Gundam Wing: Civil Wars

Even the perfect soldier can be broken. There was always one who held the power to destroy him.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. But if I did... Oh, buddy.

A/N: Okay, guys. Here goes nothing.

- RFP

Prologue:

This Time Tomorrow

It was the night before they were supposed to sign the papers.

Relena had agreed to meet Heero in his new apartment in Brussels - neutral territory - to finalize their terms. He was grateful they were having this talk in person, without lawyers, although both of theirs would be present tomorrow. An event that, Heero didn't need the knot in the pit of his stomach to remind him, he was not looking forward to.

She arrived right on time, looking polished as ever, not a hair out of place. Her eyes skimmed over him as he stood in the open doorway, and he caught her glimpse of disapproval. He had lost weight, he knew, but it was his own fault for barely eating. He hadn't slept, either, for what felt like weeks.

Relena swept past him and into his living room, draping her coat over the arm of his sofa. She lingered in front of it without sitting down, her arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

"So…"

He cleared his throat around a lump that was forming and opened his mouth to speak, but it was dry. Instead he crossed the room wordlessly and folded himself into the armchair facing her. She sat, too, her eyes flitting up to his. Her lips twitched in a familiar way, and his eyes seized on the movement. Unconsciously he leaned forward, their knees just shy of brushing together. She backed up on the couch and clasped both hands in front of her.

"So," she continued, and he wondered if she was nervous. He used to be able to read her but over time she'd managed to erect a barrier between them. Her face was a mask and he had to wonder if her new life without him involved military training, or poker games. She was far more composed than he was, for a change. He was trembling, desperate, rocked to the core, and he sensed she could still sift him with that knowing stare. But like any soldier surveying a corpse on the battlefield, her gaze merely flicked over him. Her thoughts were somewhere else.

"How about a drink?" he suggested, just so he had something to say. She nodded and he bolted up, feeling a moment's respite from the tension that had him in a vice grip. He managed to pour the whiskey without sloshing any, despite his shaking hands, all the while reprimanding himself for becoming so sloppy. Lack of food, lack of sleep were deprivation tactics, acts of torture. Warfare. He was waging war on himself.

He returned to her and handed her the glass of amber liquid, and watched as she took a practiced sip. He wanted to down the entire contents of his glass like a shot, but he mimicked her movements. Even the sight of her lips touching his glass was maddening, a cruel reminder of things that were, that would never be again. Could he force himself to sit so near to her without closing the distance between them, to try to seal the rift that tore through his soul? In the small space her arms beckoned to him, a familiar harbor. She had always offered him comfort there. She had turned to him for strength and, now, his was gone.

He sat as still as he could and continued to watch her closely, memorizing the lines of her face as if he would never see her again. A foolish notion because of course, he would. As soon as tomorrow. But tonight was the end of this, and tomorrow marked the start of something else. Their future, apart. They had been staying apart the past few months, but their separation wasn't yet official. This would make it permanent. Permanent, like their union was supposed to be. Their vows had said something about "till death do us part," but it was all just a joke in the end. The words they'd sworn to one another turned out to be nothing but that- words. Promises that could be so easily reduced into some vague collection of letters etched together by other people. Two people that they weren't, any more.

Soulmates. They had often heard that term bandied about, usually by other people. That or starcrossed. The latter seemed to fit them the best. After they'd met she told him, just before she found him, that she thought she saw a shooting star; she mused that it was probably him, before he'd crash landed onto that beach and into her life. Their stars had crossed, connected, culminated in a supernova. Now there was just a black hole.

But Heero was the one who looked and felt like death. Part of him would welcome it. Another, stronger part reminded him that he had a daughter.

And, so, he had no choice but to make this work, on Relena's terms. If he wanted to remain a part of Ellie's life - and, by extension, Relena's - this was the only way he could do it. This was all she was giving him. It was the only thing he could do for her, now. She wouldn't let him do anything else.

Except pour her whiskey, evidently. He watched with some amusement as she proffered her empty glass, wordlessly asking for another round. He immediately obliged. His mind was churning in an effort to stay awake; he was having trouble remembering what they were supposed to be talking about, fixated on the curve of her lips as she spoke.

At some point she suggested that they had, in fact, touched on everything they'd agreed to, and said she would see him in the morning. Her office, downtown, 11 a.m. sharp, don't be late. Then she rose to leave, stooping for her coat. She stepped forward, into his space, and the polite thing for him to do would have been to step back, but he didn't. He found himself snatching her sleeve.

Relena's eyes swirled up at him. She offered him a sad smile and stood on tiptoe to peck his cheek. Her touch inflamed him. His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her closer. He knew he was pushing it and she could shove him, or slap him, or just wrench herself away and run, but she didn't do any of those things. She buried her face into his chest and kept it there until his shirt was moist. He brought up a hand and ran it through the length of her hair, letting his fingers get tangled in her strands. Her hands remained balled against his chest.

He leaned into her more and brushed a kiss to her neck, just below her ear.

"Stay with me," he breathed.

Relena pulled back, her eyes brimming with fresh tears ready to join her already wet cheeks.

"I can't…" She let the words hang between them, her eyes turning to ice. Of course, he had known better than to ask, and sure enough, after a moment of agonizing silence, the litany of excuses began.

"We," she whispered fervently, "can't fix this. We tried." She tore her gaze away, her face burning. "W-we're broken. We-"

Heero knew she would probably give him hell for it, but he was already in hell. He interrupted her words with a kiss. She didn't fight him, but then she didn't move at all.

He pulled away and waited, watching her eyes, as always. Now they took on a wide, haunted look.

"Heero…" she began.

"I didn't mean forever," he murmured, lifting his hand to run his thumb along her jaw. "I meant tonight."

Her eyes widened even more, somehow. "But… Ellie has a sitter…"

"Just another hour, then." Heero released her waist and stepped back, giving her her space. Letting her decide. Her eyes drifted to the door, then back up to his.

"I don't know…" she started, but she still didn't move. She bit her lower lip. "This is a bad idea…"

"Probably," Heero agreed, schooling his features back into their familiar mask. Perhaps if he could fool her into thinking he didn't care, that he wouldn't fall apart, as soon as she left.

She set her coat back down on the couch but otherwise didn't move, continuing to stare up at him. Waiting. He didn't dare move, either.

"Well?" she said, finally. When he said nothing she arched a brow. "What are we doing, Heero?"

He didn't want to answer because he didn't know. And if he thought about it for too long, he would crumble. Like he did when he was alone. Instead he took a final step toward her, gripping the back of her neck and crushing his lips to hers. She stepped back, allowing him to press her up against the wall. She let him glide his hands over her, let him hitch up her skirt. Her hands loosened his belt, undid his button and zipper. He leaned into her, gently, and their hips began the slow, familiar grind.

They had been dancing together for so long - ten years, to be exact - they'd memorized all the steps. Tonight wasn't a violent tango or a sweeping pas-de-deux, but a slow, steady waltz.

One, two, three. One, two, three…

"Are you off to fight again?"

A voice from long ago arose, catching him off guard. Exposing him.

"So even you can be surprised… Since we met, you're always the one surprising me."

"Relena…" Her name came out as a groan. He bent his head to her shoulder and rested it there. He felt her fingers stroke his hair, relaxing him enough to fall asleep where he stood.

"Might as well enjoy it…

"Heero." His head drooped to her bosom, soft and warm beneath her silk blouse, and she held him still, feathering a kiss to his forehead.

"At least until the dance is over."

At length they broke apart. She tipped her head to the side and gave him a faint smile. "Well. You're as dangerous as ever." Her face faltered and she gave a little huff. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" He kept his voice flat, his expression blank.

She waggled a brow. "Like you want to tie me up and throw me in your bedroom."

His lips twitched. "Tempting." She smiled again and grasped his arm.

"We're going to be fine," she murmured, giving him her bravest smile. "Just fine." Her eyes glimmered but, this time, her tears stayed put. He managed to refrain from thumbing them away, out of habit. She let go of his arm and bent to scoop up her coat. This time she pulled it on. Heero watched in mesmerized silence as she freed her long hair out of the confines of her lapels so that it fanned around her shoulders.

Relena collected herself back into business mode, addressing him briskly, as she would a work colleague. "Tomorrow, then?"

He nodded once, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "Tomorrow."

She moved to brush past him, but this time he didn't reach for her. She noticed and hung back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered tearfully, and he wondered if she meant for tonight, or all of it. She reached up and touched his cheek. "But I have to go."

"Then go," he said, his voice hoarse.

She opened her mouth then clamped it shut, and he wondered what else there was to say. Her eyes continued to sift him for an uncomfortable moment until, at last, she seemed to change her mind about sharing whatever was poised on her tongue. He saw her eyes fill again, her jaw clenched, as she sidestepped him and swept out of his apartment, pulling the door shut behind her.

Heero braced both his hands against the wall where he'd had her last. He could still feel her there, smell her perfume on his shirt. He yanked it over his head and balled it up, tossing it aside before picking up the bottle of whiskey and downing what was left. He stared at the empty space of wall for what felt like hours before he launched the bottle at it. The smash reverberated throughout the room. Heero stood still as he was sprayed by shattered glass. He didn't bother to clean any of it up as he stumbled onto the couch, face down, and, for the first time in his lifetime, wept.

"It's over." Her voice was low and soothing as she held him in her arms, tousling his hair, the drums of war slowing to a stop in the distance. "It's finally over."

A/N: Is it ever over? Stay tuned to find out.

- RFP