It was sunny again.

She had always had a natural affection for rain, but now the sun seemed to beat down even more harshly than normal. It was accompanied by the ever so pleasant burning sensation that seemed to stretch her skin abnormally taught across her bones. Every inch of her body seemed to be tightening in a dry, rice papery fashion. It chafed along each piece of clothing she had chosen to don (not very many in the hot weather) and made her want to squirm out of them like a butterfly escaping from the suffocating cocoon it had built for itself; like a prisoner fleeing form a trap formed by his own mind. But that would have been neither lawfully concealing nor ladylike, so she continued to suffer through the manmade Hell.

It was one of her better days.

Walking sluggishly along the street, she would occasionally send a longing glance at the canopy-shaded area that many of the store-managers had chosen to set up above their storefronts. She would have joined the slouching figures, pressing greasy fingers along the windows that so easily displayed the items, or, something even more worthy of envy, the air-conditioning, that was just out of their reach. But she had more sense than that. Didn't they know that the body heat they were generating by standing so close just made the humidity even worse than before? Even in the sunset's light, people remained inside, avoiding the heavy air.

With a sigh, she swiped her sweat-soaked bangs away from her forehead. She supposed that there was a reason why the whoever had invented the Climate Control Mechanism had given whoever controlled the darn thing a button to push that made the settings range toward the torture of reality. She sighed. Again.

The colonies had never seemed so close to the actual temperature of Earth.

Another sigh.

She wished she was in Antarctica.

Turning into the Supermarket, and prompted to a weak imitation of energy by the life-giving AC, she strode down the isles with a stride that would have impressed a slug, and disgusted a turtle. It was good that she had no turtle friends.

See what the heat does to ya? she asked herself mildly. Now you're thinking about losing races to turtles. And, she snorted softly at the realization, you're talking to yourself.

Pausing in front of the display of vegetables, she picked up a piece of corn, studying it carefully. The kernels were shriveled and wrinkly, and if she shook the little plant gently, she could make out a faint rattling. With an exasperated whoosh of breath and another swipe at her bangs, she placed the cob back in its former place and continued on down the isle. The heat was taking its toll on everything; it was gruesome to have such temperatures in late Fall.

As she browsed her way through the magazines, a soft "Hilde," snagged her ear. Turning and cocking an eyebrow, she caught sight of the one person she never thought would stop and spare her a glance, much less talk to her. The magazine fell from her nerveless hands, meeting the floor spine first and producing a loud clatter.

Heero.

She stumbled back a few paces, reeling from the mental punch. What was he doing here? Last she'd heard, he and the other Gundam pilots had disappeared from public view, claiming that since the war was over, they were of no more use. And he and Duo were . . . She bent her head as she knelt to scoop up the magazine, giving herself a change to collect her wits, support her beliefs. If Duo wanted to be with Heero, fine. As long as he was happy. Thus decided, she rose to meet the prussian eyes of the ever-stoic pilot.

"Heero," she greeted lightly, "what are you doing here?"

He gave her his imitation-smile; whatever someone got if he was amused with them. "We decided to stop in to collect some food supplies." Ah, yes. They were beginning to creep out of whatever hiding place had sustained them for so long.

But her mind caught on another word; the corners of her mouth tightened, her false, bitter-sweet smile crinkling like tissue paper. "We?"

He gave a slow nod. "Yeah. Me'n Duo. Quatre, Trowa and Wufie are arriving tomorrow."

She hoped he didn't notice the tension in her body, or the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the milk-bottle she'd been fiddling with; she had begun to twiddle with the groceries in her cart, trying to distract herself. "Duo?" She cleared her throat; the first word had sounded like she was strangling. She tried again, starting completely over; he probably hadn't understood her beginning statement. "Duo? How is he?"

A flicker of appreciation entered the stoic boy's eyes as his gaze flickered over her. The corner of his mouth quirked upward from where it had sunk. "We're not," he told her, studying her expression calmly.

"Not what?"

"Not. We're not together, Hilde." It was as if he was tasting her name. He watched her glued-on smile slip from her lips as the color in her face slid away. He tipped his head to the side. "We broke it off. We're just friends." She gasped, almost painfully. "Just thought you'd want to know." Again, that strange quirk at the corner of his mouth. And then he was gone.

Numbly, Hilde stared down at her hands, which were shaking. Unclenching her fists, she gazed unseeingly at her palms, and then at the puddle of white at her feet.

In the loosely curled fingers lay the shattered remains of her milk-bottle.

Hilde would have jogged home, if not for the heat. She wanted to get off the streets as soon as she could . . .she just couldn't face him. So instead, she stretched her legs as far as they would go with each stride, huffing and puffing all the way, occasionally glancing up and around to get her bearings and see if he was anywhere near.

She hadn't seen him in over three years; but when she'd heard that he and Heero were together, it had almost torn her apart. But, picking up the pieces of her heart and chastising herself for being such a dunce, she tried to be happy for him. But it had not succeeded.

She gave a half sniffle, half snort. Who had she been kidding? She wasn't pretty enough for Duo, anyway. Even if he and Heero had broken up, she still didn't have a chance. Especially now. She glanced down at herself, taking count. She was pale, despite all her time spent in the sun; she had lost at least twenty pounds over the last few years. She knew how bad she looked.

But what if he went to her house? Hilde stopped dead, bitting her lip, before starting onward again. If he did, she'd pretend she wasn't there. That was all. And if he managed to root her up . . . well, she'd make sure that she was un-root-upable.

Abruptly screeching to a halt, Hilde just managed to keep from running over someone. Her muttered apology was cut of by the startled, "Hilde?!" Jerking her head up, she gave a sharp gasp. Two startled violet eyes met hers. "Duo . . ." it slipped out before she could stop it. He had gotten taller, she realized with a pang, and her eyes began to water. His braid was longer too . . . Then, giving a soft sob, she dropped the bags of food and ran. She couldn't face him. She heard his protesting shout and the sound of his footsteps as he followed her, but she was smaller, quicker, and knew her way around better than he. She soon lost him, and ended up leaning hard on a building that was no more than two blocks from her own. With a heavy heart and leaden feet, she closed the remaining distance between she and her shabby claim to solitude.

There were clouds beginning to gather in the sky when Hilde finally made it to her front door. It was too late for them to block out the despised sunlight; the sunset had been hours ago. Perhaps they would bring rain, she though optimistically.

But not likely.

Shutting her door swiftly behind her, she locked all the bolts before heading towards the shower, shucking off her clothes as she went, draping them carefully over one thin arm. When she flicked on the light in the bathroom, she tossed the clothes into a corner, ignoring the odd positions that they landed in. Instead, she studied her reflection in the mirror.

She looked -to say the most- like an overdressed skeleton. It was as though someone had played a horrible joke; taken the biology teacher's skeleton and dressed it in a flesh colored cat suit; complete with head, hands, feet and bellybutton, then given it innards and thoughts and those curse-able things called feelings. The only thing that showed she wasn't all bone was the sinewy movement of her muscles beneath the skin, and those were pitifully wanting in effect.

She stepped into the shower, hiding from her own reflection.

Gently rubbing her head (within which a tenacious throbbing had insisted upon taking place), Hilde stepped from the bathroom. Clothed in an overlarge tank-shirt and the appropriate underwear, she was ready to hit the bed. Outside the house, thunder rumbled. She gave a wane smile; perhaps they would have rain after all.

It took her a minute to notice the groceries on the counter, and a minute more to recall that it wasn't she who had brought them in. Then she froze, her eyes straying to the door. All the locks were in place . . . .but that didn't matter . . .he'd grown up a thief . . . She gulped down a sob, then was immediately disgusted with herself. She couldn't even think about him without choking up. Closing her eyes and letting the towel hang limply around her neck, she wrapped her arms around herself, timidly calling out, "Duo?"

The word seemed to hang in the air, floating almost tangibly above the ground. Thunder rumbled, blotting the nonexistent echoes out. She was alone.

He must have come and gone, she realized. He hadn't waited; hadn't wanted to see her. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Disappointment won, and she collapsed onto the rug in a mound of tears.

He hated her. He must have, to come and go without even leaving word . . .

But you drove him away, her conscience pointed out.

But he could have waited! She screamed inside her mind, only to be forced to listen to the echos as they came shooting back at her.

You acted as if you didn't want to see him, reminded that Jiminy Cricket voice again. All logic and coldness. She hated it.

Clamping her hands on her ears and doubling over, she continued to sob, trying to drown out the reasonable tone, Shut up, shut up . . .

She had not been expecting the firm grip on her wrists, and her immediate thought was, Oh, great, a serial killer. But at this point in time, she wouldn't have minded being dead too terribly.

What she really hadn't expected was to be pulled up against a warm body, strong and warm and smelling like spices. Duo's smell, she realized groggily. It was the scent left on her hands when he'd stayed with her, oh, so long ago, and she'd washed his clothes. She tried to quiet her sobs, but his quiet murmurs of comfort and the feel of his hands on her back set her going again.

She was vaguely aware of him lifting her and carrying her toward another part of the house; her bedroom, she realized as he settled her back against the pillows. He leaned back, and she tried to make herself loosen her fists, but they wouldn't seem to unclench from the black shirt he wore. He didn't complain, and crawled onto the bed, curling around her form and rocking her gently.

Eventually her tears slowed, and finally stopped, and then she simply clung to him, too mortified to meet his gaze. And he seemed duly content to just lie there and stroke her hair.

But eventually he spoke. "Hilde, whats wrong?" She managed to pull her face from his chest to study his half worried, half confused expression. And it gave him a chance to study hers.

She was frightened. A scared little rabbit, caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Her body felt thin and frail in his arms, like a willow branch that would blow away. Like paper-dry roots, with all the water sucked out of them. Frightened of him, or herself, he wondered?

But instead of saying anything more, he continued to hold her, stroking her hair; eventually managing to pry it from her mumbled words, in snitches and snatches. Using the glue of common sense, he pieced them all together.

"Dammit," he hissed, "dammit!" She shuddered; a blind rattling in the wind. She thought he was angry with her, he realized. It was slightly true, but if he was angry at her, he was furious with himself. Hugging her closer, he began to rock back and forth, feeling helplessly idiotic; she was so sickly thin that it felt as if he was hugging a wire sculpture; all bones and no meat.

And it was his fault.

He had left her behind, after that one, terrifying night. Placed her in the 'little safe-house,'as she'd so sarcastically put it. She'd been angry at the time, bedridden and helpless, bound to the promise to keep herself safe. She'd made it to him in a sick daze, and he knew that she was hating him for it. But he hadn't cared, focusing only on making sure she was safe. He hadn't stopped to see if she was worried about his safety.

Her angry jibes had easily pierced his ego, and he'd responded in type, storming away from her house and leaving her in the care of her doctors. Later, on his flight toward Earth, her doctor had called to inform him that she'd cried herself to sleep. He had felt a twinge of guilt, but had ignored it. It was for her own good, he convinced himself. He'd kept up with her progress until she was well enough to take care of herself, then had turned his attention to other matters.

He had forgotten her.

The war, which was now over, had taken over his mind. He'd been thinking on battle plans and weapons instead of worrying about her. And then, Heero.

They'd been together for three months when they'd decided it wasn't working. If had happened gradually; one would walk into the others room to find him looking at someone else's picture; for Heero, it was Relena, and for Duo? Hilde.

It had happened simply. Heero had walked in on Duo (who had been dancing around in his underwear) and given him a look that would have frozen lava. Duo had looked back.

Heero cleared his throat, and said in the cool way of his, "Duo, we aren't made to be together." He was blunter when nervous.

After staring him for a startled moment, Duo nodded; he'd come to regard Heero more and more as a brother, and less and less as a beau. He was actually rather surprised that they'd lasted this long together.

"And . . ." the dark haired boy trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"And we need to find them." Duo finished. Heero nodded, knowing exactly who he was talking about. A sliver of a smile curled onto his mouth as he thought of his particular 'them.' "Yeah. Quatre, Trowa and Wufie are leaving tomorrow."

Duo smiled. "I guess I have some packing to do." Heero nodded, and turned to leave. "Oh, and Heero . . ." Duo gave him a grin that would have frightened a shark. "Make sure you load those teddy bear boxers. Relena'll love you in them."

His strangled squawk was the only thing that saved him, bringing the other pilots running to pull Heero away before he could throttle the boy with his own braid.

A hiccough had pulled him away from the memories. Glancing down, his eyes had caught on Hilde's. She was still clinging to him like he was the last parachute on a crashing plane, but her sobs had quieted. A rumble of thunder, louder than before, cut through the heavy silence of the room.

"Duo . . ."

"Hm?"

"Why did . . . why'd you break off with Heero? I thought you were happy?" It was a soft croak, hoarse and tired, as though she needed to clear her throat.

A smile curled across his lips; mysterious and secret. "There was someone else. Heero and I both knew we were wrong; he wants Relena, and . . . there is a girl I . . .care . . . for." It was so hard to say it; as though she'd laugh at him is he spit the word out.

Through her eyes he could see her heart crumble. The muscle around the corners of her mouth constricted in a pained expression before she forced her lips into a smile. "So . . . who's the lucky girl?"

Duo gaped. And women said men were niave.

"You little idiot!" the whisper forced her pride into a vain attempt to come up with a returning comment on his mental capacity. She was way too tired. So instead, she retreated to a sheltering, "Wha-?"

He rolled her over so that she was flat on the bed, pinned down beneath his weight. Gripping her shoulders in fists so strong that she held back a protesting wince, he proceeded to lecture her, the wildness in his eyes catching and keeping her attention.

"Listen to me. I didn't come back here for supplies, I came back here for you. I didn't come back to be near Heero. I came hear to be near you, if you'll have me. I came back here to take care of you, to doctor you, to fix you up. Are you listening to me? I. Love. You. Can I make any clearer? What do you want me to do, kiss you?" His voice was breaking, and to her amazement, tears began to slide down his cheeks. "Fine. I'll kiss you." She opened her mouth to reply, only to be cut off by his lips.

Only out of desperation would Duo have resorted to the action that was very likely to get him slapped. But once he was there, he couldn't find any particular reason to draw back. Maybe it was all the stress and worry he had been building up; maybe Cupid had decided to help him out for once; or maybe it was because once he gained a taste of the fruity tang of her mouth, the world went hazy. But whatever the reason, his mouth found niche against hers and pressed fiercely into it.

Hilde gasped when he pulled away from her, frantically sucking in huge gulps of air. As she stared up into Duo's half frightened violet eyes, she heard, over the blood rushing through her ears, the slight whisper of "Aishiteru." She chocked on a breath, coughing out a strangled, "What?!"

"S . . .sorry," he thumped her back firmly, supporting her as she struggled to control the chest shaking hacks. "I-I didn't mean to . . ." He stopped when she pressed one finger to his lips.

"Did you mean it?" Her whisper was clear in the silence around them.

"Mean what?" Startled.

"What you said; I lov-"

"Yes." He cut her off, surprising both of them. He took a steadying breath. "Yes, I did."

She smiled at his frightened face. "Good." Then she reached up and kissed him, whispering "Aishiteru" just before her lips met his. As he pulled them both down to the bed, wrapping his arms protectively around her, she smiled, a bit of the old Hilde emerging. As they drew slightly apart, she could feel the burning sensation on her skin begin to cool, and the tightness loosen.

"I'm going to fix you a gourmet breakfast," he whispered as they shifted closer to each other for comfort, "and if you don't eat all of it, I'llhang you, buck naked, on the tip of the Central Tower." She giggled, drawing away long enough for him to shed his thick shirt and heavy boots before curling up to his bare chest and listening to his heartbeat. He gently kissed the back of her neck as they began to slip into sleep.

Hilde smiled as she shifted into a dream of pure pleasure, surrounded by Duo's spiced scent and the rattle of rain against her windows.

*

Author's Note: You like?