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Habitat for Redemption (part 1)

Ravyn Fyre

"I don’t have to kill anyone anymore," Heero breathed, before collapsing to the floor.


There was no transition between the cool darkness of unconsciousness, and awareness. Like always, his mind made the leap between the two states without pause in between.

The thick antiseptic scent coated his throat, tainting his tongue. He wanted to grimace at the cloying odor, but his training wouldn’t allow himself to give his consciousness away. After listening to his room for several long moments, he deduced that, despite the TV being on, he was alone. Only then, did Heero open his eyes and peer around.

A hospital room. Like many others he’d seen through the course of the war, but surprisingly one he was not familiar with. Which could only mean that this was Relena’s doing.


He sat up, swinging his legs to the side in one, swift motion. As he was stood, the TV caught, and held, his attention for a moment.

"...Queen Relena’s press conference. Coverage will begin in a few minutes."

Heero frowned. How long had he been out of it, if she’d had a chance to schedule a press conference all ready? His frown turned sardonic as he opened the closet and actually found clothes.

A pair of nicely broken in jeans, and a green button up shirt hung neatly, with his shoes resting on top of a backpack at the bottom of the closet.

How foolish. Did she actually trust him not to vanish so much that she’d actually help him accomplish that very goal? Shaking his head, he pulled out the clothes and quickly shrugged into them. Something crinkled in the back pocket. Heero pulled out a note that had been neatly folded and left there; Relena’s handwriting scrolled his name gracefully across the front.

With a near fatalistic sigh, he opened it and began to read.


Dearest Heero,


By now, you have found the clothing I left for you. Before you make any disparaging comments to yourself about my naivety, let me explain.

You will find no guards on your room, nor even anyone as innocuous as a nurse. The bag in the closet is packed with all of the personal effects as could be salvaged from your Gundam, including your laptop. There are an additional few sets of spare clothing, to get you through until you have a chance to replace your wardrobe. I’ve also taken the liberty of adding an envelope with enough ready cash to get you anywhere you should need to go.

No. It’s not a trick, and I’m not insane. While I would like nothing more than for you to stay here with me, I have come to grips with the realization that that is not our destiny. Even if it were, I think we both need a little time to put our new lives into perspective, now that the war is over.

Call this something of a peace offering. I won’t be chasing you anymore, Heero. You will always be welcome in my life, but somehow, I have the feeling that another, worthier individual has a prior claim on you.

It took me seeing the agony and pain a misguided dream could cause, but I think I’ve finally grown up. I think I’m finally ready to let you go.

Go discover what it is to truly be alive, Heero. Live your own life, for yourself. If anyone deserves that much, it’s you. You’ve earned it.


She hadn’t signed it, but then again, she hadn’t needed to; Heero knew who it was from. There was, however, a little postscript at the end.


Everyone has decided to stay here for a few days, to say their farewells. I know they would all like to speak with you before you vanish into thin air. Especially Duo.



Heero contemplated her words for long moments as he stared at the paper clutched in his hand.

The war was over. The war had been over once before, but somehow, Heero could believe that this was really it. Maybe it was the weariness within him, sparking some sort of wishful belief. Maybe it was a premonition. Maybe it was just a dream, but whatever it was, Heero could actually believe that this time, it really WAS over.

Wing Zero had already been destroyed by his own final onslaught of Mariemaia’s fortress. He didn’t have to fight anymore. He didn’t have to kill anymore. His skills weren’t needed anymore.

He wasn’t needed anymore.

Rather than despair, a giddy sort of delight came hard on the heels of that thought.

He wasn’t needed anymore. Correction. The Perfect Soldier wasn’t needed anymore.


He could finally begin to live. He’d come to grips with his feelings for the American pilot long ago, but his own training prevented him from acting on them. Despite what he’d told Trowa so long ago, Heero had yet to follow his own advice when it came to his emotions and Duo. It had always seemed so dangerous.

Heero always knew that if he’d given in, and let his attachment to Duo deepen, that if anything happened to the American pilot, it would kill what little soul he had left within him. He was pretty sure that Duo’s feelings for him ran as deep; Heero couldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone, if anything had happened to him, let alone his braided savior. Especially since Duo had ultimately become the only reason Heero had continued to fight. Continued to actually struggle to stay alive.

But now... now there was no more war. There were no more battles. There would be no more danger.

He had to find Duo.


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