Title: Farewell to the Gone

By: Evil Turkey
Warnings: Angst, Language, short Lime/Lemon.
Disclaimer: I'm betting you've heard it before. I'm not going to waste my hot air repeating myself.
Hilde's POV

Something is different; I can feel it. He's quieter, sometimes even detached. I don't know what has happened, but it is something serious. He won't answer any of my questions or respond to any of my touches. It's like it used to be, before he let me in. I can still see the sheen of sweat on his pale face, his temples throbbing with his racing heartbeat, the look of terror within his wide, scared eyes. I can remember when he feared sleep and the nightmares that awaited him in the darkness. He overcame that! More to the point, WE overcame that. It's done, over-with, almost forgotten!

He sleeps calmly; no more late-night screams, no more trembling and shivering with cold while drenched in sweat. I will never miss seeing the haunted glaze that consumed his eyes; but even now, in the dark corner of my mind, I find myself wanting to go back. Oh, I would never wish the pain on him again, no, but oh how I wish I could be his sole reason for existing again. I was needed then, depended upon so heavily. I calm those selfish thoughts with the simple fact that he is whole again and rid of the phantoms of his past.

My chest constricts as my thoughts overwhelm me. Is that all he needed me to be? Was I here just to be the guiding light through his darkness? Now that he is out of that realm, is my light no longer needed in this world so full of it? Is my presence even necessary now that he has regained control and is making a life of his own? Does he even still want me? He hasn't touched me in two weeks, and made love in even longer. I can barely breathe for the ache in my chest is so great.

Not wanting to awaken the sleek, muscular form beside me, I take great care to ease from the bed. Padding across the hall and down the stairs, I head to the kitchen. My head swims while I am still on the stairs, forcing me to clutch desperately to the banister lest I tumble the remainder of the descent. It is like the walls of my life are crashing down around me. I can almost feel my life draining out of my body, even as I make my way shakily into the kitchen.

I don't care to fight the tears that suddenly well up in my eyes. They sting as they overflow and burn hot streams down my cheeks. I can no longer support myself and it is all I can do to guide myself safely to the floor. The sobs tear at my throat and as I lay on this cold, hard, unforgiving tile I allow my sorrow to take over. In my heart of hearts, in the core of my very soul, I know he is gong to leave me. With every beat of my heart the blood within my veins whispers the inevitable truth.

I will be all alone.

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I feel exhausted; drained. I grope numbly for the counter edge and struggle to haul my weight, which seems twice as much as normal, upright. I fumble with a tumbler and gulp water from the tap. Heaving from lack of breath, I set the cup down with more force than I had intended. The sound echoes through the empty kitchen and fades out into the rest of the quiet house. The sound jars my muddled mind like a slap to the face and I blink rapidly in surprise. Turning, I stare down the long path that will take me back to the room that I share with Shinigami. I know that I will crawl back into the bed that I had given my innocence away on. I know that I will yearn to reach out and touch him, and I also know that I won't. I will lay stiff on my own side of the bed and beg for sleep to claim me.

For in the land of slumber, all dreams come true.

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He left. I knew he would. Yet still I'm surprised. My worst fears have come alive and have consumed my life. I am alone and I am empty.

Make me feel loved…

Want me like he didn't…

Harder…

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I lay here staring at a ceiling I do not recognize. I fight the urge to squirm in my discomfort caused by the cooling stickiness. My sensitive parts throb and cry from the brutal (welcomed) assault of the previous hours. I feel low and dirty but cannot bring myself to care. I no longer wish to live, but I don't have the desire to exert the energy required for killing myself either. The thought of casting my useless life out into limbo sounds so good I feel a faint smile tug at the corners of my down-turned lips.

How could you have betrayed him? echoes inside my head, voiced by the small part of me that will always love him and will always believe he will come back, no matter how many years go by. My practical mind snorts at the naiveté of the question and quickly smothers the condescending whisper.

The redolence of sex hung heavily in the room and clung to my senses. It would not allow me to forget what had happened; the way his calloused fingers had twisted at my tender nipples, the sensation of his tongue teasing at my throbbing womanhood, the way the pain coursed from my center and spread throughout my entire body as he plunged deep inside of me, and the pleasure that built and built until it exploded – causing my eyesight to blink out and my head to swirl with its intensity. I blinked rapidly and shook my head, banishing those thoughts from my head.

Quickly I search the room for my belongings and hurriedly dress. The guilt in my heart continued to nag me, which only caused to frustrate me further. I was not only a grown woman, but apparently a single one at that. There was no just cause for a guilty conscience – the man I had considered myself married to had left, and you can't cheat on someone who is no longer there.

I just want to forget. I want to fall head first into the black void that was consuming me from the inside. It would not promise me peace, but it offered quiet solitude and blissful apathy. I yearned for my raging emotions to cease to exist, and should I succumb I would achieve just that. I could not withstand their onslaught and their unforgiveness; they would taint my soul and I would grow wicked. I'm surprised I care, but evil would never sit well with me – I would rather be heartbroken than sinister.

Having dressed and gathered my scarce belongings, I pause with my hand on the door handle. Against my better judgment, I turn to look upon the sleeping form that I was leaving. Quietly, my eyes travel along the line of his thigh still hidden beneath the tangled sheets, along the point of his hip, across the relaxed muscles of his defined chest, and finally settling on his face that was half hidden beneath tousled bangs. I know if he were to open his eyes, my own pain would be reflected within their cobalt depths. I'm thankful that he didn't.

"Goodbye, Heero…" I whisper to the still room. He stirred, signaling to me that it was time to leave. I stepped over that threshold without a second look back, wondering what there was left for me. There is no love for Heero in my heart; he is no more than a long-time friend. I could never have a future with him; he belongs with Relena.

I, apparently, belong to no one.

I will return to the house that was once a home and I will suffer as I clean, scrape, and pack away all of the reminders of Duo. It will hurt; I will cry, but in the end I will be OK. I have a long road ahead of me, filled with bumps and potholes. I know Duo will never come back, so I will convince myself not to wait, not to hope, and someday…

I will live.

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Days…weeks…months…they blend together to form the years that have passed. Nothing stays the same. It seems we all have changed in one way or another. I no longer ache for the touch of Shinigami. Granted, life is nothing like it used to be, but things are going well. I don't cry at the site of violet eyes, I don't chase after strangers with chestnut braids. I left that house; it was suffocating inside and was draining my soul. Like him, I moved on, albeit forcibly. I still miss him, but no one can live in the past forever. Like him, I have conquered.

Never has anyone captivated me as much as he did. To this day, I am still unattached. He set the standards so that none could ever rival them. I am content as I am: a single woman with a precious, loving daughter. With thick, wild brown hair and vivid Prussian eyes, she is definitely her father's child. Relena eventually found out about that night – even if she hadn't, one look at Abigail would have said as much anyway. Thankfully, she came to realize that even the Perfect Soldier makes mistakes.

Every now and then I catch myself thinking of Duo, asking myself obvious questions: Where is he now? How is he doing? Is he involved? Married? Kids? It is simple curiosity that causes these thoughts.

I don't think I would take him back if he ever returned. I have changed too much. But then, I don't think he'll ever come back.

Farewell, my dearest Duo.