple ‘hi’ wouldn’t do. Even an honest ‘I’m sorry’ would be out of place. ‘Sorry for what?’ is what Duo would ask him and Heero did not have the answer for that yet. All he had was a useless – ‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it before’, and that didn’t answer the question now did it?

During his search for Duo at the Internet Café the name ‘Schbeiker’ came up. The name had been familiar so Heero looked into it further. It was not hard to find, the advertisement was on the top of the list on every search engine.

‘Schbeiker Salvage Yard: disassembling, dismantling, salvaging, sorting, and handling of metals, old machinery, and debris. Will make shipments to Earth and the 5 Lagrange Points. (L2- V08744) 21000-108 Ave SE, phone number: L2-V08744-395-998-1214.’

He knew the name Schbeiker. Hilde Schbeiker was close to Duo during the war, how close he never knew. He had never bothered to ask. It was not that important. Or so it seemed. Now, it made him anxious.

He sighed, and turned to study the blue sphere that glowed vibrantly in the distance.

Earth was as beautiful from above as it as on the surface. This was the first time he had stopped to appreciate the sight of it from space. In the past, it had been a target, a threat, and a goal. Now, it radiated a kind of calm blue aura that enchanted him. After all, it was partly thanks to him that Earth was still there. The feeling was powerful, but it was not what he wanted to achieve in his life. Adèle made him realize that it was a different feeling his heart ached for. He had no need for the nameless power that made him feel like a hero. He needed something that would make him feel small, weak, and vulnerable. Something that would make him unmistakably human. He wouldn’t be able to find that feeling on Earth.

Despite that, Heero smiled at the blue planet. It was his farewell before he turned away and gazed forward, towards an uncertain future. L2-V08744 was T minus thirty hours away and counting. He wished for the flight to be over already. Otherwise, he would go insane with all the thinking his mind was forcing him to do.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a female voice spoke on the P.A. system, “this is Trisha Kelly, your lead flight attendant for this flight. We will be serving you a warm meal and beverages shortly. Please return to your seats and clear the aisles for the crew and carts. Thank you.”

Heero sighed, and turned away from the window to look at the aisle. A stewardess pushed a food cart into the passageway, and smiled at him when their eyes met. She was a young, dark skinned brunette whose tight uniform complimented a lush feminine frame. For a moment, his eyes lingered on her round thighs before they trailed up her skirt to look at the rest of her body. At last, his gaze settled on her breasts as she bent over to pull a food tray out of the cart. Her white blouse stretched and pressed against her abundant chest, leaving little to the imagination.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the constant sound of panting echoed from a distant memory. It became louder the longer he looked at the woman, flooding him with memories of the night Duo had brought Ashley Morganat into their dorm room. He could hear Duo’s every breath. It flooded him. Suffocated him. There were flashes in his mind of flesh and skin. Hands moving slowly, sensually, over legs and thighs. A head thrown back, hair against the pillow, a mouth open with a moan. Fingers roaming over heated skin. A taut, muscular, smooth chest. His hands touching, exploring, moving in, over, and out. Caressing a body that was clearly male.

Heero opened his eyes, and struggled to keep his face composed. Apparently he had caught the stewardess’s eye, and she smiled seductively at him, pushing her hair behind her ear. She was a gorgeous woman, but he was not interested in her as much as he thought he should be. Like Adèle, she was attractive, but her looks only registered as such. Nothing more.

He turned to look out the window and sighed. He was attracted to Duo... Since when?

“What will it be sir? Chicken or beef?” The flight attendant asked sweetly as she leaned towards him. He turned to her, his eyes once again traveling down to her lush round breasts.

He forced his eyes to dart back up to her face. “Beef.” He preferred the taste of beef to the stale taste of chicken. It was another thing Adèle had taught him.

The dark-skinned stewardess handed him his food tray, and he reached to take it, his mind elsewhere.

When did he start feeling that attraction? Was it back on that night when Duo brought Ashley into their room? True, he had thought about that night many a time, but it was always vague, full of sounds instead of images. He never pictured himself running his hands over Duo’s body. Not once. Why now? Was it because he had finally stopped avoiding the subject? Because he no longer feared the complications of such thoughts?

“Anything to drink?” The stewardess asked, and Heero slowly turned to look at her.

“Apple juice,” he said without thinking, and suddenly halted and frowned. He liked apple juice. It went perfectly with the tortilla chips he liked, a combination of sweet and salty in his mouth. His face slowly paled as he came to a realization.

He knew his likes and dislikes. He had learned to listen to his body, to know his own wants and needs. Adèle had been his guide, there was a certain easiness about her that allowed him to drop his guard and listen to himself instead of to outside sources of potential danger.

Food and drinks might be a small start, as were the other small things he had learned about himself, but if he was to really get to know himself, his body was a good place to start. His sexual preferences were a part of that, a part that connected his body to his heart and soul.

It wasn’t that he was thinking about Duo in a different way. His thoughts had the same meaning as before, only now he was finally able to recognize them for what they were. It wasn’t so hard, once he let the barriers fall completely. It was a frightening fall, a long way down, so he chose to remain standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down into the abyss. When he finally met with Duo, he would know whether it was safe to jump down or not.

“There you are, sir. Enjoy your meal.” The pretty stewardess recited with a bright smile as she tucked a few more hairs behind her ears.

“Thank you.” Heero mumbled, and turned to look out the window. He smiled at his refection, a knowing, relieved, smile. He was looking at his own face, and, for the first time, he knew who he was looking at.

He dozed off after lunch, leaning against the window with his mouth hanging open in sleep. It was a content slumber, warm and easy, despite his body being cramped in a small seat.

The Captain began speaking on the P.A system, which slowly poked at his awareness and pulled him away from sleep. Apparently, the Captain thought that everyone would be thrilled to know that they were just flying past the L1 cluster, and that the shuttle was now 125,000 miles away from Earth.

“...We still have another 125,000 miles before we reach the moon and then another 50,000 before we arrive at L2. I estimate we’ll pass the lunar orbit in about ten more hours, and from then on it shouldn’t take us more than four to five hours to reach the main L2 port.”

Heero sighed, and shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position so that he could get some more sleep. The Captain was still talking, which made it impossible. What was it with commercial pilots and speaking on the P.A system? Did they really think that the people in the back cared how many miles-per-hour they were going? Was it really that important to tell them the exact route he was going to pilot them through? No one really cared so as long as they ended up on L2.

“Since I’m sure that many of you are tired by now, I’m going to dim the lights on the shuttle and wish you all a pleasant night. There’s a nice action movie playing on channel 5, and, if you still can’t find a way to busy yourselves, then you’re more than welcome to pay my co-pilot and me a visit, it’s actually quite boring back here.”

A few people coughed out a small laugh, and Heero rolled his eyes. They should try to pay attention to the controls. That might keep them busy.

The main lights in the aisle dimmed, only a few weaker lights remaining on at the sides of the shuttle. It was hard for him to find a comfortable position, and his entire body ached from being seated for over twelve hours. The shuttle was hot and stuffy, he longed for a breath of fresh air. It was crowded, and there was a baby in the back of the shuttle who just wouldn’t stop crying.

With a heavy sigh, Heero shoved his pillow between the back of his seat and the shuttle wall, hoping to pass the next 125,000 miles in sleep.

He was standing on the edge of a dream, Duo almost within reach, when his world jolted with a strident clatter. His cobalt eyes flew wide open, every muscle in his body tense with the threat of danger.

The shuttle shook, and people cried out in surprise. Heero looked around to see what was wrong, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The threat was not onboard. When he looked back down at his seat he noted that he was gripping the armrest powerfully. He forced his fingers to relax.

Another jolt went through the shuttle, and Heero’s hand automatically gripped the armrest again. His fingers searched for buttons that weren’t there, subconsciously mistaking the armrest for the controls of a Gundam.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking.”

Silence fell as people listened, looking up at the speakers with pale faces.

“We seem to have run into a minor debris field,” the Captain spoke slowly, reassuringly, “which is not uncommon so close to the moon’s orbit.”

Heero’s fingers tightened around the armrest again.

“We are attempting to perform emergency maneuvers to clear the area. Rest assured that there is no immediate danger to the shuttle. We’ve been running into a lot of debris since the war ended and this craft is equipped with the means to counter it.”

A woman screamed when an over-head compartment opened and bags fell forcefully to the floor. A flight attendant ran to tend to the panicked woman.

“Since the flight might get a bit rough I must ask you to return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.” The Captain’s voice was strained, whether from fear or effort it was hard to tell. Heero gripped the armrest tightly, and prepared to get up.

“Sir, please sit down!” The dark-skinned stewardess called, but Heero remained standing.

“Please make sure that your tray tables and seat-backs are in their upright and locked positions,” the Captain’s voice crackled through the speakers, “and all carry-on items are properly secured under your seats.”

Another strong shudder, and a few more compartments burst open, bags crashing to the floor. The baby in the back shrieked in terror, and more children began to cry.

Heero stood and watched, adrenaline pumping in his veins. Old habits die hard, and his body ached for action. There had to be something he could do!

“Sir! Please! I need you to sit down and fasten your seatbelt!” The stewardess screamed. The craft shuddered so strongly that the poor woman was sent crashing to the floor.

People panicked, gripping their seats tightly as the shuttle sought a way out of the metal graveyard.

Heero gawked at the debris with wide, unbelieving eyes. It was a dead battlefield, floating in space. He jumped back into his seat when a mobile doll neared the window, wringing a cry of terror from the passengers of the shuttle.

“FLIGHT CREW TO SECURED POSITIONS!” The Captain’s voice burst from the speakers, no longer calm, but anxious. The young stewardess scrambled to her feet, and ran to the front of the aisle. Lights flickered on and off as she pulled on her seatbelt.

When the oxygen masks dropped down, people screamed in terror.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please do not panic,” the Captain announced, “we are close to clearing the debris field. Simply put your masks on and remai--”

There was a loud collision sound, followed by a rough series of tremors. The shuttle spun wildly, sending everything into the air. A man, who in his panic did not fasten his seatbelt, flew from his seat, and crashed against the shuttle’s wall.

Heero watched in horror as a large bloodstain formed on the wall. He reached shakily towards his oxygen mask, his features pale with disbelief. He could not believe that this was actually happening.

“SWITCHING TO EMERGENCY PROCEDURES!!!” The Captain shouted, “PROTOCOL FI---!!”

An explosion cut his words short, and the lights went out with an electric sizzle.

In the dark, all Heero could hear was his own heavy breathing into the mask. The silence hung dreadfully in the air until few seconds later red emergency lights switched on. The aisles glowed in red, and the passengers breathed in relief.

However, their relief was short-lived as a loud, screeching sound of creaking metal echoed throughout the shuttle. The metal groaned, as if straining, slowly giving way to a great force.

Breathless, Heero listened, his eyes darting from left to right, searching for a way out.

With a tortured squeal, the metal finally gave way. Heero’s eyes locked ahead, and widened.

The lights went out, and, in the darkness, people screamed.

The shuttle reeled from side to side through the debris field. Pieces of rock and metal twirled into its path, colliding with one another to create a chain reaction of shifting metal.

“MAYDAY! MAYDAY! Calling L2-OCSR! This is United Interstellar Flight One-Five-Zero-One-Five! Come in OCSR!”

Washed in red light and flashing sirens, the cockpit was in a state of chaos. Various warning signs flickered over the control panels, as hectic sounds of constant beeping ripped through the air. Radars went berserk while trying to keep up with the amount of UFOs  headed towards the shuttle. One system crashed after the other, machines bleeping frantically as they failed.

One Mobile Doll, fused to another broken half of a Taurus suit, whirled towards the shuttle. In a desperate effort to avoid collision, the Captain punched the directional thruster button, and the shuttle veered to the right. It clipped the two suits and the sound of scrapping metal echoed loudly through the hull. The right thruster ripped clean off, and, with only one thruster left, the shuttle careened out of control, twirling and spinning.

“We’ve just lost our right thruster!” the co-pilot shouted, panicked, “I have no control!”

“THIS IS UNITED INTERSTELLAR FLIGHT ONE-FIVE-ZERO-ONE-FIVE CALLING L2-OCSR!” The Captain called again, his hands flying over the control panels. “Come in OCSR! Do you read me?! We are taking hits! I repeat! Flight UI-15015 is taking hits around the lunar orbit! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!!!”

BANG! A large metal leg hit the shuttle’s nose, spider-webbing the windshield. Both the Captain and co-pilot recoiled in horror. The shuttle shook as it was thrust aside by the force of the impact. From the back, they could both hear the passengers scream.

The shuttle’s roof collided with another broken suit. The sound of metal scraping metal could be heard as the ceiling dented in, dislodging the interior ceiling panels. Wires and electronic components lay exposed, sparking as they short-circuited. The cabin filled with smoke. System Monitors flashed off various warnings. Pressurization went to zero; Cabin Oxygen went to zero; Life Support went to zero.

“SWITCHING TO EMERGENCY PROCEDURES!!!” The Captain shouted over the P.A system, “PROTOCOL FI---!!”

A large beam canon smashed through the windshield, gouging into the co-pilot. Depressurization was instant as the air was quickly sucked out of the break in the window. In a last effort to save the shuttle, the Captain reached for the AIRLOCK lever. As both he and his dead co-pilot were sucked out through the windshield, his hand curled around the lever, and it was pulled along with him.

Both were floating dead in space as the airlock doors closed throughout the shuttle.

At first, there was only silence, until Heero slowly came to recognize the sound of his own breathing. He was still alive, and breathing into his oxygen mask. His ears rang loudly, and ached with the sudden change of cabin pressure. The airlocks were down, his mind supplied him. That was the sound he’d heard earlier. They were safe, for now.

It was too dark to see, but he could hear the people around him. Coughing, breathing, panicking, and shedding tears of both fear and relief. Sounds of life. He felt more at ease knowing that, in a certain sense, he was not alone.

He felt his way around the chair, and gripped the armrest. Slowly, carefully, he stood up, his eyes searching through the darkness.

A ray of light suddenly pierced through the cabin, scanning the rows of people. Heero squinted his eyes against the light, and tried to recognize who was holding the flashlight. Whoever it was, he was probably in charge, and Heero wanted to offer his help. He was not willing to sit quietly through this if there was even a slight chance that he could help. He was determined to survive the ordeal and get to L2. The situation was only a minor setback before he would see Duo. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice behind the flashlight, a woman’s voice, spoke, “please remain calm.”

Heero recognized her voice as that of attractive flight attendant who had served him his meal earlier.

“My name is Trisha Kelly, and I’m still your head flight attendant. I’m trained to deal with this situation, but I will need your cooperation!”

“What’s going on?”

“What the hell happened?”

“Is the rescue on its way?”

“Where’s the OCSR?”

“What happened to the Captain?”

“Is there enough air?!”

“What are we going to do?!”

“Don’t just stand there!”

“Do something!”

“I have children with me!”

“Call the rescue forces!”

“Does the OCSR know we’re here?!”

“ANSWER US DAMMIT!”

Panicked and angry voices called from all around the shuttle.

Heero pushed his way from his window seat towards the aisle. He stepped on a few feet on his way, earning a few cusses, but continued moving towards Trisha Kelly.

“People, please! I will answer everything so please calm down!” Trisha called, her voice desperate. She noticed movement a few rows ahead, and aimed the flashlight in that direction. She caught Heero with her spotlight, and he froze, looking at her intensely.

“Sir, I need you to go back to your seat.”

“I can help.” He replied calmly. The man in the seat next to him chuckled.

“Everything is under control, sir. Please sit down.”

“Yeah, kid, do us all a favor.” The same man snorted.

Heero aimed a blind glare at him, but remained quiet.

“The airlock doors are down, and they’re protecting the cabin.” Trisha explained to the crowd. “There are ten airlock doors throughout the shuttle, dividing it, so even if another section is hit, we’re safe.”

“What if it explodes?” A woman asked frightfully while trying to sooth her weeping child.

“The fuel tanks have been automatically ejected as an emergency protocol. There’s a very slim chance of an explosion.”

“And the air?!” A man called in question.

Trisha sighed before answering. “Each air locked section has its own life support system. We are not dependant on the other parts of the shuttle.”

“Tch. I bet that first class has more than enough air...” someone muttered sarcastically.

“The air is divided equally.” Kelly explained. “But we do need to save as much as we can until rescue will arrive.”

“What if it doesn’t?! Did someone contact OCSR?”

“I’m sure that the Outer Colony Search & Rescue forces are on their way.” Trisha answered, smiling reassuringly, though her smile was obviously fake. “All we have to do is sit quietly and wait. Try to avoid any unnecessary movement or talking in order to save air. If you need anything, simply press the service button on your seat and I will be right with you.”

“We need to save power,” Heero finally spoke up, “remaining silent is not enough.”

“Not you again kid!” the man next to him muttered in annoyance. Heero ignored him, and approached the head flight attendant.

“I can help.” He pinned her with his gaze, trying to convey the importance of his request.

“No one is allowed to touch the computer system, sir. These are federal regulations.” Kelly replied smoothly, like a trained professional. “Please return to your seat.”

“We’re 125,000 miles from L1, and at least 50,000 miles from L2. It’ll be a quite some time before the OCSR can reach us.” Heero said slowly, calmly, his eyes begging her to understand. “If we don’t make the appropriate modifications to save power and air, we won’t make it.”

Behind him, a few people gasped in fright and began whispering among themselves.

The flight attendant glared at him angrily. “Listen, kid, quit scaring the passengers, and go back to your seat! Everything is under control, so sit down or I’ll have you restrained!”

As the woman raised her voice, two men stood up. One was the man who’d taunted Heero a moment before, the other was a large, burly man who sat close to the stewardess. Heero tensed as they both approached him, his body unconsciously taking a fighting stance.

“Just listen to me!” He shouted back, something he rarely did. Even during the war he had found little reason to raise his voice. But this woman was too damn dense! She was going to get them all killed!

“I know what I’m doing!” His eyes were wild as he looked at her, almost begging her to trust him. It would do little good to use force, and he was reluctant to do that. It was not the time or the place for arguments. Couldn’t these people see that?!

“Would you shut the hell up?!” The taunting man growled as he came to stand behind Heero. “She’s a trained professional! You’re just a damn high school kid! Now sit down before I make ya!” To emphasize his words, the man laid his large hand on Heero’s shoulder, quite forcefully.

Heero jerked away, pulling his shoulder free from the man’s grip. He whirled around, and glared at the man. “I wouldn’t have offered my help if I didn’t think I could do it!” He hissed angrily, his fierce cobalt eyes drilling holes into the man’s skull. He could feel the other man, the burly one, take a stand behind him. He was trapped between the two men. Usually it wouldn’t pose a problem, but he didn’t wish to harm anyone. Not again. Not ever.

The people on the shuttle watched the event unfold with intent faces, gratefully distracted from their grim situation.

“Listen, boy,” Trisha tried again, calmly this time, “I know you’re scared, being all alone out here, but we’re going to make it. Everything will be all right.”

“No, it won’t!” He insisted, stepping away from the two men who had cornered him. “Not unless you’ll let me have a look at the computer! We might be able to save oxygen if we lower the levels even slightly!”

“That would kill us all!” The burly man shouted, looking down at Heero with an angry red face. “Now go back to your seat, boy!”

Both men grabbed Heero forcefully, and pushed him down the aisle. He stumbled, almost falling, still reluctant to fight. Then, the burly man kicked him, and something just snapped.

His limbs gained a life of their own, and began to fight back. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but reflexes were hard to control. He took the man down in less than thirty seconds, unaware of the frightened looks on the other passenger’s faces. When more men rose to restrain him, he begged his body to stop. It didn’t. In an effort to save the people of the shuttle, he only ended up fighting them.

During the fight, he suddenly realized that the physical effort was only robbing the people of their oxygen. Only then Heero finally managed to stop himself. Four men were lying at his feet, unconscious, but at least six more surrounded him. As he forced his body to still, they launched at him all together. Before he could move away, he was pinned to the floor.

They lay him down at the front of the shuttle, between an empty row of seats and the lavatory wall. He lay flat on his stomach, hands tied behind his back by a leather belt. His ankles were crossed one over the other, also shackled by a belt. The metal buckles dug into his flesh, hurting him each time he attempted to move.

The man chosen to keep an eye on him was the same burly man who’d first attacked him. The man positioned himself on the boy’s lower back, sitting on top of him to prevent movement. Heero’s palms were trapped under the heavy man, making any attempt to move, unless he used lethal force, impossible. Every time the man shifted, even the slightest bit, Heero’s just barely healed ribs protested in pain. When he tried to explain to his captor that he was still recovering from broken ribs, the man stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth, and told him to “put a sock in it”.

And so Heero lay, for what felt like hours, restrained and gagged, unable to aid the people of the shuttle. He could rise if he chose to, but decided against it. There was no logic behind fighting civilians, even if they used force against him. Perhaps he had been out of line trying to offer his help. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter now. All he wanted to do now was survive. Lying still and breathing slowly, was the only way he could do that. The rest was up to the Outer Colony Search & Rescue teams. Hopefully, they were on their way. All he could do was wait.

The cabin became progressively warmer as the hours passed. Air was running out slowly, becoming almost too heavy to breathe. People sat in silence, contemplating their lives in the dark. Once in a long while the silence broke by a small cough or a feeble sigh. If a person tried to speak, someone would shut them up. Even the children remained quiet. Most of them were probably out cold, embraced by their helpless mothers.

Time was running out. Disorientation spread like a fog through Heero’s mind. In a way, it was much like having one too many drinks. He was sure that Adèle would have a laugh. She would probably say that he’d lost the bet, getting drunk on carbon dioxide. It was a screwed up ending for his screwed up life. Fitting in a most ironic way. All of his life he’d been fighting in space, now only to die in its black embrace. Not the kind of death he had hoped to find when he’d boarded the shuttle.

Duo. He would never see him again. Ever. Duo wouldn’t even know that he had tried to come and see him. He would never know how hard it was to come and tell him that... that...

He wasn’t sure what yet, but he wanted Duo to know that he was trying to find out. He wanted Duo to know everything, everything he had kept hidden before. Every little thing he had denied Duo before.

That didn’t make much sense, Heero realized, and chuckled at his own expense. The burly man grunted in annoyance, and pressed his weight down on Heero to shut him up. His recently mended ribs protested again, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was too tired to move. His body felt ten times heavier. If he could have, he would have asked the man to get off him, it was so hard to breathe, but his mouth was still gagged. Any attempt to speak came out as muffled gibberish, and Heero had given up trying hours ago.

It didn’t matter anymore. He had nothing to say.

Slowly, his eyelids slid shut. There wasn’t much point in keeping them open anyway. He felt calmer with his eyes closed. Almost asleep. He wandered on the boundaries of a dream, floating peacefully over the shallow waters of his mind. There was a thick layer of fog hovering about the water, obscuring everything in gray. Sounds resonated in the gray vastness of his mind, echoes rippling through the shallow ocean. He listened, enchanted, as he lay sprawled on a wobbly wooden raft. His fingertips dipped into the cool water, trying to catch elusive waves. The resonance was enthralling, washing over him like a waterfall. It was the sound of breathing, but it couldn’t have been his own. The air in his lungs was solid, impossible to breathe. The sounds surrounding him were as light as feathers, falling gracefully into the water to create soft ripples.

He concentrated on the sound, letting it breathe for him. In and out. Slowly. Smoothly. Calmly. As gently as a wave upon the sand. In, out. In, out. Inhale, exhale. Again. Slowly. Carefully. Inhale. Exhale.

Duo made it sound so easy, when it was so damn hard. Heero sunk into the rhythm of his breathing. They breathed together, as one, the sound guiding Heero as he sailed upon the gray water. In and out. It was that easy. In and out.

Breathing brought life, sensation, and warmth. It revived him. He was no longer lost in the fog. He was there, on that bed, with him. They breathed together, their voices echoing in the darkness of the small dorm. Ashley was never there. He had forgotten all about her. Hands moved, gliding over heated bodies. Flesh pulsing with life. A moist sheen of sweat. Salty, deliciously so. And his voice, rough, sweet, and warm, guiding Heero's every breath. In and out. In and out. He clung to Duo desperately. Just a bit longer, long enough for him to realize, long enough for him to tell Duo everything. He finally knew what he wanted to say.

He lost himself in Duo’s embrace. Nothing else existed. If he were to die, it would be in his arms. There was no other place he would rather be.

Silent as a tomb, the shuttle drifted aimlessly through the debris field. With each hour that bled away into eternity, the shuttle blended gradually into the metal graveyard. But in the distance, a small glimmer of hope approached the drifting vessel. It came closer, engines roaring soundlessly through space. The shuttle vibrated as the glimmer drew near, but none of the passengers were conscious to feel it. A final shudder ripped through the battered fuselage as the other ship attached itself to the emergency airlock entrance. A few minutes later, rescue forces boarded the ship, dressed in fully geared, skin tight, space suits. Each was adorned with a colorful OCSR badge.

They were greeted by rows upon rows of lifeless figures sitting slumped in their seats. Some unconscious, others dead. Emergency lighting was set up before the work began. Slowly, methodically, they began the arduous task of sorting out the living from the dead. Oxygen masks were applied, and body bags were piled. The men worked in silence, a silence of the grieving kind, speaking over the com-link only when necessary. OCSR was a newly formed organization, and it was not used to failure.

One of the men, slimmer and shorter than the rest, approached the two figures that lay on the floor at the front of the cabin. He stopped, cocking his head aside in puzzlement. The light from the emergency projectors caught on his helmet. It made the visor appear mirror-like so that it reflected the image of the two lifeless men. One – a large, burly figure - was lying almost on top of the other, smaller, person. It was that odd position that had caught his eye.

Crouching next to the two, he reached for the first man, and felt for a pulse. The man was dead.

He sighed heavily, loud enough to be heard on the com-link. “I’ll need two more body bags up front.” The young man - judging from the sound of his voice - stated dryly. He pushed the burly man aside to reveal the person lying under him, and gasped.

“What the hell?!” He cried, jerking back in shock.

Lying under the burly man was a young teenage boy, shackled, gagged, and bruised. For a long moment, the young man stared at the motionless figure, the teen’s pale Asian features reflected on his visor.

“What the fuck happened here?” He wondered out loud. His gloved hand trembled as he reached to check for a pulse, almost afraid to touch the young man before him.

“Is he alive?” A deep voice asked over the com-link as another man, tall and well built, came to stand behind the younger rescuer.

“Barely, sir.” The other answered solemnly. He reached for the first aid kid that was attached to his knee, and ripped it open.

His superior nodded thoughtfully. “Get him out of those restraints, but make sure to put him under observation when we get back.” He ordered as he watched his younger subordinate snap the oxygen mask over the teen’s head.

“Yes, sir.” He hurried to answer, ignoring his superior as he left. His hand still lingered on the teen’s pale face as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “...thank God...”

Consciousness was a hard goal to achieve. He fought for it, tooth and nail, struggling to drag himself out of the gray swamp in his mind. At least a ton of weights were holding him down, refusing to let him rise. But there was wind, soft, cool, and refreshing as it filled his airways. Blessed air filled his lungs, signaling to his brain that he was still alive. Still alive. How and where he did not know. It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason was, Heero was glad for it.

With great effort, he ordered his eyelids to open. He imagined them creaking and groaning under the strain as they slowly lifted. Light poured into his sore eyes, forcing them shut again. Light was good. He was finally out of the darkness. Rescued? Could it be that something that good had happened to him of all people?

Sensation gradually returned to his body as he lay still, counting his breaths. He was incredibly thirsty. His mouth was dry, and his lips felt parched. He was willing to kill for a drink, but not of the alcoholic type, he hurried to tell himself, he was done with that. Although... no. He was done with that.

A second attempt to open his eyes proved more successful. Once again, he was laying in an empty, white hospital room with no one to greet him as he opened his eyes. It was the closing of a cursed circle. One he was still determined to break.

He tried to lift his hands, but they did not move. Something was keeping them down. For a moment he panicked, flashing back into the war. The Alliance Medical Center had kept him restrained to the bed, bleeding. But, that was in the past. It was years behind him now. His arms were probably just too stiff and numb to move. Nothing was wrong, he assured himself.

Instead of moving his limbs, he turned his head aside, towards the light. As he moved, he became aware of the oxygen tube under his nostrils. He took a deep breath, indulging in it. He was alive.

There was an open window on the wall he was now facing. Outside, he could see the metal casing of a colony, hidden behind a forest of small skyscrapers. Had he made it to L2?

Looking down he saw a chair against the wall, empty as always, and a small table by his bed. His mind was still hazy from both drugs and sleep, and so he could only smile faintly when he spotted an open bag of tortilla chips lying on the table. It was nice that someone was thoughtful enough to leave him his favorite snack, but he was too thirsty to eat it. He’d rather have a drink, he mused as his eyelids slid slowly closed. Still, it was very kind of them to give him a snack. A small, content smile spread on his lips as he drifted to sleep. The snack was even barbeque flavored. How considerate...

Thirst was what woke him the second time. His tongue felt swollen and dry. He needed water.

He must have made some sort of sound to indicate his thirst because a moment later a cup of cool water was served to his lips. He drank gratefully, gulping the blessed liquid down his sandpaper-like throat.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake, mister Yuki.” A voice greeted him, and Heero tensed.

...Yuki? Yuki?!

The name he had used on his fake passport.

“Hiro Yuki, is it?” The voice, deep and confident, continued on casually as the man behind the voice took the water away.

Heero groaned, and sank his head back into the pillow. He nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“I’m special agent Davis from the L2 Preventers branch. It’s nice to meet you.”

Heero tensed even more, his numb body suddenly alert. He tried to move his arms, as he had done before, but found that he could not lift them more than an inch off the bed. Restraints.

He opened his eyes, blinded by the light. As his vision adjusted he could finally make the image of a middle-aged man standing over his bed, looking down at him with a stern expression. Behind him stood a worried doctor, eyeing him with concern.

“Are you lucid enough to have a small chat with me, mister Yuki?” The agent asked slowly, and the doctor fidgeted.

Unable to find his voice just yet, Heero nodded.

Davis gave the doctor a harsh look, and the man fled the room quickly. Heero watched the agent as he drew a chair to the bed and slowly sat down. He was still confused as to what a Preventers agent was doing in his room. He would prefer that the room were empty, as always.

“This won’t take long, mister Yuki,” the man assured him, flipping through his notes, “The doctors won’t allow me to be here for too long.”

“What do you want?” Heero finally croaked, his voice rough with thirst. Davis handed him the water again, and since Heero’s hands were restrained, he helped him drink. He then placed the water back on the table, and Heero noted that the tortilla snack wasn’t there anymore. Had it been a dream?

“Would you mind explaining to me, mister Yuki,” Daivs began, “what you were doing on that shuttle flight?”

His eyes still searching for the lost snack, Heero frowned. “...trying to get to L2.”

“That’s odd, I would have thought differently seeing that the shuttle never made it to L2.”

Heero turned to glare at the man, his helplessness forgotten. He was ready to fight if he had to. “What are you implying?”

“Well, mister Yuki, there’s some evidence to counter your statement.”

“I’m not lying.” He hurried to say, looking Davis in the eye. “You have no right to restrain me.”

“Did you tell that to the people in the shuttle?” Davis inquired calmly, raising an eyebrow, “When they restrained you?”

Heero looked away, refusing to answer. He couldn’t find the right words to explain. He wasn’t very good with words.

“Could it be, mister Yuki, and this is just a wild assumption, that it had something to do with the fake passport that you used to board the shuttle?”

Facing away from the man, Heero bit his lower lip. Once he realized what he was doing he stopped, wondering when and how he had picked the nervous habit. It was not something he had done before. Davis was not his first interrogator, though he had expected to have seen the last of them.

“Can you please explain why you boarded the shuttle with a fake passport, mister Yuki?” Davis tried again, leafing through his notes. “And, not to mention, carrying a one-way ticket. It’s almost as if you... weren’t planning to come back.”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to the shuttle.” Heero let out coldly, and turned to face Davis. His eyes were harsh, unforgiving. Angry. He had enough of it all! First the people in the shuttle, and now this guy! Couldn’t people just leave him alone?!

“Is that so.” The agent muttered, unconvinced.

“I was a regular passenger, just like the rest.”

“And yet OCSR found you bound and gagged when they boarded the shuttle. What did the people there know that I don’t?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Heero mumbled, looking numbly at the wall behind Davis. “I was only trying to help.”

“You're lying again, Mr. Yuki. Our Preventer database suggests otherwise.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his notes.

“Call me crazy, but you look an awful lot like this guy here.”

He held the paper above Heero’s face for him to see, studying the teen’s face as he scanned the document. No hint of emotion flickered in the teen’s eyes, but inside he was in turmoil. Agent Davis was holding an old OZ intelligence report with his picture on it. Gundam Pilot 01, code-name Heero Yuy. A terrorist. No wonder he was being questioned.

“Heero Yuy, I presume?” The agent asked, cockily, “former Gundam pilot?”

Heero turned his head away from the picture. “This is just a misunderstanding.” He whispered, tired all of a sudden. He had spent two months escaping his past as a Gundam pilot, and now it was thrown back in his face. Literally. He wasn’t strong enough to face that yet. All he wanted was to see Duo... would they let him if he asked them to?

“Try to put yourself in my position, Heero Yuy. What would you think if you spotted a former terrorist on a shuttle flight gone wrong?”

Heero closed his eyes, refusing to listen any further.

“Two hundred and fifty people are dead. Which one was your target?” Davis pressed on.

“No one...” Heero whispered, his voice tired and bleak, “I was only trying to get to L2...”

“That’s odd, because I can think of a few more plausible explanations.”

“I didn’t do anything... I tried... but they didn’t let me...” Heero mumbled, half asleep. He wished he hadn’t said the words once he realized how it must have sounded to the agent, but he was so tired...

Davis leaned over the sleeping boy, a cold look in his eyes. “What did you try to do?” he whispered into his ear, but the boy didn’t answer. He was out cold again.

With an irritated sigh, Davis gathered his notes. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself, kid.” He muttered to the sleeping boy, and made his way out of the room with determined strides. Two guards stood on either side of the door. They nodded at him, and he acknowledged them before turning to continue down the hall.

A figure came to block his way, and Davis stopped, smirking down at the young man before him. A pair of ruthless indigo eyes pinned his gaze, seething with anger. Unmoved by the deadly look, Davis’ smirk did not waver. He walked past the angry young man, feeling his glare all the way to the elevator.

Two hundred and fifty people were dead. Was it his fault? Should he have fought harder? Would it have made a difference? All he could do was give them less than a handful of hours more, and there wasn’t much oxygen to begin with. Then why the guilt? Did he deserve it? Was he to blame? If not, then why couldn’t he stop blaming himself? It didn’t matter now, it was over. The dead could not be brought back to life. He was still alive, though. He should be grateful and move on.

Duo... he needed to see him. Badly. Would Duo blame him for what had happened on the shuttle? Would he care? Or, was he angry with him regardless of the shuttle incident? After all, he had every right to be.

There were many reasons for Duo to be mad at him. It started with the simple things, so many simple things, all of which Heero had chosen to ignore. Like the smile on Duo’s face when he’d finally said the boy’s name.

‘Whaddya know,’ Duo had muttered with an amused smile, ‘he remembered my name after all...’

Of course he had remembered it. Heero didn’t forget anything.

Like the time when Duo had placed his hand on his shoulder after a basketball match at school. It was the very first time anyone had ever touched him for no reason at all. Just a casual touch that didn’t ask for anything. It didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt warm. A sense of warmth that Heero found hard to forget.

Perhaps that’s when it really started. All those little things Heero chose to ignore. Making his own decisions was a seldom event, and he had been determined to stick with it. The choice to ignore Duo was a part of it. Besides, there were more urgent things to do than to make connections with a fellow human being. He had lived his entire life without such connections, and he could continue to do without them.

But there were so many little things... too many for him to ignore. Duo’s utter devotion to him, his persistent pursuit of his friendship. His belief in him. Heero could never understand where it came from, so he pushed Duo away. He ignored him whenever he could, and still, Duo cared. He had always cared.

‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ was what he had said the night before the battle in Siberia, where Heero self-detonated his Gundam. Duo leaned on the doorframe of their room, the light from the hallway falling over his profile. His gaze was grim, and his voice bitter. ‘I have a bad feeling about this. OZ’s transport plan is a good one for a change. We’ll lose if we won’t have our own plan this time.’

Duo cared enough to come and tell him that. His words might have been about the mission, but his eyes were talking about something else, something more personal. ‘Be careful’ was what he was trying to say. Heero could hear the message loud and clear, but he did not understand the reason behind it. No one had ever cared for him before... not like that.

No one had ever believed in him like Duo had.

‘Just in time,’ he had said when Heero walked into his prison cell, pointing a gun to his head. ‘If I’m gonna die then being killed by you is the way ta go.’ His eyes shone eerily in the dark. They were all Heero could see, gleaming in the darkness of the cell. So full of emotion. So alive. So... Duo’s.

‘Hey, you’re gonna do it, right?’

He couldn’t. He could never take away the life from Duo’s eyes. The same eyes that were always so kind to him, always looked at him with care. Duo’s eyes were the only ones that saw behind his soldier facade. It scared him.

‘How about being a little kinder to me once in a while?’ Duo had joked while at the hospital Heero admitted him to after his prison ordeal. Those words rang true in regard to everything Heero had ever said or done to Duo. He had never returned Duo’s kindness, or his offer of friendship. He simply didn’t know how.

Pushing Duo away was like a bad habit. It was his answer to everything the other pilot did in order to appeal to his human side. Heero didn’t know the person Duo was trying so hard to find in him. In his eyes, it was better to push Duo away before he stumbled upon a person he really didn’t want to know. It hurt Duo, he could read it in his eyes, and yet, he persisted.

When the war was over they stayed together for reasons Heero still could not fathom. He didn’t ask him to, but Duo still followed him. They moved from town to town, colony to colony, boarding school to boarding school, never settling down for more than a month. The peace was still fragile, and Heero was always trying to track down the next war.

Duo said he wouldn’t be bothered with it anymore. He tried to convince Heero to do the same, he wanted him to start living. Duo accused him of wishing to remain stuck in the past, searching for another reason to fight. Heero pushed him away violently.

And then, Duo brought Ashley Morganat into their room. Heero listened to them have sex as he lay in the perfect position to let Duo’s knife stab him in the back. Back then, he didn’t know why he felt as though he were being stabbed. Now, it was all too clear.

He cared. He cared so much that it hurt.

‘I’m not coming back, Heero,’ Duo declared the night he went to ship the Gundams into the sun along with Quatre, ‘I’m sick of this shit. I’ll come back for my stuff later, but then I’m outta here.’

Duo really would have left if it hadn’t been for Mariemaia’s mutiny against the Earth Sphere Alliance. Heero was certain of it. The fact that he had woken up in a lonely hospital room was enough to support that assessment. He had pushed away the only person who cared about him. No wonder Duo was mad.

Slowly, Heero opened his eyes and gazed solemnly at the ceiling. If only he could see him, if only he could have the chance to let Duo know. He wanted out of these restraints. He had been chained for most of his life. Chained to his duty, shackled by his training, guilt, and self-loathing. He wanted out. Surviving the wars and the hellish shuttle trip was not enough. He wanted to live! Live a life unlike that which Adèle had shown him. Duo could show him so much more... he needed to see it. He needed to see him. Now.

Despair filled him, and he released it with a long sigh, turning his head aside. His gaze shifted from the ceiling to the window, aching to see the outside of his prison. However, someone was blocking his view. A guard, probably.

Whoever he was, he was sitting in the chair Davis had occupied before, reading a newspaper that hid their face from view. ‘UNITED INTERSTELLAR FLIGHT RENDEVOUS DEATH IN LUNAR ORBIT’, the title read. The man – Heero decided by his heavy military boots - was wearing a dark-blue jumpsuit with an OCSR badge and a sergeant rank on his right arm.

What was an OCSR doing in his room instead of a Preventer? Were they going to question him too? Guilt flooded him again. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for the deaths of all those people. Another burden that lay heavily on his weary shoulders. As if he didn’t have enough to begin with.

The sergeant behind the newspaper sighed deeply and turned the page. Heero watched him silently, in no rush to let the man know that he was awake. Although, he was incredibly thirsty. He shifted his gaze to the table by the bed, searching for water. He found a paper cup full of steaming black coffee and an open bag of tortilla chips. Barbeque flavored.

He frowned. The snack had been there before... hadn’t it? But then it had disappeared when Davis came in, and now it was back again. Why?

The sound of paper rustling drew Heero’s attention back to the figure in the chair. He watched the man reach from behind his newspaper towards the tortilla snack. As he leaned forward, the top of the newspaper folded in, exposing the man’s face, Duo’s face, with his long chestnut braid hanging over his left shoulder. It slumped to the floor as he leaned towards the snack, swinging from side to side.

Heero gaped silently as Duo threw a tortilla chip into his mouth. When he turned back to the newspaper their eyes met, and he stopped dead. A second later, he smiled.

“Well! Good morning.” He let out casually, folding the newspaper in slowly, like a man reading over breakfast.

“Duo...” Was all Heero could say, staring dumbly at the young man before him.

“Hey there, Heero.” Duo greeted again, his smile unwavering, yet somewhat... forced. He put the paper aside, and rested both arms on his thighs, leaning forward. He studied Heero for a long moment before he leaned back into his seat, shaking his head in mock-disappointment.

“Doesn’t this stir up some old memories? I think we’ve been here before...”

He was speaking of their escape from the Alliance Number Three Medical Building, but Heero was too overwhelmed to acknowledge the reference. His eyes slowly shifted to stare at the badge on Duo’s right arm, then back to his face.

“You’re... OCSR?”

“Yeah...” Duo answered nonchalantly, tapping on his badge, “whaddya know.”

Heero still could not shake the numb feeling from his face. “Are you here to let me out?”

Duo looked as though he were about to chuckle. He pretended to think about it for a moment before smiling cockily. “Umm... I don’t think so. That would sort of get me fired.”

Heero blinked, confused. “Then you really are..?”

“Sergeant Maxwell, at your service.” He gave Heero a mock salute, grinning sarcastically.

Heero looked away, unbelieving. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Duo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. He studied Heero disapprovingly. “I gotta tell ya man, it does not look good.”

Heero’s mind was reeling from the unexpected meeting. All of the things he wanted to tell Duo eluded him somehow. They were still there, he could still feel them, but they were impossible to put into words. It frustrated him to no end. Duo’s arrogant attitude didn’t help either.

“They’re gonna press some serious charges.” Duo continued, his tone serious, less boastful than before.

“I didn’t do anything.” Heero mumbled, his gaze at the ceiling, “they can’t prosecute me.”

“Not from what I hear. Ya have a real talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, man.”

“I was only trying to help...”

“I know.” Duo murmured sincerely, and shook his head. “Those jerks won’t listen. They wanna blame it on someone, yanno?”

Heero remained silent, studying the stains on the ceiling. He didn’t want to talk about his current situation. It was not what he came there to do.

“Why won’t ya break outta here?” Duo suggested matter-of-factly, almost mockingly.

“Because it wouldn’t look too good.” Heero growled as a response, knowing that Duo was taunting him. Again. He deserved it. Duo had every right to by angry with him. He had been so ignorant... about everything.

Duo chuckled. “Good point.”

Silence fell again. Heero could almost feel the chasm stretching between them. Duo was merely a few inches away, but he still could not reach him. There was a barrier between them. He needed to find a bridge, he had to tell him everything. Before he lost his nerve.

“So what were you doing on that shuttle?” Duo finally asked, looking questioningly at Heero. His eyes shone with a dim, calm glimmer, as if silently expecting disappointment.

Slowly, Heero turned to face Duo. “I was on my way to see you.” He said, simple as that. He could tell that Duo was surprised.

“See me? Why?” he asked, straightening up, “is there another war coming?”

That hurt, but he deserved it. He deserved anything Duo wished to throw at him.

“No, not that I know of,” he said quietly, holding Duo’s gaze with his. Duo shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. It was a good sign.

“Why then?” He challenged, raising his chin insolently, “whaddya need me for?”

“There was something I had to tell you.” The words were heavy on his lips, falling loudly to the floor. Though, once they were finally out, he felt lighter. Like he was doing the right thing.

“Okay,” Duo nodded slowly, “I’m listening.”

And yet, he hesitated. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but refused to come out. Silence hung heavily in the air. Tense, hot, frustrating. Heero took a deep breath, and once again realized that he was chewing his bottom lip. Stupid nervous habit! He stopped, shaking his head, trying to get back his bearings.

Finally, he turned back to Duo, and pinned his gaze with his own. For a long moment, he simply looked into Duo’s eyes, trying to find the soft shine he knew so well. It was hidden behind the cold, hard barrier Duo had erected. When he found a breach, finally seeing into the eyes he’d missed so much, Heero found the words he needed.

“I didn’t want you to bring Ashley Morganat into our room that night.”

Duo stared, stunned, seeming unable to process the words. It took him a moment to realize that Heero was serious. He started laughing.

“You flew three-hundred thousand miles, nearly dying on the way, to tell me that?!”

“Yes.” Heero replied calmly.

His answer provoked another series of cynical giggles. “I gotta hand it to ya, Heero, yer really somethin’!”

Despite Duo’s laughter, Heero’s eyes remained grimly serious. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to say that.”

“A year,” Duo muttered, infuriated now that his laughter was forgotten, “one fucking year, Heero.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say. There was more, much more, but he saved it for later. He hoped there would be a later.

Silence. Heero watched Duo sit quietly in his chair, staring at the floor. Had he nothing to say? Did he no longer care? Was he still angry?

Of course he was.

“Why did you bring her to our room, Duo?” He dared to ask, his words careful and slow.

Duo looked up again, and gave him a sly grin. A fake one. “I wanted ta fuck her.”

“Yes, but why there, with me?” It was an answer he was dying to know. He felt as though his entire future depended on it.

Duo, however, seemed reluctant to give it. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest again, as if keeping something from coming out.

“Heero, man, I would have loved having this conversation with ya a year ago.” he confessed bitterly, “Man, I even expected us to have this little chat back then. But that was then.” He added sadly, and stood up.

“I’m sorry pal, but yer about a year too late.” He admitted, and turned towards the door.

“Duo, wait.” Heero called after him, trying to rise even though he couldn’t. “Wait, please.” There was so much more... so much more he wanted to say!

Duo stopped by the door, and slowly turned around. He gave Heero a long, miserable look, and then shrugged helplessly. He left the room without another word.

Heero slumped back to the bed, unable to believe what had just happened. He stared numbly at the closed door and cursed. He had failed again! He had failed both Duo, and himself.

It was another weight to carry along with the newly added two hundred and fifty souls. Suddenly, he was so tired, his shoulders throbbing with imaginary pain.

“I need a drink...” He muttered to himself, and turned away from the door. Closing his eyes, he begged sleep to come and take away the pain from his aching shoulders.

It was hours later, when the colony lights dimmed into a fake dusk, that the door to Heero’s room opened again. He turned a pair of silent blue eyes toward it, and watched the person walk into the room. Once he noticed that it was not Duo, Heero looked away from the door, uninterested. It was a young Preventer sentry who walked in with a food tray. Heero eyed him indifferently as he placed the tray down on the table.

The guard turned to face him, and Heero looked away. Although incredibly hungry, he did not wish to be fed. However, instead of feeding him, the guard reached to unfasten the restraints.

Heero turned to look at him, confused. The Preventer couldn’t be so stupid as to let an ex-Gundam pilot loose like that. There must be regulations against that, right?

“Are you going to let me eat by myself?” He asked as the young guard reached over him to the second set of restraints.

The sentry shook his head. “No, sir, we’re letting you go.” He said, and pulled back. “You’re free to eat first though, if you want.” He added, and gestured at the food tray.

From the bed, Heero gaped. “You’re what?” All escape plans, and the regret for possibly harming the young man, vanished from his mind. “You’re letting me go? Just like that?”

“Those are Director Lady Une’s orders,” The man muttered, “apparently someone bypassed the regular channels and made a call. Davis is pissed.”

Heero frowned at the amount of volunteered information. It was almost as if someone wanted him to know that.

“I’ve also been instructed to tell you that if you ever get into trouble again, Lady Une won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

“Who told you to say that? Was he OCSR? Sergeant Maxwell?”

The guard did not answer, and walked to the door. “You can retrieve your belongings at the reception. They’ll call you a cab for you if you want.”

Again the thing with the cab! Just like when he was released from the hospital in Brussels. How annoying!

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary.” Heero muttered, and slowly sat up. He rubbed his aching wrists.

“Very well, sir.” The guard nodded curtly, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Once again Heero was free to go. The question was... no. There was no question about it. He would go to wherever Duo was. They haven’t finished their conversation yet.

He made a displeased face as the woman at the reception desk handed him his clothes, the same cheap, shabby garments he had bought in Brussels. The woman also handed him a cab fare, the only money he now possessed, and he took it reluctantly. After dressing, Heero finally left the building. At long last, he was walking onto the streets of L2-V08744.

The Preventers’ Headquarters was located at the center of the colony, in a crowded urban district full of metal and cement. L2-V08744 was not very appealing to the eye. It was old and neglected, much like the slums Adèle lived in. He was used to the sight of cracked roads and broken pavements. Rundown buildings, some tall enough to be called skyscrapers, towered over gray streets. Heavy traffic polluted the air with both noise and smoke. The air was thin, grimy, and sour. It seemed that the colony was still struggling to recover from the long war.

Heero walked down the steps leading out of the Preventers’ HQ, and looked around. Street lamps flickered on to counter the darkness, casting a dim blue hue on the pavements. The sight made Heero recall the night he had spent in the park before Adèle had taken him in. Was he to spend another night out in the cold?

But when he looked up he saw, much to his surprise, that the OCSR Headquarters was just across the street. In less than a second he was standing at the bottom of the stairs leading into the building. Most of the lights in the offices were off. The building was dark, except for a few rooms, and the doors were closed.

With a tired sigh, Heero plodded to the stairs, and sat down resignedly. It seemed that he had no other choice but to wait for Duo to come back in the morning. He would be spending the night on the streets after all.

Much like any other homeless person, Heero settled on the stony steps, hands in his pockets as he scanned the dark streets. His eyes gazed into an empty alleyway as he sarcastically wondered about the quality of L2’s prostitution populace. He played with the twenty-dollar bill in his pocket, smirking at his own expense. He didn’t even have enough for a fifty-dollar whore.

Chuckling at his own private joke, he leaned against the stone banister. Perhaps he should find a bar and spend his money there. What else was there to do at night while waiting for disappointment?

Again he chuckled, more like snorted, and leaned his head back to stare at the so-called ‘heavens’.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, Adèle, tu n'as pas encore gagné (Don’t worry Adèle, you haven’t won yet).” He muttered, imagining her laugh at his words. After all, their bet was still on, and he was not going to fall back into his drinking habit no matter how much his tongue ached for the bitter sting of liquor. Blissful ignorance.

He sighed, looking up numbly at the metal ‘sky’. The only reason he was sitting miserably on those steps was because of his ignorance. It would be careless of him to make the same mistake twice.

One by one, the lights in the OCSR building turned off. Minutes later, a few cars pulled out of the underground parking lot, blinding him with their strong headlights as they passed. He closed his eyes, and turned away from the road, away from the drivers who cast curious glances his way. It wasn’t everyday that a homeless, nameless, futureless person came to sleep on the steps of the Outer Colony Search & Rescue building. As if L2 lacked homeless shelters...

Perhaps if he slept, time would go by faster. He curled up on the stairs, struggling to find a comfortable position.

Another car rolled by the building, driving slowly. Heero’s could feel the driver’s eyes on his back. Annoyed by the staring, Heero waited anxiously for the car to drive off. It didn’t. Instead, it came to a full stop, breaks screeching almost inaudibly.

Frowning, Heero sat up and turned to face the car. The window on the passenger side rolled down, exposing the driver’s face as he leaned forward. Duo’s harsh eyes were on him again.

“Yer still here.” He stated coldly, only mildly surprised.

“Yes.” Heero replied, slowly rising up.

“No shit,” Duo muttered, shaking his head, “Fucking unbelievable...”

Heero didn’t dare to approach the vehicle. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and looked quietly at Duo. The young man bowed his head, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if forcing his brain to think. Heero had seen him do that during the wars. It was something Duo did often when he was tired and facing a dilemma.

“Oh man...” he mumbled, sighing before he looked up at Heero, “C’mon... hop in.” He muttered resignedly, and reached to unlock the passenger door. “I guess I’m through with being a jerk for the day.”

Heero hesitated before moving. Duo straightened back in his seat, hands on the steering wheel, eyes forwards as he waited. He walked up to the car, and looked down through the window. His cobalt eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied Duo’s harsh profile.

“Were you testing me?” He asked calmly, though his eyes burnt with suppressed anger. And hurt. A lot of it.

Duo’s fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel. He tore his gaze off the windshield, and turned to glare at Heero. “Ya getting in or what?”

Heero didn’t doubt that, if he stood outside for a second longer, Duo would drive off. In one swift movement he yanked the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat.

“Thank you.” He whispered, unable to look Duo in the eye.

“Sure, why not.” Was the curt reply as Duo kicked the car into gear and sped off into the night.

They arrived at Duo’s place twenty-five minutes later. Heero didn’t dare to say a word during the entire ride. Duo exited the car in silence, and slammed the door behind him. Heero hurried to follow.

Duo’s apartment was just about what Heero had expected. Nothing fancy, but comfortable enough to live in. The design was modern, simple and efficient, but cold. Shades of white, gray, black, and blue decorated the furniture and walls. It was not as messy as he had expected, as he was used to Duo’s hectic lifestyle when they shared dorms, but it looked lived-in. Duo seemed to have settled down rather well. The observation pinched Heero’s heart. He felt left out, but with good reason.

Sighing, Duo dropped his keys on a counter by the door, and strode towards the kitchen. Heero remained standing by the door, hesitant to follow. He felt like an unwanted intruder, which he had never expected to feel in Duo’s company. Things were not going as well as he had hoped. Then again, what did he expect? Duo running towards him, grinning like a maniac, before pulling him into a hug? That was wishful thinking. He had done nothing to deserve such treatment.

“Hungry?” Duo asked, opening the freezer door.

“Not really,” Heero lied, even though he was starved. He didn’t touch the food given to him at the Preventers Medical Ward, but he didn’t want to impose on Duo any further.

“Eat anyway.” Duo decided, and pulled two TV-dinners out of the freezer. He shoved them into the microwave oven and slammed the door shut. Heero watched him punch the timer keys hurriedly. Duo hadn’t turned to look at him once since they entered the apartment. In fact, their eyes hadn’t met since he had entered Duo’s car.

“I can leave if you want.” Heero suggested, feeling a déjà vu from his first morning in Adèle’s apartment. After he lost his virginity to her. If only things could go so well with Duo... but as it seemed, Duo was beyond his reach for the moment. He could only hope that the ice would melt soon, and he will be able to reach Duo. He began his approach by carefully stepping into the kitchen.

“Don’t be stupid,” Duo replied with an irritated sigh. “I’m not that much of a bastard as to let you sleep on the streets.” He added, and pulled himself a chair by the kitchen table.

Although reluctant, Heero joined him at the table. They sat in silence, staring at anything but each other, until the microwave beeped. Duo got up to retrieve their dinners, and then threw them on the table. Heero could tell that he was doing his best to show how much he detested the situation. It made the words he wanted to say barricade in his mind, hiding and refusing to come out. Why must Duo make it so difficult?

“Thank you for helping me out.” Heero finally said, lifting his eyes from his meal to look at Duo.

His ex-comrade, former friend, or whatever definition fit Duo at the moment, took a forkful of his meal, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Une would have found out sooner or later,” he muttered with his mouth full, “I only expedited the process.”

Heero smiled, amused by the way Duo still spoke with his mouth full. It reminded him of Adèle in a way, though she did it just to be obnoxious. Duo was simply too impatient to wait to speak until after he swallowed.

Before long, Duo had devoured his meal. Without a word, he got up and threw the tray in the trash. Heero looked up from his own meal, surprised to see Duo about to exit the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed.” he declared, his eyes still avoiding Heero’s, “Ya can have the couch. G’night.”

Confused, Heero threw a glance at the time display on the microwave. It was only eight p.m..

“Already?” He turned back to Duo and asked, trying not to sound as neglected as he felt.

“Yeah, Heero. I just spent the last twenty-four hours sorting body bags. I’m nauseous and tired. Goodnight.”

“I thought we might be able to talk first,” Heero said hopefully, rising from his seat, “I promise that it won’t take long.”

Duo sighed tiredly, and finally turned to face him. His indigo eyes were hidden behind a cold barrier again. They were impossible to reach.

“I’m sorry, Heero, but I really don’t feel like talking to you right now.” He explained quietly, giving Heero a taste of his own medicine. A bitter taste.

Sitting alone at the kitchen table, Heero watched Duo retire to his bedroom. The apartment fell into a deep, lonely silence. His first, second, and third attempts at a conversation with Duo had all failed completely.

Sleep would not come to him that night. His burdened soul refused to rest, tormented by lives lost and a friendship that seemed impossible to regain. After Duo went to bed, Heero threw himself on the couch, and turned on the television at minimal volume.

That didn’t help. Duo didn’t have cable, and the only channels available were L2’s local stations, all of which featured second-rate television programs or newscasts that spoke about the Interstellar Flight Tragedy. His release from Preventer custody was on every headline.

Irritated by the false accusations the media was making against him, Heero changed the channel to a mindless game show. If nothing else, the idiotic trivia questions would keep his mind busy with simpler issues.

His eyes were glued to the screen well into the wee hours of the night, watching one game show after another, action movies, and idiotic sitcoms. Never in his life had he watched so much television. It really didn’t have much to offer. With a sigh he flipped to the only channel that broadcasted into the night - porn. He stared numbly at the erotic feature, unmoved by what he saw. He needed a drink.

The craving was nearly unbearable. His tongue ached to be burned by the sour liquor. While occupied, his mind was distracted from the excruciating want. He had no time for it on the shuttle, as well as in Preventer HQ. Now he wanted it. He wanted it bad. Just one drink, he told himself, so he could get the irksome craving out of his system.

He wondered what Duo would have to say if he knew about it. Pathetic, is what he would call him. Not that it mattered. He just wanted a sip. Just one sip to ease his mind toward slumber. Otherwise, he knew that it would never come.

As he had expected, Heero did not fall asleep before dawn. Exhaustion took him while he was still propped in a sitting position, the remote lying limply in his hand. For the first time in many days, his sleep was a dreamless one, devoid of aspiration.

A strong scent of caffeine greeted him when he awoke. Inside his cloudy mind, he wondered where he was and what he would see when he opened his eyes. But, before he could fully open them, he felt his eyelids dance involuntary up and down in jerky, twitchy movements. He forced them open quickly, heart racing. He blinked a few times, shaking his head to get his vision straight.

The television was the first thing he saw, featuring a morning talk show. The two hosts smiled widely at the viewers, far too cheerful for the early morning hour. What could possibly make them so happy this early in the morning?!

He heaved out a long, tired sigh, and turned away from the screen. Duo was standing between the living room and the kitchen, fully dressed in the Class A OCSR uniform: a dark blue military dress suit that hugged his masculine body. He was holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, reading as he sipped the beverage. His wet hair was gathered into a tight, tidy braid, filling the air with the pleasant scent of shampoo.

Duo’s image was in such a sharp contrast to his own, Heero mused. He was sitting slumped on the sofa, dressed sloppily, his hair a ruffled mess, while Duo wore a neatly pressed uniform. It was almost as if the roles were reversed. Who would have thought?

The braided young man must have noticed that he was being looked at for he lifted his gaze towards Heero. His indigo eyes met Heero’s in a calculated gaze, appearing to assess the situation. Had Duo expected him to leave by now?

“Good morning.” Heero finally decided to say, but made no move to rise from the sofa.

“Morning.” Duo grumbled back, and finished his coffee with a gulp. He turned to put the mug on the table, which stood between the living room and kitchen, thus turning his back to Heero.

“Are you leaving for work?” Heero asked the obvious, just to get things going. He was desperate to find a way to reach Duo, to really talk to him.

“Yeah. I gotta few papers I have to hand in.” Duo replied in a disinterested tone, barely deigning to speak to him. He strode past the sofa and to the door, not giving Heero a second glance.

“You can stay, leave, whatever,” he grabbed his keys, “I’ll be back tonight.”

Without giving him a chance to reply, Duo walked out the door. Heero slumped back into the couch, and threw an arm over his eyes.

“I need a drink...” He muttered into thin air, his craving for the bitter drop stronger than ever before. He hadn’t expected things to be so complicated!

Did Duo want him to stay, or did he expect him to leave? How long would he be giving him the cold shoulder? There had to be something he could do to make up for being such a jerk. Much like Duo was acting now. Had he really been so cold to him? It couldn’t have been that bad. Otherwise, Duo would have given up long ago... right?

But he had given up, Heero reminded himself. Perhaps Duo didn’t even want to see him again. Like he had said the night before, he was just being nice by giving him shelter for the night. Should he leave then? Was that what Duo wanted? Was a second chance too much to ask for?

No. It shouldn’t be. Everyone deserved a second chance. Even he did.

He would get through to Duo. Failure was not an option. His life depended on it. There was no other place for him to be. No one else he wanted to be with. He needed Duo. And he needed a chance to prove that.

But first... a drink. He really needed a drink.

After rummaging through the kitchen, he found nothing but a six-pack of beer in the fridge. Beer was not good enough, to him it was like drinking water. He missed the expensive brandy Adèle used to store next to her beanbag.

So he walked out to the street, regardless of his sloppy appearance, and marched into the nearest convenience store. With a single twenty-dollar bill he could only afford a cheap E&J Brandy bottle. It was American, but it would have to do. He snatched the bottle off the cashier counter and hurried out of the store, away from the people who kept staring at him. He wasn’t some drunk! He just wanted a drink. Just one drink. That’s all. He had lasted 72 hours without a drink and he was fine! He could quit if he wanted to. One shot of liquor wouldn’t ruin that.

He placed the bottle on Duo’s kitchen table, and went in search of a glass. Adèle had a specific type of glass for each brand of liquor. Duo didn’t even own a beer mug. He had to settle for a regular water glass.

Lifting the glass to his face, Heero looked at it sourly. He inhaled the sweet/acrid smell, letting it burn his nostrils. Just one drink, he promised, just one.

“On dirait bien que j'ai perdu (It looks like I lost).” He sighed desolately, knowing that Adèle, wherever she was, would smirk at his words. He now owed her an expensive brandy bottle, for losing the bet.

“Aux malheureux (For the miserable).” He toasted, smiling sarcastically, and emptied the glass in one gulp.

A minute passed, but there was no effect other than a soft tingling in the back of his throat.

Just one more, he promised himself, and filled the glass again. Just one more, and then he’ll start thinking about what to do next. He needed to find a way to get through to Duo. Drinking was not the solution, he knew that well, but it would get things going, the way it had done for him in the past.

Duo returned home late that evening, stumbling tiredly through the door. Heero, who was sitting by the kitchen table, looked up. When their eyes met he smiled softly, noting the surprise in Duo’s eyes. He probably had expected him to be gone by now. He surely hadn’t expected to see dinner waiting for him on the table. 

“You made dinner.” Duo stated, rather coldly.

“Yes.” Heero nodded, and the braided teen’s features hardened angrily.

“So what’s next? Flowers and a box of chocolates?” He muttered sarcastically, and dropped his keys by the door.

With a heavy sigh Heero stood up and placed the two plates in the microwave. From the corner of his eye he could see Duo loosening his tie. He seemed exhausted, much like he did after a battle during the war. Duo’s shoulders were tense though, despite his obvious exhaustion, a clear sign that something was bothering him.

The microwave beeped. Heero served the plates to the table, and sat down without a word. He could feel Duo eyeing him suspiciously, until he finally walked into the kitchen. Sighing, Duo shed his military jacket, and sat down as well.

They ate in silence as Duo’s resentment hovered solidly in the air. Minutes passed, and no words were exchanged. The ice wasn’t melting, but getting frostier, separating them. Duo used to speak about anything and everything during dinner. Eating in silence, while Duo sat across of him, was unnerving.

He looked up at Duo, a hesitant shine in his blue eyes. Duo’s head was bowed as he ate so he won’t have to look at him. Each of his movements was sharp, angry, making it clear that he wished to finish his meal as quickly as possible.

Heero sighed. He would not let that happen.

“Do you remember,” he began and Duo looked up, raising his eyes from his plate to glare silently at Heero.

“You once told me about a cook you knew on the Sweepers’ ship.” Heero continued, and Duo frowned in confusion. He now had his attention.

“You told me that all he ever made for dinner was boiled eggs.”

Duo’s brows narrowed with wariness. “What?!”

Heero smiled softly. “You hate boiled eggs because their smell makes you nauseous,” he explained, as if Duo didn’t already know, “so you never ate dinner, and when the cook found out he offered to make an omelet especially for you. He didn’t have a small pan so he used to fry it on a lid and it always made you laugh.”

Heero finished the story, and Duo gaped, dumbfounded, fork suspended in mid-air.

“I might have ignored you, Duo, but I’ve always listened.” Heero explained softly, his eyes shining with warm light.

“Jesus, Heero.” Duo muttered, and stabbed his food with the fork. He resumed eating, although more slowly, as if confused.

“You used to talk a lot during dinner,” Heero continued, knowing that he would be ignored, “It’s odd sitting here and not hearing your voice.”

“Heero, are you drunk?” Duo suddenly asked, looking at him sharply.

“What?” he gasped, caught completely off guard, “of course not!”

Duo rolled his eyes. “You are, aren’t ya?” he muttered, and shook his head in admonishment, “No wonder you can’t shut up...”

Stunned, Heero watched Duo get up and clear his plate. His blue eyes were wide with shock. He hadn’t expected Duo to notice.

“I am not drunk.” He repeated, and for the first time he could smell the reek of alcohol floating from his mouth.

Standing by the sink, Duo snorted and threw away the leftovers from his plate. “That’s fucking pathetic, Heero.” He stated grimly, and began washing his plate. Heero bowed his head in shame, having nothing to say in his defense. He had tried, and failed. Again.

“If I had a drink for each time you made me miserable, I would have died from liver disease at the age of sixteen!”

Heero looked up, blue eyes anguished. “I made you miserable?”

Duo’s shoulders tensed as he apparently realized the meaning of his words. He shook his head, and scrubbed the plate forcefully.

“Sometimes,” he confessed, speaking into the sink. “Every single day.”

Duo’s back was turned at him, and Heero wished, now more than ever, that he would look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He confessed honestly, hoping that Duo could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I don’t need your apology, Heero,” the braided youth replied rudely, picking up another plate to scrub, “I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”

For a few long moments, Heero watched him scrub the dishes, hard, angry, confused. Hurt?

“At least I ain’t no damn drunk.” Duo finally spat, accusingly. Heero’s eyes narrowed angrily.

“I am not a drunk.” He growled, fists clenched.

“So you just happen to be stinkin’ like one.” Duo retorted, raising his voice over the gush of water from the sink. “You make me sick.”

“It’s my life,” Heero replied calmly, “I’ll do whatever I chose with it.”

“Oh, like drinking yourself to death!? You call that living?!”

“Is wearing uniforms and following orders called living?”

That did it. Duo whirled around with a glare, his braid swinging in the air.

“At least I tried to build myself a life! What do you have to show for yourself?! A bunch of empty bottles?!”

“At least I am not the one who is still trying to save the world.” Heero countered poisonously, “I live my life the way I want it. I’m taking my time. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Duo seemed speechless at his words. He stood by the sink and gaped, both hurt and anger quarreling in his eyes. It seemed that Heero’s words had hit home. He felt sorry for saying them. It was not his place to judge. It was not what he came there to do.

“Thanks for dinner.” Duo finally spat, and threw the towel he was holding to the floor. He stalked out of the kitchen and Heero flinched when the bedroom door slammed shut, locking Duo away. Again.

He sighed, and turned back to the table, left to finish dinner on his own.

Lonely hours crept by second-by-second, minute-by-minute. Time stretched into a vast, endless moment. A painful reality. He felt as though he were miles away from Duo, stranded in a different dimension. Out of reach. He was so close, and yet so far away, the distance growing with each word that came out of his mouth. Everything came out wrong. Dinner was supposed to break the ice. It was supposed to ease things up a bit. His only intention was to do something nice for Duo, to show his gratitude, and then perhaps Duo would warm up to him. Nothing worked out the way he wanted it to. It was nothing new, though, Heero was used to it.

The clock ticked past midnight, and sleep still would not come. He lay on the sofa and stared at the bottle of brandy that stood on the coffee table. It was half-empty, or half-full, he wasn’t sure which one. It was making hollow promises of sleep, promising peace if only he’d take a few sinful sips.

Duo had accused him of being a drunk. Adèle had done the same not so long ago, but her words did not hurt him the way Duo’s did. She annoyed him, nothing more. Duo made him feel ashamed.

He was not an alcoholic. Not yet. He’d give up the bottle. It was careless of him to buy it in the first place. Duo was right. He couldn’t pour liquor down his throat every time he couldn’t handle his feelings.

Being miserable... at least that was something. He finally understood what Adèle had meant when she spoke those words. He could not deny or escape his feelings. If he was to be miserable, he had to feel it, to accept it. That was the only way things would ever change, for better or worse. Without his misery, he would have nothing left. He would be as good as dead. The alcohol would kill him, numb him, and he would end up no better than Adèle. She was only alive when she remembered her misery, as fleeting as those moments were, before she drowned herself in either liquor or sex.

No. He would not end up like her. That was why he had left Adèle in the first place. Facing Duo’s anger and resentment had weakened his resolve. It almost made him forget what he had come there to do. If misery was what he had to deal with first, then he would. No more liquor. For real this time.

Miserable as he was, he longed for human contact. Better the sins of flesh than the sinful ignorance of liquor. Lying on the sofa, Heero wrapped his arms around himself in search of human warmth. Even if it was just his own, it would have to do.

His palms were sweaty, and his eyelids twitched again. Classic withdrawal symptoms. He knew that the worse was still ahead. Two months of constant drinking would take their toll on him. A few sips would fix all that... save him the agony and... no. No. He mustn’t.

Forcing out every last shred of self-control he had, he continued to lie still, glaring at the bottle while trying to ignore it. He had always had confidence in his will power. If he could will himself to feel no pain during torture, no fear while risking his life, he could deny his yearning for liquor. All he needed was a good reason. And while his reason was currently hidden behind closed doors, he was still there. And it was all he needed to know.

Hours passed, slowly, agonizingly. His head hurt so much that he could not sleep. He lay restless on the sofa, hugging himself, anxious to face the next day. Anything but lying still, helpless, lost, confused, and thirsty... so terribly thirsty...

A door creaked open, the sound tearing through the silence of the night. Heero turned a pair of tired, red-rimmed eyes towards the hallway. Despite the pitch-black darkness, he could see the outline of a silhouette standing in the doorway. He could feel Duo’s eyes on him, trying to assess if he was asleep or awake. He lay still, giving no sign of alertness, and waited to see what Duo was up to.

He heard him sigh and then walk quietly to the kitchen. A light flickered on, causing white spots to dance behind his closed eyelids. The sound of the refrigerator door opening was followed by a soft clatter.

“Milk or beer?” Duo asked, and Heero’s eyes flew open. He could never fool Duo, why did he even bother?

“Be--milk.” He said tiredly, and sat up.

“Good choice.” Duo muttered, and pulled out a carton. He slammed the fridge shut, and turned to the cupboard. “Can’t sleep?” He asked, while pulling out a pair of glasses.

“No.” Heero sighed, although the answer was obvious. He didn’t mind though, as long as Duo was speaking to him.

“Yeah, me neither.” The braided teen agreed, and walked towards the couch. He was carrying two glasses of milk and a bag of tortilla chips - barbeque flavored. He threw himself onto the sofa next to Heero, and handed him his milk.

“Milk and tortilla chips?” Heero questioned, frowning.

“Hey man, they go with anything!” Duo proclaimed, and ripped the bag open.

Heero watched him throw a chip into his mouth, and smiled. He helped himself to some chips as well. He couldn’t help but smirk when he saw the stunned expression on Duo’s face.

“I gather you’re through with that stupid diet.” He said, and picked up his glass of milk.

“Yeah.” Heero muffled between bites, and threw another chip into his mouth.

Duo nodded approvingly. “That’s good ta know.”

For a while, they sat in silence, sipping milk and munching on tortillas. Heero knew that it was the perfect time for him to start talking, but nothing came up. A few hours ago Duo wouldn’t even look at him, and now they were sitting side by side, eating a snack! Was he dreaming, or was the brandy still flowing in his veins? Going ‘cold turkey’ can bring severe withdrawal symptoms, like hallucinations, but he wasn’t that far gone yet... was he?

“I thought ‘bout what you said,” Duo spoke up at last, his gaze on the milk instead of on Heero, “about my job.”

“I didn’t mean to pass judgment.”

“S’okay,” Duo cut in, “yer right. I’m no better than you.”

Duo finally turned to face him, and Heero’s heart skipped a beat. There was no anger in his eyes. None of the accusation that had been there before. Duo was looking at him, really looking at him. Past the anger, past the hurt.

“We need to make one thing clear first,” Duo continued quietly, almost tentatively, but yet, at the same time, poised.

“I refuse to be ignored by you any longer,” he said, looking deep into Heero’s eyes, “I dun ever wanna to feel like I did back then.”

“I won’t ignore you again, Duo,” Heero assured him, “that’s a promise.”

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know,” Heero whispered, “this is a second chance.”

“Yeah. So dun go n’ screw it up. I ain’t gonna chase after you like I did before.”

Heero nodded in understanding. “I accept that.”

Duo sighed, heavily, and leaned his head back against he sofa. For a few long moments he stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“I’m not gay or anything,” he added as an after thought, “I fuck girls. Ya know that, right?”

Although his breath faltered, Heero answered with a level voice. “You made sure that I would.”

Duo snorted, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “Is that what you think I did back then?”

“What else were you trying to prove?”

This time, Duo hesitated. He closed his eyes as his head sunk deeper into the sofa’s backrest.

“I dunno...” he confessed tiredly, resignedly, “...something. Anything. Just to get a reaction outta ya.”

“Well, you did.” Heero admitted, watching Duo’s face intently. Every little line on his handsome features was taken into memory, analyzed in a hope for some sort of confirmation that he felt the same way.

His head still leaning back against the sofa, Duo opened his eyes. Encouraged, Heero continued speaking. He was finally getting through.

“You said that I’m too late,” he whispered ever so carefully, weighing every word before it left his lips, “but by saying that you also tell me you were interested in me. Why do you deny it now?”

His eyes shone sorrowfully in the dark, watching Duo fearfully as he waited for an answer. An answer that would determine the rest of his life, if not his emotional death. A fitting way to die, he mused cynically, rejected by ‘death’ himself.

Slowly, Duo lifted his head from the sofa, and turned to face him. Their eyes met, gazes mingling in an effort to understand one another. To see past the struggles raging in their eyes. Past all of the things that had been left unsaid, undone, for so long.

“Are you interested?” Duo asked slowly, as if treading on thin ice.

“Yes.” Heero replied without hesitation, knowing the answer deep in his heart. He could feel as if it were something solid, something that had unknowingly occupied his heart ever since Duo’s first attempts at friendship. The feeling had been nameless before, but it was starting to take recognizable shape. The shape of his heart.

Duo looked away, casting his gaze to the floor. Heero waited patiently for him to recover, to think things over again. The silence returned, engulfing him with the unknown. The palms of his hands were sweating again, and he wiped them anxiously on his trousers.

“I’ve never kissed a guy before.” Duo suddenly confessed. His head was still turned the other way.

“Neither have I,” Heero whispered, “but I’ve thought about it.”

“About me?” Came the careful question, causing Heero to smile, ever so slightly. He did not answer, letting Duo come to that conclusion on his own.

The young man heaved a sigh, and turned to face Heero again. Their eyes met in an intense gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What does it mean then?”

“That we’re both freaks.” Duo muttered, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a sign, Heero knew, that he was troubled.

“I don’t think so.” Heero countered, and placed his hand on the back of the sofa, close enough to almost touch Duo, but still not making contact. He just wanted to let Duo know that he was there, and he was willing. The issue of gender did not bother him. He would follow his heart wherever it would lead him.

A shy smile touched Duo’s lips as he eyed Heero’s hand from out of the corner of his eye. He hurried to hide it by bowing his head, but Heero had seen it nonetheless. It was an alien expression on the face of someone as confidant as Duo, but it gave Heero hope. He was not too late.

In one fluid motion, Duo leaned forward and snatched the remote off the coffee table. Pale light washed over the living room as the television flickered on. Duo’s eyes glued to the cheap action flick that played on the screen.

Heero sighed, and turned to watch as well, knowing better than to pester. The conversation hadn’t been easy on either of them. Silence, for once, would be a comforting interval.

The movie failed to capture his attention though. Soon, Heero found himself drifting into sleep, his eyelids falling down heavily. Sleep crept around him slowly, coating him like honey. Through the haze, he felt his body tilting sideways, nearly falling, until he caught himself and straightened back up. He nodded on and off, struggling to wake, to sleep, whichever he could manage.

Soft murmuring drifted from the television set. He could still see the dim light flickering behind his closed eyelids. Duo’s warmth was a distinctive presence by his side. Knowing that he was still there was a comfort unlike any other. Not everything had been said yet, but it was a start. Better than anything he had ever hoped for.

Gray waters filled his mind, slowly flooding its surface with calm, shallow waters. Sleep wrapped its warm arms around him as he sunk into the soft ripples. He smiled, and leaned deeper into the embrace, welcoming the warmth of another human being. He rested his head on Duo’s shoulder, content when Duo did not pull back. Slumber was thick, warm, and sweet while being held in the arms of a loved one.

With a sickening gurgle, Heero threw himself over the toilet, and vomited. Sounds of heavy gagging filled the small bathroom while Heero’s head hung miserably over the toilet, his back shaking with effort. He coughed and retched for a good five minutes before his stomach settled down to a mild nausea. He sighed, and pulled away, leaning his back against the toilet.

“I’m never drinking again...” He swore, not for the first time, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

The apartment was dead silent. Heero sat, exhausted, and listened to the morning hush. Duo had left for work an hour earlier, leaving him to lie wretchedly on the sofa, pale and ill. No words were exchanged, however the silence had been less awkward, less tense than before.

Heero could not remember what had happened after their conversation last night. He knew that he fell asleep, and that he must have done so while Duo was by his side. There was a vague memory of warmth, but it could have been a dream. In any case, he felt that one of many barriers had been breached. His words managed to get through somehow. No conclusions were drawn - it was still too early for that - but at least he had made his position clear. Duo did not seem to oppose it either.

A first step had been taken, and the journey had begun. He needed to figure out his second step soon though, so that the efforts of the first would not go to waste. But, before that, he gulped, and whirled back to the toilet, vomiting.

When the heaving stopped Heero let out a long, miserable groan. He rose shakily to his feet, wiping his mouth on a sleeve that was already soiled. A gush of water burst out of the faucet as Heero turned the handle and splashed cool water on his face. He looked up at the mirror, catching his reflection for the first time in days.

‘You look like shit’, was what Duo would say. Sadly, it was true.

His features were pale and dripping water, if not sweat. It had been a week since he had last touched a razor, and soft brown stubble covered his face in random places. He had only started shaving about six months ago, and he was still unused to the routine. Combined with the messy brown mane on his head, the facial hair made him look even more unkempt.

A quiet, weary look shone dimly in his cobalt eyes, replacing the usual fiery-blue intensity. Added to that were the dark bags under his eyes, which made them appear to be sunk even deeper into his skull.

Was this the person whom Duo saw when he looked at him? A tired, sloppy, and confused teenage boy?

He was not confused. Not anymore. For once in his life he knew who he was, and what he wanted to do with himself. Tired as he may be, he was not as lost as before. He had free will and the freedom to follow it, if only Duo would let him.

He opened the bathroom cabinet in search of a new razor. Fortunately, Duo had a stack of those, and it comforted Heero to know that he was not the only one practicing the tedious habit. He smeared some shaving gel on his face and shaved, then took a long, warm shower.

Only when he walked out of the shower stall, still bathed in steam, did Heero realize that he had no change of clothes. Anything he had owned, as meager as those belongings were, had been lost along with the United Interstellar shuttle. He had no choice but to borrow some of Duo’s clothes, with the hope that it would not harm the weak bond they had reformed.

With a towel wrapped securely around his waist, Heero walked to Duo’s bedroom. He did not feel comfortable wandering around naked in Duo’s apartment, unlike at Adèle’s place. He respected Duo and his privacy, so much so that he hesitated before entering Duo’s room.

The room was relatively tidy, with a clean smell hovering in the air. The bed was unmade though, and its sight raised a smile to Heero’s lips. There was an empty mug on the night-stand, along with two comic books and a thick novel. One of the closet doors was open, displaying five sets of uniforms hanging on a rack. A few pairs of shoes had been tossed into the corner of the room next to the closet.

Heero walked into the room, pleased by what he saw. Deep down inside, Duo hadn’t changed a bit.

Duo’s scent engulfed him when he opened the closet doors. It was a strong, sweet, distinctive scent that made his legs weak. The same thing had happened in the shower when he’d opened Duo’s shampoo bottle. Never in his life had he given so much importance to smell, but there was something about Duo’s scent that made him feel. Made his body ache to be drowned in the unique odor, to inhale it deeply, more desperately than oxygen for a drowning man.

It took real physical effort not to press one of Duo’s shirts to his face and breathe in his lingering scent. Even alone, Heero could not allow himself to perform such an embarrassing act. He would never be able to look Duo in the eye if he did.

The closet consisted mainly of a black, white, and blue wardrobe, with the occasional red and gray. Heero chose a simple pair of dark-blue denim trousers and a long sleeved black shirt. Colony temperature was set at a constant twenty-five degrees Celsius (77˚ Fahrenheit), neither chilly nor warm, giving him the freedom to wear either winter or summer wear. Since his arms were still littered with bruises, both from the fight on the shuttle and the restraints in Preventer HQ, he opted for a long sleeved shirt. People would have fewer reasons to stare at him then.

For the first time in nearly five months, ever since the war ended, Heero stood in front of a mirror, well groomed and ready to face another day. He had even been so bold as to try and brush his hair, an effort that had proved useless despite the damp state of his unruly locks. He surveyed himself in the mirror, a new habit he figured to be harmless, before approving of his image. He no longer looked like lost little boy, as he had appeared when he’d first met Adèle. Nor did he look like a horny teenager. He wasn’t the soldier either, the one who glared uncaringly at the world.

No, he was all of those things, wrapped together in the body of a seventeen-year-old boy. Not the ‘Nobody’ he had thought he should be. He was who he was,  Heero Yuy, and that was that.

He gave his reflection an acknowledging nod before turning away from the mirror. He shoved the small change he had left from when he purchased the brandy bottle into his pocket, and walked out of Duo’s apartment.

L2-V08744 was not as deprived as he had first thought. It was old, but beautiful in a way. There was an air of mystery around it, hovering over ramshackle buildings and decaying roads. The cars were old and noisy as they drove past him. Some people walked wearily down the streets while others paced determinedly towards their destination. Heero took his time, walking leisurely as he watched his surrounding.

He could not afford to take the bus, for he used his money at the convenience store before leaving Duo’s neighborhood. The grocery bag swung back and forth in his hand, rattling as he walked.

Exercise would do him good, he decided. It would awaken his body and ease the ill feeling the lack of alcohol produced.

He arrived at OCSR Headquarters two hours later, sweaty and panting, but content.

A young woman sat behind the reception desk, talking on the phone. She smiled at him when he approached, and Heero nodded his head as a greeting.

He never gave much thought to his appearance – Adèle had teased him about being a slob – but during his walk he had noticed that people were kinder to him if he presented himself properly. It was hard to admit, but there was something in what Adèle had said about his good looks. People were very gullible to believe that his looks said anything about his character.

“Hello, sir, how can I help you?” The young, attractive woman asked after getting off the phone. Her sweet, seductive, smile did not waver, but grew when she ran her eyes over his slender frame.

Heero didn’t bother to smile back, and shifted the grocery bag from one hand to another. “I’m here to see a... friend,” he said, the last word catching in his throat, “Sergeant Duo Maxwell?”

An exultant spark twinkled in the girl’s eyes the moment he said Duo’s name. Heero couldn’t help but recall the look on Ashley Morganat’s face the day after Duo brought her into their room. She’d had the same twinkle in her eyes.

“Are you a friend of Duo’s?” The young woman asked with elation, picking up the phone.

“Yes.” Heero answered, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. He wondered how many women would respond to Duo’s name that same way.

“It’s been such a long time since I last saw him,” she said, dialing, “let me call him down.”

Unconsciously, Heero clutched the shopping bag tighter. Once again, he was nervous  about his encounter with Duo.

A minute or two later, the elevator doors opened and Duo, dressed in Class A uniforms, stepped into the lobby. When his eyes found Heero he stopped, stunned, before he resumed walking.

“Heero,” he said as he approached, “what are ya doin’ here?”

“I brought you a snack.” Heero said quietly, feeling the receptionist’s wide eyes on him.

“You what?” Duo stopped to look at him, and frowned, “are you wearing my clothes?”

Behind the reception desk, the young secretary’s lips twitched up at the unexpected gossip material. Heero glared at her before turning back to Duo.

“I didn’t have anything else to wear,” he explained, although the answer should have been obvious.

After sending his own glare towards the young receptionist, Duo led Heero away from the desk.

“You’re not drunk, right?” He whispered uneasily as he led Heero to the elevator.

“No,” Heero assured him, a bit angered at the insinuation, “I promised you that I’d quit.”

“No, you didn’t,” Duo muttered, shaking his head, “but if you say so, then fine, I guess.”

They entered the elevator together, Heero still clutching the grocery bag. Once on the seventh floor, he followed Duo among the rows of cubicles until they arrived at Duo’s station. There was a pile of paperwork on the desk and a few more documents open on the computer screen. Heero ran a quick scan over the cubicle, noting the colony maps and mission schedules pinned to the walls.

Duo sat down, and leafed through his papers.

“Is this a bad time?” Heero asked, suddenly unsure of his decision to visit Duo at work.

“It’s fine,” Duo muttered, searching through the stacks of paper until he found a pencil. A distant memory of one of Duo’s rants flashed through Heero’s mind. Duo had ranted all about the benefits of using pencils as opposed to pens. He said that he liked the idea of being able to erase his mistakes and rewrite things. Heero still held the belief that typing on the computer was more beneficial, but who was he to argue with Duo’s preferences? He had done so in the past, but now he understood his error.

“Sit down,” Duo said, and gestured at the chair across of him. Heero obliged.

He placed the paper bag on the desk and pulled out two cans and two bags of tortilla chips. Duo watched him, amused, as he handed him a can of coke and one of the snacks.

“Ya really like this shit?” He asked, and tore the bag open.

Heero nodded, and reached for his can of apple juice. He didn’t like cola.

Duo chuckled. “Well I’ll be damned.”

People were staring, Heero observed as he sipped his drink. They were looking at him and whispering among themselves. It was making him uncomfortable.

“They know who you are,” Duo explained, quite indifferent about the staring, and took a sip of coke.

“Did you tell them?” Heero asked, daring to look up at Duo.

“Didn’t have ta,” Duo shrugged, “Yer face is all over the news.”

He had forgotten all about it. To him, the Interstellar Flight Tragedy was ancient history. All he wanted was to move forward, and, by doing that, he had forgotten all about the two hundred and fifty deaths he was accused of.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he mumbled, hiding behind his can of juice. Shying away was difficult and embarrassing. Duo used to help him out in similar situations back when they moved from one school to another. Back when Duo had still cared enough to help his shy friend. Now he left Heero to fend for himself. The stares were making him nervous, and he had no choice but to deal with them.

“Do they know who you are?” He finally asked, watching Duo throw a tortilla chip into his mouth.

The braided teen shook his head casually. “Just the boss,” he said, chewing, “People dun even know I’m seventeen.”

He chuckled, and leaned back in his seat. “See, ya gotta be at least eighteen to get in, and twenty-one to be a sergeant. Une helped me out, though.”

Heero frowned. “Why did you ask for her help?”

“It sure beats buying that phony crap they sell on the streets,” Duo grumbled sarcastically, “doesn’t it?”

He had him there, Heero mused, and looked away. The fake passport he bought in Brussels had caused him nothing but trouble. Still, he found it hard to believe that Duo would ask for anyone’s help. He was the type who handled things on his own.

The phone rang, and Duo answered it quickly. After a few short sentences he hung up, and rose from his seat.

“Be right back,” he promised, and walked away, still holding the can of coke. Heero watched him disappear between the cubicles. With a sigh, he turned back to the desk.

There was a large calendar hanging to his right, behind the computer monitor. It was a monthly work-plan that detailed the shifts of each and every worker in Duo’s division. Each member had a different color to represent them. Duo’s color was purple, and it was the most dominant one on the board. His schedule was packed with staff meetings and mission briefings. There were numerous rescue drills, outer-colony patrols, and training exercises. There wasn’t a spot on the calender without Duo’s name on it.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Duo said as he returned, taking a seat, “looks like I’m on patrol tomorrow night.” He pulled a purple marker out of a drawer, and leaned towards the calendar to list his name on the next day’s shift slot.

“Your name is already listed on that day,” Heero remarked, trying to sound as casual as possible, “you have a morning shift.”

“Yeah, well, it’s no biggie. I’ll throw in a night shift too. It’s double the pay.”

“When do you have time to breathe?” The question slipped out of his mouth, and he regretted it the moment he saw Duo’s shoulders tense.

“Excuse me?”

“You have more shifts than most people.”

“That’s none of your fucking business,” Duo spat, and threw the marker back into the drawer. He slammed it shut. “A dude asked me to cover for him. So what?!”

“Do you always cover for people? All of your days are full.”

“I still don’t see how that’s your fucking business, Heero. Why won’t ya butt outta my life?”

“I’m sorry,” Heero mumbled, and got up, “you’re right.”

“Damn straight.” Duo grunted, and threw his arms across his chest. He watched Heero gather the empty snacks and drinks. Without a word, Heero turned to leave.

“Hey Heero,” Duo called out, softer this time. Heero turned to face him.

“Yes?”

“See ya at home?”

He smiled, relieved. “Sure.”

Duo smiled back, and returned to work. Heero stood by his cubicle for a moment longer before leaving.

Two hours later, Heero entered Duo’s apartment and collapsed on the sofa, exhausted from the long walk. He wasn’t used to so much activity, outside of bed that is. The thought made him chuckle, and he fell asleep with a smile, sex on his mind.

The sound of the door clicking open pulled him out of his slumber. He kept his eyes closed, and listened to Duo walk into the kitchen. The refrigerator was opened, followed by the distinctive ‘pop’ of a beer can. Duo sighed, and stumbled into the living room.

Leather cushions squeaked as Duo settled into the armchair that stood to the right of the sofa. Heero dared to open half an eye, thankfully hidden behind his bangs. He watched Duo’s sprawled form melt into the comfy chair in an exhausted heap of limbs and cloth.

Tiredly, Duo loosened his tie and maneuvered himself awkwardly so that he could shed his jacket without spilling the beer. Once the jacket was on the floor, he opened the first three buttons of his uniform shirt and sunk back against the cushions. He drank his beer in silence, and Heero closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

The phone rang. Heero congratulated himself on not flinching. The sound had been so sudden, and he was already half asleep.

“Hello?” Duo answered apathetically, and then suddenly gave out a small, strained laugh.

“Oh, Hilde! I’m sorry! I forgot to get back ta ya!”

Hilde Schbeiker. The reason he came to L2 was Hilde’s connection to Duo. Now that he had found Duo he remained unsure of the nature of their connection. They were not lovers, he assumed, and hoped to find out more through their upcoming conversation.

“Yeah, he’s still here,” Duo spoke into the phone, and waited for Hilde’s reply. Heero could only wonder what Hilde had to say about him staying with Duo.

“No, it’s cool. Dun worry about it.” Duo muttered, and took a long sip of beer.

“What?!” he exclaimed, although amused, “I thought you said you ain’t gonna set me up with one of your girlfriends again! Not after what happened with what’s-her-name... Tiffany!”

Apparently, Duo didn’t care much for the subject, and for that Heero was grateful. This new topic of conversation, however, raised many new concerns.

“Stephanie, whatever.” Duo continued, after obviously being corrected, “See? I can’t even remember their names!” He laughed, and Heero unconsciously curled into himself. How many girls did Duo sleep with?

“Just tell her I’m seeing someone,” he insisted, a touch of bitterness in his voice, “you’ll be saving her the trouble.”

Heero relaxed his body into the sofa, relieved.

“No, really Hilde, I’m not interested.”

Perhaps Duo wasn’t as eager a ladies’ man as he let on. Heero understood perfectly the kind of escape sex offered. He was a fool to believe that Duo would be any different in that regard. They were similar in that sense, seventeen years old, wounded from an endless war, and terribly horny.

“Hilde, when you say ‘good looking’, I know you mean ‘nice’. And when you say ‘nice’, it means the broad hasn’t been laid in years. No thanks.”

He could offer Duo so much more. He wanted to offer it, to offer everything. He would do anything, if only Duo would let him. He was a stranger to love, but, deep down inside, Heero felt as if he could still give it. All he needed was a chance.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Duo sighed into the phone, “dun be such a nag!”

A chance, and maybe, a helping hand. It wouldn’t hurt if Duo threw him a bone.

“Okay. I’ll talk ta ya later. Yeah. Dun worry ‘bout it. Bye.”

Duo hung up the phone. Heero opened his eyes, and gazed at him silently. The braided teen threw his head against the backrest, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t bring a girl home with you here, right?” He muttered, gazing at the ceiling.

Heero cast his gaze down sadly. “You’ve done it before.”

Duo laughed, more like snorted, and threw a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“I can leave.” Heero offered, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Don’t bother,” Duo snapped, flinging his hand down, “I ain’t in the mood for it anyway.”

Silence fell. Heero watched Duo sit slumped on the armchair, silent and thoughtful. His silence was not an unpleasant one, nor hateful. It felt as though Duo was also thinking about the next step.

“We should go sit someplace,” he finally said, “I know a nice bar ‘round the corner.”

Sighing, Heero looked away. “Don’t tempt me, Duo. Please.”

It took Duo a moment to realize what he had offered. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Heero assured, but kept his gaze on the floor. The mere mention of alcohol sent his veins surging with the need to be burned by liquor. The nausea was building up again.

“Well, how about we go grab us some burgers?” Duo tried again, “we can catch a movie or somethin’.”

Heero's stomach made a flip-flop motion, before he forced it to settle down.

“I hate burgers.”

“Yer a real tough one to please,” Duo muttered, irritated, “but at least yer making up some good excuses. Back in the day, you just ignored me.”

“These are not excuses,” Heero grunted, looking fiercely at Duo, “I don’t like hamburgers and I can’t be around alcohol.” He cast his gaze down in shame. “I’m not that strong.”

Duo fell silent for a while. Heero feared the worse.

“But you do wanna go out with me?” He asked carefully, atypically timid.

Heero looked up again, straight into Duo’s eyes. He nodded his head, slowly.

Duo smiled. “Okay. Then how about we just sit someplace nice? No booze.”

“I’d like that.” Heero said, smiling softly.

“Cool,” Duo concluded, and got up, tapping his hands on his knees. “C’mon, I’ll let ya borrow some of ma clothes.”

With a great effort, Heero pushed himself off the sofa, and followed Duo to the bedroom. He stood silently as Duo rummaged through the closet, choosing clothes for both of them. He handed Heero a pair of black jeans and a white shirt.

“It looks like something you’d wear,” he said, and returned to choose his own wardrobe.

Heero stared at the clothes in his hand and sighed inwardly. The clothes were quite... boring, for the lack of a better word. Did Duo think of him as boring? Then again, why wouldn’t he?

He dressed while Duo showered, and turned to examine himself in the mirror. He was roughly the same build as Duo, though a bit thinner due to his recent lifestyle, so the jeans were a perfect fit. They sat just below the waist, something he was unaccustomed to, but he had to admit that it looked good.

The shirt Duo gave him was a long sleeved button-down with a vertical-stripes pattern, black over white. It was almost skintight, but loose around the waist. He tucked it into the jeans, and then frowned at his image. He looked like such a... dork? Was that the word Duo would use?

Quickly, he pulled the shirt out of the trousers. He also opened the first two buttons to reveal a part of his chest.

Fussing over his looks was something new, but he wanted to make a good impression. He surveyed his reflection with approval. It was better, but far from perfect.

Turning to Duo’s closet he searched through the hangers before picking out a black denim jacket that seemed to match the pants he wore. He tried it on, and turned to the mirror. It was a short-cut jacket, ending just above his waist and nipping the torso. He had to admit that it made him look more masculine.

He was pleased. The image in the mirror was getting closer to normal. No one had helped him improve his attire, and yet the result was pleasing to the eye. A small achievement, but an accomplishment nonetheless.

Leaning towards the mirror, Heero examined his features closely. Thankfully, he didn’t need another shave. He looked up to examine his eyebrows, and frowned. They were still neatly trimmed the way Adèle had plucked them only a week ago, a habit she had picked up since the first time he had so foolishly let her do so. She said that he shouldn’t spoil her fun. She waxed her legs, so he should have his eyebrows plucked. It didn’t look bad, he admitted. His features were softer, less angry, in appearance. He wondered if Duo had noticed. The mere thought of it caused his cheeks to flush with embarrassment. What would Duo say if he knew he had his eyebrows plucked?!

“Looking good,” Duo commented as he entered the bedroom, leaving a trail of shampoo scent behind him. He was already dressed, wearing tight blue jeans and a black, long-sleeve button-down top that accented his masculine figure. His hair was already gathered into a tight, wet braid. Heero felt a small sense of disappointment. He had wanted to see Duo braid his hair.

But Duo never braided his hair in front of him, or anyone else, he suspected. He only did it behind closed doors. Still, Heero couldn’t help but wishfully think about it.

“Thank you.” He finally said, his eyes following Duo as he went over to the bed and put on a pair of black sneakers.

“You should get your ear pierced,” Duo remarked matter-of-factly while he tied his shoelaces, “It’d suit ya.”

“Why?” Heero asked, and sent a small glance at his refection.

“I dunno,” Duo shrugged, “seeing ya dressed like that made me think you should,” he let out a chuckle to dismiss his comment, “it’s just a stupid idea.”

Heero frowned, and tried to picture himself wearing an earring. It didn’t seem like something he would do, and suddenly the idea was very appealing.

“Yer ready?” Duo asked, getting up. They both looked down at Heero’s bare feet, and smiled.

“In a minute.”

Duo also let Heero borrow a pair of shoes, and they finally headed out. Heero decided against driving, and Duo showed no objection when he asked if it would be all right for them to walk. He wanted to spend as much time as he could in Duo’s company, and walking would prolong the experience.

The first fifteen minutes of their walk passed in awkward silence. Duo fiddled with the key chain in his pocket while Heero stared at the pavement. If he were drunk, the situation would have been much easier to cope with. He would have thought of something to say without screening every word in his head before it was spoken. Then again, if he were drunk he probably would have said a lot of unnecessary things to Duo, like how he wanted to put his arms around him and inhale as deeply as he possibly could.

“How about a nice café?” Duo was the first to speak, “Sound good?”

“Yes, it does.” Heero replied, and the silence returned for another fifteen minutes. Any other attempt to get a conversation going fell into silence after a few short sentences. The ice was back, but Heero felt that neither Duo nor he was responsible. Neither of them was trying to be cold to the other. There was simply an awkward tenseness in the air that caused great uneasiness.

Two young men going on a semi-kind-of-date was something that made them both uncomfortable.

Duo took the lead and Heero followed, glad that they finally had a certain direction. L2’s streets were frightening at night, not that he was afraid, but the potential sources of danger were making his head whirl. Some instincts were too deeply ingrained in him to be discarded in a few short months.

While scanning the streets, mostly out of habit, Heero’s eyes fell upon a small store ahead of them. He watched it intently as they approached, the gleaming neon signs reflecting in his cobalt eyes. It was a tattoo parlor, as the signs read in flashing red and green writing. Red and green, a fateful combination.

As they walked past the shop, Heero stopped and looked inside. It was still open.

Duo, who kept walking a few steps forward, must have realized that he was walking on his own and stopped as well. He turned around and gave Heero an odd look.

“Somthin’ the matter?” He asked, and Heero shook his head.

“They do piercing,” he said, and pointed at the small cardboard sign hanging on the exhibit window.

Duo stepped closer, so close that Heero could feel his warmth even through the denim he was wearing, and peered inside.

“Yer serious?”

“Why not?”

His answer was one of Duo’s trademark grins. A real, rare one. “After you,” he beamed, and they both entered the parlor.

The storekeeper – who was also the ‘artist’ – was just about to close when they walked in. For an extra five dollars, he agreed to keep the store open just for them, and allowed Heero to chose an earring.

He picked a small, simple silver earring with a smooth round head, but Duo convinced him to take one similar to what he chose, but with a shiny round rock at the head. In return, he picked one for himself as well: a small gothic silver cross.

As the storekeeper pressed the piercing gun to his ear, Heero tensed, but reminded himself that no harm would come to him. He repeated the promise like a mantra in his head for the full three seconds of the procedure. When it was over, his earlobe throbbed, nothing more, and he relaxed.

Duo was next. Heero stood, and watched as his braided friend got the top of his ear pierced. It looked more painful than what he had done, but Duo didn’t even wince. He got up and went to the mirror, examining the cross in his ear. 

“It suits you,” Heero assured him, and stepped closer, leaning over Duo. The shopkeeper gave them a wary look, but Heero ignored him.

Duo did the same. He turned to look at Heero and smiled.

“You too, man,” he said, eyes gleaming, “it looks cool.”

After Duo took care of the bill for the both of them, they left the store, and their uneasiness, behind.

The café was a quiet, classically designed diner, with a strong old-school vibe. Its decor seemed as though it had been taken from an old American film. An ancient jukebox played notes from the past, adding to the historic atmosphere. The sitting booths were covered in dark red leather, and the sweet scent of ice cream was in the air.

A young energetic waitress showed them to their booth and handed out menus. Heero couldn’t help but notice that she had the same twinkle in her eyes as Ashley or the OCSR receptionist. Duo greeted her with a smile, and the teenage girl grinned.

“Call me when you’re ready to order, hun,” she purred, and walked away, swinging her hips.

Heero frowned, and Duo shrugged helplessly.

“Do you come here often?” He asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. He wasn’t angry with Duo, he had no right to be, but inside jealousy was eating away at him.

“You could say that,” Duo answered from behind the menu, “it’s been a while, though.”

He placed the menu down, and smiled at Heero. His smile was kind, almost apologetic. “You should try the nachos with cheese.”

Heero looked down at his menu so Duo wouldn’t see his shy smile. He felt stupid shying away from Duo, but he couldn’t help himself. The situation was unfamiliar, and, therefore, awkward. Perhaps he was giving it too much thought. Neither of them had declared their outing  a date. He shouldn’t be so nervous. Not around Duo.

“Just order whatever ya want,” Duo continued casually, “you can pay me back later.”

He felt better after hearing those words. Dinner would feel less like a date if he knew he had to repay Duo.

At last, Heero relaxed and leaned back into the seat. He ordered the nachos with cheese as an appetizer, then a grilled chicken breast and some apple juice. Duo, of course, ordered the hamburger meal, although he did dip his hand into Heero’s nacho bowl while waiting for his order.

“I never thought I’d see the day you munched on greasy nachos,” Duo laughed, licking the salsa sauce off his fingertips.

Heero shrugged, and lifted another chip from the bowl, curling the melted cheese around it. “Some things change, I suppose.”

“And some don’t?”

Heero looked up at Duo, pinning his gaze with his intense blue eyes.

“I hope not,” he said, dead serious.

Uncomfortable, Duo looked away. Heero would have said more, but the waitress chose the time to show up with both their meals. For a long while, they ate in silence, until Duo spoke up again.

“Does your ear hurt?”

“No,” Heero replied, and reached to touch his pierced earlobe, “Why?”

“Just wondering. It’s really red.”

There were several more attempts at a conversation, but none of the topics seemed to stick. Heero sought desperately for words, but none seemed appropriate. He was still weak with words.

Halfway through his grilled chicken breast, Heero looked up, only to be pinned by Duo’s sharp gaze.

“What happened to you these past few months?” Duo asked, being unusually blunt. The question came completely unexpected.

“What happened to me?”

“Yeah, man. You changed so much. What have you been doing?”

Heero lowered his gaze to his plate. “...Sleeping with a whore.”

“No, seriously, man,” Duo insisted, “What’d you do?”

Heero poked his food with the fork. Duo’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“No way, man. No fucking way. Are you kiddin’ me?!”

Heero looked up, eyes serious, yet cautious. “It’s the truth.”

“Dude, you must’ve busted a few bolts when Zero crashed!”

“Yes, I was in a coma for three weeks,” he answered seriously. Duo gawked in disbelief.

“You meant that as a joke,” Heero realized, and looked away in embarrassment. For all he had learned from Adèle’s sarcasm, he was still a fool whenever it came to Duo.

The braided teen chuckled, and shook his head, amused. “Well, at least yer trying.”

“It’s not easy,” Heero sighed, prodding a baked potato, “not for me.”

“It ain’t easy on anyone, Heero,” Duo snapped, “deal with it.”

“I’m trying,” he looked up at Duo, “but I need your help.”

“This is the third time you’ve ever asked for my help,” Duo snarled cockily, “ya ain’t gonna punch me in the gut, are ya?”

He was referring to the last time they had seen each other, towards the end of the Mariemaia Rebellion. It seemed that Duo would never forgive him for that punch, and for leaving him behind, even if it had been for his own good.

Heero shook his head. “No.”

“That’s good ta hear.” Duo smiled, and raised his coke bottle. Following his lead, Heero raised his glass of apple juice and they made a toast, smiling.

Some time after dinner, Heero’s stomach became upset again. He paled with nausea, feeling weak, tired and ill. Duo noticed the change, and went to pay the check. They left the diner, Heero stumbling wobbly, a hand over his abdomen, and Duo’s worried eyes following his every move. Mere meters away from the café Heero suddenly bolted into a near alley and threw his body forward, vomiting.

Duo stood a few feet away, watching with a wince.

“Jesus, Heero, you didn’t even down one beer!” He grunted from afar, staring at Heero’s silhouette hunched over a pile of trash.

“I’m sorry...” Heero gasped between retching, then gulped, and heaved some more. Duo’s face twisted in disgust.

“And to think I let ya borrow my clothes...” He groaned, nauseated.

“Sorry...” Heero breathed, coughing. Both his hands were pressed against the wall for support, trembling as he leaned forward and gagged.

“Is that really what you did all those months? Drinking and sleeping with some whore?” Duo asked, with a hint of abhorrence in his voice.

“...yes...” Heero panted, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of Duo’s jacket.

“Jesus Christ… you think you know a guy!”

Heero stood up unsteadily, and looked at Duo, his eyes shining in the dark.

Duo sighed, his head slumping down. “Wait here... I’ll go call us a cab.”

The taxi waited by the alleyway as Duo went in to help Heero. He placed a hand on Heero’s shoulder for support, and, bit-by-bit, they made their way to the cab, Heero having to stop each time he thought he was going to be sick. Once in the back seat of the vehicle, he collapsed against Duo, not caring what it looked like, or what Duo might say. He felt so ill, all he wanted was to sleep.

Soft vibrations coursed through the cab as it moved, soothing Heero into a hazed state of slumber. His stomach had more or less settled down, though the bitter taste of vomit in his mouth refused to let the nausea fade.

“I’m never drinking again...” he whispered, unaware that he spoke the words out loud until Duo chuckled.

“You’d better not!”

“I’m sorry...” he murmured, and leaned his head on Duo’s inviting shoulder. A sweet, warm scent engulfed him, a scent of shampoo, leather, and cologne. He inhaled deeply, letting Duo’s unique aroma soak into his lungs.

“Dun worry about it,” Duo whispered back, tilting his head down so he could see Heero’s face, “it had to be an early night anyway. Double shifts tomorrow, remember?”

All Heero managed was an affirmative, pained grunt in response, too tired to speak. They fell into a thick, calm silence as the taxi drove through the streets of downtown L2. With each mile that passed, Heero drifted slowly to sleep, warm and content. At some point, Duo snaked an arm around his waist. Enveloped in his friend’s warmth, Heero continued to lie still, letting Duo think that he was asleep. Otherwise, or so he suspected, Duo wouldn’t have been so bold.

The taxi stopped at an intersection, and the halt jolted the vehicle softly. Heero opened his eyes, and looked up. Duo was gazing out the window, the red glow of the stoplight washing over his thoughtful features. Heero studied his face in silence, content with just that. The feeling of Duo’s warm arm embracing his waist sent a wave of warmth to his heart. He never wanted him to let go.

The red glow on Duo’s face changed into a bright green aura, and the cab sped forward. Duo turned away from the window, casting his gaze down at Heero. There was a brooding darkness in his eyes, Heero was mesmerized.

“Did you love her?” Duo whispered hoarsely, his features hard.

“...who?” Heero whispered back, and felt Duo’s arm tighten around his waist.

“That whore.”

A small smile touched Heero’s lips. He closed his eyes, slowly, and nestled closer to Duo. “No.”

A mile passed in silence before Heero reopened his eyes.

“Did you love those girls you slept with?”

Sighing, Duo turned back to the window. Heero watched the streetlights flash over his face in flickering orange. One lamp, then two... three, ten...

“No,” Duo finally admitted, his eyes gazing at the road, “I didn’t.”

Heero’s eyes slid shut again, relieved. He leaned his head deeper against Duo’s shoulders, and then carefully, timidly, wrapped one of his arms around Duo. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, so much, but it was still too soon. For now, he was grateful to be able to hold and be held.

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of Duo’s apartment building, the nausea had returned. Heero struggled to keep from vomiting all over the back seat, for the driver already sent them wary glances in the rearview mirror. Once Duo helped him out of the car he could hold back no more. With a thick, watery cough he hunched forward and retched, having nothing to heave but bitter fluids. Some soiled the pavement, some his – Duo’s – shirt. The braided teen groaned in annoyance.

“Fuck, Heero, that’s gross!” he grumbled, and looked away in disgust, “this is the last time yer wearing my clothes!”

“Sorry...” Heero whispered, and tried to steady his breathing. Dizziness caused his world to spin in a wobbly, blurry eddy. Did his body crave alcohol that much? One drink could probably... fix... that... b...ut......

“Heero!” Duo called, and jumped to catch him before he fell. He steadied him with both arms, fingers curled around his shoulders to keep him from falling again. Heero looked into Duo’s eyes and saw the worry in them. If he hadn’t felt so ill, he would have been surprised.

“I don’t know what happened...” he murmured in apology, “my legs gave out.”

“Yeah, and yer sweating like a pig...” Duo muttered, and moved to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. He was slightly taller than Heero, which served as an advantage as he tried to support his weight.

“C’mon, I think you could use some rest.”

Little by little, they made their way to the forth floor, Duo having to support Heero the whole way. Once inside Duo’s apartment, Heero collapsed on the sofa with a miserable groan. A throbbing headache pulsed viciously between his ears, and his heart raced so quickly it made him feel sick again. He threw a hand over his eyes, feeling the sweat soak through his sleeve, and concentrated on breathing.

He heard Duo lock the door, and throw his keys on the dinner table.

“That’s some harsh shit yer going through,” he commented rather distantly, as if to deny the worry he had showed but moments ago. Heero listened to him enter the kitchen and flick on the light. Even behind closed eyelids he could see the dim glow.

The refrigerator was opened, and Heero heard the hiss of a freshly opened beer can. The mere sound was enough to bring the nausea back.

“Why did you drink so much anyway?” Duo asked, and slumped into the comfy chair by the sofa.

“Why do you work so hard?” Heero retorted, slowly sliding his hand down so he could look at Duo. His gaze was intense, matching Duo’s glare.

Duo snorted, and took a long sip of beer. Heero sighed, and slumped his head back against the sofa. Silence separated them for a long moment. Duo finished his beer, and placed the empty can on the coffee table. Though he kept his eyes closed, Heero could feel Duo’s heavy gaze upon him.

“You stink, man. I can’t believe you puked all over my shirt. It was new, yanno.”

“I’ll wash it tomorrow.” Heero promised, and wished that Duo would get off his back, if only for one night. Sickness and Duo’s sour attitude did not go well together.

He heard the leather armchair squeak as Duo stood up. Then, the sofa sank under a new weight when Duo settled by his side. Surprised, Heero forced his eyes to open, and looked up. His friend – was he really? – sat on the edge of the couch, looking at him silently. Their body heats merged, as if reaching out somehow. Heero shuddered at the feeling. Duo’s warmth was so intense, so real, so close. His palms began to sweat again, and it had nothing to do with his withdrawal symptoms.

“It looks like you can’t keep anything down,” Duo whispered, and reached two hands towards Heero’s chest. Confused, Heero looked down at where long fingers made contact with his dirty shirt.

“Just like old times,” Duo continued, and opened the first button of Heero’s shirt, “you were like that during the war,” he said, opening a second button, “you kept puking all over the cockpit.”

“I had good reasons...” Heero breathed, a sound that barely made it past his throat, so caught in the feeling of Duo’s warm fingers. They brushed against his chest, undoing button after button. Slowly, leisurely, as though they meant to tease.

“How would I know? You never shared anything with me...” Duo mumbled, and unbuttoned the last one. He looked up and studied Heero’s face in silence. Cobalt and indigo eyes fused on contact, searching, asking, longing.

Their gazes remained locked as Duo slid the palms of his hands under the fabric, earning a gasp from the man beneath him as skin touched skin. Heero’s eyes shone in the darkness of the room, glinting with the faint light that came from the kitchen. He waited patiently for anything that might occur, lips open in silent panting.

Duo’s hands were warm, coarse and heavy against his chest. He could feel the other teen’s pulse through his palms, throbbing against him. A moment longer than an eternity passed in pure, patient, silence.

Slowly, Duo removed Heero’s shirt, sliding it off his limp body. He tossed it aside, and turned to meet his gaze again, a mystery in his dark indigo eyes.

“Don’t forget to wash it tomorrow.” He said slowly, shakily, nearly breathless.

Heero could only nod his head in answer, captivated by Duo’s gaze. He watched intently as Duo slowly lowered his gaze to look at his chest. He could clearly see the moment Duo noticed the two nasty red scars marring his torso, Duo’s eyes narrowed, almost painfully, and something shifted in their depths.

“This is new,” he whispered, voice faltering and eyes unable to look away.

“Yes.” Heero hissed out, his eyes fixed on Duo’s face as the braided teen studied his upper body. He reached a hand down, and Heero tensed instinctively when Duo touched the scar across his left arm. As the warmth of soft fingertips registered he relaxed, a shudder running through him. He closed his eyes and allowed Duo’s fingers to trace the scar’s length, from his upper arm, to his shoulder and down below to his shoulder blade.

“This is from when Zero crashed?” Duo asked, quietly, timidly, almost guilty.

“Yes.” Heero mumbled through a short, shaky, breath.

Duo moved to touch the scar across his abdomen. “...does it hurt?”

Heero gasped when touched there. His body trembled when Duo’s fingertip dipped into his scarred navel, exploring in an unusually shy, wary fashion.

“Not really,” he answered, struggling to even his breath, “it tingles... when you touch it.”

“They’re ugly.” Duo stated, pulling back. He looked up to meet Heero’s eyes for the first time since he settled on the sofa. His gaze was harsh, almost challenging, and, in a way, cold. It was a barrier Heero was already familiar with.

“I know,” he whispered, returning Duo’s gaze with matching intensity, “but they’re a part of me.”

He reached his scarred hand to touch his right arm, fingers brushing over another scar, round and deep, like a crater in his upper right arm. The remains of a gunshot wound.

“Just like this scar,” he spoke when he saw Duo eyeing the round mark, “the one you caused, is a part of me.”

Duo turned his head away to conceal a small smile, but Heero had seen it, a slight, wistful twitch of lips. Evidence that Duo had fond memories of the day they met, the day he had so recklessly shot him. It was a scar that Heero bore willingly.

An uneasy silence settled over them, and they remained still, brooding. The only sound in the apartment was the humming of the kitchen’s fluorescent light. Silence fit the late hour, and for a while it lingered, hovering in still air.

“I’d better hit the sack,” Duo mumbled, and rose to his feet, his back to Heero, “I’ve got a long day t’morrow.”

Heero didn’t argue. As much as he wanted the moment to last, he knew better than to push it.

“Good night,” he whispered and watched as his friend – who would hopefully soon become more - disappeared into the dark corridor. The tingling sensation of warmth still lingered on his scarred skin, refusing to cool.

What had happened between them tonight? Dare he hope that..?

Questions tormented him well into the night, whirling in his head, poking, taunting, leaving no room for rest. He tossed and turned, his scars pulsing as if burnt. Duo’s touched nestled itself into his skin like a haunting memory. It flooded him with thoughts of soft skin and salty sweat, figures moaning in the dark. Slumber would not come, and he became frustrated with the nagging awareness.

For hours he lay awake, ill, restless, confused, and aroused. With a simple touch of his fingers, Duo had managed to stir up every nerve in his body, mental and physical alike. He longed for an explanation, a way for him to understand why Duo had done that. Once again, Duo had retreated to his room before any conclusions were drawn.

Perhaps he needed time to think things over, to reconsider his past decisions. Whatever the cause, it stole the sleep from Heero’s eyes. He was troubled beyond belief, beyond anything he ever thought he could be. Never in his life did he allow a matter to bother him so deeply, so intimately, to the very core of his soul.

Light touched the edge of the windowsill, and Heero turned his eyes towards the dim glow. The colony’s artificial dawn broke with the gradual brightening of man-made illumination.

He sighed, and turned to lie on his stomach so he could bury his face in the sofa’s shadows. After some time, his mind settled down enough to sleep. It felt as though he had just closed his eyes when suddenly he awoke, Duo’s insistent voice calling in his ears.

“Heero! Hey, Heero! Wake up, man.”

He groaned, pulling away deeper into the sofa until his face pressed against the backrest.

“C’mon you lazy ass, wake up!” Duo grumbled, his voice tired, but still loud enough to be an annoyance.

“It’s too early...” Heero slurred into the cushions, feeling a headache starting between his eyes. He groaned miserably, burying his throbbing head deeper into the couch.

“It’s seven a.m., Heero. I have to go soon, so just wake up and listen!”

It took him a few moments, but after an arduous struggle Heero managed to turn and face Duo. Groggily, he opened his eyes and searched the face of the blurry figure before him.

“What... is it?”

Duo, who was kneeling by the sofa with his face mere inches from Heero, sighed.  “I’m covering for this guy today,” he began slowly, “so I won’t be back till tomorrow morning.”

“I know that...” Heero let out with a long, lazy yawn. He was about to turn around again and sleep when Duo placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” he grunted, though amused, “Jesus, Heero, if there were a battle coming you would have jumped outta bed in a second!”

Heero made a sour face, rolling his eyes. “There aren’t any more battles, Duo. I’m tired.” He said in an almost incoherent mumble, and prepared to turn around again.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Duo snorted, his hand still on Heero’s shoulder.

“Listen, man, I left ya some cash on the table,” Heero reopened his eyes at the words, “go to the pharmacy and buy whatever you need to get better. And eat something for crying out loud... Just try to keep it in for more than a lousy hour.”

There was a trace of gentleness in Duo’s voice, much like the night before, when he asked about his scars. Heero blinked, bowled over by the care shining in Duo’s eyes.

“Just... don’t use the money for booze,” Duo added firmly, his eyes hardening in an instant, “got that?”

Heero nodded slowly, mystified. “...I won’t.”

“Good,” Duo smiled, and then quickly, before Heero could even comprehend what he was doing, placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The kiss had been warm and chaste with shyness. In less than a second, Duo was on his feet, pretending that nothing had happened.

“I’ll see ya t’morrow then.” He said with a smile, and walked to the door.

Heero lay on the sofa, eyes wide, cheek flushed with his first real kiss from Duo, as he watched Duo walk out the door. His braid swung contentedly from side to side, chestnut dancing against the dark blue of his uniforms.

With a small smile of his own Heero turned to lie on his side and fell into a deep, comfortable slumber.

He woke up feeling more energetic than ever before. It was past noon, and he had only slept for about seven hours, hardly enough to compensate for previous sleepless nights, but he felt refreshed. Stronger, and in a way, complete. Duo had answered many questions that morning, without the use of a single word. Heero had to smile at the thought, he never took Duo as that kind of person. Speech had always been his form of expression.

Then again, as Heero knew well, people do change.

Deciding to put all of his restless energy into good use, Heero began to clean the apartment. He started with washing the clothes he had worn the previous night, which only reminded him of his promise to Duo that he’d go to the pharmacy. He showered, dressed – in Duo’s clothes once again – and made a short trip to the local drugstore. He also took the opportunity to do Duo’s grocery shopping, buying items that he knew were needed. After that he resumed his self-appointed task of cleaning Duo’s apartment.

The chores were simple, but Heero wanted to contribute in any way he could. Not to mention that he had to keep his body active and his hands busy doing anything but what his horny teenage body wanted him to do. Duo’s kiss still lingered on his cheek, his touch still warm on his arm and torso. Heero scrubbed the apartment clean, polishing, rubbing, and dusting everything furiously. Adèle would have laughed if she saw him wasting all of his sexual energy on such activities. ‘A perfectly good waste’, was what she would have said. Heero couldn’t agree more, but he refused to dishonor Duo by touching himself in his apartment.

Trash cans were emptied, shelves dusted, carpets vacuumed, and the kitchen sparkled by the time the clock hit five thirty p.m.. Heero was still restless. Duo wouldn’t be back until morning, and the prospect of spending the evening and night alone was more than he could bear. As idiotic as he felt, he had to admit that he missed Duo. Not even a day had passed since he last saw him. He couldn’t help it though; Duo left him on the edge of his seat. Such a cruel thing to do and so typically Duo.

He skipped lunch, knowing that he would throw it up anyway, and went out for a jog. He ran a good five miles, panting, sweating, barely able to carry himself after the first three miles. It didn’t take more than the single memory of Duo’s fingers against his skin to keep him going for the other two.

After he downed a half a bottle of water, Heero continued roaming impatiently around the apartment, anxious to see Duo. To touch him again. To press his lips to his... to...

He threw himself on the living room floor to began a long series of sit-ups and pushups. Half an hour later he finally collapsed, falling back against the floor. He lay sprawled out on the carpet behind the sofa, panting harshly, finally drained.

It was a good ten minutes later when his breathing finally evened out. He remained on the floor, lying spread eagle, his numb gaze fixed on the ceiling. Since his entire body ached, Heero decided that it would be best to keep his mind, rather than his body, busy.

He rose to his feet with a groan and fell onto the sofa in hope of finding refuge within the television realm. Talk shows were crap, and the sitcoms joked about things he knew little about. He settled on some sappy drama movie, watching it with mild interest until hunger struck him for the first time in two days. Encouraged, he walked into the kitchen and took his time making dinner for one. Suddenly, it seemed so sad to cook for a single person. Companionship was something he had disregarded in the past. Now, after months of rooming with Adèle and after two dinners with Duo, he felt lonely in an empty kitchen. He missed Duo.

At eight p.m., Heero sat in front of the television again and flipped through the channels. Twelve more hours to go...

Eleven hours and fifty-nine minutes, not counting the seconds...

He sighed at his own pathetic behavior. It was all Duo’s doing, he decided, it was the damn baka’s fault.

Newscasts appeared in every channel. It was past the normal time for the evening news, Heero noted, as he watched the anchormen speak, so bored that he didn’t bother to listen. From what he did gather, watching random images when they caught his attention, they were speaking about some shuttle. Probably the United Interstellar one. When will the media be bored with that old news? For him it was already in the past, and he had almost died there. Oh, and had been accused of being the saboteur.

“Yes, Shelia, I am standing here in the OCSR Operations Room, where experts are still trying to locate the missing shuttle.”

Heero sighed, irritated with the news. He changed the channel in hopes to find something better to watch, but the same newscast was on every station.

“Darrel, why aren’t they sending out another rescue team?” The studio’s female anchor asked dramatically.

“Well, as you may know, this is the second call OCSR has received from this debris belt in the past week. Only four days ago, United Interstellar lost one of their shuttles out there, and now, with the loss of both the cargo ship and the rescue crew, OCSR has declared the area as a no-man’s zone, meaning no one goes in, or out, until they find a way to resolve this situation.”

Heero straightened in his seat, for once interested in what was being said. Something must have happened. Was Duo there? He glanced quickly at the clock by the television. 9:18 p.m.. Duo was well into his night shift, patrolling outer-colony walls. He whirled back to the television, eyes wide.

The female anchor nodded grimly. “So what they’re actually saying is – I’m just making things clear for our viewers - that there won’t be a second rescue party entering the debris field.”

“No, Shelia, as far as my OCSR sources are revealing, there isn’t going to be a second search party, at this time.”

Heero’s mouth gaped open slightly, too stunned to form words. Had something happened to the OCSR patrol shuttle? To... to Duo’s patrol shuttle?

“I think that the question on all of our minds is, Darrel, are they leaving these men out there to die?”

“It’s too early to tell, Sheila, because frankly...”

By that point Heero was too far-gone with fright to listen any further. The remote lay limply in his hand, still pointed at the television. His heart clenched, as though clasped in a fist of anguish and grief. Twisting and bleeding so painfully that Heero let out a gasp of pain, a hand over his heart.

“No...” He whispered, numb blue eyes gawking at the television accusingly, agonizingly.

“There is a lot of embarrassment in the OCSR Headquarters,” the male reporter continued, “it seems that only now people are beginning to wonder why this dangerous debris field has been left untended for so long.”

“I’m sure that a lot of people are thinking the same,” The female anchor in the studio agreed, “our prayers are with the families of those brave men trapped in space. I think that we all wish for this tragedy to end well.”

He wanted to punch her, to rip the sappy expression off her face. She had no right to offer fake sympathy! No right at all!

Tears stung his eyes for the first time in years. Something was blocking his throat, making it hard to breath. He vaguely remembered that that was what crying felt like, the sensation alien in his throat. He coughed, almost sobbing, dropping to his knees by the sofa.

Rescue plans flashed through his mind. He’d take Duo’s OCSR uniforms. He’d hijack a shuttle. He’d go there himself and save those men. Save Duo. He could do it. He’d ask Hilde to help. She could get him into the spaceport inside her salvage yard truck. He’d kill anyone who’d try to stop him. He will... he will get Duo back!

So lost in his grief and confusion, Heero failed to notice the sound of a key sliding into the lock.

The lock opened with a silent click, and Duo stepped into the apartment, white as a ghost.

Heero’s breath caught in his throat. He stared tearfully at the door.

Duo didn’t seem to notice him kneeling by the sofa, and dropped his keys on the counter by the door. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the dark. 

Weary indigo eyes looked up when Heero stood, watching silently.

Heero’s tears dried quickly, leaving no trace in his intense blue eyes. Instead came the unbearable urge to hold Duo. However the solemn air around the longhaired teen kept him rooted to the spot. Duo’s features were blank, shell-shocked.

“My shift got canceled,” he whispered at last, casting his gaze to the floor, “Mitch said he didn’t need me to cover for him any more.”

Heero swallowed, hard. Duo’s words were heavy with guilt, they resonated straight into his heart.

“Duo...” He whispered, searching for words when there were none.

indigo eyes gazed at him, angry, aching, wounded.

“I told him that I didn’t mind... that he could go home, but he insisted.”

“It’s not your fault.” Hollow words, meaningless. He would have been angry with anyone for speaking those same words at him.

Duo seemed too numb to care.

“It was my shift,” he whispered brokenly, “I was supposed to be there...”

Heero watched helplessly as Duo moved toward the sofa. His steps were shaky, tired, as if undeserving to walk among the living. Seeing Duo like that pained Heero, more than any pain he had ever known.

Stiffly, Duo settled on the edge of the sofa. He sat upright, tense, hands over knees, and his gazed fixed somewhere between the television and the wall. Newscasts flickered on the screen, washing Duo’s face with a cold white glow.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Heero whispered, and carefully sat next to Duo. 

There was no reaction from the other teen so he moved closer, their thighs touching.

“I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad...”

“I hate my job.” Duo stated suddenly, voice numb, “I hate it so much...”

Tears shone in Duo’s eyes. They did not pour down, only gathering at the corners. Heero’s heart crumbled at the sight.

“I hate my life,” Duo continued, caught in a bitter trance, “I hate me! I even hate myself for hating me...”

He reached an angry hand to wipe away the tears. Heero sat silently and listened, offering comfort in the only way he felt that mattered - by being there.

“I could’ve died today... but when I realized that I... I didn’t even care.”

“Duo... don’t say that... please.”

“Everything was fine until you showed up,” Duo’s eyes hardened with familiar anger, “I could ignore everything, yanno?”

At those words Heero finally moved. He reached two tentative hands towards Duo, and, leaning forward, pulled the young man into an embrace. His hands were strangers to both love and comfort, lacking the skill to convey those complicated emotions. All he knew was that he wanted Duo in his arms. He wanted to offer all of his warmth to the other young man. To offer his strength, his heart, his everything, to Duo.

Duo tensed at the contact before he shuddered and gave in to Heero’s touch. Gradually, he relaxed, and leaned into the embrace. Heero pulled him closer. He placed his head on Duo’s chest, slowly. The troubled teen quivered, struggling with himself.

For a long while they remained unmoving, searching for comfort in their first embrace. Duo slumped his head against Heero’s head, body curling towards the other teen. His body trembled with a deep breath, struggling as he moved his arms to hold Heero. Timidly, he returned the hug, crushing Heero to his chest. Heero remained silent, listening to Duo’s distress increased heart-rate. He closed his eyes, and mentally poured all of his warmth, his love, his life, into Duo, trying to give him the strength he needed.

“I don’t want you to die,” he whispered longingly, “I’d be lost without you...”

“I can’t help you, Heero.” Duo mumbled against his shoulder, “I can’t even help myself...”

“Then don’t. Don’t do anything... I won’t ask you to. Just... be with me.”

He felt Duo sigh, his chest faltering beneath his head.

“I spent a year proving to myself that I don’t need you in my life.”

A sad shine appeared in Heero’s blue eyes. “I did the same, but I feel differently now.”

“What would you do if I told you I’m not interested?”

“I don’t know,” Heero admitted, his arms tightening around Duo almost desperately, “deep down, I’m hoping that you won’t say that.”

Duo chuckled bitterly, the movements of the forced laugh jolting Heero slightly.

“God, Heero, I feel so screwed up...”

Heero pulled away from the embrace slowly, and turned to look into Duo’s eyes. For a moment he was lost in the darkness of their depths, before he reached out a hand and carefully caressed Duo’s cheek. His cobalt eyes shimmered with sadness and sympathy, a helpless, childlike smile hovering over his lips.

“There is nothing wrong with us, Duo,” he whispered, stroking Duo’s tender cheek, “we are what this world has shaped us into, and for once, we have the opportunity to change, to be who we really are.”

There was a wary, doubtful look in Duo’s eyes.

“We won’t lose if we have each other.” Heero promised, gaze intense. For the longest time the two searched the other’s eyes for any sign of hope. Emotions bubbled beneath the surface, aching to leak out.

“Is this the part when we’re supposed ta kiss?”

“No,” Heero replied calmly, “this is when you decide whether you’re going to trust me or not.”

Duo sighed heavily, and looked away. He stared at the television, which still displayed the tragic news.

“Would you have done something if it was me out there?”

“I think the answer is obvious,” Heero whispered harshly.

Duo turned to face him, a challenge in his eyes. “Would you kill for me?”

“If I had to,” Heero answered, slowly, “though I’d rather not.”

“Would you die?”

The question should have been easy to answer, but he hesitated, taking his time to look into Duo’s defying eyes.

“...only in your arms.” He finally said, leaning closer to Duo, so close that their bodies pressed against each other. He ignored the wary look Duo sent him as he leaned to whisper in his ear.

“...you are the only death I wish for myself.”

“Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“No,” he placed a hand over Duo’s, “it’s a simple truth. I found that there are better ways to die than to lose your life.”

“You mean sex.”

“That, and more.”

“How much more?”

“...love.”

Duo turned to face him, features hard. “Do you love me?”

Heero nodded, silent.

“Do you think I love you?”

Heero didn’t answer, he kissed Duo.

Their first kiss was bitter, it tasted of fear, distrust, and uncertainty. A clumsy, passionless kiss. Lips brushed awkwardly, carefully, timidly, afraid. It was more of a test than a kiss, a challenge they both had to face in order to breach the remaining barriers. When it became too uncomfortable, they pulled back, looking away guiltily.

Neither spoke. Heero held his breath, a heavy, suffocating feeling in his chest. It was not regret, nor disappointment. It was fear. He feared Duo’s reaction.

“I’m sorry,” Duo mumbled, his gaze at the floor, “you must’ve had better.”

It was not what Heero expected to hear. If anything, it should have been the other way around.

“No, I haven’t.” He finally said, voice firm. Adèle’s kisses had been lustful, hot, but not nearly as meaningful as his first kiss with Duo.

Duo snorted, doubtful. He stood up, ready to leave.

“I’m gonna call it a night.”

Heero caught his wrist before Duo took one step forward. “Don’t shut yourself from me. Not tonight.”

Time stood still, and Duo remained motionless, allowing Heero to hold his wrist. He seemed lost in thought. Eventually he sighed, letting his head drop in defeat.

“I run and I hide, Heero,” he whispered sorrowfully, “that’s what I do.”

With those words he walked away, letting Heero’s hand drop limply when it released him. He retreated to his bedroom.

Heero allowed him ten minutes of sanctuary before he followed.

The bedroom was dark, and the only illumination was the weak glow that poured through the open doorway. Heero stood as a silhouette against the light, watching Duo’s figure on the bed.

He closed the door slowly, and it creaked. Duo stirred, but did not turn to face him.

Walking into the room, Heero dropped his shirt to the floor. He walked around the queen-sized bed to the side Duo was facing. The longhaired teen lay on his side, curled into a ball. His eyes were open, shining with the weak light from the window.

Heero stood shirtless by the bed, and looked at Duo’s dark features. Indigo eyes gazed silently as he slid out of his sweatpants. He let them fall to the floor and stood in front of Duo wearing nothing more than a pair of old boxer shorts. Standing against the window he must have appeared as a shadow to Duo, who studied him mutely.

The mattress creaked as Heero lay down on the bed, and lifted the covers, purposely invading Duo’s personal space. Duo remained still, watching.

The sheets rustled as Heero turned, the mattress yielding under his weight. He lay on his side, face-to-face with the young man he loved. He studied Duo, just as the other studied him, and noted that Duo was tense, his shoulders trembling with strain.

He inched closer to Duo, and drew him into a warm embrace. Duo did not pull away, in fact, he moved closer.

Heero leaned his head on top of Duo’s, and inhaled the scent of his hair.

“If you run and hide, then I’ll simply have to chase you.”

Duo turned his head to look at Heero, eyes gleaming with a hidden smile. They kissed again, more leisurely this time, taking the time to taste, to explore, to reach for the other with a touch of a tongue. Sheets tangled as they shifted, deepening the kiss. Arms rose to hug, to hold, and to  caress. Silent panting filled the room, feathery breaths on warm skin.

A small moan rose to Heero’s throat, low and deep. He poured it into Duo’s mouth and felt arms tighten around him, desperate for contact. The kiss became rough, fueled with passion. The mattress creaked as Duo maneuvered himself above Heero, sucking and licking with an eager mouth.

The sounds of passion filled the room. Their kiss became fiercer, a weapon driven by helpless lust. Fervent bodies moved together, struggling, trying to break through the barricade of fear and uncertainty. They did not part until satisfied, until the last barrier fell. When it did, they both felt it, bodies trembling with the aftermath of the fall. The sensation was more powerful than sex, more profound than words. It was a kiss that broke a the curse, a fairytale only they shared.

Breathless, Heero turned to lie on his back. Duo rolled to lie on his side, resting his head on Heero’s chest. He wrapped an arm around Duo’s waist, pulling him closer, like a shield. He felt Duo’s arm slide underneath the covers and rest on his hip. The sensation was pleasantly intimate, warm, but not invasive.

They fell asleep embraced, no words needed.

Hours later, Heero awoke to an empty bed. His first reaction was disappointment, before reason kicked in and suggested that Duo might have gone to work, or woke up earlier than he did. The memory of their kiss assured him that he had nothing to worry about.

The room was bright, flooded with a white daylight that hurt his eyes. He blinked against the light, and rolled over, sheets tangling around his mostly nude, feverish, body. The movement made him dizzy, ill. He felt worse than he had two nights ago. Not nauseous, but generally sick. The symptoms were getting worse, but hopefully their peaking signalled their imminent end.

For a long moment he lay motionless, eyes closed as he tried to calm the flood of illness coursing through him. He listened to the hushed sounds of the apartment building: water dripping in the bathroom, feet thumping on the floor above, the distant creaking of furniture. Soft mumbling drifted from the living room, the TV no doubt. Duo was still home?

Heero moved out of bed, and slipped into his sweatpants. On the way out of the bedroom he picked his shirt up from the floor and threw it on as well.

Duo sat tensely on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hunched forward in concentration. His eyes glared seriously at the television screen, a focused expression on his handsome face. There was an untouched bowl of cereal on the coffee table, soggy cornflakes soaked in milk, and an empty mug of coffee.

On the screen, news reporters delivered the latest news from OCSR Headquarters, regarding the lunar debris belt. Duo listened intently to every word.

Heero wiped the sweat from his face, and stepped into the living room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He asked as he settled down next to Duo.

The longhaired teen sighed, eyes glued to the screen. “I have an evening shift.”

Heero nodded, and turned to the television as well.

“Are they going to send you out there?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Duo snorted. “That’s not your decision to make, Heero.”

He sighed, and cast his gaze to the floor. “I still don’t want you to go.”

“It’s my job, I haffta do it.”

“You said you hate your job.”

“I also said I hate my life, so?”

“A job is easy to quit.”

Duo let out a short, bitter laugh. “And life isn’t?”

Heero turned to glare at him, angry. “Not when it means something to someone.”

Indigo eyes gleamed furiously as Duo whirled to glower at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me this shit? You were ready to kill yourself at any given opportunity!”

Duo’s raised voice produced a blistering headache, and Heero winced.

“True,”  he whispered, slowly, “However, that was when I felt my life meant nothing to anyone. I told you last night, Duo,” he looked deeply into the other’s eyes, “I feel differently now.”

“Cuz you slept with some damn ‘ho?!”

“Because I kissed you, and you kissed back.”

Duo sighed, and returned his gaze to the television screen. A bitter, dark mood engulfed him, and once again the silence erected a barrier between the two young men. Heero refused to be pushed away. They’d made progress at long last, and backing up was not an option he was willing to give Duo, not when he knew that the other teen felt something for him.

“Are you upset because I spent so much time with that woman?”

Duo shrugged, glaring at the screen. “Why should I be? Just because you always brushed me off and then went ahead and slept with some prostitute? It really is none of my business.”

Heero sighed, frustrated. The ill feeling stirred inside him, shifting slowly, a warning of things to come. “You’re not going to make this any easier now, are you?”

“Why? Because we made out?” Duo snorted, eyes on the TV, “no, I don’t think so.”

“Please, Duo,” he took a deep breath, trying to keep the haze from claiming his mind, “try to understand what it was like for me when the war ended.”

Duo turned to face him, anger twisting his face into a harsh, spiteful scowl. “I dun haffta try, Heero, I know. You’re not the only one who got totally fucked by this war.”

“Duo, I...” Heero choked, unable to continue. His heart raced, and the nausea returned. Coupled with the hurt from Duo’s words, he felt himself quiver with a sudden weakness.

Why was Duo doing this? Why now? They held each other all through the night!  Why now?!

“And that’s just your fucking problem, man,” Duo continued harshly, “you still can’t see anything beyond yourself. I’m glad that you realized your feelings for me, truly I am, but coming here and kissing it all away... that’s not how life works, Heero. Life is shit, and it keeps throwing shit at ya until yer swimming in it. Did you ever wonder why that chick became a whore? Did it occur to you that people might be a little more than what you take them for? I know you’re trying, but frankly Heero, I don’t know if I can stay around until you finally learn.”

Heero swallowed, hard, his heart swelling with pain. “...learn what?”

Unforgiving indigo eyes bore into his very soul before Duo sighed, and turned away.

“There are no shortcuts, Heero. There ain’t no manual either. No one’s gonna to give you an answer, no one’s gonna tell ya what to do. You have to find out on your own.”

“And you think you know the answer?” Heero found the voice to ask, although his words faded towards the end, suffocated by a wave of faintness.

“Maybe. I dunno. But whatever I know is good enough for me.”

“So this is it? First you resent me, then you kiss me, and now you throw me away?”

“I’m not throwing you away, Heero. I’m simply letting you know that it’s not going to be as easy as you thought it would be. Whether you stay or leave... that’s up to you.”

His mind reeled. Too much had been said, overloading him with stinging, painful emotions. Feelings of hurt scourged him, flooded him. His body heat rose, feverish with shame, hurt, and humiliation. A torrent of emotions soaked his skin with heavy sweat. The room became burning hot, throbbing with the echoes of Duo’s harsh words.

“D-do you want me to ss... stay?” He finally stuttered, trembling from the sudden emotional strain. Dizziness attacked him, and he fell forward, plunging into darkness instead of light, cold instead of warmth. Rejection pushed him over the edge, into a cold, all-consuming blackness.

He became so numb that he didn’t even feel the crash as he slumped forward, shattering to pieces. Duo’s voice echoed from afar, calling his name. He didn’t want to listen. Closing his eyes, he welcomed unconsciousness.

Cool water touched his lips, sliding smoothly down his throat. He could not find the strength to swallow, and sputtered to keep from choking. The drops sprayed his neck and chin, sudden coolness against his feverish skin. He ached for more, but his lips were lifeless, unable to speak.

A cloth touched his forehead. Heavy, cold, wet. It slid slowly down the side of his face, wiping away the sweat, taking away the suffocating heat. It moved down slowly, leaving a cool trail of moisture in its path. His skin could finally breathe, the chilly touch of air over his wet face felt like Heaven.

The cloth continued downwards, carefully wiping his neck, his shoulders, his chest. His torso was naked, he realized at the touch of cool air. He took a deep breath, faltering, and then let out a hoarse cough.

“Heero?” A voice whispered from the darkness, timid and tense. More water was served to his lips, and he drank it gratefully.

“You gave me quite a scare,” the voice behind the cloth continued, relieved. He heard him soak the cloth in more water, the cloth dripping loudly when it was wrung out, and then place the cool fabric on his skin. He flinched at the sudden coldness, his breath faltering once again. The cloth resumed its wandering over his skin, caressing his arms, torso and neck.

“Your temperature is about a hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit,” the voice - Duo, he realized - whispered worriedly, “I think it’s the worst of your symptoms yet.”

The wet cloth slid over his scars, dipping into the crease in his abdomen before it trailed up to his scarred left arm.

For a moment, he could not recall how he came to lie in Duo’s bed, soaked with sweat and trembling with fever. There was a vague memory of hurt, but images of their kiss won over the distant echoes of Duo’s wounding words.

Then he remembered. Duo had offered him a choice: to deal with hardship, or escape to ignorance, to endure a difficult relationship, or... to be alone.

He struggled to open his eyes, and succeeded only halfway. Through half lidded eyes he saw Duo lean over him to place the cloth on his forehead. There was worry on his face, and a guilty gleam in his indigo eyes.

“You haven’t answered my question...” Heero whispered, tired, desperate, his blue eyes bleak as they gazed at Duo.

“What?”

“Can I... stay?”

Heaving a sigh, Duo turned to him, pulling back slightly. His face was grim as he looked down at Heero, and then, all of a sudden, he smiled.

“Of course you can, Heero,” he whispered softly, “I never meant for you to leave. I just wanted ya ta know that I’m not offering a fairytale ending.” He chuckled. “And I definitely didn’t mean for ya to pass out!”

Heero frowned. He felt better now that he knew Duo’s words were not meant to hurt him, only to bring him back to reality. Perhaps that was what life was all about – ups and downs. For a moment he felt at the top of the world, Duo in his arms and hope in his heart, and a moment later his heart was crushed with hurt, bleeding with the fear of loss and despair.

It was a lesson impossible to learn during his stay with Adèle. His emotional scale had been small, ranging from lust to the frustration of not answering it. He had been annoyed, frustrated, content, and sated, but never touched to the core of his being. His heart had learned, but not as deeply as it should have. With one swift blow Duo managed to give him his first real lesson about life.

It hurt, but it was enough to make him sober, for good.

He turned his eyes to look up at Duo, a hint of a smile shimmering in his cobalt eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and reached a hand towards Duo. Duo squeezed it tightly, smiling.

“Yer welcome,” he said, and leaned down to press his lips against Heero’s. He kissed him softly, just a flicker of lips, before pulling back.

“Get some more sleep, yer gonna need it.” He whispered, eyes shining kindly.

With those words, Duo moved away from the bed, and walked to the closet. Heero watched him pull out a of Class A uniform, and then sighed quietly to himself. When Duo went to shower Heero curled on his side and fell asleep, gathering the strength he needed to face a new tomorrow, a new life, and, perhaps in time, a new, difficult lover.

Heero could not remember which brand of shampoo Duo used. Usually, that wouldn’t pose a problem, but as he stood in front of the shampoo section at the local drug store, the matter reached an utmost importance. Duo had written ‘shampoo’ on their weekly shopping list, but neglected to mention which brand.

And there were a lot, as Heero painfully found out.

He stood bewildered, looking at the rows of colorful shampoo bottles. People glanced at him awkwardly while reaching for their favored hair product. Heero paid them no heed.

He placed his shopping basket on the floor, and returned to studying the shampoos. He began with the male products first, for it seemed unlikely that Duo would use any of the feminine ones. His hair did not smell like flowers, fruits or bubble gum. Though, now that he thought about it, Heero found it hard to remember what it did smell like exactly. He needed to encounter the smell in order to recognize it.

One by one he picked up the bottles, flipped their lids open, and brought them to his nose. Some had a strong, sharp smell, clearly male, but not what he was looking for. Others had a lighter scent, but none of which he recognized.

People continued giving him funny looks. One of the store’s workers offered her assistance, but since she obviously didn’t know what Duo’s hair smelled like – or so he hoped, because with Duo, it was hard to be certain – he declined her offer.

He imagined that it must have seemed bizarre: a seventeen-year-old, dressed in black and white security guard uniforms, opening shampoo bottles and inhaling each scent. The uniforms could not be helped, since he was on his way home from work, but the shampoo bottles... that was more difficult to explain, so he simply ignored the stares and continued his search.

The next bottle had a cool crisp scent with a hint of citrus. It was nice, but not Duo. Another had a strong licorice scent which disgusted him, and he hurried to shove it back onto the shelf. More shampoo bottles, the cheaper brands, possessed a stereotypical masculine fragrance, but none of which he recognized as Duo’s.

At last, he found it. The moment he inhaled it, all he could think about was Duo. The soothingly pleasant and very refreshing scent of natural fruits and cedarwood. Yes, that was the one. Duo’s shampoo.

Heero smiled, and placed it in his shopping basket.

Duo had also listed ‘toothpaste, razor blades & aspirin’ (he was prone to headaches), which were more or less easy to choose. However, the rest of the shopping list was what Heero had mentally added, without Duo’s knowing, and it was also the most difficult part. Lube and condoms. Both were outside his field of expertise, and also quite embarrassing to obtain.

That was why he wanted to be quick about it, just picking up whatever seemed fit, but the moment he was faced with different types of lubricants, he had no choice but to carefully choose the one that suited him best. He read through the information pamphlet stored by the shelf. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it right and with no regrets. He shoved his nervousness aside, annoyed with himself for even feeling it, and picked a silicone-based lube.

Condoms were easier to choose, though he wouldn’t have bothered if Duo hadn’t insisted, saying that he didn’t want to take any chances.

The cashier woman gave him a stern look as she passed each product over the register. With every beep the machine made her scowl intensified. Heero gave her one of his infamous ‘mind-your-own-damn-business’ glares. He paid, and stomped out of the store, angry at the unnecessary criticism. If the damn woman was sexually frustrated she should go get laid instead of taking it out on him.

Nine weeks had passed since Heero first arrived on L2-V08744. Much had changed, but hardly as much as Heero wanted it to. He still lived with Duo and they had become closer, however, things were still far from perfect. Even though they had more or less agreed to become lovers, they hadn’t yet reached the physical sense of the word. Some nights they lay spooned together on Duo’s bed, other nights they fell asleep curled in front of the television. Sometimes though, they fought and kept their distance for the night, maybe even the week.

Duo continued to work at OCSR, although he transferred to the engineering department rather than remaining on active duty. He became a mechanic, and was, for the time being, relatively content dealing with mechanical parts rather than body parts.

He also arranged some legal papers for Heero using his OCSR and Preventer connections. Like Duo, Heero had been listed as a nineteen-year-old citizen of L2-V08744. While he looked younger than his fictional age, Heero had managed to get a job as a security guard at the local shopping center. He did not carry a pistol – new laws made it illegal – but had been provided with an electric stun gun instead. As long as it was not a lethal weapon, he did not mind carrying it in his holster.

The job was easy, dull, and monotonous, which suited him just fine. Conversation was not a requirement, although he did spend most of his day around people. It was a small start for some, but great progress for a person who shied away from people most of his life. Duo had said so himself.

Walking down the street, Heero sighed and clutched the shopping bag tightly.

He still sought Duo’s approval on many matters regarding life in general, and it was beginning to bother him. They could never reach an open, equal relationship if he kept seeking Duo’s advice and consent on every little matter. His intention was to find his own way in life, to find Heero inside the mess that was left of him after the war ended. Living under Duo’s shadow was a hindrance. He was certain that Duo felt the same way, though he never said anything about it.

Until he found a way to rid himself of the need for approval, Heero felt that he would never be able to get anywhere with Duo. His (almost) lover had enough problems to deal with, and the last thing he needed was one-sided dependence. Unlike Adèle, Duo was not someone who was easily achieved, easily reached. In fact, that was what made him so special, it was what made Heero’s feelings for him count.

For two and a half months, Heero had struggled to find a way to fulfill that understanding. It was a slow, painful progress, full of failures and regression. Two steps forward, one step back. Sometimes a touch of a hand pushed Duo away, on other occasions it was exactly what Duo wanted. Most of the time, it was hard to tell.

Through trial and error, Heero had learned how to offer his love, he slowly began to learn who the person he loved was. Duo had to do the same. It was what made them a couple in Heero’s eyes, it was what made their love mutual. Duo was also trying, although sometimes, much to Heero’s annoyance, he was a real bastard about it.

In retrospect, Heero couldn’t help but forgive Duo for his harshness. It was simply a part of him, a barrier of sorts, which had to be accepted. He would’ve been lying if he said that he did not have his own barriers. There were days when he regressed to his moody, anti-social behavior, and it was up to Duo to pull him back up. Moments of relapse were frequent when they fought, reawakening Heero’s need for liquor. He was still struggling to rid himself of his addiction. Whenever diffidence struck him he longed for a drink to banish the troublesome feeling.

Duo was not forgiving in that matter, not at all. He refused to show sympathy and offer compassion whenever Heero’s resolve to quit drinking faltered. It was an ultimatum – a lover of flesh and blood, or one of ignorance and delusion. Duo’s policy of ‘no shortcuts, no helping hand’ seemed cruel and unjust at times, but it was what eventually pulled Heero out of the swamp of liquor.

The withdrawal symptoms gradually faded and the need for alcohol weakened with time. Work took up most of Heero’s day, and Duo occupied the rest. There was no time for him to revert into his drinking habits.

Nevertheless, there was one last thing he needed to do.

Still on his way home, Heero paused in front of a small liquor store a few blocks from Duo’s apartment building. There was a beautiful display of liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes in the store’s window. He gazed at the prices for a moment, calculating, before he entered the store and purchased a large, expensive bottle of brandy. Duo would surely kill him if he found out, but Heero had a debt to repay.

Arriving at Duo’s apartment a few minutes later, Heero placed the shopping bag on the dinner table, and hid the brandy bottle under the sofa. The apartment had been locked when he entered, so he assumed that Duo had left for work. Wednesdays were what he came to call ‘lonely days’ because he worked the day shift and Duo the night shift. They only saw each other in the morning and if Heero stayed up late enough he could catch Duo before he went to bed.

However as he crossed the living room towards the kitchen, he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Curious, he looked up at the hallway. “Duo?” he called, “are you home?”

There was no answer. Heero walked towards the bathroom and saw that the door was half open, steam floating into the corridor.

“Duo?” he called again, and opened the door further, “what are you still doing home?”

He saw Duo still behind the clear shower curtain, surprised. 

“Don’t ask... my shift got rescheduled for tomorrow,” he replied, raising his voice over the sound of rushing water, “the ship didn’t arrive at port yet so they sent me home. I went down there for nothing!”

“I see,” Heero mumbled, frowning slightly. He stood at the bathroom doorway, surrounded by steam. Duo’s blue OCSR jumpsuit lay on the floor, soaked with black grease and other oily stains. His white undershirt – which read ‘I’m with stupid -->’ – was also filthy. Heero sighed, knowing it was his turn to do the laundry.

He looked back up at Duo’s blurry figure, standing behind the clear shower curtain. For a moment he simply watched the fuzzy mass of flesh and hair, feeling a bit out of place. It was the first time he was so close to seeing Duo naked, but then again Duo must have known that an open door was an invitation. It was another step forward in their relationship, and this time it Duo was on the initiative. Heero smiled, such a thing did not happen very often.

Duo picked up his shampoo bottle and smacked its bottom in order to get the last drops out. Heero watched him as he applied the soap to his long hair. It suddenly occurred to him that it was the first time he was seeing Duo with his hair down. He swallowed hard.

A soft scent of fruits and cedar wood mingled with the steam filling the bathroom. Heero inhaled deeply and allowed the sweet moist air to raise a small smile on his lips. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel so odd standing there while Duo showered. It was almost... natural.

“I stopped by the clinic today,” Heero finally spoke, “to get my blood test results.”

Duo peeked out of the shower curtain, hair and soap everywhere. “And?” he asked, eyes seriously grim.

Heero took another moment to look into Duo’s eyes, letting the suspense hang in the air. At Duo’s request, he had applied for a blood test at the local health clinic. His lover, or almost lover, refused to sleep with him until he knew they were both clean. Heero could not blame him for his reasoning, but had asked Duo to do the same.

“I’m clean.” He said, smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Duo smiled, and nodded his head in approval. “That’s great.” He closed the curtain, and continued massaging the shampoo into his long hair.

Heero stood silently, and watched as his boyfriend - and he used that term loosely - rinsed his hair. Duo didn’t seem to mind him being there, and he indulged in the feeling of simple, natural acceptance.

“So I guess you wanna go someplace t’night?” Duo asked, ruffling his soapy mass of hair under the water, “or you wanna skip straight to the part where we fuck like bunnies?”

“Duo, please,” Heero sighed, shaking his head, “you know how much it bothers me when you put it that way.”

“I know,” Duo mumbled, serious once again. He reached for the towel rack, snatching a towel and wrapping it around his waist. Stepping out of the bath, he sighed, and turned to Heero.

“I dun really mean it, yanno.” He said honestly, his indigo eyes hidden behind the long bangs that were plastered to his face. He pushed the hair away, and looked up at Heero.

“I do wanna be with you,” he whispered, almost embarrassed, “in that way, I mean.”

Heero smiled softly, relieved, and left the bathroom.

Honesty had become their lifeline, frequently saving them from the agony of a verbal fight. Admitting their true feelings was difficult, but still they tried. Each day they struggled to forgive and to accept, time and time again. They were both difficult people, as Duo had once put it, too different and too unsure of themselves.

Heero was no fool. He had been before, due to his ignorance, but during the past nine weeks he had learned the true meaning of the word ‘relationship’. There was nothing sexual or romantic in what they shared. Not yet. Instead there was the struggle for mutual understanding, for the complete and utter acceptance of the other.

It was a guessing game, and a tiring one. Treading on eggshells was wearing them both down. Sometimes words were not enough to soothe the ache of exhaustion, and the mental exertion became physical, pressing down on their shoulders.

Lying face-down on the sofa, Heero let one arm dangle down lifelessly, using the other to pillow his head. A ‘lazy cat’ was what Adèle had called him when he lay like that on her bed, refusing to speak or to touch her. Heero found that it was easier to think in that position, he was calmer, his muscles lax, his mind clear. For a long moment he lay motionless on the sofa, eyes closed as he listened to his own breathing.

Soft footsteps approached, bare feet padding across the room. Sweet cedar fragrance filled the air and raised a hidden smile on Heero’s lips. He felt the sofa give in under Duo’s weight as the teen settled down on its edge.

He waited, unmoving, for Duo to speak, perhaps to continue the apology he began in the bathroom. But instead of words came the warm feeling of Duo’s hands on his back. He flinched, unprepared for the touch.

Duo chuckled softly, and leaned down slowly, to kiss the back of Heero’s neck. His hands rested heavily on Heero’s back, allowing their warmth to seep through the fabric of his uniform.

A shiver ran through him as Duo slid his hands down slowly, sensually, to his lower back, and up again. He rubbed Heero’s back gently, leisurely, his body moving back and forth to mimic the motion. Every time Duo leaned forward, his body heat drowned Heero, and his lips parted slightly, breathless.

Pleasant silence surrounded the two. Heero melted against the sofa, body lax and content with the warm, massaging touch of Duo’s hands. He sighed with pleasure as Duo slid his palms under his shirt, pulling it up to expose his lower back. His hands continued to rub Heero’s back, skin against skin, one warmth mingling with the other.

A small huff escaped Heero’s parted lips as Duo leaned forward, nearly pressing against his back. He opened his eyes, about to say something, but was silenced by the hot wetness of Duo’s tongue flicking his pierced earlobe. He gasped silently, a moan climbing up his throat, as Duo swirled the small earring in his mouth, sucking and nibbling at his earlobe.

Pleasure flooded him, melting every muscle with delightful warmth. Callous hands moved to caress his shoulder blades, inciting a moan from his lips as fingers dipped into his scar. One hand remained over scarred skin as the other trailed downwards, tracing his spine until settling just above his waistband. All the while, kisses were rained on his neck and ear, a tongue tracing his jaw line. Heero shivered with pleasure, merging with the cushions.

Once again Duo’s actions rang louder than his words, chasing all doubt from Heero’s mind. Despite his bratty act, despite his annoying defiance, Duo lusted for him. Their attraction was mutual, as Duo came to remind him once again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Heero’s ear, “you know I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not hurt,” Heero sighed lengthily, “I’m frustrated.”

“Don’t be,” Duo whispered as he nuzzled his face in the hollow of Heero’s neck and shoulder. His hand slid past the waistband of Heero’s pants, fingers venturing lower to tease the sensitive skin below.

Heero swallowed a gasp, and closed his eyes, pleasure flooded him, rising from the tip of his toes to his groin. He twitched beneath Duo, body moving agonizingly against the sofa.

“Don’t... tease me...” he pleaded, breathless, “unless you plan to do something about it...”

Duo chuckled, and kissed Heero’s cheek, just above his lips. He pressed down heavily against Heero, chest against back, groin against rear. He leaned his chin on Heero’s shoulder so that he could whisper in his ear. Heero lay silent and listened, his eyes open and clouded with lust.

“Not yet,” Duo breathed into Heero’s ear, a naughty smile hovering over his features, “but soon.”

He pressed his groin down harder, and Heero groaned, eyes rolling back slightly. He didn’t mind Duo being on top, especially since it was a role he was obviously more comfortable with. Adèle had introduced him to anal stimulation – he’d been so drunk that all he knew was pleasure, and therefore hadn’t minded. He did not feel any less of a man knowing that he enjoyed being touched there. Especially by Duo. Only by Duo. Feeling Duo’s heat pressed against him, fingers moving in the tight space between his trousers and his skin, Heero’s entire rear tickled with the need to be touched, deep, deep inside. The feeling was so powerful that he trembled.

Duo’s fingers brushed against the crease between his cheeks, but then they pulled away, leaving him dazed and aroused.

“...tease...” he hissed, and Duo chuckled again, a touch of hot breath against Heero’s skin. He pulled away, taking the heat that had surrounded Heero so perfectly.

“Tonight,” he said, rising to his feet, “I promise.”

Heero turned to lie on his back, cheeks flushed, panting as he looked up at Duo. His cobalt eyes shone with gratefulness and anticipation, a warm shine that made his eyes brighter.

“I love you,” he whispered, confidant in his words. Watching Duo’s face, he felt strangely calm as he awaited a response.

Duo gazed at him, bewildered for a moment before his eyes softened with a loving glow. “Yeah, Heero, me too.” He said smiling, and walked towards the kitchen.

Heero remained on the sofa, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. He listened to the rattling of pots and pans, content with the serenity that fell upon him.

The timid confession was followed by a quiet evening meal. They ate in silence, glancing at one another from across the table, only to divert their gaze back to their plates. Nervousness was in the air as both young men realized what they had promised each other only an hour before. Tonight, they had promised, everything was going to change. They would be taking the final step towards becoming lovers. It was a confirmation both longed for, that much Heero knew, but it did not make him less nervous.

From the way Duo was shifting his weight in his seat, Heero could tell that his lover, soon to be lover, or something in between, was nervous as well.

They lusted for each other, and it would not be the first time they will be in a situation of close, intimate contact, however it will be the first time they will go all the way. The idea made Heero shudder with both apprehension and anticipation. He hoped that he would be good enough for Duo, much like he hoped that Duo would be good enough for him. He wanted it to be just right, no disappointments. He also knew that it would be asking for a lot out of the first time two males were having se—no, making love. Sex was with Adèle, making love was with Duo. It was as simple as that, and even Heero knew the difference. He briefly wondered if Adèle knew of it as well. Perhaps once, a long time ago, she did.

They washed the dishes together, hands brushing under the warm current. He caressed Duo’s slick palm, gently, and the young man looked up and smiled, his eyes shimmering under the kitchen light. Heero smiled back and returned his focus to the sink.

The items he had purchased at the pharmacy still lay in the bag on the kitchen counter. He glanced at them briefly and released a long breath, trying to calm his anxious heart. He then jumped in surprise when Duo gave his bottom a light squeeze, grinning naughtily before turning back to the sink. Heero smiled back, for he did not miss the warm shine in Duo’s eyes. His lover was trying to soothe him by being playful.

It was all about the small gestures, he mused, scrubbing a plate. Those were the things that made his heart flutter, and the ones that softened Duo’s hard crust. They shared their love in simple things, small things, things that they had both lacked in the seventeen years of their lives. Sometimes Heero’s mind wandered at work, thinking of ways to raise a smile on his love’s lips. Coming home with a small gift, making dinner, serving him breakfast to bed and all sort of clichés, ones he had learned from watching the world around him.

Sometimes a streak of spontaneity would strike him and he would find himself doing other things, more personal things, ones that came from his heart and not from his somewhat more socially educated mind. Duo responded best to those things, they were unique, something only they shared. It strengthened their bond, their love, bringing them closer together. Duo opened up more, trusted him more, maybe even loved him more. They were learning to love each other all over again, truly falling in love, perhaps for the first time, for it was a much stronger feeling than before.

The feeling of love flooded him from the inside and his skin tingled with anticipation. It was a new feeling coursing through his body, one he had never experienced while sleeping with Adèle. She made him feel many things, but never that.

They finished with the dishes and Heero wiped his hands dry with a towel. He then threw it to the counter and turned to Duo.

“I think I need a shower,” he said and gestured at the uniforms he was wearing after his workday at the mall. Duo nodded.

“Sure,” he said and picked up a cloth to wipe the counter clean.

Heero took his time in the shower, thinking things over, running scenarios in his head. Where to start, what to say, what to do, how? He would have liked more than anything for their union to be spontaneous, but such important steps hardly ever were. Perhaps it was a part of what made them so important, so special. The fact that he was worried so much about something like sex, an act that he had practiced countless of times during the previous months, only meant that it was no ordinary sex. This time he wanted it for more than just physical absolution. His craving was for love, for the merging of two souls into one. For the feeling of Duo’s skin under his fingers... for the sound of his voice... his panting... those small sounds he made when...

Heero shuddered with anticipation and stepped out of the shower. He wanted to make Duo call out unlike never before. More than with Ashley, more than with the OSCR receptionist, more than with that waitress at the diner, more than any other girl Duo had ever been with.

The thought made Heero stop for a moment and frown. Too much responsibility was being laid on the simple act of two bodies joining together in bed. The stakes were high, spreading doubt and trepidation in his heart.

He dressed in a simple pair of sweats, no shirt, and walked to the bedroom. It was where he and Duo slept unless they had a fight, and then Heero took the couch (not because Duo wanted him to, rather because he knew that they both needed time to calm down). Duo was sitting on the bed, fully dressed in the sweats he had worn earlier. Heero stood at the doorway and watched him.

Suddenly what they were about to do felt rather mechanical. Walk to the bed, take your clothes off, have sex. It was not what he wanted and the sorrow for feeling that way rooted him to his spot. He continued to stand away from the bed while Duo sat and waited. No action had been taken yet, not a touch nor a caress, and already disappointment was in the air.

Heero swallowed, hard, and took a timid step forward. Duo looked up, following him with his eyes. There was a dim, uncertain shine in his indigo eyes, a hint of a question, what to do? Where to start? How?

They never discussed it before, other than Duo’s ultimatum that they will not sleep together until they both got tested for HIV. He never spoke to Duo about his decision to allow Duo to take him, to give himself to Duo completely. He could only hope that Duo knew, that he understood. Heero did not want him to feel uncomfortable, worrying over gender issues and the matter of who takes whom.

Then there was this small selfish part of him that simply wanted to feel Duo inside him, deep inside. It was a strong curiosity and need, something that he could feel solidly in his chest. As he settled next to Duo, Heero hoped that his lover could somehow see it in his eyes; he seemed to be able to read him well enough.

They sat facing each other, eyes glistening in the dim bedroom light. Duo did not bother with a romantic atmosphere. He simply pulled the bed covers aside and lit a night lamp on. The condoms and lube Heero had purchased were placed on the nightstand.

The window blinds were shut, creating horizontal stripes of light on the ceiling and walls. The sounds of L2’s bristling nightlife were dimly heard from outside the window. They sat in silence, breathing in the dark, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing did until Heero finally lifted his hand up to caress Duo’s face. He tucked a few stray hairs behind Duo’s ears and watched the young man close his eyes at the sensation. His fingers lingered to Duo’s skin for a while, tracing the counters of his ear. He rubbed his thumb over the small silver earring and then slowly leaned forward to flick the tiny cross with his tongue.

Duo’s breath caught in his throat and Heero felt him shudder. The braided young man sat tense and still as Heero moved his hands to touch him, sneaking under his shirt to glide over the hot skin below. All the while his lips and tongue nibbled at Duo’s ear, slowly making their way down until he met Duo’s lips.

Duo was panting harshly by the time they kissed, a wild, primal gleam in his eyes. Need and passion brought his confidence back and he pushed Heero onto the bed. His arms rose to mimic the motions Heero made moments before. They kissed passionately, moving against each other, attempting to be as close as possible. It was not their first kiss, nor was it the first time they were touching each other like that, and yet, it felt like the first time. There was a new intensity about it, a need and desire stronger than before.

It wasn’t long before their clothing lay discarded on the floor, after being thrown off in the haste of passion. Nude bodies moved rhythmically on the bed, making the mattress yield under the force of needy lust. Each touch and movement stirred more hunger, slick mouths and eager hands erecting desire in both men’s bodies.

Kisses became sloppy as their thrill grew. Every touch was electrifying, every kiss hot and wet, hungry. Limbs searched for where to touch, what to enfold. Loud panting and small moaning filled the room.

In their haze of passion both had forgotten about uncertainty and expectation. Nothing mattered but the need to touch, to explore, to be drowned by the sounds of desire the other made. Every little moan was new and exciting and they searched for ways to evoke more sounds, more pleasure, more of everything. They studied one another, exploring regions neither dreamed to be able to explore. It was a slow yet passionate journey, hours melting into warm, soft sensations.

They became addicted to each other in a matter of minutes, just one taste and they were gone, chained forever to the need of having the other, of touching, tasting, kissing, and loving one another.

There was pain when they finally made it to the act itself. A brief flash of lightning-like sting broke long moments of passionate serenity. Duo slowed, being more careful and understanding towards his lover. It was another thing they had to learn, together.

Heero bit his lower lip against the ache and allowed Duo to stretch him, prepare him, make love to him with his slippery fingers alone. He braced himself for the hurt that would come as Duo entered him slowly, inch by inch. The sensation of being filled was uncomfortable at first. He felt as if he needed to use the restroom, a feeling that made him both uncomfortable and frustrated. It was something he had to get used to, and he wanted to. He wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted. Duo, inside him, closer than ever before, as close as he could ever be with him, together, as one.

Kisses were bestowed on every part of him, to distract him from the pain. Heero never expected to feel so much pain and pleasure at the same time. He wanted Duo to stop and yet he wanted him to go on.

His fingers clutched the sheets, strong enough to tear them. There was pain, burning and stinging his insides, but it was all drowned by the indescribable feeling of having a part of his lover inside of him. Duo’s length was incredible. He filled him completely, leaving him shaking and panting for air. He now knew what it felt like to be complete. The realization sprung tears in the corner of his eyes, replacing the tears of pain with those of happiness, of love.

His heart thudded painfully loud, banging against his ribcage in a crazed rhythm. Heero felt as though his heart was about to burst, from both passion and love. Each time Adèle had introduced him to something new in sex, his heart pounded wildly in excitement. This time the feeling was increased by tenfold, too intense to be compared to what she made him feel. Adèle never made him feel anything beyond mischievous and wild, yet without her he never would have been able to be with Duo like this. She released him somehow, freed him enough to allow Duo to make him feel so much more, far beyond simply being naughty, far beyond the thrill of sexual familiarization.

His body slowly relaxed, after a lot of mental effort on his part. He feared Duo losing his patience, he was never patient with anything, but for once Duo allowed him to take his time. His smile was considerate, his eyes shining kindly before he leaned down for another kiss. Heero wrapped his arms around Duo and rose up to meet him halfway. The kiss was deep and wet, sweet with passion and bitter with the aftertaste of sweat. Unconsciously, Heero began to move his hips towards Duo, so caught up in the passion of the kiss that he did not realize that his body was ready and asking for more. Duo answered his movement with a slow thrust, flooding Heero with a wave of new sensations.

In an instant the world crumbled with heat and the bed burst into flames. Heero threw his head back and screamed, calling out in passion as the fire consumed him whole. His skin broke sweat, ticklish salty liquid that coated his entire body. He trembled in Duo’s hold, shuddering as the flames burnt his flesh, feeding him with heated lust and all-consuming passion. He moaned at each thrust, moving his hips to meet Duo’s rhythm, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

A hundred other feelings and more drowned the pain. Sensations washed over him, flooded him, and pulled him under into blissful depths. All he knew was Duo’s movements inside him, the maddening thrusts that sent jolts of white pleasure through him, burning him, consuming him, making him want to scream and die, to crash down and fly, to explode, to breathe, to die, to live, all at once. The feeling was so intense that he started sobbing, letting out small sounds that begged Duo to go on, to stop, go on, stop. More, please, more, no more… please, more...

Their rhythm grew, faster, harder, deeper, fiercer. Each time pleasure struck him, Heero called out and thrashed, his muscles clenching, relaxing, clenching, relaxing, wringing deep groans out of his lover.

Duo grunted as he moved, supporting himself on all fours over Heero. His braid swung back and forth, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Pleasure radiated from his sweaty features. He bit his lower lip and then his mouth fell open with a deep gasp, no longer able to keep the sound inside.

Heero could not form any words, his speech lost, drowned in pleasure. He tried to confess his love a dozen times over, but nothing but helpless, needy, throaty sobs rose from his lips. The sex became so desperate, so intense, that all he could do was whimper, moan and sob Duo’s name.

His hands were frantic to touch, searching wildly for flesh to hold onto, sliding over slick skin, knuckles white as he gripped his lover’s arms, bringing him closer, crushing Duo down towards him, wanting to feel every part of him, every single touch of skin, more and more, deeper and closer than just the hot flesh moving inside him.

They were both close to reach their absolution, but both refused to achieve climax so soon. They fought against it, slowing down to postpone the inevitable fall. Experience had taught them both how to prolong ecstasy, and their bodies followed the almost impossible command of making it last.

The end came slowly, gradually washing over them, crawling under their skins before flooding them with a final gush of pleasure. The orgasm was intense, forcing a fierce cry from both their lips. They had no breath left to call out the other’s name. Instead there were only a few final whimpers and a helpless moan as the blinding white light faded from their eyes.

They collapsed on the bed, panting, shivering and soaked with sweat. Limbs felt too heavy to move and yet they reached for the other’s hand, entwining fingers. They lay facing each other, nude bodies close as their chests heaved with the aftermath of passion. Duo smiled and gave Heero’s hand a light squeeze. Heero smiled back, his handsome features glowing.

‘I love you,’ he mouthed, no sound coming past his lips.

‘I love you too,’ Duo mouthed back with a smile.

Heavy eyelids slid shut, then open, and then shut again. Exhausted from the extent of their love, the two fell asleep, sprawled together on the bed in a fatigued, restful arrangement of two young men in love.

A harsh winter breeze raced through the streets of downtown Brussels, a heavy carpet of snow covering cobblestone roads and gothic buildings. Christmas decorations hung over every door and window, green, red and gold painting the gray avenues with the joy of the holiday. Beggars dressed in filthy rags reached out pleading hands for money as a jolly Santa Claus jingled a bell for donations. The year was AC 197, a year of peace nearing its end with the cheerful ringing of Christmas bells.

Masses of people roamed the city squares and gardens, caught in the holiday shopping rush. Plastic bags full of goods rattled loudly as the crowds swarmed past decorated stores. Holiday music drifted out of every door, swallowed by the murmur of the crowds.

Among the hectic wives and annoyed husbands, excited children, and couples in love walked a lone woman, dressed in a red wool coat and tall black boots. Her high heels tapped loudly on the pavement as she strode through the hordes of revelers. Strands of red/green hair escaped the heavy brown scarf that covered her head. Her features, slight, thin, and pale were hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses which reflected the cloudy skies. In her arms was a hefty paper bag full of groceries.

As she entered the slums the crowds thinned, and alone she walked towards her shabby apartment building. Entering the poor lobby she removed her snow covered scarf and sunglasses. She shifted the grocery bag from one hand to another, and began the long climb up the stairs.

When she reached her door, Adèle stopped, surprised to see a small, long, cardboard package sitting on her doorstep. Frowning, she reached out a hand, and picked it up. She keyed herself in, and made her way through the messy apartment, flicking the lights on. Warm colors coated the room in a sharp contrast to the gloomy winter raging outside.

Clothes and glasses of liquor lay everywhere, along with a pile of clean laundry on the beanbag in the corner of the room. A figure lay on the bed, hidden by heavy covers. It stirred when she entered, but otherwise remained asleep.

Adèle placed the shopping bag on the kitchen table, and turned back to the package in her hands. She shook it, and listened, trying to figure out what it was. Carefully, she sat down and opened the box.

A slow, wily smile spread across her lips as she reached into the box and retrieved an expensive bottle of brandy. As she pulled it out, a small piece of paper fell onto the table. Puzzled, she read it:

‘ Ma prof, ma putain, ma petite mort. Tu as gagné. Merci. Heero (My teacher, my whore, my little death. You won. Thank you. Heero).’

She flipped the note over, and her smile widened. The note was actually a small photograph of Heero along with another handsome, braided young man. It was a small black & white photo-booth picture. They were both seated crammed together in the small space, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, smiling at the camera. Smiling. It suited Heero.

Adèle snorted, and rolled her eyes. “Je savais que ça pouvait être que ce que lui (I knew it had to be the guy),” she muttered, and reached for the brandy bottle. She opened the cork, and inhaled the bittersweet liquor, closing her eyes to indulge in the scent before she poured herself a glass. Looking at the photo, she made a silent toast, and downed the drink.

On the bed, the figure stirred, moaning softly. She turned to watch the figure with glinting eyes, silently waiting for him to awake. The figure sat up, and the covers moved, curling around the small, slender body of a young boy. He was about five or six, dressed in dirty rags. His little face was streaked with mud, and his long, filthy blond hair seemed hard as straw. The small street urchin yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

Adèle smiled softly, her features glowing with a kind, motherly radiance.

“Bonjour (Good morning),” she greeted him kindly.

The boy turned to look at her, wariness and distrust in his dark green eyes. She had picked him up off the street but a few hours ago on the way back from a nightly client. The boy had been sleeping alone in the same park she had encountered another, teenaged, boy almost a year ago. The child had been shivering in the cold, and unconscious. She had cradled him in her arms, and, for the first time in years, felt a spark of... something, anything, whatever it may be, in her heart.

“Ne fais pas ton timide (Don’t be shy),” she added reassuringly, and rose from her chair, “Viens, je vais te préparer quelque chose (Come here, I’ll make you something to eat).”

The child followed her with a wary gaze, watching as she moved to the small refrigerator. Using a magnet, she hung the photo on the refrigerator door, and then pulled out a couple of eggs and a pack of bacon.

For a while, the boy on the bed remained unmoving, until he finally rose and padded towards the kitchen table. Adèle served him a large meal, and stroked his hair as she sat down as well. She toyed with the brandy bottle, moving her fingers up and down the bottle’s neck. The child ate silently, devouring his meal.

Unconsciously, Adèle’s hand moved to rest over her lower stomach, touching the fabric that hid her ugly scar. A warm feeling grew inside her as she watched the child’s small face. He looked up at her, scowling, and then clasped his arms protectively around his plate, pulling it closer to his chest. He hunched towards it, and continued eating hurriedly, as if afraid that she would take it away from him. Adèle only smiled, and took a long sip from her brandy.

She then glanced at the small photo on the refrigerator, studying the smiling faces of the two young men who were so obviously in love. She raised the bottle, gesturing towards them as she made a toast.

“Aux malheureux.” She whispered, smiling.

The End.