Chapter 6
"Follow Your Emotions"

    "Space?" Quatre's cerulean eyes widened in surprise, hands freezing mid-motion on a wide bookshelf in his father's old study. The young heir shook his head quickly to get the surprised look off his face, and gave his friend his undivided attention. "You think we should go back to space?"
    "Yup." Duo nodded firmly from where he was lounging in his father's chair, feet propped up on the desk. The look he gave Quatre was encouraging but dead serious. "I'm sick of this hit-and-run bullshit with Oz's peons down here," he said bluntly. "Aside from the all-out destruction of Oz, our primary concern is the colonies. I mean, the Gundams were made to be the champions of space, right?"
    Quatre descended hastily from the stepstool he'd been using to reach the books on the higher shelves. "Yes," he said hesitantly. "But Duo, we haven't gotten any orders to return to space. Or at least I haven't."
    "Neither have I," Duo confirmed. "But think about it, Quatre. We could do a lot more damage.. er, good, up there than here. We were made to defend the colonies. Oz is already heading for space, and I have a feeling things are going to get real nasty real fast. They're going to need us up there." He scratched his nose. "I think that's where the real battles are going to take place. Besides, if they try to pull another stunt like before by threatening the colonies to make us stop, we can cut them off."
    Quatre stood before the desk, studying his friend. His eyes wandered towards the large bay windows, the drapes pulled back to allow sunlight to filter in, casting a soothing light on the room, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. He took a deep breath, his eyes falling closed.
    "Did you know you can see the earth from L4?" he asked quietly.
    He heard Duo shift in his chair, and could tell the braided boy was giving him his "say what?" look.
    "I used to volunteer to go out in the shuttles with my father all the time-- whether it was for travel or just to oversee contract work." A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Just so I could see the earth. I used to wonder... why anyone would want to leave such a beautiful planet behind and live in space. It looked like a jewel at the bottom of a dark pit. I could just sit there at the window and stare at it for what felt like hours. Wishing I could visit it." He opened his eyes to find Duo watching him with a carefully neutral face. He offered a faint shadow of his sunny smile. "Earth is beautiful, and I hope nothing ever happens to it or the people here. But space is my home, and Sandrock's home." He took a careful breath and gave a firm nod of his head. "To space, then."
    Duo's grin was instantaneous, but the look in his eyes made Quatre start. There was something there that he caught glimpses of every now and then-- a darkness, and a resoluteness that belayed his carefree attitude. As if there were an older, more mature man peering out from that young body through amethyst eyes. "To space," he agreed, rising to his feet in one lithe movement. He stretched, eyes straying towards the door. "Better let your guys know."
    "Iie." Quatre shook his head quickly, then explained at Duo's puzzled look. "They might try to stop me. Or worse, insist on coming with me." He gave a slight, affectionate smile. "This is my destiny. They shouldn't go out to die with us." There. He'd said it. The suspicion, the nagging fact that had been haunting the back of his mind since the day he'd first wrapped his hands around the sturdy controls of his beloved Gundam. As he met Duo's straightforward gaze, he saw that same knowledge and acceptance in his friend's eyes.
    They were going to die. Their destiny was to fight for the colonies-- and die for them. Strange how he could suddenly accept his own death so easily, and yet wish with all his heart for those around him to live. He found himself wondering why he wasn't still fighting for a chance or a reason in his mind to live through this. Staring into Duo's jaded eyes, he realized something.
    Duo had already accepted his death a long time ago.
    Another sad smile threatened to break free, and Quatre forced out a strained laugh to choke down the sudden sadness that swelled in him.
    "Let's do this, then," Duo murmured with a quirky smile. "Together, eh?"
    Quatre blinked hard because the room was suddenly a little fuzzy. He smiled back, nodding. "I'm glad I met you, Duo Maxwell," he blurted.
    "Hey, now, don't start with that," Duo protested, coming around the desk with another of his familiar cocky grins in place. "You're supposed to be the optimist, remember? Besides, you can't die until you finish this grand scheme of yours."
    Quatre looked at him blankly as they headed out of the room. "Grand scheme?"
    Duo put his hands behind his head as they walked. "Sure!" he scoffed. "You still want to get the others to work together, right? I sure as hell can't do it," he admitted. "No one listens to me." He rolled his eyes. "But you.." he reached out spontaneously to ruffle golden locks. "I'm sure you can do it, kid."
    "Now c'mon, let's beat it before the Incredible Hulk figures it out and skins me alive for 'kidnapping' you," Duo snorted, and took off at a run.
    "Ah- matte!" Quatre called, hurrying to catch up.
    "Move it or lose it, Q-man," Duo called over his shoulder. "We've got a shuttle to catch!"


    This wasn't.. this wasn't how it was supposed to happen-
    It wasn't over yet, damn it!!
    Heero snarled a frustrated curse as he jerked on the controls, fighting with his Gundam. "Move, Heavyarms!" he ordered furiously. The mech was sluggish and slow to respond. His eyes darted from one screen to the next, quickly taking in Heavyarms' condition and his surroundings. The Gatling Guns were empty, and Zechs had knocked the beam saber from his hand. Even with Relena's intervention- damn the girl! -Zechs could still...
    His gaze shot to the screen to his upper left. The civilian aircraft was still hovering in the air, and Relena hung perilously from the door, staring down at him desperately. Heero felt like getting out and shaking some sense into her. Why didn't she just leave??
    Tallgeese was stepping away from him, turning slightly to face the jet. "Relena," Zechs ordered sharply over the net, "Romefeller's investigators are coming this way. Get out of here! Noin will escort you!"
    "Demo-" she looked torn, and Heero's hands jerked convulsively on the controls once more. Slowly the enormous mech responded, rolling halfway to its feet. Relena finally ducked inside her plane, and it turned, heading out.
    Tallgeese stood immobile, and Heero's fingers tightened on the throttles in his hand hard enough to make them creak in protest. Now--
    A blip on his radar- he glanced quickly to the side, in time to see Wing appear on a nearby cliff. Trowa's calm voice came over the com.
    "Rommefeller is on the way," he informed them. "There's almost a hundred of them. If we each take thirty, it will be easy."
    "No." Zechs. Heero felt a sudden desperate anger rise in him. Don't you dare--
    "Leave, Gundam pilots," Zechs ordered, his masked face flashing momentarily on the screen. "Protect your colonies. I'll take care of this." Tallgeese's back thrusters kicked on with a roar, and the white Gundam leapt into the air to face the oncoming mobile suits. "Don't die, Heero Yuy. We'll fight again!" he called, then his face flickered from the screen.
    A cry of frustrated anger ripped itself from Heero's throat as he watched his quarry fly away once again. "ZECHS!!" (1)
    Wing landed beside him, and Trowa's face on the console was as unreadable as ever. "Leave it, Heero," he said a little sharply. "He's right. Let's go."
    The controls gave another ominous creak as Heero's grip tightened around them violently enough to snap a man's arm. He clenched his teeth so hard his head rang as he fought ferociously to reign in his temper. With difficulty, he shoved back his ire and turned as Wing went into jet mode. He would deal with Zechs another day, then. Heavyarms wouldn't last long in its current condition.
    He latched onto Wing as the jet lifted into the air, and they roared off. He watched the battle between his sworn enemy and the mobile dolls until even the flashes of the explosions were gone on the horizon.

    Trowa had managed to commandeer a carrier aircraft from the base at some point during the fight, and had stashed it seven miles away from the battle field.
    He set the coordinates for a destination he'd settled on days ago for a possible safehouse, and flicked on autopilot. Enabling the radar's alarm to notify him in case they were approached by suits or planes, he unbuckled himself and left the cockpit.
    He found Heero in the back with the two Gundams, seated on the edge of a low workbench, hands hanging between his knees as he stared unseeing at Wing's massive shape, his expression dark and pensive. Trowa paused several feet away, studying him in silence as he fought to control his own temper. He was irritated. He shied away from the reasons, instead using his extreme control to smother the emotion and keep his face a blank mask. He didn't want to admit to himself that the battle with Zechs and the unexpected appearance of Relena Darlian had irked him. There was no reason for him to feel so aggravated. It was really none of his business, and anyway, he technically shouldn't still be with Heero.
    Heero blinked and finally turned his head slightly to look at him. A look of cold indifference quickly replaced his earlier anger, and Trowa met the look with an unimpressed quirk of his brow. "Nani?" Heero demanded, noting the stiffness to his teammates stance. He frowned slightly. "You've been acting weird ever since we left for Antarctica," he accused abruptly. "What's the problem, Barton?"
    Back on a last-name basis, Trowa thought with a flash of unexplainable resentment. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively and met Heero's searing gaze unflinchingly. "It's none of my business if you want to get yourself killed for your own pride," he said with a small shrug.
    Heero was on his feet in an instant, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Zechs in my enemy," he growled. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
    Trowa couldn't keep the words back. "It was a pointless battle," he said tonelessly, knowing the rigid set of his shoulders gave away his irritation and disapproval. He tilted his head towards the Gundams. "The only thing you got out of it was Wing. Lucky for us Zechs is a somewhat honorable man."
    Heero's lip curled, but Trowa didn't let him speak. He bulled on relentlessly with an edge to his voice. "Lucky for you Relena showed up." Somewhere in the back of his mind, with the part that was still somewhat calm, he wondered why just the thought of her made him want to scowl. "She certainly didn't go there on Zechs' behalf. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she has some sort of interest in you. You don't have the luxury of getting caught up with a civilian, Heero. None of us do."
    He didn't even see Heero move.
    His back connected solidly with the wall, and his arms flew up instinctively to ward off a blow or deliver one himself- he wasn't sure. Hands strong enough to snap his arm like a toothpick seized his wrists and slammed them against the wall. Trowa went rigid, staring into a pair of smoldering Prussian eyes. Heero looked mad enough to kill. It was a look Trowa had seen before, but never directed towards him. It should have scared him. It didn't. He stared blankly into that scorching glare and held still.
    "You don't know anything about her," Heero snarled. "And don't tell me about luxuries, Barton. I'm more aware of what we can and cannot do than you."
    Trowa's mask slipped, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
    "Don't talk to me about female civilians when you and that woman- Catherine -are practically connected at the hip," Heero snapped, his grip tightening. Trowa bit back a wince as the bones in his wrist ground together, fighting to control a sudden flare in his own normally cool temper. "Don't make assumptions about me," Heero continued in a biting tone. "You're the one who volunteered to go to Antarctica with me. If this is the way you feel, then leave. I have Wing. There's no reason for you to keep following me out of some form of pity."
    Trowa looked at him blankly. Pity?
    Heero released him suddenly and turned away. Trowa lowered his arms, his hands practically numb as he stared at the stiff back.
    The small, calm part of his mind protested, but Trowa ignored it, moving before he could think better of it. He seized Heero's shoulder and spun him around. Heero was caught completely off guard- Trowa had never grabbed him before. He stumbled back when Trowa shoved him roughly, nearly falling on the low table. Trowa followed in two quick strides and threw his weight on the young boy, feeling muscles tense underneath him in preparation for fierce retaliation.
    Heero checked himself at the last second, lying rigidly on his back on the table with Trowa pinning him. He glared fiercely up at the calm-faced boy leaning into him.
    "You think it's pity?" Trowa murmured, and Heero's glare shifted into confusion. Trowa pressed harder against the unyielding body beneath his, gaze locked with the other boy's. His voice was quiet steel. "Don't take me so lightly, Heero."
    Heero blinked.
    Trowa pulled back abruptly and backed off, giving the other pilot his space. With one last, heavy look, he turned and stalked off to the cockpit, hands clenched at his sides.
    Heero lifted himself slowly from the table, staring numbly in the direction the acrobat had gone. He gave an involuntary shudder, remembering the feel of Trowa leaning against him, pinning him down.
    'Don't take me so lightly'...
    What in the hell?


    With the tools and the ammunition Trowa had taken from the hangar in Antarctica, the abandoned warehouse he'd chosen as a temporary safehouse was perfect for working on Heavyarms. The building was run-down and at least five miles from the nearest town, but Heero wasn't one to take chances. He set up some perimeter alarms, and Trowa didn't argue. He unloaded his Gundam and set to work arming the Gatling Guns and putting the gigantic left arm and its gun back in place. Heero came in an hour into the work to watch him for a few minutes before he silently began to help. Trowa accepted his aid without a word, and they worked in silence until late afternoon.
    By the time they were finishing up, their animosity towards each other had dissipated. Heero was secretly and surprisingly grateful. He didn't want to be enemies with Trowa; he didn't want to fight with him. Trowa was the one person he'd come to count on to be there watching his back after he and Duo had parted ways. He found himself often watching the slender pilot out of the corner of his eye as they worked, his thoughts a confused knot. Just when he thought he'd started to understand the solemn boy, just when he thought he'd gotten comfortable with their strange partnership, Trowa had to pull a wild card. 'Don't take me so lightly'... And why had he seemed so upset when he'd talked about Zechs and Relena? He recalled his accusations about Catherine and frowned to himself. He didn't really have room to talk. He'd been viewing with disapproval the relationship between Trowa and that woman since he'd met them, though he was damned if he knew why it bothered him so much that the two seemed so close. It wasn't any of his damn business, and didn't seem to affect Trowa's performance.
    Long fingers wrapped lightly around his wrist, jolting him out of his thoughts. He realized he was turning a screw almost hard enough to ruin the threads, and relaxed his grip on the screwdriver. Pay attention, Yuy, he ordered himself sternly. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that Trowa had been watching him vent his frustration on the mech.
    Trowa withdrew his hand and continued to turn his wrench, securing the last of the bolts on the Gundam's chest shield. Heero found himself distracted, watching slender hands that looked more suited to playing a piano than piloting a Gundam as they turned smoothly in their work. His eyes wandered up the long arms, over the plain turtleneck the boy was prone to wear, to observe the strange bangs that fell like a mask over half the soldier's impassive face. He found himself wondering if Trowa was his age, or perhaps older. Trowa beat him in height by just a shade, but it was the maturity of his manner and in his green eyes that made him seem older. Heero studied the smooth face he'd memorized already- the thin lips, tightened slightly in concentration, the elegant nose and calm eyes. From where he crouched beside the other pilot, he finally had a good view of Trowa's entire face. He supposed Trowa was handsome for a boy- not that he was qualified to judge aesthetics. He'd never been one to pay much attention to one's appearance, other than to memorize a person's face and voice to identify them later on.
    Jade eyes flicked sideways, catching him in his scrutiny. Slender yet strong hands gave the wrench a few final turns, then retreated to rest on bent knees. Heero found his gaze following the movement, and he reached out unthinkingly. He stopped himself just in time, hand hovering hesitantly over the lightly clenched fists. Trowa remained motionless and relaxed, and Heero sensed no rejection from the other boy. Boldly he clasped one thin wrist carefully, lifting the hand and turning it palm up.
    He could feel Trowa watching him as he studied the calluses that so resembled his own on the other boy's palm and fingers. Most had come from handling a gun and piloting a Gundam, but there were some that were foreign to Heero-- most likely from the acrobats he did. He remembered Duo's hard hands from when he'd helped him walk to Howard's ship after escaping Sally Po's "care". That's right-- Duo was a mechanic. He'd developed nicks and calluses from handling tools. Just like Chang Wufei probably had hands worn from handling a sword. Heero's thumb traced the palm in his hand distractedly, and he paused upon brushing against the edge of the long sleeve.
    Trowa stiffened, but before he could pull away, Heero wrapped his fingers tight around the other's hand and pushed the sleeve up a little more with his thumb.
    In their line of work, scars were commonplace. Heero himself had lost count of his own. No doubt he'd earned a few more from his self destruction. But this was...
    He ran his thumb lightly over the pale slash across Trowa's wrist, and felt a frown pull at his mouth. It was faded enough to indicate it had been done years ago. He felt a sense of unexplainable relief. Whatever had caused this, it wasn't recent. Trowa didn't do it anymore "Has Catherine seen this?" He wasn't sure why he asked that, of all things. He felt like he should. His voice sounded hard to his own ears.
    "...No," Trowa said flatly. Heero glanced up at him; Trowa's expression was carefully shielded. The hand tried to withdraw, but Heero tightened his grip, frowning at his partner.
    "Why?" he asked bluntly.
    Trowa pressed his lips tightly together and avoided his gaze, staring down at his own wrist. "It was a long time ago, Heero," he said at last, so quietly Heero almost didn't catch the words. "I don't want to talk about it."
    Heero opened his mouth to press it, then thought better of it. If he pushed this, he knew Trowa would retreat back inside himself and things would be awkward between them. Trowa pulled again, and this time Heero let go. "Is that why you don't like people touching you?" he asked with a sudden suspicion.
    Trowa rose to his feet abruptly.
    Shit. Heero got up quickly, blocking his way, careful not to touch him. "Wait- I wasn't trying to-- It's none of my business." Don't go.
    Don't pull away again.
    Trowa's eyes were guarded as he looked at Heero warily, like a cornered dog.
    "Maybe it's time we separated," Heero said, his calm voice betraying none of his confused emotions. He glanced at the Gundam they'd been working on, then back at Trowa before turning away and heading for the ladder. "I'll take Wing to another safehouse."
    Trowa gave a strange murmur, not quite a word, and Heero heard the scrape of shoes against metal as the other boy moved on the platform. He stiffened in bewilderment when surprisingly strong hands clasped his shoulders, the feel of Trowa's body heat just a few scant inches from his back.
    Trowa was struggling to say something, obviously having difficulty making himself say it. Heero stood frozen, staring blankly across the room. What..?
    He felt the defensiveness and the tension drain from the body behind his, and Trowa's head lowered to lean almost desperately against his shoulder. The grip on him was trembling minutely. Heero's own words came at him in Trowa's harsh whisper.
    "Don't go..."
    Heero blinked, then turned carefully, the hands dropping limply from his shoulders. Trowa's head was still lowered, bangs shielding his face from view. Heero hesitated, unsure what to do or say. Confusion, relief, and surprise warred inside of him. Why didn't he just leave? Why didn't Trowa want him to go? What use was it to stay friends- partners -if they could work on their own just fine? He had a mission. Trowa had his own agenda. He could turn and walk away right now and both of them would be over it within a few minutes of his departure. That was just the way they worked. They didn't need anyone... Didn't need another person's help or support to get the mission done, to fight.
    That was what his mind was saying. His body had other ideas.
    He watched his hand as it lifted of its own accord and wrapped around Trowa's upper arm in a careful grip-- a silent demand.
    Look at me.
    Trowa shifted slightly, as if struggling to decide whether he'd rather bolt or stay. Finally he lifted his head slightly and met Heero's gaze with one eye, face made of stone: an expressionless mask.
    Heero swayed foward slightly, invading the last of the personal space between them in a move that felt more like instinct than any conscious decision, and put his mouth unthinkingly to the other pilot's.
    Trowa's body went stiff and unmoving, but his lips parted slightly in shock. Instead of retreating, Heero moved closer, and pressed more firmly against the slack mouth, demanding a response.
    If Trowa had pulled away then, or even turned his head aside, Heero would have stopped. He would have let him go, and left without a backward glance. No questions asked, no regrets. The awkward kiss had been completely on impulse. Even Heero wasn't sure what had compelled him to do such a strange thing.
    But Trowa didn't pull away. After a long moment, some of the defensive tension went out of his lithe frame, and he let his eyes slide closed almost in defeat, closing his mouth over Heero's. Heero found himself suddenly a little lost in the clumsy exchange. He had no idea what he was doing. For the first time he could remember, he felt awkward and inexperienced. He faltered, unsure how to take Trowa's response.
    He was thrown for a loop when the last of Trowa's hesitance faded, and slender hands reached up to cup his face, tilting his head to the side confidently. A slow rumble- the shadow of a groan -sounded in the back of Heero's throat, and his own eyes fell shut as Trowa took over the chaste touch, lips capturing his almost possessively in a hard, almost fierce kiss that made something in Heero's gut tighten in sudden heat.
    He let go of Trowa's arm, wrapping his fingers around the slender waist and moving closer, their bodies practically touching. He remembered the way it had felt when Trowa had leaned against him in the carrier, the feel of their bodies pressed tightly together. Something wet touched his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, startled. He had time to draw in a quick breath, but didn't get the chance to speak. Strong hands tilted his head once more, and when Trowa kissed him again, a slick tongue slipped past his teeth.
    Heero grunted in surprise, and instinctively lifted his own tongue to force the intruder out. The struggle turned into a sudden fight for dominance as Heero's hands tightened their grip and he attempted to get his own tongue past Trowa's. The other boy relented after a moment, allowing Heero to explore his own mouth, and a flash of- something -went through Heero's body almost like a physical blow when his partner gave a quiet moan.
    He didn't realize he'd been moving forward until he had Trowa's back against Heavyarms' chest shield, relishing the feel of their bodies tight against each other once again. He felt the tension that suddenly sang through the other pilot's frame, and pulled his head back to take a few quick breaths, studying Trowa's face carefully. Trowa's cheeks were a little flushed, but his face was still calm. Whatever was bothering him, he was being careful not to betray what it was. Heero took half a step back, noting how Trowa seemed to relax a little as he recovered some of his personal space. He'd almost forgotten, lost in the strange feelings roaring through his body-- he couldn't force Trowa into anything. Anyone who tried to push Heavyarms' quiet pilot would meet with a less than favorable response. He fought with his frustration. He wanted to feel the other boy against him, but he wasn't about to ruin the trust between them by pushing him into it.
    He abruptly pulled on Trowa's waist, turning and reversing their positions after a moment's thought. Trowa blinked, a flash of surprise in his eyes. Heero gazed fiercely back, still gripping his sides possessively. "This is better, right?" he demanded.
    Trowa stared at him for a long moment, obviously taken a little off guard. Finally his mouth gave a twitch- the hint of a smile -and the guarded look to his eyes softened, his body relaxing once more. He leaned forward slowly, settling the weight of his body carefully against Heero's, and lowered his hands to Heero's shoulders, taking his mouth again in a long kiss.
    Heero wriggled slightly to get a little room, and impulsively slid his hand in the space between them, pressing heavily against the front of Trowa's slacks and feeling the beginnings of a hardness there that matched his own. Trowa broke the kiss, gasping against his cheek in surprise and leaning into the touch unconsciously. Heero's breath quickened as the first real feelings of lust began to rush through him, almost overriding his reason and deafening him to the sound of....
    What was that?
    beep beep beep beep
    That was...
    Trowa caught on just as he did, and pulled back abruptly. Heero snarled a curse under his breath, his gun appearing in his hand. He didn't even remember drawing it. Trowa was pulling his own weapon free, eyes darting towards the warehouse doors, open just wide enough for one person to slide through.
    beep beep beep beep The noise sounded very quiet in the large building.
    Someone had tripped the alarm.
    Heero was already moving down the ladder, his tennis shoes making almost no noise on the metal rungs. Trowa moved to the edge of the platform and aimed at the door, covering his back. Quickly, his movements silent and deadly as a stalking wolf, Heero moved across the room and put his back to the wall close to the open door. They waited, muscles tensed, until a shadow finally fell in the doorway. Heero's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, and he prepared himself for attack.
    There was the faint scrape of a foot against gravel, then silence as the intruder paused just outside.
    "I'd appreciate it if you didn't blow my head off as I walk through the door, Yuy," a familiar, mocking voice called through the door.
    Heero stiffened in surprise, his gaze darting towards Trowa in question for the barest instant before returning to the door. "Dare da?" he demanded harshly.
    The door opened wider at a push from outside, and Heero aimed his gun at head level, waiting. A wiry figure stepped inside, head turning towards him instantly. Heero's gun lowered a notch in surprised recognition.
    "Wufei," came Trowa's quiet call, tinged with surprise.
    The pilot of Shenlong offered Heero a superior look before turning to regard the boy up on the platform. "You two are a pain in the ass to find," he said drolly, voice echoing in the old warehouse. "Have you even been watching the news?"
    Heero frowned, glancing towards Trowa questioningly as he holstered his gun. Trowa came shimmying down the ladder and strode over to join them, eyes on Wufei. "What is it?"
    "Those two friends of yours have gotten it into their head to attack an Oz space port," the swordsman grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling slightly.
    Trowa and Heero exchanged a quick look. "They want to go back to space," Trowa murmured.
    Heero's mouth turned downwards thoughtfully. "Oz is turning their sights on the colonies," he said. "Duo wants to cut them off."
    "And Quatre." Trowa gave a slight nod. "They want to defend the colonies."
    "That's what the Gundams are for," Wufei pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. "If Oz is going to space, that's where our battlefield will be."
    "Aa," Trowa agreed, looking at him. Heero felt a momentary flash of unreasonable resentment. "Perhaps this will all be decided in space." He turned to arch a brow at his partner. "Well, Heero? To space?" Wufei turned his own hard eyes on Heero, waiting.
    Oz was heading for space. Undoubtedly Zechs would soon follow. And Wufei was right-- Doctor J had told him the Gundams were built to be the champions of the colonists. Heero nodded decisively at the two pilots, his earlier confusion and hormones already forgotten in sight of the mission. "Wokatta. Trowa and I will hit another port."
    Wufei uncrossed his arms and turned to leave. "I'll let the others know. Besides-" he gave the hint of a scornful sneer, "Oz is about to pound their asses into the ground."
    Trowa gave a slight smile. "Feeling better, Wufei?" he murmured.
    Wufei hesitated, glancing back at him a little defensively. Heero's eyes narrowed. He had the feeling he was missing something.
    "I know my own destiny," Wufei said shortly, but the glance he spared Trowa was free of his usual hostility. His mouth curved in the beginning of a wry smile, tinged with ancient bitterness. "I haven't lost yet. And," there was a flash of battle light in his eyes, "Treize will undoubtedly come to space."
    Trowa nodded, and Heero glanced from one boy to the other, recognizing a private reference when he heard one. He'd almost forgotten Wufei had spent a little time with Trowa before Heero had met Heavyarms' mysterious pilot.
    Trowa turned to look expectantly at Heero, and he squashed the momentary irritation, letting the familiar coldness of the soldier wash through him. He nodded curtly. "Let's go."

(1) It was moments like this, as well at his confused rage at himself when he protected Relena from mobile suits, that made me peg Heero as a guy with a pretty bad temper. ^.^; It always seemed to me the one emotion he didn't have complete control over was his anger.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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