Author's Note: Okay, I wrote this soooooo fast. So fast. Like lightning. I always wanted to do an amnesia fic, and at last I've started on the road to glory! Or... semi-fame, anyway. I spent all class today chatting my friend Danny up about what would he do if he were a government assassin with amnesia like in the Bourne Identity, and whether or not he would go along with it if the environment had been more secure. He mostly seemed puzzled and sleepy, but I got a lot of good ideas by brainstorming out loud at him. So look forward to really SWEET plot developnents and an ass load of really really sneaky twists!

Anyway, write me comments like it's going out of style! I need some harsh judgement early on, I'm thinking.

Thanks for giving me a read!

-Onions

ps- I don't own gundam anything. (Or anything at all. Well, maybe my shoes...)


Title: Forgive and Forget

Author: Onions Make Me Cry

Pairing: 2 x 1 x 2 and some misc others...

Rating: chapter 1: pg-13 for language

Description: (After Colony 197) When Duo calls in a favor that goes terribly awry, the boy finds himself living with a spy disguised as a

friend... a friend whose job it is to see to it that the braided boy never again regains that which is most precious to him; his memory.


Main Entry: amnesia

Pronunciation: am-'nE-zh&

Function: noun

1 : loss of memory sometimes including the memory of personal identity due to brain injury, shock, fatigue, repression, medical process, illness or sometimes induced by anesthesia suffering from amnesia and unable to identify himself a period of amnesia after the wreck

2 : a gap in one's memory an amnesia concerning her high-school years


Forgive and Forget

by Onions Make Me Cry

Part I- The Accidental Procedure


"You realize, Duo, that once you take this step, you won't be able to go back again."

"Yeah, yeah... get on with it, would you?"

"I just want you to be completely informed before we proceed."

"Well I'll fucking change my mind again if you keep babbling specifics at me. So shut up, huh? Just plug me in, old man."

"Mr. Maxwell..."

Duo sat on the cold lab floor in a heap, and idly traced circles in the air with a ballpoint pen. He didn't look up when the other gentleman addressed him, but seemed fixated on some distant point in the corner.

"You understand that the procedure is a dangerous one? The repercussions for returning you to your original state after you've gone through with the entire process would be catastrophic." The Doctor frowned, and the look dug deep into his face as he stared down his nose at his patient. "Possibly even fatal?"

"Jesus Christ, I didn't know I was that much of a ticking time bomb..."

"You have to look at the situation realistically."

A quiet settled for a moment, and all that could be heard in the sterile white room for the space of a few breaths was the hum of the odd six or eight pieces of undisclosed equipment as they stood ready and online.

"I guess you're right." The slap of a pen on cold tile floor. "...I'm no good like this, am I?"

"Now I didn't say that..."

"But you agree, Don't you?" The boy interjected a little forcefully. "I mean, come on... you should know me front and back by now. I've told you everything." For the first time, Duo pulled his eyes from the floor and shot the aging Doctor a sarcastic look. "The whole fucking story, twelve point font, typed and stapled and on your desk wrapped in a ribbon. True blue, man... and I didn't even censor anything."

The doctor removed his spectacles, and rubbed them quietly for a few moments in the tail of his white lab coat. "Yes, I've read the social history. I know all the statistics, Mr. Maxwell, all your facts. But I'm not entirely sure you do. The process is a risky one. And, you would be letting go of a lot of precious things."

Duo looked away again as the old man set his glasses back on his nose. "I didn't pay you to question my judgement. So just do it, would you?"

The quiet lingered on for a few more precious heavy seconds as the Doctor watched the young man sulking on the tile. The Maxwell boy seemed strangely vulnerable as he sat with his legs drawn into a loose lotus fold, and briefly, the old man paused to wonder at him. How could a child have accomplished so much? Or, more pertinently, destroyed so much? And at such a tender age... more than anything, it was Duo's youth that the Doctor lamented. To see a hardened soldier peering out through the luminous eyes of a sixteen year old boy suddenly felt as if the price of it were worse than two wars and a lifetime of suffering combined. Suddenly it was more than enough of a reason to perform the service Mr. Maxwell had requested. Suddenly, the decision was easier now that he was face to face with it.

"Alright then, young man. I can't do anything with you on the floor, so you had better get up."

The boy stood, and wore for a split second what seemed like an expression of apprehension. But when the Doctor looked again, there was only stony resolve, and the smaller figure walked sedately across the room and hefted himself onto the examination table, where he laid himself out.

Rolling his head to the side, Duo shot the doctor a mirthless grin. "Lets get this show on the road."


The chess game lay on the table half finished, as Quatre, Trowa and Heero sat quietly around it conversing amongst themselves. They looked almost like statues from the entrance of the room, Duo could remember thinking, as he himself stood leaning against the wall at the door. The shuttle was dingy, and their space suits were the kind of muted gray that had the tendency to sink into the background if you didn't search out for them right away– sort of like granite, or even cement. Only the white chess pieces, and Quatre's pale blonde hair stood out with any kind of definition. They sat with stony expressions, muttering in gravely tones with one another. It would have almost been sad if it hadn't been for other more distracting thoughts. Like the battle they'd been tottering on the edge of for the past six to eight hours, waiting for their call– waiting to make their move. It was hanging in a limbo like this that really made a guy look around. Made him think about virtually anything other than the inevitable fight that they were all about to be thrown into head first, whether or not they liked it.

"-checked again with Wufei, but he wasn't in the hangar, so I came back here." Quatre murmured on, droning a little to Trowa, who was sitting closest to the blonde with his head inclined to the side. "I just don't know where he could be, if he wasn't there. I thought I might make sandwiches, but I'd want him here for it, you know?"

The Latin nodded sedately.

The thing about Trowa, Duo thought with some amusement, was that you could never tell if he was actually on edge or not. The expression he wore now would have probably been the same if he'd been wearing a bunny suit at a birthday party. Only his friends knew better than to think he was unaffected by an approaching battle.

"Maybe he's in the loo." Trowa suggested blandly. Quatre gave him a blank look, and shrugged.

"Maybe. I just wish we were all here. I'm going sort of stir-crazy." Giving a little sigh, the blonde fell onto his arms, leaning heavily on the table. After a silence, he looked over Trowa and down at Heero, who was sitting in front of the chess board looking blandly irritated. "You haven't seen Wufei, have you, Heero?"

The stony-faced youth looked over to Quatre and shook his head.

"Hmm." The arab sighed, but didn't question further. Turning to Trowa again, they began to talk softly on something apparently private.

Staring at the chess board, Heero picked up a white pawn and hunched over the table as well. He leaned on his forearm as Quatre was doing, but kept his hands free to spin the game piece between the free fingers of his right hand. (From against the wall, Duo watched him as he played with the tiny pawn, and for a moment almost went to take it out of his hand. The idleness of the whole motion seemed wrong, especially for Heero, who was never bored, or absent about anything.)

The piece went round and round, and sitting in the quiet, Heero gave a little breathy sigh... something which was almost undetectable, if not for the little slag his head made as he leaned a little bit farther forward.

Duo continued to watch, and tilted his own head, beginning to change his mind. He decided that there was also something vaguely disarming about the game Heero was playing. The casual way he spun the piece between his thin fingers seemed so natural that it was almost as if someone else were sitting in his place and doing it instead of him. Smiling slightly, the braided pilot allowed some of his irritation to seep away, and a small amount of amusement to sink into it's place instead. Apparently, even the great Heero Yuy got the pre-battle jitters. At least a little, anyway.

"Stop it."

The command cut through the silence, and even Quatre and Trowa paused in their conversation to look over at Heero. For the first time, he looked up from the chess piece, and fixed Duo with an accusatory glare.

"Stop staring at me."

Duo stood up a little straighter, and instantly assumed a look of dumbfounded innocence. "Who, me? Just staring into space over here, man."

Heero settled an incriminating look on Duo for a few seconds more, then, seeming suddenly beyond the situation, grabbed his helmet off the floor and stalked out of the room. A silence lingered after him.

"What'd I do?" The braided boy asked, now dumbfounded for real.

Quatre and Trowa exchanged significant glances, before both shaking their heads.

"Maybe he needs to go to the loo." Trowa suggested blandly, before ducking Quatre's swing.


"Mr. Maxwell?"

Nothing. A blank space where recognition was supposed to be.

"Mr. Maxwell? Duo, try to wake up a little, if you can."

And then a ceiling. Just as white and empty and unresponsive.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell. Welcome back. Did you sleep alright?"

From beneath the thin sheets of the hospital bed, Duo dragged his heavy lids completely open, and followed his line of vision down to an elderly doctor with tiny glasses standing at the foot of his bed. He had a kindly expression about him, though something in the boy made Duo question a vague sense of wrongness that he couldn't quite place.

Mumbling something like 'uughngyhello', the young man tried to heft himself up a little. But the Doctor almost immediately put a hand to his chest and urged him down again.

"Now now, Mr. Maxwell, you should be taking it easy!" the old man smiled a little, and glanced down at his file of papers. "Sustaining as significant a head injury as you've done yourself, you're lucky you haven't done serious damage to your brain! I understand that bills are important to pay, but part time construction may not be the job for you after this incident, as a friendly suggestion."

Duo nodded stupidly, half listening, half taking in his surroundings. He was in a pleasant single occupancy hospital room, with the second half of the folding windows tilted open to the fresh autumn breeze, and the curtains pulled to the side. Everything was white and clean, and beyond his slightly cracked door, he could see a flurry of nurses and various personnel shuffling back and forth in the hall. Something registered with him... Regency Hospital. The name sounded familiar in his head.

A head, as he touched it, that Duo found to be wrapped in gauze.

"What happened?" The braided boy found himself mumbling, as he fingered the back of his neck... it was prickling unpleasantly.

"You don't remember?" a plastic look of surprise crossed the Doctor's face. "Oh dear. Let's try this one on, then... what is your name?"

That was easy enough... "Duo." Duo said, faintly foggy. The Doctor had only said it about a hundred times. "Duo Maxwell."

"Good!" some scribbling on the clipboard at the foot of Duo's bed. "And, now... how old are you today, Mr. Maxwell?"

Another vague inclination. "Sixteen." The boy said, without thinking too deeply about it.

"Sixteen yesterday, that's true. But today is October 18th, don't you know? Your birthday says that you're seventeen today!"

"My birthday?" Those words, out of everything spoken thus far, seemed the most alien on Duo's lips. As if, the syllables weren't used to stringing themselves out together in that order. As if, almost... as if... As if Duo had never said the word before at all.

"Not too great a place for a party, huh?" The kindly Doctor chuckled a little bit, and shook his head. "Well, a visitor out in the hall thinks she has a different opinion. Shall we have a look at her, then?"

The door opened on that note, but it wasn't a girl to walk across the threshold. Only a slightly dour looking assistant nurse. He came to stand by the Doctor with a tray that Duo couldn't see into from his position.

"Ah. Larson. Thank you." Taking up a needle from the tray, the Doctor injected a vaguely yellow substance into Duo's IV, and almost instantly, the boy felt a swoon coming on him. "Now, Mr. Maxwell, I've just given you a mild sedative to help you relax. With neck and head injuries like yours, it's best to have you remain as still as possible while the healing process is taking place. You may feel some slight drowsiness. Shall I call your guest in?"

"…Yeah…" Duo mumbled, feeling more than a little disoriented by the fast pace of his conversation with the Doctor. Everything was shaded with a tone of the surreal, as if all of this were just beyond the foggy curtain of a dream. Maybe he hadn't even woken up yet. Not all the way, anyhow. "Sure. Go ahead, Doc."

Nodding with a slight smile, the old man gestured at Larson to open the door.

For a few empty moments, the door hung open and empty—it was full to the hall, and all Duo could see was the bustle and flow of doctors and nurses just beyond, as they traversed the multicolored tile floor. But then, a brightly colored head appeared suddenly out from behind the doorframe, and the boy didn't have to wonder which person was likeliest to be his guest. She was smiling, almost as if she had been an exotic violet mushroom waiting for the perfect moment to spring into existence, and now that she had, she was so enormously pleased with herself that it was enough simply to be as she was; spongy and bright.

"Hilde Schbeiker, I believe?" The Doctor chuckled as the young lady stepped carefully all the way into the room. She was wearing a bright white sun dress vaguely resembling a cupcake, with a garish floral trim. "Well, young lady, we've waited a long time, but Mr. Maxwell seems like he's going to be just fine."

"Oh!" the thin girl exclaimed, and looked genuinely relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was so worried about you, Duo! You looked so awful, right before you came to see the doctor, I was afraid you'd really made yourself sick. I was so-"

"Now now, young lady," Interjected the doctor a little forcefully, and something in the back of Duo's mind faintly fired off. What was it? "It seems best not to rehash the mistake. I'm sure Mr. Maxwell will be taking more care next time he finds himself in a dangerous situation. I've advised him to stay away from construction and mechanic's jobs until he's feeling completely up to par again. He should stay relaxed for a couple of days, period, if you can manage it."

There was that nagging suspiciousness again. Duo squinted a little, trying to examine the friendly Doctor. He seemed vaguely familiar… But whatever it was that he'd been dosed was beginning to take effect, because the braided boy's vision was beginning to fuzz a little.

"Of course he'll rest. I have our room set up already."

"You'll have to keep a careful eye on him. Just… to make sure he isn't inclined to get up and go wandering when he should be recovering." The Doctor rumbled somewhere beyond Duo's line of vision, and he tried to bend to look. Soon, Hilde was conversing with him at the far side of the room, where it was harder to listen. Wasn't it bad enough that he felt like he was sleeping in a vacuum already? The way all the sounds were dulling out made Duo feel as if he should have cared quite a lot more than he did. But he didn't, for a reason which at the moment was beyond him. And so he listened as best he could.

Hilde was sounding hollow now, and distant as if she were speaking through a glass. They'd been carrying on for a few minutes privately, but something in Duo made him strain extra hard to hear as Hilde gave the Doctor a start of surprise. She gave the old man a look of shame after that, which became something sheepish soon after that. "o-oh… was he working construction when-?"

Despite being intensely interested in what was happening, Duo had to stifle a sudden and enormous yawn—and at that, Hilde seemed to be drawn away from her eye contact with the doctor, and back to him again. She beamed a little, and came and sat by the bed, leaving the Doctor to observe.

"I'm so glad that you're going to be okay." Hilde said softly, and leaned close to take his hand in two of her powder soft ones. "I was worried about you. I love you, you know. So stop scaring me, and get better! I hate seeing you such a wreck."

Watching Hilde fall in and out of clarity, the bed-ridden boy could smell her as he began to doze off. She smelled faintly sweet, as if she'd been powdering herself with cookie mix before the nurse had called her into the room. It was nice, though a little disconcerting. And yet…

Something about the girl's presence, something simply about her body being so near to his own had a thoroughly placating effect on Duo. He knew without any shadow of a doubt, that she was a trusted friend. Bodies didn't lie. But as he looked down at her lilly white hands, he could see engine grease beneath her fingernails, and for some reason it made him think that the cookie smell and the sun dress were all a farce.

" Miss Schbeiker?" The Doctor again, merely a shadow against the otherwise pristine wall. "May I have a word with you out in the hall, please?"

Through the haze, Duo watched Hilde look up. And then she was gone, though the cookie smell lingered for a minute or two behind her.


"Heero– hey, hey HEERO!" Duo jogged down the hall with his helmet underneath his arm to catch up to his glaring friend. "Man, wait up!"

The shuttle had very few windows, but a line of smallish square flats served that purpose, cut into the wall at scattered intervals. Heero paused at the very last window by the exit hatch, and with stiff shoulders, stopped his flight to his room to stare resignedly out into the darkness of space. He waited there.

"Jesus, you'd think you were running a marathon." Duo panted, and collapsed against the wall in front of the Japanese boy, dumping his helmet loudly on the floor. "But, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened. You know, just now. I didn't mean to make you mad, you know. I wasn't staring at you."

"Yes you were." Heero stated, sounding deadpan as he stared blankly along Duo's slouching figure.

"No I wasn't!"

"Don't lie to me. You do it all the time."

"No way. Prove it."

"You've been doing it for a year. And three months. And..." Heero paused, calculating. "Fourteen days."

There was a silence, and Duo's half-smile slid slowly out of his expression. He stared back, breathing through slightly parted lips, and began to take on a look of guilt and embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ. How can you tell?"

Heero's eyes lingered on Duo for a few moments, taking in the wide eyes, the red cheeks... he took in the lushness which always seemed to cling to the American in the plump curves of his face and in the pink of his lips. "Because I was watching you first."

The change over his comrade was almost instantaneous. A funny look came into Duo's eyes... almost a frown, but with a touch of questioning. Heero blinked sedately, and remained very still. What was that look? That inquiring softness. It had a gentle feeling, and Heero resisted the powerful impulse to take a step back.

Duo took a step forward.

"Man, Heero... I never guessed. You're good!" The boy half smiled, and absently scratched the back of his head. "What did you see? When you were watching me, I mean."

That soft tone again... Heero stood up a little straighter and folded his arms stiffly across his chest, pulling the flesh there tight and hard as he tried to quell the strange churning in his stomach. "I saw... a soldier. A brave man. I saw invaluable skills. I saw missions completed. I saw... Loyalty to a cause." Drawing slightly up and away from Duo's doe eyes, Heero added a stiff ending. "And I saw dandruff."

"You did not." Duo chided, giving his friend a cynical grin.

Heero frowned. "Yes I did see dandruff."

"No, I mean all that other bullshit." The braided boy waved a dismissive hand at Heero, still glowing a little. "All that 'good man' crap. Don't flatter me. And don't embarrass yourself. And I don't have dandruff."

Another frown. "But you are a good man. One of the best I know."

"I'm a kid." Duo sighed, and with white teeth flashing, he gave the floor a tired grin. " I want to piss my pants each time we get ready for a fight like this one, you know. I can't help it. I'm a kid, and I'll die a kid."

"No. You're a man." Heero insisted firmly, temporarily forgetting his fluttering stomach in favor of this slightly out of place comfort session. Duo, for some reason or another, brought that certain maternal spark out in him. Even if his parenting skills were somewhere on the same level as a Sea Turtle's. "You're not so bad."

For a moment, Duo couldn't help the cynical look which held him. But as he looked up and saw the sincerity in Heero's face, the soft look slowly began to return, and the American turned very faintly pink around the ears. "You really think so?"

Heero leaned in a little to accentuate his point. "Yes."

In the quiet that followed, it donned on the Japanese pilot that somehow his comrade had managed to inch an extra foot forwards, and as they stood, Heero could feel the cool caress of Duo's breath against his chin and lips. Looking suddenly unsure, he hesitated a little, growing stiff in the shoulders and folding his hands tighter across his chest. The look was almost vulnerable, and Duo observed all of it with a raw and smouldering eye.

The stars wheeled in the heavens, and the vastness of space stretched on and on for an eternity as both pilots stood considering one another.

Since early childhood, Duo Maxwell had always possessed a recklessness which to some people had been considered shocking. He relied on gut instinct, which often times landed him in dangerous situations. But it was also that same gut sensation that had saved him from a sudden and gruesome death a hundred times over, and so the boy had never found a sufficient reason to change his ways. He was, and always had been a compulsive soul, and so it was with a great magnitude of lust and tension that the braided boy at last did the one thing he'd always wished to do; he grabbed Heero's head and crushed their lips together.

For a few moments, the kiss was a brutal struggle– all fire and snagging teeth and clenching muscles as each fought the other for some nameless dominance they'd long ago plotted out. But the second the kiss gentled, Heero whipped away and was gone from the embrace.

Breathing harshly, Heero stared with wide, alarmed eyes at the braided boy. Duo, in turn, stared back with equally wide eyes, though his panic seemed less pronounced and more rooted in guilt. And for the space of five breaths, all that could be heard was the perpetual rumble of the engine beneath their feet, and of the hum of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling.

And then, with the swiftness that an assassin is bred to live, Heero pulled his gun out from the back of his suit and carried the butt around to smash into Duo's forehead.

Duo went flying into the opposite wall, and the neutral tan color was interrupted by a smear of red.

When Duo's vision cleared, the hallway was deserted.


"And you're sure you have all of the specified requirements in place?"

"Yes." Hilde assured the old man for the thirtieth time, as they walked together. "Yes… I understand perfectly."

The friendly Doctor had dropped any and all pretense of pleasantness in the time that it took him to step out into the hall. It was a degenerative process, which steadily worsened as he accompanied Hilde through a series of corridors--- and was a look which became a full-blown grimace as they entered a locked room, in which four other doctors in pristine lab coats were milling around, glaring.

"Hadley, what's the meaning of this?" One skinny Doctor with pale blonde hair demanded as soon as they entered. "Protocol requires the subject to be isolated and monitored until further results can be ascertained. But you've got the boy with his head wrapped up like a Christmas present sitting in the children's ward! What are you thinking?"

"Now, calm down, Steven. I've already gone through the consultation process. And I intend to continue with the treatment." the old man by the young girl tried to assure his peer. "Have you gentlemen met miss Schbeiker?"


Duo sat alone at the miniature table nook in the shuttle's kitchen, looking morose as he pressed a bloody rag to his forehead. The room was cold and blank, though a great deal brighter than the lounge where the boys had been playing chess a half hour ago. There were, however, a great number more of fluorescent lights in the ceiling here than there, and with some amount of annoyance the braided boy ignored the high pitched whine of the bulbs above.

It was there, sitting and staring moodily into space, that Chang Wufei strode purposefully into the kitchen and saw Duo.

The pilots blinked at each other for a moment.

"What the hell happened to you?" Chang almost instantly demanded, paused mid step on his path to the refrigeration compartment.

Leaning back in his chair a little, Duo considered the question and chuckled mirthlessly.

"Well?" Wufei demanded again, giving the American boy a strange look.

Duo licked his lips, and then pursed them as he paused in accentuation of his answer. "I... kissed Heero Yuy."

"No, really."

The humor slipped a little from him, and Duo frowned. "No, I actually did."

Wufei quirked an eyebrow. "No you didn't. You're making fun of me. What, did you get into an argument over a box of donuts with a crew member, or something?"

The irritation was real now as Duo sat up more fully, and pressed the bloody rag tighter over the gash in his head. "No, I really kissed him. And then he hit me with his gun and ran off. Why would I lie about something as degrading as that? I mean, it only makes me look like a fucking dumbass." And then, as an afterthought, "And anyway, I don't lie."

Watching Wufei realize that Duo was telling the truth was a harrowing experience; The Chinese boy's expression went slowly from something faintly amused, to something neutral, and then straight on to deeply nauseated. And for a long time, the boy simply stood there, looking at Duo with an eye full of mortification and disgust.

"Well," Wufei said at last, looking Duo up and down as the braided boy glared daggers at him. "If you weren't going to hell before, you are now."

And with that, the Chinese pilot left, leaving Duo alone again with the buzzing light bulbs and with his thoughts.

"Yeah, well..." The American countered weakly, staring at the place where Wufei had been standing a minute ago. "See you there."


Hilde stood to the side, watching all that took place with a grim look of determination set in her petite features. As far as she was concerned, the opinion of any of these government sanctioned medic officials was worth about as much as a dog shit on the sidewalk. If anyone could take care of Duo, it would be her. Hilde Schbeiker, caretaker and supplement girlfriend... Right? (And that did have such a lovely ring to it...) Duo deserved a new start, and if she was the one best suited for the job, then by God, she would stand up to the task. She would stand up for him. She would stand up for his rights, when nobody else would. All new beginnings came with a high price after all, but, perhaps if she could somehow shield her braided friend from discovering his old self again, then he could remain as he was now. Blank and fresh, at peace with God and with himself for the very first time.

Standing in the corner by the old Doctor, the image of the crazy captain Howard briefly danced across Hilde's mind. Would he choose to intervene if he found out about Duo's treatment? Hadn't he been something like a father to Duo once..? But he'd disappeared as quickly as he'd come, dismissed as a ship in the wind– Seen and gone from Duo forever now that the war had ended for good. Wasn't he? No, he was gone forever. They'd all parted ways after that last Christmas Eve two years ago. Hadn't it been like that with the other Gundam Pilots too? Well, most of them anyhow. They'd all fallen out of touch with each other this past year... the old man with the sunglasses included. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't be coming back.

That didn't mean hat HE wouldn't be coming back... The war hero with eyes like iron. Hilde knew Heero had been something of importance to Duo, but his absence from the scene for such a long time led the girl to believe that even if her friend's old war comrade showed up again, it wouldn't be for the sake of romancing. Somehow, Hilde couldn't picture pilot 01 in a flowers and chocolate kind of situation anyway.

No. Nobody would disturb their new peace. Their fresh beginning would be together, and the girl thanked whatever fate which had given them this unexpected turn of events. Perhaps it really had just been by accident. But regardless, this was one gift that Hilde wouldn't relinquish easily. Not to anyone.

Especially not to Heero Yuy.

She wouldn't let him take back Duo's peace of mind. Not again.


TBC...
Author's Note: Hahaha! I laugh at the spell check! I laugh at the entire revising process! Hahahaha, I laughatchu! Ha ha!

Anyway, review and tell me how bad I stink. ('cause it must be a lot.)