Summary: Sometimes what we experience in our past can help shape our future, 1x3, implied 2x5 Endless Reflection Challenge.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, nor do I make any profit from these works.

Endless Blue

They'd bought a house. Sure, that was new. Some might even call that a "big step", but to Trowa it seemed only logical. That cramped one bedroom apartment they'd shared on the west side of town for the last three years had seen it's better days over twenty years ago. It was time for a bigger place—with functioning appliances. It had even been Heero who had come home with the real estate brochures.

So they shopped around. Listed pros and cons together, and ended up picking the house with the large backyard. Because Trowa kind of liked it and Heero had picked up on that. It had three bedrooms. More than they needed, but Heero was already looking into enough gym equipment to fill one room.

So they invited their only friends over to their new and still fairly empty house, even referring to it as a housewarming party. It wasn't as if either of them really knew how to throw a party, but it sounded better than "here is our new address."

Quatre had brought gifts for the both of them, besides the champagne and toasting flute set. First, a check for Heero to help buy a furniture set, as Quatre had kindly pointed out to them, if left to their own devices, the house would remain barren. Which was true, so neither had seen any point in disputing this.

Next he'd presented Trowa with an expensive looking sterling silver flute, since there were no longer any sound restrictions they had to worry about. If the smirk that Heero shot him then was of any indication, he'd blushed.

It was around that time they brought out the whiskey. Because if anything was going to take his mind off sentimental thoughts, the burn of hard liquor would do just that.

Wufei had gifted them a book of Chinese proverbs and a set of scentless candles—wishing them continuous light in their lives from then on.

Duo had made sure to point out that the wine he was carrying was also from the both of them. But the wine opener—he'd known they didn't have—and the bourbon was all on him.

And so they'd all gathered around the small circular table they'd picked up off the street in their old neighborhood about two summers ago. They sat in the cheap plastic folding chairs they'd purchased for the patio out back, and began filling each other in on any and all developments in their lives. It was pleasant.

Trowa had just downed his second shot of whiskey half listening to Duo voice his indignation on the new procedural policies Preventers had just instated. He set the empty shot glass on the island, sliding it forward a ways with a small push of his fingers.

He turned around, surprised to find Heero only a couple feet away. He started to smile but something about the way Heero was approaching him seemed off, so he frowned instead. Duo continued to rant loudly in the background not paying attention to either of them, too caught up in his drama. In his peripheral vision he could just make out Wufei shaking his head at his braided lover. His eyes caught a flash of blonde just past Heero's shoulder. It was Quatre. Correct that. Knowing. Empathic. Quatre. Who seemed the only other person in the room who had also picked up on this change in Heero.

Or maybe he'd seen the object in Heero's left hand.

He inhaled sharply as Heero got down on one knee. A small black box, flipped open with care, revealing a titanium band tucked in satin. Duo was no longer talking.

"Will you marry me?"

[]

They had been young when they'd all met— Young, brave, and all kinds of reckless.

He'd even had a thing for Quatre back then. Enamored with the boy's virtuous intentions and strong convictions, all the while gift wrapped in blond hair and blue eyes. It was those gentle sky blue eyes that had only ever looked at him with kindness that had stirred something inside him, that until then, he hadn't realized was even there. Feelings that grew more pronounced by strands of music in a parlor, a yell from an open balcony window, and a friendly wave at the harbor.

And sure, Quatre had been curious about him too, but not in the way Trowa had desired. And even then, he had never acted on those feelings because despite everything he still valued the idea of a genuine friendship. So instead he had kept his distance, not wanting to corrupt something he found to be pure and congenial.

Of course with Quatre it had been all want and longing, but certainly not need. That was the difference between Quatre and Heero. He may have thought he wanted Quatre at that time, when in all actuality, it was Heero that he needed. Admittedly, it had taken him a while to figure that out. Blinded by teenage hormones, his thoughts were often on golden tresses, not of dark and unruly brunette. And for all the good-natured altruistic words Quatre had to offer, Heero had proved that actions spoke volumes.

[]

He was sixteen when he watched a dark haired boy self-destruct before his eyes in a blaze of light and sound. And as the smoke cleared, revealing a small crater of debris spread haphazardly about, his only thought had been that it was unfortunate.

Even so, admiration had spurred Trowa to retrieve the boy's sad, defeated, and bloody form from that sorrowful battlefield. As he had respected how the boy had accepted all losses and had executed the ultimate sacrifice, and had in doing so, made him a perfect soldier in Trowa's eyes. And what a waste that would have been to leave him in that way.

Yet unbeknownst to Trowa at the time, there was more to the outwardly lifeless husk he returned with, much more. And he had worked tirelessly for a month to restore the boy's broken body back to health. Throughout which time, he remained indifferent as to whatever outcome awaited his self appointed patient. However impressive the boy's tenacity to live may have been.

At least until Catherine's excited voice had called to him one late afternoon to announce that his comatose "friend" had awakened. At which point he had ignored the sudden twinge in his gut as he stepped into his trailer feeling no small amount of trepidation. Sharp cobalt blue eyes, and a scowl solely directed at him awaited his arrival; and from across the trailer, Trowa had felt jolted by the other boy's sheer intensity. He wasn't sure then if he had imagined the room's sudden rise in temperature, but he doubted it was because of the dying rays of sunlight peaking through the window blinds all the same.

Trowa had known from the start that the young man taking up residence in his trailer was nothing like Quatre. Where as Quatre had been friendly, sweet, and approachable, Heero was altogether not. Instead he was cold, blunt, and overwhelmingly potent—Trowa took to him immediately.

From the start they had understood one another in that way that brothers-in-arms often did. Heero intrigued Trowa. That much was certain—As he had fully expected the other boy to leave upon regaining consciousness, and nonetheless he had stayed. A mutual trust gradually formed between the two, and for once in his life, Trowa hadn't necessarily minded. It was in part, due to the fact that Trowa had instantly recognized Heero, as he would have acknowledged any other skilled soldier. Even without the knowledge of his companion's name, Heero had been familiar in the sort of way that Trowa related to that of the mercenaries he'd worked with all his life. And it had set Trowa at ease at first, because he had thought he knew what to expect, and more so, what not to expect from a person like that. Or at least that's what he had thought, initially. Up until the point where Heero had impinged upon the unknown-unknown.

It had started with a passing sidelong glance, a hand on his shoulder that lingered just a little too long, a scowl that softened into a contemplative frown. Subtleties that, only in retrospect, could Trowa see them for what they truly were. But at sixteen anything that subtle quickly turned conspicuous, and he had been preoccupied then anyway.

"Act on your emotions." Were the words spoken to him in a cargo van as they left the circus behind after Trowa's failed detonation. He had momentarily been caught up in darkened eyes that seemed as though they could see straight through to his core. Words like that had never been spoken to him before. And for one who had relied on stifling his own emotions for the better part of his life, Trowa wasn't sure how to comprehend what Heero meant by that. What use could a soldier have for emotions? He didn't know. So instead he followed Heero in the hopes of finding the answer for himself.

From there on he had been swept along on Heero's baffling journey of self atonement, watching as the Japanese youth had offered his life to the families of the deceased Peace delegates he'd decimated back at New Edwards, one after another. Had then gone on to witness a foolish duel that pitted Heero against Zechs Merquise, in the Antarctic's desolate expanse, and all the while still trying to figure out the 'why'. Because Trowa had been determined at the time to find the 'why' hidden in all that foolishness.

Despite all of that, he too had been apart of that folly. Offering up his own suit for Heero to use, in a notion that had surprised them both. And for all that he disagreed with it, it had been important to Heero. So again, against his better judgment, he had done his part to help him.

It was only after the two had split ways that Trowa had mulled that 'why' question over again. Only this time it had been directed at himself. Why did he care? Why had had he stayed— Why?

[]

A penetrating stare, a sharp inhale, a cocked gun, and an unexpected meeting on a moon base reunited the two months later. By that time Trowa had already successfully infiltrated Oz and was working closely with the doctors to ensure a better standing for the Gundams and their cause.

As he remained undercover passing information between the doctors and Heero, a tension that hadn't been evident before, had overnight turned into the obvious. But Trowa wasn't there just yet, and not quite ready to come to terms with it. Heero on the other hand was.

"Forget Quatre." Heero had demanded gruffly of him one visit, as cuffed hands gripped the collar of his uniform forcefully. It was dark, and he'd disabled the cameras earlier. Alone in the security cell they shared their first kiss. It had been hard and electrifying, as much as two sexually repressed teenage boys could express. Then it was back to duty, Trowa's lips still tingling and slightly deafened by the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. That night as he lay awake, Trowa belatedly realized the sunshine smile that he'd held onto for months seemed now to be only a dim memory at best. Replaced by the feel of calloused hands and stormy eyes.

Where as the other pilots had doubted him upon their arrival to the moon base, Trowa held onto the fact that Heero had not. And that had somehow meant something to him, and again it raised that 'why' question, and a part of him he couldn't quell began piecing it all together. But there was far too much at stake to add those kinds of emotions into the mix. A war needed soldiers, and fuck what Heero had said, because Trowa only knew how to think with his head.

Up until the moment Quatre turned on Heero, that is.

Because again, despite instinct, he had thought it would be a waste. Heero was the key to a brighter future— and damn it all, he was important to Trowa's future too! So he intercepted the blast and had taken the hit. Forgiving Quatre in words meant to soothe and also in part to ground the only friend he had ever had.

But that wasn't entirely true, because Heero had been his friend all along—knew him in ways that Quatre never would. And reminiscent of New Edwards, as his mobile suit moved upwards into the surrounding space awaiting destruction, Trowa once again thought the situation was unfortunate. Unfortunate because it was only then that he had finally figured out his feelings for Heero, and there was no longer any time for him to acknowledge them.

"Act on your emotions." As he closed his eyes he could hear Heero's words come back to him as if they were still in that van on Earth. He started, eyes flashing open in bewilderment, had he acted after all? Was this what Heero had meant? In those final moments he wondered if his last gesture would be enough to reach Heero. A part of him dared to hope so. While another part hoped for Quatre's safety in case it did.

[]

Like most life traumas, his near death experience in space had left an irreversible mark on him—Had in fact changed him. And while those changes had been subtle and hadn't hindered his ability to help finish the war, Trowa had never fully regained all of his memories from the time of the Vayeate's explosion. Nor could he recall the time spent in his amnesiac phase.

After the Zero System had opened the floodgates of his mind, allowing for recollections to come rushing back— It had essentially been too overwhelming for the part of him that had forgotten. So ultimately a part of him had been lost, or rather, replaced by what had been.

Instead what he regained were fragmented pieces that collectively summarized his life before his temporary bout with amnesia. He was still the Trowa he'd been at the start of the war. His personality hadn't changed. Only now, there were unavoidable gaps in his life.

On more than one occasion he still needed to be reminded of what had been going on at the time of the explosion, of his actions, what he'd said; all the way up to point of how he'd ended up in the cockpit of Wing Zero. Because for Trowa there was nothing left of that time to remember, even if everyone else did.

He could remember that day on Peacemillion when Heero had acted upon himself to fill in some of the more important gaps that were still missing. It was a memory so embedded in his mind that if he closed his eyes it was almost as if could relive it in real time.

It was the day before the final battle of operation meteor. A familiar hand gripping his shoulder as he came to a stop in a white hallway that seemed noticeably more narrow as he turned to face Heero. A thick wall of glass the only thing separating them from the stars. He'd been captivated by how the bright lights overhead had brought out an endless blue in Heero's eyes. Glued to one spot as he watched the other boy's lips form words that instantly caught his breath.

"We've kissed before."

A stabbing confusion had hit him then—He couldn't remember. But in that way that only Heero could, he drew his attention back to him with just a steady look before frustrating emotions could overtake him. It was the same determined gaze, he'd seen many a time before in battle, but never directed at him. Heero chose that moment to offer to replace Trowa's past with a future, because "When we first met, you did the same for me."

He'd kissed him then, because it was needed, and because words weren't enough in that instant. They kissed for long drawn out minutes, both moved by heady passion and no small amount of desperation. When they did eventually pull apart for air, Trowa finally found his words. "You already have."

[]

He was twenty-seven, and looking down at Heero in honest confusion.

Everything was quiet, too quiet for a room holding five people who'd been drinking. Looking up he could see the reactions on each of their friends' faces. Clean-shaven Quatre was smiling with unusually wide eyes—And shit! He was crying. He had half a mind to tell Quatre to stop, as he was averse to the idea of a grown man crying in his living room. He even got as far as opening his mouth, but no words came out. His mouth was dry—which was odd because he'd just downed a shot— and he was pretty sure now that he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Moving his gaze from Quatre to the slight movement to his right, he watched as Wufei's glass didn't even make a sound as it was placed on top the table in preparation for what was presumed to come. Because that's what everyone was waiting for, wasn't it? That's what people did in these sorts of situations right? Make sure the hands were free and be ready? He vaguely remembered seeing things like this happen on television, granted he'd never paid them much attention, but now that it was happening to him he suddenly wished he'd had.

Wufei straightened, remaining just as poised as Trowa might have expected him to be in this type of circumstance. Thin lips upturned into a barely there smile as ebony eyes caught his with an encouraging wink that seemed to tell him to just accept it and move forward. Which turned out to be strangely reassuring, because he needed someone in the room to act normally.

Unlike Duo, who in Trowa's opinion, needed to learn a few tips from his partner. At least Duo had held onto his whiskey as he gaped at the both of them, looking for all the world like the sky had just fallen. Which maybe it had? Trowa wasn't sure.

But he seriously doubted all the same that even if it had, it wouldn't be nearly as shocking as Heero, still on bend and knee, looking up at him patiently awaiting his answer. And he did have one.

"You once told me the way to live a good life is to act on your emotions—So yes, I will marry you—" His words were cut off by a clash of lips against his, hands holding onto him like a lifeline.

When he opened his eyes a future of endless blue reflected back.

"Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

-Corrie Ten Boom

A/N: Needless to say I was pumped to hear about the GW 20th Anniversary commemorative Endless Reflection Challenge. Inspired by Heero's quote to Trowa in episode 13 that just so happened to connect well with one of the major events in episode 25. Thanks for reading!