Peace has finally returned to Earth.

            As the people laid down their arms, weapons such as mobile suits and the Gundams finally took their place in history, never to be seen again.

            With the ushering in of a new era, the Gundam pilots too retreated to the backdrop of history. Their duties were done and it was time to step aside to allow the peacemakers to build the new era.

            Shinigami laid down his role and returned to his beloved salvage operation. While the Desert Prince dedicated his vast family fortunes and power in the rebuilding of society, the Solitary Dragon joined the Preventers to help safeguard the hard-won peace. The Silencer made his way back to the circus where his home was, his heart bewildered and aching for the loss of his mate – the pilot of Wing.

            The Perfect Soldier vanished into the faceless mass, covering his tracks so well that no one could find him. His last message was simple and to the point:

            The war is over. There is no need to fight anymore.

It was a beautiful spring morning. The sky was infinitely blue and crystal-clear, intense and brilliant. Against that brilliant azure sky, the snow-capped mountain range rose majestically, casting its jagged reflection in the clear turquoise lake nestled between its valleys, protectively looming over the little but growing town at the lakeside. Here, there was a harmonious balance between the town and nature.

This was a university town, grown from the needs of the students and staff at the world-famous institute of learning. Here, their needs were attended to while they pursued their studies in the higher level of arts and sciences in the academic environment. This university accepts only the best, which means sometimes they have to put up with the eccentricities and quirks of overly brilliant and talented students.

In one of the lecture halls, Kristin surreptitiously glanced at the empty seat two rows down from hers for the countless time.

This was the third day in a row that her object of infatuation had missed quantum physics. It was not unusual; he had pulled MIA acts before, all sudden and without warning. Sometimes he was absent for weeks before returning again. For any other students, it would be an immediate cause for detention and even expulsion, but not him. His grades were too excellent, his talents too obvious for the university to do anything. It was rumoured that the university council would rather put up with his erratic attendance than to risk losing such a prodigiously gifted student.

Brilliant and talented, Kristin thought with a longing sigh, but also eccentric to the bone. 

Kristin tuned out the boring drone of the lecturer as she began her favourite pastime: fantasizing about the boy whom she had a crush on – of them playing at the lakeside, laughing and splashing, walking downtown hand in hand, or sharing a sweet kiss in the candlelight.

The sound of the bell ringing broke Kristin rudely out of her daydream. Sighing as she cast one last longing look at the empty seat, she gathered her things and joined the flood of students leaving the lecture hall. She was almost halfway down the hall when a nudge in her side startled her.

“Did you see him?” her friend asked in an excited whisper, oblivious to her wistful mood.

“Who?”

“That boy standing right outside the lecture hall.” She dragged Kristin back up the way they came from and gestured furtively in a certain direction. “See him? The tall one in the blue sweater?”

Kristin looked around for a while before she pinpointed the cause of her friend’s giggly excitement.

He was taller than most, and built like an acrobat – tight compact muscles meant for maximum strength while preserving agility. He wore a plain blue turtleneck sweater and faded blue jeans. Nearly half his face was concealed by long brown bangs; what she could see of his face were angular elfin features. There was something about his demeanour that screamed ‘visitor’ and yet was strangely familiar.

Kristin pondered this with a frown as she watched the boy some more. It came to her in a rush – his aloofness and calmness – they were reminiscent of her own object of infatuation. Thunderstruck by her discovery, she remained rooted to the ground as he approached her lecturer who was just exiting the lecture hall.

“Excuse me,” she heard him speak in a soft but well-cultured voice. There was a colonial accent to his words, which immediately pegged him as a colony-dweller. He held out a photo to the lecturer. “I’m looking for this man. I was told he’s in your class.”

“Ah, Hikaru Lowe.” Kristin gave a start again. “I’m sorry but he’s absent today. Has been for the last two days already.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

The lecturer shook his head. “No, young man. That boy guards his privacy jealously.”

“I suppose he does. Thank you for your time.”

Kristin watched, frozen, as the young man strode away, hands in his pockets. He knew Hikaru! In the one year she knew Hikaru, she had never seen him hanging out with anyone. He was always alone, by himself, never making the effort to make friends and never allowing anyone to get that close to him. Could this young man actually be a friend of his? She had the sudden urge to find out.

“Wait!”

The young man paused in mid-step, watching curiously as she ran up to him. Finally seeing him up close, Kristin was firmly convinced that he once knew Hikaru in the past. His features were composed and inscrutable, and the sole visible eye of serene forest-green was sharp and missed nothing, and somehow too old for the young man. It was very similar to the demeanour Hikaru carried.

“Are you Hikaru’s friend?” she asked.

“In a way yes, Miss -”

“Kristin Dunaway,” she quickly introduced herself. “I’m in the same quantum physics class as Hikaru.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Dunaway. What can I do for you?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with my lecturer just now. I could help you find him, or at least point you to the general area where he’s most often seen besides the university.”

He arched a fine brow. “And you would know this because -”

Kristin blushed. “I like to think I’m his friend, that’s all.”

“Ah.” It was a noncommittal word that said a lot and nothing at all. “Would you like to walk with me, Miss Dunaway? I’d like to hear more about his life here.”

She smiled. “Sure.”

“How long have you known Hikaru, Miss Dunaway?”

“Since the beginning of this year, on an acquaintance basis. We’re in the same faculty and often took the same subjects. Hikaru is hardly what you would call a model student. I mean, he doesn’t misbehave or gets into fights except for that one time. He just has the habit of missing classes. You should see his attendance record; it’s just terrible. But his grades remained consistently the highest of our year so the university is willing to overlook his attendance.”

“You said he got into a fight once,” he pointed out. “What happened?”

Kristin sighed. “As good as this university is, there will always be some bad apples. The school bullies tried to intimidate him. I think they thought he was an easy target, keeping to himself and never mixing. He was somewhat eccentric in his behaviour as well, and he sometimes did things that are simply amazing. He scored three times in a row against the fencing master in their very first duel.”

“I can imagine,” he muttered.

“Anyway, they waylaid him on his way home one night. I don’t know what happened, but the next thing we heard, they were in the hospital. No one ever bothers Hikaru again.”

“I see.” A faint smile lifted the corner of his lips. How typical.

“Do you know Hikaru well?” Kristin asked.

“Hmm, as well as he allows those around him to know him.” He replied enigmatically. “Where did you say the place was?”

“Clock Square. You can’t miss it. The town’s clock is situated there. The people there might know where he lives.”

“Thank you, Miss Dunaway. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble and time.”

Kristin beamed at him. “You’re welcomed.”

As she watched the young man drove away in his rented four-wheel-drive, it occurred to her that she had forgotten to ask for his name.

Like the girl has said, Clock Square was hard to miss.

His target was anything but easy to find though. It had taken Trowa Barton five years, with Wufei and Quatre’s help, to track him down. Even now, so close to his target, he spent the better half of the next two hours searching for his target’s living abode. He cruised the town on foot, asking the various people who lived there and getting negative responses most of the time. He was not surprised to find out that his target had kept an extremely low profile even in the small town he had stayed for two years.

It was just so like him.

Finally, it was the little son of the bakery owner who gave him his next valuable lead. Apparently, ‘oniisan’ had saved him from drowning once and brought him home. His grateful parents had insisted on providing ‘oniisan’ a lifetime supply of free bread as a token of their gratitude. And to top it all, they delivered the bread right to his doorstep.

Trowa solemnly thanked the little boy. Getting into his rented car, he drove out of the town square and followed one of the smaller lanes to the very edge of town. It was more sparsely populated out here, dotted mostly with cottages and small fenced-in plots of land. His final destination was a very secluded cottage at the end of the lane.

He stood at the gate and stared at the unassuming cottage with its neatly kept garden.

The entire town was a relic from the past, including this cottage. There was no sign that this cottage had any modern facility, not even anything that even remotely resembled security. The whole picture seemed out of character for his target.  

Trowa shrugged mentally. Oh well, only one way to find out.

He pushed open the gate and entered. But before he could cross the garden, a large furry creature charged around from behind the cottage to fiercely block his way. Hostile barks filled the air as the dog confronted him with all its hackles raised.

Trowa stood very still, arms spread apart and gaze never moving from the fierce Labrador retriever.

“Easy boy,” he murmured softly. “I’m not here to hurt him.”

Slowly, carefully, he stretched out a hand to the dog in a non-threatening gesture. The barks died down into a low growling as the dog cautiously leaned forward, sniffing the offered hand. It eyed Trowa warily while trying to discern his intentions.

“Pleased to meet you,” Trowa said mildly.

The growling died down as well. Seemingly deciding that the human was not a threat, the dog’s hackles lowered.

“I see you have made another new friend,” spoke a voice.

Trowa looked up, a faint smile gracing his lips as he spotted his target standing on the porch.

“Clever dog,” he remarked laconically.

“Hn,” came the snort. “Any animal will turn into pudding in your hands – Trowa.”

“That’s true,” he replied blandly, “Heero.”

With the dog padding a few steps ahead of him, Trowa crossed the garden to stand before the Japanese young man codenamed Heero Yuy. For a long while, they simply looked at each other, taking in the changes wrought over five years.

All five of the Gundam pilots had experienced growth spurts as they grew older, most prominently Duo and Trowa. Heero had a growth spurt too but not much, apparently limited by his Asian heritage. Now he barely reached Trowa’s chin, dwarfed by the taller man. His build hadn’t increased much in bulk either, remaining lean and sleek, with unnaturally strong sinewy muscles strapped directly onto bones. The Japanese man would always remain small and compactly built, but he looked even younger and smaller in the oversize woollen plaid shirt he was wearing.

His dark brown hair was still as wild and unruly as ever, the thick bangs falling over the still inscrutable dark blue eyes. At twenty, Heero’s once-boyishly handsome face had refined, smoothing out into angular planes and chiselled lines of an adult.

Trowa suddenly looked harder.

No, not chiselled, but stark lines that emphasised the prominence of the cheekbones and the sharpness of his chin. His tan had also faded, revealing pale smooth skin, but that could be attributed to his living so up north. There was something not quite right with Heero’s appearance but Trowa could not put his finger on it.

Without another word, Heero turned to re-enter his cottage, leaving Trowa to follow.

Inside, Trowa was bemused to find the cottage homely and comfortable.

It was a fact that Heero led a spartan lifestyle during the war. He had shown no interest in creature comfort, just the barest essentials needed to preserve his cover as a student. With no possessions, he pretty much led the life of a homeless terrorist, going to where he was needed next. Even when he had stayed with Trowa in his circus trailer, his worldly possessions remained few.

His current abode was a marked contrast. It was airy and neatly kept, quaint and old-fashioned, like the rest of the town, with whitewashed walls and hardwood floor. There were few pieces of furniture of equally antiquated design, and thick woven rugs generously covered the floor. 

Trowa liked the cottage at once. It was cosy and comfortable, a small haven from the outside world. At the same time, it intrigued him. Homeliness was a characteristic no one could associate it with the Perfect Soldier. It was quite odd to find Heero living in such comfortable and normal surrounding.

Well, almost normal.

He had to smile when he spotted the laptop on the writing desk. Some habits were definitely hard to break.

“Nice place,” he commented.

“Bought it as it is. The previous owner left behind everything when he moved to the colonies.”

Heero emerged from the small kitchen with two mugs of steaming coffee and handed one to Trowa.

“Circus life definitely agrees with you,” he remarked. Dark blue eyes raked him over once more. “You look good. Better than I remembered.”

“As do you,” Trowa murmured.

“Hn.” Heero made himself comfortable in the armchair with his dog sprawled at his feet.

“Does he have a name?” Trowa asked, tipping his chin in the dog’s direction.

“Lab.”

Lab’s ears perked up at the sound of his name.

“Short for Labrador, huh? I never thought of you as a pet-keeping type.”

“He isn’t a pet,” Heero replied cryptically. “I just picked him up from an animal shelter a couple of years ago. He’s been with me since.”

Trowa tactfully chose to say nothing about that contradicting statement. “You can be incredibly difficult to find when you choose to, Heero.” He said instead.

“You found me.”

“With Wufei and Quatre’s help.” Trowa cocked his head. “Why did you leave without saying anything?”

“The war was over. I had to leave.”

“Without saying anything?”

“I left a message.”

“That two sentences could hardly be called a message, Heero.” Trowa retorted sharply. The momentary flash of anger faded instantly when Heero winced and looked away guiltily.

“Do you know how much it hurts to wake up one morning and discover you gone without a word?” he said quietly.

Heero had the good grace to flush with contrition. Trowa was angry; he had the right to be angry. The former Heavyarms pilot was quiet and reserved, very much like himself, with walls that he allowed only Heero beyond into the gentle confines of his heart. What he had done was unforgivable, especially to someone like Trowa whose trust has to be earned. And he had betrayed that trust given to him.

“Why did you leave?” Trowa wanted to know.

Heero couldn’t tell him. Secrets had to be kept at all costs, to prevent from falling into enemy hands - that was the doctrine drilled into him and Heero wasn’t completely freed from his grim upbringing to break the training. Discomfited and unable to stand Trowa’s searching and determined look, he rose from his armchair, escaping to the window. He racked his mind for an answer and all he could come up with a total blank.

“You have a life with the circus. I couldn’t ask you to give that up,” he finally said. It sounded lame even to his ears.     

Silence.

Quiet footsteps were the only warning he got before hands on his shoulders firmly turned him around. Heero found himself looking up into the face of his former lover. Trowa’s expression was decidedly calm and the green eyes serious.

“Didn’t it occur to you that I’d be willing to give up the circus to be with you?”

Heero averted his gaze again. “I couldn’t -”

“It’s not a question whether you could make me leave the circus or not. It’s my decision in the end and I’m angry that you never gave me the chance to choose.” 

Callused hands travelled from Heero’s shoulders to his head, gently cupping his face. Even as his face was tilted up, the former Wing pilot couldn’t bring himself to meet Trowa’s eyes.

“Look at me, Heero.” Came the quiet demand that brooked no protest.

Reluctantly, he looked up, gulping when he met that serene yet determined forest-green gaze. Here it comes. There was a hard lump in his throat as he braced himself for whatever payback Trowa was about to dish out.      

Trowa looked at him for a long moment, then quite suddenly bent his head and kissed him.

It was one of those slow deep thorough kisses Trowa was so fond of, which never failed to leave Heero’s nerves singing and his blood pounding with passion. Eyes drifting close, his lips parted willingly under the insistent probing, yielding to the velvety strength of Trowa’s tongue as he reclaimed that which belonged to him. He arched up against the taller man, almost on tiptoes, as he grabbed fistful of Trowa’s sweater to anchor him even more firmly against that cherished acrobatic body.  

By the time they broke off the kiss for air, Heero couldn’t recall what they were talking about in the first place.

Trowa caressed the smaller man’s face, easily fitting his hands about the curves of his cheekbones and chin. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips, as he gazed at Heero’s flushed face and glazed eyes.    

“It wasn’t much of a life without you.” Trowa confessed quietly. “I almost drove Catherine up the wall with all my moping for the first couple of weeks.”

“Wha – oh.” In a rush, Heero remembered the reason Trowa was here. He reached up and tugged Trowa’s hands away, trying to free himself.

“Oh no, you don’t.” In a quicksilver move, Trowa brought his arms about Heero, pulling him into a possessive embrace. “I spent five years looking for you. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Trowa -” Heero attempted to struggle free but only caused the embrace to tighten.  

“No more, Heero. You hear me? No more.” Despite his resolve, the taller man could hear his voice cracking. “I won’t let you get away again.”

Heero ceased struggling, his heart aching when he heard the suppressed pain in Trowa’s voice. Hurting Trowa again was the last thing he wanted to do. He went limp, accepting the embrace, returning it by slipping his own arms about that lean waist. He missed this, he admitted silently in his own mind, the comfort of a lover’s hug, the steady serenity that was Trowa. The former Heavyarms pilot was the only person who could stand up and even blunt the razor-sharp personality that was he.   

“Gomen,” he said in a voiceless whisper. “Gomen nasai.”  

Towa chuckled softly. “Heero Yuy apologising? Now I know you’re sincere.”   

Heero glared up at him. The years apart had not diminished his patented Death Glare in the slightest. “I’m trying to apologise here.”

“And you did. I accept.” Trowa began dropping kisses over the darkly beautiful face that had never left his mind and heart. “God, I miss this. I miss kissing you, holding you in my arms. I miss waking up next to you every morning. I miss your glares and your smiles – when you do smile.”

Trowa tucked the dark head under his chin, rubbing his cheek against the silky strands. “I won’t ask why you left me five years ago. I know you did it for a reason and I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me. Just promise me you won’t up and leave again, Heero.”   

            Heero didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything, keenly aware that he would only break the promise eventually. Prussian blue eyes soft and filled with emotions he could not express, he simply reached up and kissed Trowa again, this time with passion that won’t be denied.

            The sun was nearly setting when the reunited lovers woke from their well-earned nap. Pale golden rays slated through the gaps in the blind, coloring the bedroom, and the entwined lovers among the sheets, in tones of gold and shadows.

            Trowa was the first to wake, the languid afterglow of sex still lingering in his body. He peered at his love cuddled next to him through half-mast eyes, smiling contentedly at the tousled dark hair and peaceful face. Heero was never a peaceful person when awake, his military training and grim upbringing having ingrained in him a general wariness of life. Only in sleep or when they were alone did Trowa would ever glimpse the softer and yes, more vulnerable side of the boy codenamed Heero Yuy.

            Tenderly, the acrobat brushed away the unruly bangs, recalling a conversation they had a long time ago…

            “Doctor J certainly has a sense of humor.”

            Heero looked up at his lover with a quizzical expression. It was very late at night and they were curled up in Trowa’s bed, resting after a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking.

            Outside Trowa’s trailer, the circus was quiet as people and animals slept soundly. None had question the acrobatic clown for bringing back a guest, though Catherine wasn’t too pleased to see Heero. She was still angry with Heero for teaching her little brother ‘self-destructive behavior’.

            “He codenamed you Heero Yuy,” Trowa explained to his questioning look. Propping his head up on a raised hand, he idly traced the delicately masculine features of his lover. “The martyr of the colonies was a peace-loving man, a pacifist. You are anything but a pacifist. I have yet to see a stronger and fiercer fighter than you. Other than Zechs Merquise.”

            A dark brow quirked upward. “You’re one to talk, Trowa Barton.”

            “Touché.” He leaned down and kissed the soft lips. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

            “Hn.” Lean and unnaturally strong arms reached up and pulled him down. “Shut up and make love to me again.”

            Heero finally stirred, arching his face to the warmth of the gently caressing hand. Dark blue eyes drifted lazily open, seeking out unerringly for the angular elfin face half-obscured by hair. He gazed at that faintly smiling face for a moment, and then said, “I missed you.”

            “Finally.”

            Heero’s gaze narrowed slightly as a hint of smugness crept into Trowa’s smile. “This is your payback, isn’t it?”

            “What payback?” he asked innocently.

            “Hitting me over the head with what I’ve deprived myself of,” Heero mock-glared at his lover as Trowa’s smile widened. With a huff, he propped his chin on Trowa’s chest. “Very subtle, Barton.”

            “Thank you.”

            Heero resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Instead, he pushed himself off Trowa and slid out of bed. “I don’t know about you, Trowa, but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I bet you’re hungry too.”

            “You cook?” Trowa got out of bed as well. He couldn’t help remembering Heero’s first and only attempt at cooking. “Heavens forbid.”

            Heero finally did make a face at him. “I improved, okay?”

            Dinner was simple and, Trowa admitted, decent. It did seem that Heero finally got the hang of cooking. As they ate their salad and pasta, they talked, catching up on the years of being apart.

            “Duo is having the time of his life,” Trowa spoke. “Hilde’s due to have her second child anytime soon. He’s looking forward to be the kid’s godfather.”

            “That makes three kids he’s godfather to. If he likes kids that much, why doesn’t he go find a wife?”

            “I asked him that. His reply was he doesn’t feel like settling down.”

            “Typical.”

            “Wufei seems to like his work. It certainly goes well with his acute sense of justice.”

            “I’m not surprised. Does he still have a thing for Sally?”

            “You noticed too.”

            “It wasn’t that hard to see once you know what to look for.”

            “They’re keeping it platonic for now.”

            “And what about Quatre? Last I heard in the tabloids, he’s dating a rather well-known singer.” Heero had to roll his eyes at that image.

            Trowa chuckled. “Quatre is too busy running the Winner Foundation to even look at the opposite sex. Although I heard that Dorothy is eyeing him as a potential husband.”

            That halted Heero in mid-bite. “Dorothy Catalonia?”

            “The one and the same.”

            “Is he aware of her attention?”

            “Nope.”

            Heero smirked. “That ought to be amusing to see.”

            “You have a screwed sense of amusement, do you know that?”

            “Oh, do I?” Heero asked archly. He rose and walked around the table. Pushing Trowa’s chair from the table, he nudged the long legs apart and knelt down between them. He cupped Trowa’s groin, stroking against the denim-clad bulge. “And who have I got to blame for having a ‘screwed’ sense of humor?”

            “Wrong choice of words, I guess.” Trowa said mildly. He watched, arms folded as nimble fingers unbuttoned his denim and pulled down the zipper. Already, he could feel himself growing hard in anticipation. “You’re in a rare mood today, Heero.”

            “Five years of abstinence will do that to you. You ready for another round?”

            “Anytime, love.”

            The week passed very quickly for the lovers. During the days, Heero attended his classes while Trowa acquainted himself with the town and neighboring nature. The nights were filled with passion and love, tender giving and cherishing. It was almost pure bliss.

            Almost.

            By the fifth day, Trowa had come to the conclusion that there was something more definitely wrong with Heero. It wasn’t any drastic changes in his behavior, but the little things like his unexplained disappearances for periods of time, or the troubled broodiness when Heero thought no one was watching.

            The nights were the most telling. Five nights in a row, Heero’s furtive leaving of their bed for the bathroom awakened Trowa. Each time, Trowa pretended to be asleep when his lover finally returned to bed – twenty minutes later. And when he did returned, he could feel the lean body trembling from sheer exhaustion. That alone was out of ordinary for a boy whom he knew had the hardest of the iron constitution.

            On the sixth night, Trowa could not keep silent anymore. As Heero burrowed back in to his arms, he asked, “what’s wrong, Heero?”

            Heero froze. “I thought you’re asleep.”

            “I was.” Forest-green eyes glimmered in the darkness as they locked on his face.

            “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

            “No, you’re not.” Trowa refuted calmly. “Someone who is fine does not take twenty minutes to relieve himself every night. And return to bed shaking with fatigue.”

            Heero’s heart started to race. “You -”

            “I know you better than anyone else.” Trowa sat up, raking his eyes over the lean body that was shaking visibly. “You’re practically exhausted from your trip to the bathroom. Why?”

            “…”

            Prussian-blue eyes trembled with emotions, even as he fought to keep his stoicism in place. Beneath the blankets, Heero could feel his hands shaking in his lap. It was too much – Trowa’s confrontation when he was too worn out to keep his controls in place. The lump in his throat felt too painful…

            Trowa suddenly stiffened, not quite believing what he saw. One hand snaked out to catch the single tear sliding down a smooth cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

            “Heero…” he whispered in wondering dismay.

            Heero touched his wet cheek with a shaky hand, blinking almost uncomprehendingly at the moisture on his fingertips. He hadn’t cried since…he couldn’t remember the last time he cried.

            That train of thought was lost as Trowa tenderly, carefully wrapped him in a comforting embrace.

            “Sorry,” the taller man breathed into his ear. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I forgot how much you valued yoru privacy. I won’t ask anymore.”

            “Daijoubu. You have to know. I just couldn’t find a way to tell you.” Heero curled his arms around Trowa’s waist and took a deep breath.

            This was it. No turning back.

            “I’m dying, Trowa.”

            For a long moment, Trowa did not understand. When it finally sank in with all the painful clarity of an explosion, Trowa felt like the world had come to an end. He couldn’t breathe and a chill settled in his heart, gripping it in tight claws of fear. Was this how Quatre felt when he thought he had killed his best friend?

            Gripping Heero’s shoulders, he pulled back and searched the resigned face with disbelieving eyes. “You’re joking.”

            “Iya.”

            “You are,” Trowa insisted in his calm manner that just barely hid the trace of rising panic. He couldn’t lose him, not after all his searching!

            “Trowa -”

            “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Heero. You can’t be dying.”

            Heero’s silence was damning. Pained, Trowa could only hug him, holding Heero so tightly against his chest that he almost squashed the breath from the smaller man.

            “Damn you,” he whispered harshly into the unruly dark hair. “I spent five long years searching for you. How could you do this to us?”

            “I wouldn’t have left you in the first place if I had a choice.”

            “How?”

            “I was too strong. You saw me on the battlefield, even without the Gundam. No fifteen-year-old boy should be able to bend steel bars with just their bare hands, or take a pot shot while fighting the G-force during re-entry. Even training could not explain some of the things I did. But genetic engineering could. When Doctor J found me, he performed enhancements on me.”

            “That was never a secret among us,” Trowa replied.

            “I’m faster, quicker and stronger than any human ought to be, able to withstand massive amounts of stress and G-force when piloting Wing. But all that enhancements have a price. My life has been shortened drastically. I’m like a candle that’s burning at both ends, Trowa. I won’t live to see my twenty-first birthday.

            “When the Eve War was over, I thought perhaps Doctor J was wrong because I felt fine. And I continued thinking so even after the Mariemaia incident. But when I stated having minute seizures, I realized my physique was finally deteriorating.”

            “And that’s why you left without a word?”

            Heero nodded. “Doctor J had a secret lab here on Earth. It was where he made the enhancements, so I went back there. Fortunately, his old partner was still living in that area and I asked for his help. We spent three years in that lab finding a way to reverse the enhancements but all he could do was to delay the inevitable.”

            He disappeared into the bathroom and came back again with a small case in hand and gave it to Trowa. The acrobat opened the case, eyes widening when he spied the syringe and a bottle of clear liquid nestled inside.

            “That’s the medication he came up with,” Heero said quietly. “I have to take a shot three times everyday to keep my condition at bay. When I inject this, it will numb my body and saps my energy, leaving me exhausted in the end. If I don’t leave the Earth during this period of time, it might be another six months before the medication loses its effectiveness. My condition will deteriorate rapidly after that. At the end, everything will fail at once. I’ll probably die in a lot of pain.”

            “Is that why you never came back to me?” Trowa guessed. “Because you didn’t want me to see you dying in agony.”

            “Hai.”

            “Heero,” Trowa groaned, gathering his lover back into his arms. “Why did you agree to let Doctor J do that to you?”

            “The colonies were in misery. If I could do something to help them…I was willing even though I knew what it would do to me in the end,” Heero began to speak rapidly. It was like a dam had burst and he could not hold back the words and emotions. “You have to understand, Trowa. At that time, I never thought of living. I had nothing to live for. I was more than prepared to sacrifice my life for the colonies’ freedom. It was the perfect bargain because I always thought I would die in battle. Hell, I wasn’t supposed to outlive the war. Then…then I met you and I did the one thing I never expected to do. I fell in love.”

            Heero peered up at his still lover, silently begging him to understand. He tried to keep his implacable stoicism in place, but it was so very difficult. He had laid his soul and secret bare before Trowa; he had never been more vulnerable in his entire life.

            “I wanted you to remember me as I was, free and happy, not bedridden and dying in pain. I wanted you to remember our happy times together, not the anguish of watching me die. I wanted -”

            Solemnly, tenderly, Trowa cut him off with a chaste sweet kiss. “I understand. You left to protect me and I’m touched. But I’d rather be with you in your last moment than to live alone for the rest of my life not knowing why you left and spending each day wondering if you would return to me.”

            He cupped Heero’s face between his hands. “You are either the bravest person I’ve ever known, or the stupidest. I ‘ll let you know when I decide.”

            Heero had to smile at that.

            “One thing I do know is that you has the most caring heart, other than Quatre.”

            “Quatre don’t count. He’s an empathy.”

            “Point taken. I’ll stay with you till the end, Heero.” Trowa placed a finger over the protest that was beginning to form. “ I know you don’t want me to see you in pain. I know it’ll hurt watching you die. But all that will not make me leave you. Now that we have such a short time together, I want to spend every day with you. Every single day.”

            Heero slowly reached out and caressed his face, stunned at the tears falling from forest-green eyes. His own eyes were blurry again as he wrapped his arms tightly about Trowa’s neck and buried himself in the comforting warmth of his lover.

            “Arigato,” he forced the word through the lump in his throat. “Ai shiteru. Trowa. Ai shiteru.”

            Trowa buried his face in the unruly dark hair, holding Heero tightly as though by doing so, he could make the smaller man one with him. “I love you too. I will always, always love you.”

~ o w a r i~