Heavens opened above them, unleashing endless flurries of snow to blanket their mortal realm in white; continuous seas of white beneath skies resembling a patchwork quilt, a random pattern of blues and grays, dark shadows of winter clouds or bright patches of clear, sunlit cerulean. Beneath the occasional and cherished bursts of sunlight, the air remained crisp and cold, the sharp bite of winter not easily away.
Through a set of wide-paned, twin windows two floors above the ground, a pair of cobalt eyes stared out over the landscape, their brilliant fire faint and distant as their owner became victim to memories and ghosts of the past.
In the reflective silence that enveloped the dayroom, the man called Heero Yuy could not help himself as his mind distanced itself, lost in memories of a life long since left behind, familiar voice colored by affection and mischief, and the teasing lilt he knew so well in the uniquely accented tones.
The phantom weight of an arm around his shoulders, a thoughtless display by a tactile friend, but an open gesture of friendship and affection that caused in his emotions he had never realized possible for him to feel. The warmth of a body beside him, strong arms holding and rocking his trembling body, the concern from a cherished friend enough to put a temporary end to continuous nightmares. As his eyes opened, their deep wells of blue were tired and haunted, the eyes of man who had never been a child, a man who had watched his entire world torn asunder and built back up again more times than he could ever count, a man whose very existence was the epitome of controversy, a man whom some called hero, and others called murderer.
At thirty-eight, there were those who would tell him he had barely begun to live, and yet he had seen countless lifetimes begin and fade, birth and death nothing more than flickers of time. But the essence of life was something he had come to cherish, the tendrils of existence he held on to so desperately, refusing to let go, lest he fail against into the endless chasm of an empty life.
Twenty-odd years later, he had changed little since fifteen, at least in the physical sense. His body had put on both height and weight, boyish flesh cutting into the mature lines of adulthood, his physique trim and fit as ever. Blue eyes were brilliant, deep and soulful, accented by a matured face whose appeal had only grown with age. Untamable brown hair curled around the fleshy lobes of his ears, brushing against the collar of his conservative white button-down, tucked neatly into a pair of rumpled khakis, held around a slender waist by a simple leather belt.
It was not his physical body that had undergone the greatest transformation, but everything else that made up who he was; his heart, his mind, his spirit. His dreams, his beliefs, his ideals, the things he loved or hated, everything he had once thought important and everything he thought insignificant, all of it had changed.
Twenty years ago, he had been an entirely different man, angry, scared and confused with the new freedom granted to him. He was still alive; he was no longer the Perfect Soldier. For the fifteen-year-old pilot and assassin who had never expected to see the end of the war, life and freedom together was a frightening revelation.
Leaving behind everything he had known until that point, Heero had escaped, all in hopes of making an existence for him with some semblance to a normal life. Everywhere he went, with every person he met, he felt entirely outcasted, finding no feeling of belonging no matter how much he strived for it.
Two years passed, and the break in his desperate and fumbling attempts came as the Marimaia incident. He fell back into the role of the Perfect Soldier, reveling in the familiarity of the character, and simultaneously ashamed at the shredding of all his efforts of becoming something more. He believed it to be his weakness that caused him to fall back so easily to the persona, not realizing the paradox he created in his own mind, for such a view of weakness and the drive to correct such a mistake had been part of what made him such an efficient drone under Doctor J's control.
His salvation had finally come in the form of Duo Maxwell. As unlikely as they seemed, polar opposites, they completely contrasted and yet fit each other so well. Duo had always found a way to break through his defenses, and he was the only one Heero had ever allowed close. Finding each other again during and in the aftermath of the Marimaia incident, they had sought that closeness again; an unspoken and even unconscious desire of each other's company spurring them together after two years of separation. Ready to leave behind his fruitless and pointless pursuit, Heero enthusiastically accepted Duo's offer to be roommates.
They were the best of friends, falling back into the same slow and steady ascent to closeness they had been making two years previous. They understood each other, complimented what the other both flourished in and lacked, neither of them entirely complete without the other. Heero had never known another who could understand him the way Duo did, connect with him the same way. It was with Duo that he laid bare his soul, relinquished the secrets of his past, and shared his thoughts, memories, dreams, disappointments and hopes. And he, in turn, came to know Duo better than any other possibly could, and it was a glorious feeling. Heero Yuy found it inevitable that in the end, he would fall in love.
It was neither a shock nor a conscious awareness that Heero felt the moment he realized the exact depth of his feeling toward Duo. It was an emotion so far ingrained in him that he felt no surprise at its acknowledgement, the warm, strong emotions he always associated with affection translating into pure and clumsy but soul-shaking love.
The familiar force of an arm casually slung around his shoulders, the sensation of the other's close proximity, shook Heero out of the drowsy reverie he kept as he sat before his computer in the Preventer office.
"C'mon Heero, snap out of it."
Opening sleepy, quizzical eyes to stare at the cheerful face of his best friend, Heero was jarred fully awake as he realized just how close they were, Duo's face hovering only a breath away from his own. His eyes widening, his cheeks stained with color, Heero numbly watched as Duo pulled back, seeming unaffected as ever. Duo took in his companion's flushed face and glazed eyes. His mouth turning in disapproving concern, he gently held a hand to the blue-eyed man's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"
Thinking to himself that only a saint could rival his control, Heero struggled to ignore the jolt of electricity Duo's touch caused in him, focusing pointedly on the braided man's words. "I'm fine."
Duo pulled back, not seeming entirely convinced. "You sure? You don't have a fever, but you don't exactly seem up to par."
"Hn. Here's no reason to be concerned. I'm not ill."
Duo only shrugged. "'Kay. If you say so. You've been working too hard. I think you could use a little fun."
Heero blinked.
Duo's grin equaled that of an impish child. "Don't you remember? You promised to go out with me tonight."
He vaguely recalled such a promise, made half-consciously the previous morning to a chattering, jovial Duo. While Duo was clearly a morning person, he was not.
"Hai. I remember. Just let me change."
Holding up an extremely familiar denim jacket, Duo grinned again. "Already taken care of."
Shrugging out of his uniform jacket, comfortable to go in the navy t-shirt underneath, Heero had to give Duo the credit for his persistence.
----
The skies above them were endless ebony, stretching out toward space, littered with infinite clusters of glittering stars. The night air was pleasantly cool, a soft breeze sweeping over the green hill that served as a perch for the two young men. Heero raised his face to the cool wind, ruffling his unkempt hair and loose jacket. Smiling at the open expression of delight on his friend's face, Duo did the same, closing his eyes at the pleasant sensation.
With a content sigh, Duo flopped onto his back, the dewy grass opening to cushion his fall, as he stretched out his long body and folded back his arms. Heero copied his position, taking the opportunity to study his companion.
At twenty years old, Duo was just as enticing and attractive as he had always been, holding the same mesmerizing effect over Heero of which Duo had always been obliviously unaware. Boyish good looks had faded into an adult, masculine beauty, his body taller, slender, wiry, and sleek with muscle, his eyes breathtaking and mischievous, an alluring violet, rich chestnut hair pulled back into the trademark, thick braid falling to his waistline, full lips continually pulled into an amiable smile or a devilish grin. The air around him was charged with charisma, the kind of power that drew people to him, a face so full of animation and eyes lit with character and emotion.
As the moonlight spilled down over them, the violet-eyed boy appeared almost ethereal, an apparition beyond Heero's reach, bathed in the pale glow radiating the goddess of the night skies. The breath caught painfully in his chest, his throat tightened, as he was overcome by a familiar wave of painful longing. Duo really was breathtakingly beautiful, almost androgynous in appearance with flawlessness of features that seemed nearly fey, but at the same time so clearly male.
A content smile played across Duo's lip, as he turned his head to look at his companion. "Hey, Heero, I've got something to tell you."
"Hn. What is it, Duo?"
"You know how Hilde and I have been seeing each other and all, right? We've been together a long time, ya know, and I've been thinking a lot lately. We're all getting older, and Trowa and Quatre have already settled down."
At the mention of their fellow pilots and friends, the first thought in his mind was the fact that it was with each other Quatre and Trowa had settled down, but Heero chose not to comment.
"Like I said, we're not getting any younger." It was an odd thing to say, since they were only nineteen, but again, Heero did not interrupt. Mostly, because he too knew the true meaning of morality and how today could easily not become tomorrow for any of them. "So I've been thinking that I want to propose to Hilde."
The deer-in-the-headlights syndrome, that was the way Duo would have commented on Heero's expression had he noticed. That was exactly Heero's feeling, as he stared unseeing at the skies above them, wanting so desperately for it not to be true. An anxious knotting in his stomach, his mouth gone dry, the urge to confess to the young man beside almost too strong to resist.
"And anyway, I was wondering, if you would…maybe consider being my best man."
Forcing his best smile, Heero reached out to give Duo's braid an affectionate tug. "Why the hesitation? We're best friends, aren't we? I'd be honored to be your best man."
Duo threw an arm around him, giving his torso a firm squeeze that translated to a friendly embrace. "Thanks, buddy. I don't know what I would do without you."
They spent the next few minutes in a comfortable, companionable silence before Duo's hesitant, questioning voice broke the quiet around them. "Hey, Heero. Do you think Hilde will say yes to marrying me?"
Heero's half-smile was sad and resigned, as he slipped an arm around the other pilot in return. "Anyone that truly loves you, Duo, could never deny you anything." He should know: he was definitely one of them.
Heero being the taller of the two (puberty having worked in his favor), Duo's head fit perfectly as he rested it against Heero's shoulder, his body curling against the contours of Heero's body. Heero worked desperately to stifle the ache inside. They really did fit perfectly.
"Heero, I know this is gonna sound sappy and all, but I want you to know something. Even though I might be getting married and all, I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. I'll always be your best friend, no matter what happens."
His smile genuine this time, bringing life to his eyes and the features of his face, Heero made a single daring move, as he dropped a feather-light kiss to the crown of Duo's head. "Thank you, Duo. You have no idea how much that means to me."
He had been a coward that day, and for the whole five years before that fateful night. With every change given to him imaginable, Heero had remained stubbornly silent, never summoning the nerve to confess his feeling for the other man. In the end, he was too late.
Hilde accepted Duo's proposal and they were married a scarce two months later. Heero presided as the best man at the ceremony, going on to be named godfather of each of the three children born to them. Though painful as it was for Heero, the half-decade that followed that fateful night was a peaceful time, and one Heero could not begrudge Duo or his wife. He knew in his heart, that with his past as an orphan, the one thing Duo had desired the most was a family of his own. As much as Heero loved him, treasured him, he also knew a family- children, home and hearth, was the one thing he could never give Duo.
He felt first the weight of hands against his shoulders, and then the sensation of a lithe body leaning ever so slightly against the broad expanse of his back, snapping him out of his reverie. The warmth of the body behind him was a welcome relief to the chill of the room and he rested a strong slender hand over a smaller. The owner of the other said hand touched fingers with his, rough and masculine of gentle and feminine, the contrast of tanned skin against porcelain white sharp and obvious.
The voice that reached his ears was warm and chiding, undertone by affectionate exasperation. "Daddy, you let the fire go out in the hearth again. You know how bad the heat is up here at the cabin. How many times have I told you you'll catch a chill that way?"
A soft smile touched his lips, as he raised his eyes to meet those of his eldest daughter, their gentle violet full of genuine concern. He gave her hand a reassuring pat, turning his eyes to gaze once more out the window. "My apologies, Helen. I'll be more careful next time."
No matter how much he aged, his formal and distant way of speech never left him. Strange as it seemed to her and her siblings, it was something she had grown accustomed to. But now, the formality of his words made him seem more distant than ever, as if a single slip would send him beyond her reach forever.
Dispelling her darkening thoughts, the concern never left her eyes as his attention left her. Her mouth pulling into a disapproving frown, she moved her hands to bring her closer to him, twining her arms around his neck. Taken by surprise at the sudden embrace, Heero remained silent, reciprocating by giving her arms a gentle squeeze."
"You're thinking too deeply, Daddy. I can see the memories in your eyes. They're so alive there it's almost as if I could live them myself. Is it really that hard to let go of the past?"
Tightening her arms around him, pressing her face to the back of his shoulder, she took reassurance in him. She could feel his warmth against her cheek, through the smooth fabric of the shirt pulled taut against his broad and muscular back. Her precious father, strong and solid as ever.
He smelled of many things, the fresh laundry smell clinging to his clothing (clothes she'd cleaned herself). The rich scent of evergreen from his hours in the forests surrounding their vacation home, causing her to smile as she remembered the way he took her younger brother of long walks in the woods, bonding as father and son. There was a faint trace of sweat and sandalwood that dominated the dojo-style room he used to train, fluid and graceful to protect and guard them from the outside world. The unique musk that was entirely his own, stirring her nostalgia of the familiar warmth and smell in that never failed to lull her to sleep his embrace.
Their honorable, loving Daddy.
"Daddy, it scares me to see you like this. You seem so deep in the past, as if any moment you'll just drift away." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm afraid to lose you."
Shocked and appalled that he had caused such worry in the young woman, Heero dropped a kiss to her hair, his arms strong and reassuring as they wrapped around her. "The past is where it belongs. My sweet child, nothing could ever take me away from you as long as I have a say in the matter. Shinigami himself has a fight on his hands when he comes for Heero Yuy." Watching her smile at his humor, he brushed one last fatherly kiss across her forehead. "Helen, you, your sister and brother are my world. My world and my future. I'll look only to my future, darling, and not to my past."
"I'm glad to hear that, Daddy. You're everything to us too."
At eighteen, Helen was the eldest of his three children. A beautiful young woman on the cusp of womanhood, she reminded him more of her mother than her sire. She wore black hair pulled into a thick braid at her shoulder, her eyes the same brilliant violet color all three siblings shared.
For thirteen years, he had been a single father to three children that were his own in every way but biologically. He had seen each of them born, watched them grow and learn, to walk, talk, swim and ride, blossoming into the individuals they were today. Five years into his marriage to Hilde, both Duo and his wife were killed in a shuttle accident on their way home to L-2. Despite their youngest son being a newborn, Duo was an instrumental leader in his home colony's restoration, and an emergency situation had called him and Hilde away in haste, leaving the children in Heero's care. Paired with his devastation was the shock of Heero's life, when he found that, in Duo's will, he was named the sole guardian of said children.
The shock and pain of Duo's death had nearly been Heero Yuy's breaking point. For a man who had lost everything, this final loss had come so close to being the catalyst for his own destruction.
He remembered all too well what it felt like to kneel in the snow beside that cold headstone, his body chilled and numb from the frostbitten air around him. He was far too exhausted to shed anymore tears where countless others had already fallen. He would never know the truth of that afternoon, whether if had been a delusion of his fatigue or something unexplainable. But he had been sure in that moment, when he was at his lowest, that he felt the warmth of familiar arms around him, a whisper of his name against his ear. Only hours after the reading of Duo's last will and testament, he made a final promise beside the empty grave that served as Duo's memorial.
Her arms still around him in a loose embrace, Helen watched with interest as the different emotions played over her father's usually stoic face. She had been five when her mother and father passed away, the only one of the three children old enough to at least vaguely remember her parents. Despite lingering memories, Heero was everything she needed in a father and she loved him dearly as her own. Only to her, Heero would sometimes share his memories of her birth father and the expression on his face as he recalled was one she would never forget. When she was old enough to understand, it had all added up to one inevitable conclusion, his soft, open look as he remembered, his sadness.
Heero had been in love with her father.
As surprising as the conclusion was, she never said a word to the man she called Daddy, whether out of fear of upsetting him or to keep the knowledge her own secret, she never knew. But the thought warmed her that her birth father had been so loved.
"You little monster! Get back here."
Both of them jolted back to reality by a sudden scream, father and daughter watched as two blurs flew into the room. Releasing himself from Helen's embrace, Heero shot to his feet, as his children came barreling into the room.
"You annoying brat!" was his daughter's yelp, followed by his son's retaliation as he yanked at his sister's hair, earning another high-pitched screech.
Heero reached out, catching his youngest child by his collar before he crashed into a wall. The boy struggled against him, snarling at his sister as the teenagers continued to trade insults.
"Duo Maxwell Yuy! Calm down. Both of you stop this instant!"
Reluctantly, the fighting pair obeyed.
Rubbing his temples and throwing an indulgent look over his shoulder to Helen, Heero smoothed out his son's shirt, restraining the indignant boy by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Alright you two. What's going on?"
Lena tossed back long chestnut hair, violet eyes narrowing as she pouted in way that was very Duo-like. At fourteen, she pulled off the look in a way only a teenage girl could. "He messed with my makeup! It's all over my carpet and vanity!"
On the opposing hand, thirteen-year-old Max shot his sister a Heero-like death glare. As much as he looked like his father, from his light eyes to shoulder-length brown curls (of which his father had been trying to get him to cut for ages) he was more like his adopted father than nature usually allotted, serious and moody. "She told Alice I have dog breath, Dad. Now she won't kiss me."
"First of all, Lena, what did I say about you using makeup? Not until you're sixteen. And Max, you're too young to have a girlfriend!"
Over the years, the pain of Duo's death had lessened, and the memories of the man he loved were recalled with joy and fondness instead of heartache. He may never have been able to give Duo a father, but he could watch over the one Duo did have. After all, it had been his final promise