It was quiet on the satellite MO-II. Once the space command center of Romefeller Foundation military during the Eve War, it now became a temporary medical shelter for the countless wounded soldiers still trickling in from the battlefield. The war ended just a few hours ago and everyone was trying to adjust to its absence.

In a small empty room, far away from the main center of activities, a young boy still clad in his black streamlined pilot suit perched at a window, staring at the glowing blue orb of Earth hanging outside the satellite.

            Night in space, Heero Yuy thought absently, was truly quiet and peaceful.

            He rested his head against the glass, still somewhat numbed and overwhelmed by the events in the last few days. He could scarcely believe that the war was finally over. He had been fighting for so long that he hardly knew what else he could do with his life.

Dark Prussian blue eyes drifted down to his hand resting on top of a bended knee. Idly, he flexed his fingers, feeling the twinges of aching pain shooting up his arm. Privately, he was astonished that he was alive. He had never expected to live through the war, and was even determined to end his life at the first opportunity. Yet time again and again, he found some reason to continue living. Even at the last moment, he realized he didn’t want to die and pitted all his willpower and strength in that one last gamble.

The gamble paid off. He had saved the Earth and he lived. But now what? Now that the war was over, it brought home the fact that soldiers and weapons like him were no needed. What was he to do in peacetime? And just how long would he have to live a natural normal life? 

Questions, questions, so many questions and no answers.

            Heero closed his eyes. Memories of past battles, friends and acquaintances who died in battle, flashed through his mind. Doctor J, Odin Lowe, Zechs, Treize, the little girl and her dog, the twins Winters…were they rejoicing as well wherever they were?

A soft hiss echoed through the room as the door slid open.

“I thought I might find you somewhere around here.” With a push, Trowa Barton floated towards Heero’s position.

Heero looked up at the tall lanky pilot of Heavyarms. The fall of light brown hair could not conceal the concern and warmth in the sole visible forest-green eye. Trowa too still wore his spacesuit and he brought the faint scent of smoke and blood into the room with him.

Like always, Heero could not deny the joy settling in his heart every time he saw the tall acrobatic pilot. And like always, he tried to deny his affection for Trowa. It was inappropriate for a weapon to have attachments; it was even more so when the weapon was himself and would only break the person’s heart.

“How’s Quatre?” he asked, looking away.

“He’s in stable condition. It’s just a flesh wound, thank God.”

Heero gave a grunt of agreement.

“Beautiful,” Trowa remarked, gazing upon the Earth. “To think so many people were sacrificed for this world that gave us life. How ironic.”

“It seems so aloof,” Heero said. “All our fighting doesn’t seem to affect it at all.”

Trowa glanced down at the dark-haired boy. The glow of the Earth cast his profile in soft relief, bringing out the delicate handsomeness of his boyish face. The cold sharpness and implacable intensity were gone, replaced by a wistful and brooding thoughtfulness.

“Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“What for?”

“They all want to catch a glimpse of the boy-hero who saved the Earth. We, of course, want to know if you’re really all right.”

Trowa could not forget those last crucial minutes. He could not forget how he had watched – with his heart pounding and stomach clenched – Wing Zero plunged recklessly into the Earth’s atmosphere, struggling against the burning temperature and breakneck velocity threatening to tear the Gundam and the pilot within apart, all to save the Earth from a huge falling chunk of the Libra fortress. Trowa knew if that chunk hit the Earth, it would bring about another catastrophe similar to the one that wiped out the dinosaurs. And he also knew at that time that Heero was longing for death. He just didn’t know which was worse – to see the Earth destroyed or Heero dead.

Later, to see Wing Zero soaring free of the explosion, relief and happiness crashed through him like a tsunami. Against all odds, Heero saved the day and came through it alive. Alone in the cockpit of Heavyarms, he silently gave thanks to whoever had watched out for Heero.

“I’m fine,” Heero told him in his usual monotone.

“Oh?”

Greatly daring, Trowa reached out and gently combed back the wild fringe of dark brown hair, long slender fingers brushing against the sticky forehead. Startled, Heero stared at him.

“Dried sweat and grime,” Trowa told him. “You need a bath and rest. And a doctor needs to give you a clean bill of health. That stunt you pulled out there is strenuous to say the least.”

Heero recovered quickly from his surprise, turning away from the tall pilot. “I’ll get to it.”

It was an obvious dismissal but Trowa made no move to go.

After a few minutes of the quiet standoff, Heero said, “You aren’t going to budge, are you?”

“No.”

Heero sighed. MO-II’s gravity was miniscule, almost non-existent. Moving about shouldn’t be that difficult. Gradually, carefully, ignoring the aching fatigue gripping his entire body, Heero rose to his feet. A small gasp of pain escaped him as his abdomen muscles suddenly clenched in protest, forcing him to double over. Strong arms promptly encircled his hurting body; he felt himself being brought close to Trowa’s chest.

“Daijoubu?” Trowa asked quietly.

“Just aching all over,” Heero admitted. “And tired.”

“Resisting all that G-force and fighting to aim properly at the same time, plus the endless fighting of the past days…I’m surprised you didn’t collapsed right after you docked.”

“Hn.”

Sighing, Trowa gently pushed against the floor while holding the other boy close, maneuvering to float horizontally in the near zero-g which allowed Heero to rest on top of him.

“I feel like shit myself,” Trowa remarked candidly. “We’ll rest a bit first before we go to the doctor.”

“This is not like you,” Heero said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“This closeness and care. Even with Quatre, you weren’t this…openly affectionate.” Heero rested his chin against Trowa’s chest, looking intently at him. “Why?”

A brow arched in amusement. “Do I need a reason to do what I do?”

Prussian-blue eyes flattened. “I’m serious, Trowa. What are you up to?”

Trowa’s amusement faded. His forest-green eyes were somber as he cupped the other boy’s face, gently rubbing a thumb against the full bottom lip. Heero’s eyes widened when he suddenly, abruptly, recognized the emotion lurking within the forest-green depths of the other pilot’s eyes.

“Iya,” he grated, pushing himself off Trowa.

In his exhausted state, it was an easy matter for the taller boy to prevent his escape and keep him close. “Why not?”

“I’m a weapon,” Heero stated matter-of-factly.

“Ningen,” Trowa corrected softly but firmly. “You’re human, as human as I am. You have feelings, emotions just like everyone else. You hurt, you bleed. You wanted death but you found life. You aren’t a blade that cuts everyone who gets close. Now that the war is over, you are free to follow your own feelings. That’s the best way to live one’s life, isn’t it?”

Heero froze. “Where -?”

“Quatre told me,” Trowa replied. “He told me how you helped him through his guilt and sorrow after he thought he had killed me. It’s a sensible piece of advice. I haven’t thanked you for helping my best friend.”

“Thank me for what? I almost hated him for killing you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“He was an asset to the war,” Heero said coldly.

“That’s the soldier in you saying that.”

They fell silent, staring at each other for a long while.

It had been a long strange dance between them – ambiguous, tense and indefinable. Throughout the war, each had felt something unexplainable for the other. It begun when Trowa rescued Heero after his attempted self-destruction and grew during his convalescence and later on during Heero’s trip to seek redemption. They briefly expressed their emotions once in Siberia, a quick and frantic session among the blankets, but said nothing about it when the sun rose the next morning.

They could not say it aloud, for fear of ruining the close friendship they already had. Both were soldiers who grew up on the battlefields. Their grim and cruel lives taught them to be careful and suppressed any emotions they might have, building tall walls around their hearts to keep out everyone.

This reticence had saved both of them many times during Heero’s imprisonment on the moon, prevented Trowa’s undercover identity from being blown. It had also nearly proved to be their undoing equally many times as well. The anguish Heero felt when he thought Trowa was killed was unbearable. Regrets that he had never told the other boy of his feelings tore through him. In his rage and grief, he was hell bent on killing Quatre; Wing Zero’s power the only thing that stood between him and Quatre. In the end, when he came back to his senses, he forgave Quatre, but it did not ease the pain in his heart.

When the five Gundam pilots were reunited, Heero could have confessed his feelings to Trowa but he chose not to. Firstly he was a weapon. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. And secondly, the war was progressing too quickly, consuming everything in its path. There was simply no time, no spare energy, for confessions of love.

But now the war was over…

Heero broke the gaze, unable to bear looking into those calm and love-filled eyes any longer.

“Iya, don’t look away.” Trowa gently turned his face back again. “I know your feelings for me and I’m sure you know how I feel about you. We’ve been dancing around this for way too long.”

“Don’t -”

“I love you.”

There, it was spoken. The words hung between them in the silence of the room, a heavy confession that would forever changed their lives.

And Trowa felt a great burden lifting from his chest. He had wanted to say that to the dark-haired boy for so long. The days of having amnesia were a blessing of a sort. When he finally regained his memories, it changed something within him. He no longer felt like the nameless existence he once was. He realized that he had friends and people who cared for him, and that changed his outlook on life.

Still he hesitated on confessing his love for Heero. Heero had changed as well, more humane but still the focused Perfect Soldier who lived for the war. The dark-haired boy hadn’t seemed overjoyed at his return, which dampened his initial eagerness. If Quatre – bless his empathic heart – hadn’t taken him aside days ago and convinced him to confess his love to Heero, he might never have plucked up the courage.

The boy in his arms was rigid and tense; Heero had got to know the tension was hurting his already overstrained body. He watched the emotions chasing each other in Prussian-blue eyes and saw the expected denial.

“Don’t deny it,” he said quickly. “You always tell people to do as their emotions tell them to. Why is it so difficult for you to take your own advice?”

“I’m a weapon. A weapon does not fall in love. People do not fall in love with weapons.”

“They had you thoroughly brainwashed then,” Trowa observed. “Would I fall in love with a weapon? Would you fall in love if you really are a weapon?”

Heero did not know what to say to that.

“Ningen,” Trowa stated. “And I love a human. You, Heero Yuy.”

Heero’s thin wiry body began to tremble. His head sagged and he buried his face in the crook of Trowa’s neck. Trowa cradled the shaking boy to him. Heero wasn’t crying; he couldn’t cry – at least not yet. His training was too ingrained in him to allow a simple human act such as crying to be performed. So he compensated for the act in his own unique way.

Maybe later in the future, Trowa thought, he would be able to learn how to cry again.

“You don’t have to tell me you love me now,” he murmured into Heero’s ear when the shaking fit stopped.

Heero was limp in his embrace. He showed no indication he was listening but Trowa knew he was.

“I know that’s difficult for someone like you. I’m a soldier too. But we can learn to be human together. And in time, you can tell me ‘ai shiteru’.”

Time…

Heero closed his eyes. Would he have enough time to learn to be human again? He didn’t know; his destiny was fixed even before the war began. Could he break free of that destiny?

His eyes flew open again when he felt a soft caress, almost like a kiss, brushed across the top of his head.

“Come on,” Trowa said. “We better get you to a doctor.”

            “Trowa? Yo, wake up, man.”

            Trowa stirred groggily, peering blearily up at Duo Maxwell standing next to his chair. “Duo?”

            “You’re going to get a crick in your neck sleeping like that,” the American boy said cheerfully.

Trowa glanced at his watch. He had dozed off for nearly three hours. Yawning, he stretched the cramped muscles in his body.

“So how’s Heero?” Duo asked as he floated over to the hospital bed.

Heero slept soundly in the hospital bed as he had been doing for the past three hours. When relaxed, he looked quite unlike his implacable stoic self, younger and vulnerable in a human way he never was when awake. It was a testimony to his exhaustion that he did not noticed the conversation around him.

“The doctor diagnosed it as sheer exhaustion and severe muscle strain,” Trowa said. “Heero’s under observation for the next twenty-four hours just in case.”

Duo whistled admirably as he studied the sleeping boy. “Just exhaustion and muscle strain from pulling that stunt? If it were anyone else, we’d have injured something vital. He’s certainly not human.”

“You’re wrong,” Trowa said quietly as he floated to Duo’s side. “He’s as human as anyone else had a right to be.”

Duo’s cobalt blue eyes eyed the taller boy intently. “You really got it bad for him.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nope.” Duo smirked.

“Damn,” Trowa realized he had just unwittingly fallen into Duo’s trap.

“The whole place is talking about us,” Duo said as he flopped into the nearest chair. “Him especially. Everyone out there wants to know how he managed to pull off that stunt.”

“Any gifted pilot with the proper mobile suit could do that,” Trowa replied. “Zechs could, with Epyon, if he hadn’t chosen to blow up the entire Libra fortress instead.”

“And busted something vital like I said.” Duo folded his hands behind his head. “Every Gundam pilot’s physique is superior than most. We have to be in order to pilot those monstrosities. But Heero is something else. I once saw him take a thirty-story plunge and walked away with nothing more than a dislocated kneecap.”

“So what are you trying to say?” Trowa asked somewhat impatiently.

“That Heero’s resilience isn’t just a matter of training.” Duo grew serious. “There must be a price involved. Life is like that.”

“There was a price,” Trowa admitted after a moment. “He paid it with his humanity.”

Duo’s expression softened. “I know. Which is why I’m asking you, are you sure he can even love?”

“He loves,” Trowa quirked a quick smile at him. “And I’m patient – stubborn too.”

Duo laughed. “He does not stand a chance.”

“Hn.”

“Oh well,” Duo got up and headed for the door. “I’m going to see Quatre. Want to come?”

Trowa hesitated. On one hand, he wanted to go see how his best friend was doing. On the other, he didn’t want to let Heero wake up alone.

“He’s not going to wake up pretty soon, you know.” Duo said gently.

“I give him six hours.” Trowa tenderly smoothed back the fall of unruly bangs before heading for the exit.

Duo shook his head. “Man, remind me never to be this mushy when I fall in love.”

“If you do fall in love.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t the doctor order you to stay off your feet?”

Heero looked up from what he was doing, repairing Wing Zero. A faint smirk graced his lips as he peered down at Trowa standing at the foot of his Gundam.

“It’s a little hard to stay on my feet in zero-g,” he said dryly.

Trowa rolled his eyes. “That isn’t what I mean.”

Trowa’s prediction had been right. The Wing pilot had woken up and checked himself out of the hospital wing, giving the doctor and nurses heart attacks when they discovered him gone. That was one day ago, and since then Trowa had been keeping a close eye on the stoic pilot. So far Heero hadn’t show any sign of a relapse.

“And this satellite does have its own gravity, weak as it is.” With a small jump, Trowa easily covered the vast distance to where Heero was perched, half-inside the gut of his Gundam. “You missed the toast.”

“I don’t drink. And I don’t believe in toasting.” Heero turned his attention back to his work.

“Wufei’s gone.” Trowa noticed the empty spot where Altron used to be.

“Just a few minutes ago. We should try to keep an eye on him.”

Trowa glanced down at the other boy, surprise visible in his forest-green eyes.

“He refused to accept Treize’s death,” Heero continued. “That may cloud his judgment.”

“Concern, Heero?”

Heero glared up irritably. “What? I can’t show concern for my fellow Gundam pilots?”

“No.” Trowa smiled. “It’s good to know you do care.”

Heero snorted and turned back to his work. Trowa perched himself on Wing Zero’s shoulder and watched Heero at work for some minutes.

“Arigato,” Heero suddenly said.

“What for?”

“For everything.”

“Hn. You are welcomed.”

Silence descended again. It was a peaceful companionable silence that was rarely experienced during the war. Trowa watched as Heero finished whatever he was doing and closed the panel. Discarding the tool, the dark-haired boy made his way to where Trowa was, coming to a rest before him. There was an odd look of decision and uncertainty in Heero’s eyes, one that Trowa had never seen before.

“I…have never been good at expressing myself,” Heero began haltingly. “For as long as I can remember, life has always been a matter of survival to me. When I finally became Doctor J’s protégé, he groomed me to be a weapon, never a soldier. I’m a means to an end. Fighting and war are all I know; I don’t know a single thing about peace and living. But I do know I do not want to die.”

“Heero…” Slim callused fingers gently pressed against Trowa’s lips, silencing the taller boy.

“A weapon is not supposed to feel, that’s what they taught me. There are many other things they drilled into me too. They taught me so well that I don’t think I would ever be able to break free. But Doctor J is dead and I’m…on my own. With the war’s over, I can no longer be a weapon.”

Heero swallowed hard. “I want to be with you, Trowa.”

“Heero Yuy…” Trowa’s soul leapt for joy when he heard Heero’s desire. Heero hadn’t said the three words yet, but this was more than he had expected to hear from the Perfect Soldier in less than a week. “I’m honored and overjoyed to have you with me.”

Gently cupping the darkly handsome face, he tugged Heero forward for a sweet tender kiss. The kiss went on for a long time as they leisurely explored each other’s taste, tongues dueling lazily in slow passion. It was unlike the frantic session of sex in Siberia. Then, neither was certain of their futures and felt it a risk to involve emotions.

Now, however, was different. Now was the time to make a new future.

They finally parted for air, each panting slightly.

For the first time, a small genuine smile appeared on Heero’s face. And Trowa couldn’t help but fall again in love. The absolute beauty of that smile…he would do anything just to see it again.

“Your room or mine?” Heero asked softly.

“The nearest one,” Trowa decided.

Heero smirked slyly. “I’m flattered you can’t wait.”  

Trowa decided not to say anything to that. Taking Heero’s hand, he led the way out of the hanger. He was thankful they met no one on the way to the nearest room, which happened to be Heero’s.

Once inside, he pulled Heero roughly into his arms and kissed him hard, pouring all his pent-up love and passion into that one kiss.

“God, I want you.” Trowa whispered heatedly as he tore away from the kiss. He bent his head and began to place hot kisses on the smooth column of Heero’s neck. His hands burrowed beneath the green tank top, caressing the hard sinewy body. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. Heero…Heero, I want you in any way I can.”

“Then take me,” Heero murmured back, equally busy undressing his lover while bestowing hungry kisses on any patches of bare skin he could find. “Trowa, I’m yours.”

            In his hospital bed, Quatre suddenly paused in mid-bite. He cocked his head intently as though listening to a faraway sound. Then a faint pleased smile graced his youthful face.

            “Quatre-sama?” Rashid inquired politely, wondering what was his young master was thinking.

            “Ah nothing, Rashid.” Despite himself, Quatre couldn’t help grinning.

            “You look like the cat that got the cream. Is everything all right?”

            Quatre giggled. “Oh yes. Everything is all right now.”

            Shut away in their own private world, the exhausted lovers laid entangled among the sheets. They laid facing each other, idly touching and caressing each other as though to make up for the lost time they had spent apart. Their clothes were strewed everywhere, and the smell of sex hung heavy in the air.

            Prussian-blue eyes were soft, lacking the usual hard glint, as Heero stroked a high-boned cheek. Without breaking the gaze, Trowa turned his head to kiss the callused fingers. Heero smiled as he felt the ticklish lick on his palm.

            “I love your smile,” Trowa murmured.

            “Hn.” But his smile grew wider.

            “Let’s take a vacation.”

            “Hn?”

            “Somewhere we can be alone, away from the celebrations and prying eyes. Just you and me.”

            “What about the circus?”

            “I can easily take a couple of weeks off. Catherine will understand.”

            “She doesn’t really like me.” Heero made a grimace. “She thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

            “She’s right.” Trowa grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

            “So where do you want to go?”

            “Anywhere. Wherever the wind takes us.”

            “Okay. But not before we finish repairing our Gundams.”

            “I don’t think I can pry you away from the repair job anyway,” Trowa said dryly.

            “Hn.” Heero’s smile turned sly. Very innocently, he brought Trowa’s hand to his mouth and gently began to kiss and lick the slender digits. With deliberate intent, he slowly began to suckle the pads of the long fingers, mimicking the motions of the lovemaking they indulged in barely minutes ago.

            Trowa’s eyes smoldered, a spark of lust igniting within the forest-green depths. In a quick motion, he turned them over, hovering above his lover on braced arms. “You really know how to turn me on, don’t you?”

            “I try.”

            It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

            The circus was a spot of frenzied activities as everyone busied in the preparations to travel to their next destination. Inside the Big Top, workers were slowly, carefully bringing the banks of spotlights down to the ground. Heero was among them, his slight form swallowed up in the midst of the burly adults but his strength more than made up for his lack of size. His unusual strength never failed to astonish the circus people even though he had been with them for the most part of the year.

            “Heero!” someone called just as they finished lowering the spotlights.

            Catherine made her way over to the expectant boy, wearing her usual jeans short and bikini top. Heero noted the look of mistrust and worry on Trowa’s adopted sister’s face. It was an expression he hadn’t seen for a very long time.

When Trowa brought him home after their vacation, Catherine flipped out. She hadn’t expected her little brother to fall in love with a guy that – in her opinion – was a bad influence. It was the first major quarrel between the siblings; Catherine gave in only when Trowa threatened to leave the circus. It didn’t stop her from giving Heero a hard time at first. But when a circus act suddenly gone wrong in mid-performance and Heero stepped in to save her brother at the risk of his own life, Catherine finally saw why Trowa loved with him. From then on, she accepted Heero as part of the family and treated him as she would Trowa. However, she still refused to let him cook after his first disastrous attempt.

“Nani?”

“That Duo Maxwell is here to see you and Trowa,” Catherine said with a frown. “They’re both in the trailer.”

“Okay.”

Catherine grabbed his arm as he walked past her. “If he’s here to drag Trowa or you back into another fight, I’ll kick him right across the colony.”

“He’s not a Preventer.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s a Gundam pilot. Enough said.”

“I’ll convey your message to him.”

“Good.”

Heero left the Big Top, picking up his worn blue denim jacket from a bench, and walked past the rows of caged animals.

Now he was alone, his thoughts strayed as always to the circus’ next destination – the colony X18999. He was reluctant to return to that colony; it held many bad memories for him. It was the place where he lost everything, the place where he met Doctor J and sold his humanity in exchange to be a Gundam pilot, the place he had almost once called home. If he were to go there after all these years, it would be the equivalent of digging up those painful memories.

Trowa would understand if he chose to skip their next destination. Trowa won’t know why and neither would he press, but his tall lover would not blame Heero for his reluctance.

Pulling his mind from his thoughts with an effort, Heero stepped into the small cramped trailer he shared with his lover. Duo’s voice drifted out immediately, loud and boisterous as he chatted about everything and anything. Mingled with the American’s loud voice was Trowa’s quiet tenor, injecting his part of the conversation.

“Yo Heero!” Duo called out the minute he stepped in. “Long time no see!”

“Duo,” Heero greeted in his usual monotone. “Catherine says if you’re here to drag us into another fight, she’ll kick you across the colony.”

The American looked injured. “Would I do that?”

“Hn.” Hanging up his jacket, Heero sat down his tall lover and gave him a quick kiss.

“You need a bath,” Trowa observed.

“Bringing down those spotlights is hot work.”

On the couch opposite them, Duo eyed them with fond amusement. “The both of you are absolutely sweet on each other, do you know that?”

“We have our disagreements sometimes,” Trowa said.

“But the making-up sessions are worth it, right?” Duo smirked.

“You didn’t come all the way here from L2 for idle chitchat,” Heero cut in, changing the subject before Duo could start teasing him. 

“Nope.” From within his jacket pocket, he took out a floppy disk. “You still have your laptop, Heero?”

“Of course.”

Heero brought his laptop over from his desk and inserted the floppy disk. Trowa arched a brow when he saw the contents of the disk – the schematics of a disposal block and a plotted route to the sun.

“Is this a mission?” Trowa asked the American.

“No. It’s something even better than that,” Duo grinned. “Quatre and I cooked this up.”

He launched into an explanation of the plan. It was simple actually. With Total Pacifism almost a reality, Quatre realized that the Gundams were a hindrance to that peace. It would be so easy – as it had been proven in the Blind Target event – for power-hungry people to attempt to steal the Gundams for their own gains. The Gundams were a target and a danger. If everyone must commit to the global peace, the Gundam pilots must set an example by disposing their own precious Gundams. Both Quatre and Duo had worked hard over the month to find a disposal block large enough to contain all five Gundams and send them into the fiery corona of the sun, never to be retrieved again.

“Wouldn’t self-detonation be faster and surer?” Heero asked bluntly.

“Yeah, but this is symbolic. The sun is more or less eternal. So by disposing the Gundams in there -” 

“- We’re also saying that war will never repeat itself forever,” Trowa finished.

“Poetic, isn’t it?” Duo grinned.

“Inefficient,” Heero countered.

“Heero, where’s your sense of romance?” Duo clapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, what am I talking? You don’t have a sense of romance.”

“I’m not the one unattached, am I?”

Duo spluttered indignantly. He could not believe that the Perfect Soldier had just poked fun at his bachelor status. As far as he was concerned, being single meant that he had the absolute freedom to flirt with any pretty girls that caught his eyes.

“It’s a good plan though,” Trowa said, the corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile. “When are you planning to send the disposal block into the sun?”

“Two weeks later, close to the anniversary of the Eve War. Quatre is on site now, prepping the disposal block.”

Trowa glanced at his lover. “What do you think?”

“Why not? This era does not need Gundams or soldiers.” Heero rose from the couch and went to the window, peering out at the artificial blue sky and clouds. “Perhaps in the distant future, someone would retrieve the Gundams and honor them in a museum. A remainder to the future generations of the price the world paid for Total Pacifism.”

A thoughtful silence fell.

Then Heero turned around. “Have you managed to track down Wufei yet?”

Duo shook his head. “We sent a coded message on Altron’s frequency. If he’s anywhere in the colonies, he would be able to receive it. But so far nothing.”

“He has his own plans and the stubbornness to follow it,” Heero said. “He won’t agree to dispose of Altron if he thinks otherwise.”

“We can only trust that he’ll hide Altron away,” Trowa added.

“Our Gundams are ready to be moved,” Heero told Duo. “We can start at first light tomorrow.”

Duo’s brows shot up in surprise. “You’re coming along?”

“Hai.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Duo got up to leave. “I’ll be here at seven. Ciao!”

Alone in their trailer, Trowa trailed a long steady look at his lover.

“That was sudden,” he said mildly. “I thought we have agreed on no more sudden-taking-off-without-warnings.”

“Duo can’t transport two Gundams on his own.” Heero booted down his laptop after making sure the floppy disk was encrypted and put away safely. He brought his precious hardware back to his desk, pausing when long sinewy arms encircled his waist from behind. Trapped between his desk and Trowa, he could not get away.

“This has something to do with X18999, right?” Trowa asked shrewdly. 

“Some memories are better left buried.” Heero lowered his head. “You’ll understand if I stay away from that place, koi?”

Trowa sighed. “I can never refuse you anything.”

“Arigato.”

“Heero!”

Quatre’s anguished cry tore through the commlink, giving voice to their fear, shock and disbelief, as they all watched Wing Zero’s beam cannon lanced through the air to strike at the Presidential residence one last time and disintegrated in a spectacular explosion at the same time.

In Heavyarms, Trowa’s voice froze in his throat with fear and agony. Again, his lover took impossible risks to end a conflict by going straight for the jugular. Again, he wondered frantically the odds of Heero surviving this. It didn’t seem likely; Wing Zero was practically torn apart before their very eyes by enemy mobile suits while in mid-air. But if Heero could survive that atmospheric stunt he pulled a year ago, Trowa was willing to bet he would survive this – somehow.

“Heads up!” An unexpected voice came over the commlink.

“Wufei!” Quatre burst out. “You came!”

“And I brought reinforcement.”

Before their astonished eyes, the streets began to fill with civilians, all marching towards the Presidential residence. They were shouting their denial of Mariemaia’s rule, determined to keep the hard-won peace. But they were doing it without weapons.

It was the most wonderful sight they could hope to see.

Trowa smiled grimly. At last, after so much hardship, Total Pacifism was going to be a reality. Now he could turn his attention to a more important matter.

“Quatre…” he spoke.

“Go ahead,” Quatre answered understandingly. “We’ll clean up here.”

It was a short distance to where Wing Zero had fallen. They had almost broken through the last blockade before they ran out of power and ammunition. But to Trowa, the journey felt like forever. His gut twisted when he saw the wreckage of the once magnificent Wing Zero, now nothing more than scrape metal.

Please, let him be safe. Almost frantic with worry, Trowa forced himself to methodically sweep the wreckage with Heavyarms’ sensors. It wouldn’t do to throw calmness out of the window before he knew what happened to his lover.

To his relief, the cockpit was open and empty. Somehow Heero had made through the bombardment alive. He saw the trail of footprints in the snow and followed it to the Presidential residence where the building had emerged from its underground bunker. Groups of Mariemaia’s soldiers emerged from the building. The soldiers all stopped, frozen, when they saw a dreaded Gundam looming before them.

“Where is the pilot of Wing Zero?” Trowa demanded, his voice carrying clearly through Heavyarms’ loudspeakers.

“He’s safe and alive!”

Trowa’s gaze darted to the corner of his screen. It was Lady Une who had shouted the reassurance from the steps of the building. Lady Une looked calm and in control, and that eased the fear in him somewhat. He got out from Heavyarms’ cockpit, using a cable to lower himself to the ground.

“Where is -” His words died when he saw Relena emerging from the building. Between her and another soldier, they were supporting an unconscious Heero.

Trowa was by his side instantly, pushing the soldier aside as he reached to support his lover and carefully lowered him to the freezing ground.

“Here.” Someone passed him a thick blanket; he didn’t know whom. His entire being churned with worry and fear as he wrapped Heero’s battered body in the blanket, cradling him close to keep him warm.

“He needs a hospital,” he said distantly, fingers busy as he probed lightly for injuries.

“The medics are on their way,” Lady Une told him.

“What the hell happened?”

“He was injured when they fired at him,” Relena explained gently, recognizing the fear in Trowa. “Then somehow, I don’t know how, he sneaked into the Presidential residence. He gave Mariemaia a symbolic death and just passed out.”

Relena’s expression softened. “He said he wouldn’t have to kill anymore.”

“It was his wish.” Trowa abruptly growled in frustration. “Where is that damned ambulance?!”

“Trowa…”

Forest-green eyes darted back to the precious burden in his arms. Prussian-blue eyes were open, though still somewhat dull with concussion.

Discreetly, Relena stepped away, motioning to Une to do the same.

“You’re awake,” Trowa said, carefully brushing back the dark hair.

“…The fight?”

“Over. You did it. You stopped another war.”

“Iya. We did it.”

“Fine, we did it. Now rest. I’m going to get you to the hospital.”

“Daijoubu…”

Trowa ignored his weak protests. He carefully scooped his dark-haired lover into his arms and carried him to where the ambulance had finally pulled up to a screeching halt.

*          *          *

            The explosions they made when they denoted the Gundams were spectacular and the clearest affirmation they could give to the world of their commitment to the peace.

            Duo sighed. “It’s going to feel strange without them.”

            “I know what you mean,” Quatre gave one last look at the piles of burning scrape metal as they walked away. “After piloting them for so long, you can’t help but be attached. They do have personalities, contrary to what people think.”

            “Heero’s lucky,” Duo groused. “He gets to scrape his Gundam in battle. I always wanted that for Deathscythe.” 

            “Just be thankful you’re not in his position,” Trowa said. “It’s a miracle he got out in one piece.”

            “I do have a nice hideaway here on Earth.” Quatre suggested. “It’s quiet and peaceful, with lots of privacy. A good place for him to finish healing.”

            “Sounds great.”

            “Then I’ll make the arrangement,” Quatre beamed. “What about you, Duo? Any plans?”

            “I’m heading back to L2.” There was a gleeful light in Duo’s eyes. “Business is so going to boom with all these mobile suits to scrape.”

            They laughed. Duo was forever an opportunist.

*          *          *

            For a month after the Mariemaia incident, Heero and Trowa sequestered themselves in the private hideaway kindly provided by Quatre. The beach mansion was isolated and still not too far from the nearest town, ideal for recuperation and holiday.

            Alone in the bedroom they shared, Heero stood naked before the full-length mirror, carefully studying the fading bruises and scars on his torso. He lightly pressed a finger against his ribs, wincing at the resultant twinge of pain.

            “Too slow,” he murmured under his breath. “The healing’s too slow.”

            When he had attempted self-destruction so long ago, his injuries were much worse and it had taken him only a month to recover. From young, Heero had an intimate understanding of his own body. It was necessary. With all the advantages the genetic enhancements gave him, he needed self-control and the knowledge in order to be at his very best in battles. He could estimate very accurately how long it normally took for him to heal. These injuries should have disappeared in two weeks.

            Broodingly, he stepped over to the window, heedless of the fact he was still naked and in plain view of anyone outside the mansion. He remembered what Doctor J told him. If the healing began to slow down, it was usually the first symptom.

            But to happen now…! Heero railed silently. Why not during the war? Why now when I have finally found something to live for?

            No…Heero shook his head. I could be wrong. This could be nothing more than just being human. I was hit pretty badly in that confrontation after all.

            Resolutely, Heero pulled his clothes back on again. He ruthlessly pushed the worry from his mind. It was not going to happen.

For the next few weeks, he totally forgot about his slow healing and indulged in experiencing life and play. They went swimming, learnt how to surf, and had night parties (even if it was just the both of them) on the beach. The days were filled with laughter and joy, both expressing their love freely. Total Pacifism was a reality and with the last shackle of their past falling away, they were free to explore and do things they had never done as children.

            When the first seizure came, it was very minute and brief, and did nothing more than caused Heero to stumble. He promptly dismissed the incident, thinking it as a misstep. The second seizure caused him to cut himself during shaving but it passed quickly so Heero gave no more thought to it. The third seizure was slightly more serious; he was swimming and took in several mouthfuls of water before he could recover. It cast a shadow of worry over his happiness. By the fourth seizure, Heero could no longer deny the truth.

            Heero stared in dismay at his twitching right hand gripped tightly in his left. At his feet laid the broken pieces of a plate, forgotten as he tried to force the seizure away. Dimly, he was thankful that Trowa had gone for a swim in the ocean. He could still hide this from his lover.

Slowly the spasm faded, leaving behind a tingling pain in his right hand. He cradled his right hand against his waist, staring despondently at the broken plate on the floor.

            It was finally happening – the breakdown Doctor J had predicted. And there was nothing he could do but accept his fate at last.

            But Trowa…

            Heero closed his eyes in misery. He ought to know better than to fall in love; how many times must it be drilled into him that he couldn’t afford to risk loving anyone? In the end, he would only hurt the person he loved. Trowa deserved better than this. Trowa didn’t need a lover who would leave him eventually; he didn’t need a lover who would hurt him.

            He had seen the results of the breakdown only once before in an older man. It was a nightmarish sight; the man died screaming in agony and bleeding from every pore on his body. The scene left him sleepless for nights, unable to get the images and screams out of his mind. Heero could not and would not make Trowa suffer through that. But the thought of leaving Trowa…Heero felt as though he was stabbed in the heart.

            It’s for his own good, he told himself silently. He’ll hurt if he sees my pain. I can’t do that to him.

            Grimly determined, ignoring how his heart was crying in pain and despair, Heero left the kitchen and made his way to their bedroom where his laptop was.

There were things that needed to be done.

After Colony 197 – Separation and Disappearance

            Candles occupied every flat surface in the bedroom, softening the shadows and cast the lovers entwined in the silk-covered bed in a peaceful glow. Trowa dozed on his stomach beside Heero, one arm curled around his lover’s waist. Heero was still awake, staring up at the ceiling as he absently stroked Trowa’s hair.

            It was very late at night. He could hear the soft soothing sounds of the waves far in the distance. Just outside the gauzy-curtained window, the full moon hung low in the sky.

Today marked a full week after his discovery.

            Trowa stirred, raising his head to gaze in contentment at Heero. “You’re beautiful.”

            Heero gave him that look. He honestly didn’t think beautiful was a word applicable to males. He said so but Trowa simply smiled.

            “You are.” Trowa shifted his position to rest on his side, bringing Heero into a cuddle. “I could lay like this with you for eternity.”

            “Hn.”

            “So what’s the special occasion?”

            Heero looked at him askance.

            “The candlelight dinner and this,” Trowa gestured to the obvious preparations that had gone into the bedroom. “You aren’t a very romantic person, so this is out of character for you.”

            Heero shrugged. “Nothing special.”

            “Oh?” Trowa didn’t believe him.

            “It just hit me this morning that peace is really here,” Heero lied easily. “So I thought we should celebrate.”

“You’re a month late,” Trowa pointed out dryly.

“Better late than never. Do you like it?”

“Yes, every bit of it.”

“I didn’t cook the dinner though. It’s catered.”

“Obviously, since I’m not running to the restroom every so often.” There was a laugh in Trowa’s voice.

“Hn.”

The tall boy bent to kiss him. “Thank you for this wonderful night.”

“I love you.”

Trowa went completely still above him. Gently, tenderly, Heero reached up and cupped his lover’s face, looking deeply into the stunned green eyes.

“Ai shiteru,” he said again. “Zutto…honto…ai shiteru. Never forget that.”

“How could I?” Trowa murmured somewhat shakily. “I’ve waited a long time to hear that. Tell me again.”

“Ai shiteru.”

Trowa closed his eyes and clasped a callused hand to his cheek. “I love you too, Heero. Always.” 

“Make love to me, koi.” Heero breathed, wanting this moment to last forever.

“Are you thirsty, Trowa?” Heero asked hours later.

“Hmm…a little.”

Heero slipped out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. Trowa laid where he was, admiring the sleek and unnaturally strong body of his lover walking across the bedroom as he returned with a glass of water.

He sat up, accepting the glass of water. “Arigato.”

Prussian-blue eyes watched as he drained the glass of its contents. Trowa put it aside and laid back down again, instinctively embracing Heero as he scooted over to cuddle, resting his dark head on Trowa’s chest and stared unseeingly into the darkness.

“Heero, do you want to go back to the circus?”

“Hai.” If only I could.

“Then let’s leave on the day after tomorrow. How about that?” Trowa asked in the middle of a yawn.

“…”

“Catherine…” Trowa fought to keep his eyes open. It was strange how he felt so sleepy all of a sudden. “…will be glad…to have us…”

He never got to finish his sentence before sliding into a deep dreamless sleep.

Heero waited for a while longer and slowly sat up. For a long while, he gazed at his lover, his gut churning with sadness and pain. With a sigh, he tore his gaze away and left the bed. In minutes, he was dressed and ready to go. He booted up his laptop and entered a single command, releasing a virus that would seek out any information pertaining to him and erase it. He had already erased much of his data over the week; this was merely a precaution. Beside his laptop, he placed a folded note under a paperweight.

“Ninmu kanryou.”

Shutting his laptop down, he took it with him, pausing at the doorway to gaze at the sleeping form of his lover.

“Sayonara, Trowa.”

*          *          *

            Trowa woke up slowly, feeling as though someone had buried him six feet under in darkness. He rubbed his eyes, groggy and feeling somewhat out of sorts. It was strange; he never had this much trouble waking up before.

And the bedroom felt different, as though…

He blinked. He was alone in the bedroom, among the remnants of candles.

Heero was probably in the bathroom and downstairs in the kitchen. Yawning, Trowa got out and stretched luxuriously. He froze when his gaze fell onto the desk.

His lover’s laptop was gone. In its place was a folded note.

Feeling a twinge of unease, Trowa picked up the note. His suspicions crystallized into a cold hard lump in his gut when he read the two simple lines:

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

Panic exploded, seizing him in a viselike-grip and scattered whatever rationality he had.

Note clenched in his hand, Trowa dashed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. No, please. Don’t let this be real. He can’t have…he can’t –

He burst into the garage and came to a screeching halt, staring at the empty lot where Heero’s motorbike used to be. Like a puppet with his strings cut, Trowa collapsed to his knees, fighting to keep the anguish and confusion at bay. He bent over, shaking, completely devastated.

Naze, Heero?

Forest-green eyes squeezed shut; a strangled sob escaped him.

Why did you leave me?!

Trowa flung his head back, the scream finally tearing loose. “Heero!”

Somewhere, in a busy and densely populated nameless city, Heero paused in the middle of the pedestrian crossing. Prussian-blue eyes, hooded with veiled sadness and resignation, glanced up at the blue sky. He thought he heard someone calling his name.

Just as quickly he dismissed it as his imagination.

A hand tucked in his pocket and head bowed in his own misery, Heero walked on, easily disappearing into the faceless mass.

~ Continued in ‘Love Emotion’ ~