It was a brief escape from the heat of work, and a chance to journey
into the heat of the desert. Quatre Raberba Winner desperately needed the
extended vacation. The Maganac, a nomadic tribe of 70 men in total, had
invited him to travel with them for a few weeks. It was a small
celebration of the coming of spring and anniversary of the beginning of-
hopefully-a long-lasting peace between the Earth and the colonies.
In the past year, Quatre had made the transition into manhood. His shoulders had broadened and he'd shot up in height, now reaching Rasid's shoulder at 5'7". Quatre smiled softly at the thought of Rasid, his doting, father-like friend. He and Rasid Kurama had a friendship that would certainly span their lifetimes, and Quatre was more than grateful for it. Especially after losing his father and becoming an orphan of sorts. Rubbing his stubble-roughened jaw, which had also squared out a bit in the past months, Quatre let his eyes roam the camp. Many large tents dotted the surrounding area, housing the nomadic men and their small families.
He'd had no idea the Maganac corps were so large. Naturally, he should have guessed that they were larger than a group of simply 40, and that some of the Arabian soldiers had stayed to defend their hometown. However, the thought had never crossed his mind during either of the two wars he'd participated in.
Participated in. Quatre frowned at that. It sounded so mild, to refer to the wars that way. But it wasn't that mild, not by a long shot. People still died, and by the hundreds and thousands. And he'd caused some of those deaths . . .
As if sensing Quatre's somber mood, Rasid approached his young master and lightly touched his shoulder. They were more equals than a master and one of his servants, but Rasid felt that ample respect must be paid to the young man who'd sacrificed so much, and fought so hard to regain it.
"Quatre-sama, perhaps you'd be interested in some breakfast? My daughter arrived in camp last night, and-"
"Daughter?" Quatre interrupted softly, surprised. In their years together, Rasid had never spoken of a family. Quatre had assumed that the somber Captain had never married or had children.
"Yes, my daughter Angel," Rasid answered proudly. His smile was definitely that of a proud father. Fleetingly, Quatre wondered if his own father had ever smiled that way when speaking of his son or daughters.
"You've never spoken of her before, Rasid," he urged gently. A frown touched Rasid's lips for a fraction of a second.
"That's because until about a year ago, I believed she was dead. She disappeared when she was five."
"Five? And how old is she now?"
"Your age, Quatre-sama. If you'd like to meet her, she's making breakfast in the mess tent," Rasid informed him. A teasing gleam entered his eyes. "You'd probably enjoy her company. She's very pretty," he added. Quatre couldn't help but smile at the older man.
"Is that so? Well, I would be honored to meet your daughter in that case," he replied, only half teasing in response.
"Well then, Quatre-sama, allow me to escort you."
*~*~*~*~*
Makoto Tanaka let out a long sigh, gazing up at the Winner Estate. Finally, after years of searching, she'd found him. Heero Yuy, though his original name was Heitai. He was her last link to a painful past. A past she should try to let go. But she didn't have the courage yet, as sad as that was. Makoto Tanaka, the Perfect Soldier, the pinnacle of courage, strength, beauty, and she couldn't even face her own past. Hopefully her hero, Heero Yuy, would help her. It would be by pure luck that he'd remember her at all. Perhaps she'd even be able to talk about her father with him.
Or maybe all Makoto's hopes were premature. She couldn't formulate anything until she'd spoken to Heero, and to do that she was going to have to walk up to the door. The bloody door, which loomed before her as a barrier, though the only real barrier was in her mind. Was she truly ready for this? To see him again? It was true that she longed for the friendship he'd once offered when they were children, but this would be a whole new step in coming to terms with her turbulent past.
With a deep breath and a mind full of hopes, Makoto Tanaka rang the doorbell.
*~*~*~*~*
Heero Yuy was lost in a dream about his past. It was a twisted, dark past; full of pain, loss, anger, and sorrow. His agony only appeared in the dreams, however. His own pride and training kept his tortured soul from revealing anything too personal, even to his comrades. He refused to get close. That would be a liability he couldn't afford. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else, and as a result, he kept everyone firmly at arm's distance.
When he'd lost Mako, he'd lost everything. First his mother, then his father, and finally his only true friend. Odin Lowe had seen to it that he'd been trained as a killer. The Gundam doctors had seen to the rest. Now he was unfeeling. It wasn't much of a life, but it was life. Now, as fruit of his labor, no one would lose anyone close to them in cold blood ever again.
It had only taken his soul, his heart, his very essence to attain that for the entirety of humanity.
He would live on, despite the fact that his loneliness tore at him harshly, from the inside. What a struggle it was to remain heartless, when his entire being called out for something more substantial than his cold existence.
"Life is cheap," he reminded himself aloud. "Don't get attached to anyone, it's easier that way."
Even as he uttered the words, his eyes drifted to the soul picture he owned. One of himself and Mako. His Mako, the girl he'd promised himself he'd marry when he was only four. His strong affection for her lingered in his heart even after thirteen years of absence. Relena meant nothing to him, for she was nothing but a thorn in his side from the moment he'd met her. Mako, however, was his soul mate. He would find her, he had to. She was his very last hope for life.
Heero hardly noticed when the doorbell rang. When he realized with irritation that he would have to be the one to answer it, he rose and walked crisply to the door. It didn't matter who it was, he could pretty much guarantee he didn't want to speak to them.
He was quite wrong, however, on this count.
In the instant in which he opened the door and looked upon the face before him, his world turned upside-down. Heero Yuy, a man of a stone face and cold heart, felt sudden and stubborn tears flood his eyes for a fraction of a second before he impatiently blinked them away.
"Makoto," he whispered his voice hoarse. And then he cried.
*~*~*~*~*
Angel Tsuiraku hummed a little as she assisted in cooking breakfast for the Maganac. She and the other women were working quietly. Light, comfortable conversation passed easily among the women in the mess tent- little digs at their husbands, laughter at the antics of one of the children, and other things to that effect were shared. Angel smiled to herself as she listened. This was peace. There were no worries other than what to feed 70 men, no tears to shed over a heartless war. All there was, all there needed to be, was just this easy conversation and the satisfaction of knowing and being comfortable with those around you.
Angel paused, a pang of loneliness suddenly hitting her. Mako, her best friend, had left her in search of a past that she wasn't entirely sure she could face. Angel had every confidence that Mako would return to her, but it was strange to be without her best friend. Especially after sharing their lives together for so long. What they had been through had cemented the fact that the two of them would remain friends until the end of time. Therefor, it was not easy for Angel to be alone.
"Angel?" a familiar, deep voice called. That voice caused a different pang, a pang of bittersweet happiness. Rasid, her father, was calling her. The father she'd once thought she'd lost forever.
"Papa!" she replied, rushing over to hug him. He towered over her, and looked nothing like her, but he was her proud and loving father. Of that she had no doubt.
"I'd like you to meet Quatre-sama," he told her, smiling at the simple sight of her. He gestured for the young man behind him to come closer. Angel bowed respectfully, smiling. So this was the man her father cherished as a son. He certainly was attractive . . .
"Miss Angel, it's a pleasure. Please, don't bow," Quatre told her. An amused smile tugged stubbornly at Angel's lips. How very interesting he was.
"Certainly, Quatre-sama. It's a pleasure to meet you, as well." If it was formal politeness he wanted, that's what he'd get.
"Just Quatre."
"Then I'll have to insist you call me Angel."
Quatre felt his lips curving at this witty little toss of words. Obviously she was well educated. And quick, as well.
Rasid was also amused by the exchange between his daughter and his master. Angel was certainly going to cause a challenge for Quatre. It was satisfying to know that at last Quatre was showing interest in something other than work. It was equally satisfying that he found Rasid's daughter to be that interesting something.
"You'll have to insist? Rasid, are you sure she's your daughter? She seems awfully headstrong."
"Headstrong?" Angel replied haughtily. "I've just got all the guts of the family."
"Guts? Is that what you're calling your blatant disrespect?" Quatre asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Disrespect? I daresay not."
"Oh, do you?"
"I do."
"Well then. Do you take your tea at four, madam?"
"That I do."
"Very well. I'll see to it that you have the finest tea England has to offer."
"Nay sir, only the strongest, and not the best."
The women in the tent were desperately trying to hide their laughter at this witty, amusing exchange of words. Apparently this woman had the courage to challenge their beloved Quatre-sama, whereas most girls were trying to prove their gentleness and beauty. It had gone from open challenge to stiff and proper English in a manner of minutes, and both parties involved seemed to be on the verge of laughter.
"The strongest, you say?" Quatre managed through chuckles.
"Aye," Angel agreed, then let her laughter ring out. She snuggled into her father's arms, still giggling.
"It really is a pleasure to meet you, Angel."
"Thank you, Quatre. Same goes for you. Now, why don't you sit down and have some breakfast, hm?" she asked, gesturing to the table. Quatre smiled and took a seat, contenting himself to watch her. She moved with an easy grace that fascinated him. Her movements were smooth and flowing without her even having to try.
Rasid smiled in deep satisfaction. Maybe their betrothal would work out after all.
*~*~*~*
"Heero!" Mako murmured, giggling between kisses. "Knock it off!" His response was a longer, deeper kiss. And oh boy could he kiss. They certainly didn't nickname him the Perfect Soldier for nothing. Giving up for the moment, Mako kissed him back.
"I can't believe you're here," he murmured, unable any longer to contain the rampaging emotions inside of him. The very sight of her made him want to melt. He was instantly reminded of a time when he was sill Heitai, young and happy. Probably happy because she was there, his Makoto.
"Whoa, Hee-man, what's up with you? And who's the pretty lady?" chirped an all too familiar voice. Heero loosened his hold on Mako a little, turning his head to look at Duo Maxwell. After all, only an American boy could so rudely interrupt.
"Makoto Tanaka," he answered, turning back to her, meeting her gaze with his own.
"I see.so, when did ya meet her?"
"Duo."
It was a warning Duo had heard many times before. Maybe that's why he figured it was okay to ignore it. He smiled cheerfully and plopped into a chair.
In the past year, Quatre had made the transition into manhood. His shoulders had broadened and he'd shot up in height, now reaching Rasid's shoulder at 5'7". Quatre smiled softly at the thought of Rasid, his doting, father-like friend. He and Rasid Kurama had a friendship that would certainly span their lifetimes, and Quatre was more than grateful for it. Especially after losing his father and becoming an orphan of sorts. Rubbing his stubble-roughened jaw, which had also squared out a bit in the past months, Quatre let his eyes roam the camp. Many large tents dotted the surrounding area, housing the nomadic men and their small families.
He'd had no idea the Maganac corps were so large. Naturally, he should have guessed that they were larger than a group of simply 40, and that some of the Arabian soldiers had stayed to defend their hometown. However, the thought had never crossed his mind during either of the two wars he'd participated in.
Participated in. Quatre frowned at that. It sounded so mild, to refer to the wars that way. But it wasn't that mild, not by a long shot. People still died, and by the hundreds and thousands. And he'd caused some of those deaths . . .
As if sensing Quatre's somber mood, Rasid approached his young master and lightly touched his shoulder. They were more equals than a master and one of his servants, but Rasid felt that ample respect must be paid to the young man who'd sacrificed so much, and fought so hard to regain it.
"Quatre-sama, perhaps you'd be interested in some breakfast? My daughter arrived in camp last night, and-"
"Daughter?" Quatre interrupted softly, surprised. In their years together, Rasid had never spoken of a family. Quatre had assumed that the somber Captain had never married or had children.
"Yes, my daughter Angel," Rasid answered proudly. His smile was definitely that of a proud father. Fleetingly, Quatre wondered if his own father had ever smiled that way when speaking of his son or daughters.
"You've never spoken of her before, Rasid," he urged gently. A frown touched Rasid's lips for a fraction of a second.
"That's because until about a year ago, I believed she was dead. She disappeared when she was five."
"Five? And how old is she now?"
"Your age, Quatre-sama. If you'd like to meet her, she's making breakfast in the mess tent," Rasid informed him. A teasing gleam entered his eyes. "You'd probably enjoy her company. She's very pretty," he added. Quatre couldn't help but smile at the older man.
"Is that so? Well, I would be honored to meet your daughter in that case," he replied, only half teasing in response.
"Well then, Quatre-sama, allow me to escort you."
*~*~*~*~*
Makoto Tanaka let out a long sigh, gazing up at the Winner Estate. Finally, after years of searching, she'd found him. Heero Yuy, though his original name was Heitai. He was her last link to a painful past. A past she should try to let go. But she didn't have the courage yet, as sad as that was. Makoto Tanaka, the Perfect Soldier, the pinnacle of courage, strength, beauty, and she couldn't even face her own past. Hopefully her hero, Heero Yuy, would help her. It would be by pure luck that he'd remember her at all. Perhaps she'd even be able to talk about her father with him.
Or maybe all Makoto's hopes were premature. She couldn't formulate anything until she'd spoken to Heero, and to do that she was going to have to walk up to the door. The bloody door, which loomed before her as a barrier, though the only real barrier was in her mind. Was she truly ready for this? To see him again? It was true that she longed for the friendship he'd once offered when they were children, but this would be a whole new step in coming to terms with her turbulent past.
With a deep breath and a mind full of hopes, Makoto Tanaka rang the doorbell.
*~*~*~*~*
Heero Yuy was lost in a dream about his past. It was a twisted, dark past; full of pain, loss, anger, and sorrow. His agony only appeared in the dreams, however. His own pride and training kept his tortured soul from revealing anything too personal, even to his comrades. He refused to get close. That would be a liability he couldn't afford. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else, and as a result, he kept everyone firmly at arm's distance.
When he'd lost Mako, he'd lost everything. First his mother, then his father, and finally his only true friend. Odin Lowe had seen to it that he'd been trained as a killer. The Gundam doctors had seen to the rest. Now he was unfeeling. It wasn't much of a life, but it was life. Now, as fruit of his labor, no one would lose anyone close to them in cold blood ever again.
It had only taken his soul, his heart, his very essence to attain that for the entirety of humanity.
He would live on, despite the fact that his loneliness tore at him harshly, from the inside. What a struggle it was to remain heartless, when his entire being called out for something more substantial than his cold existence.
"Life is cheap," he reminded himself aloud. "Don't get attached to anyone, it's easier that way."
Even as he uttered the words, his eyes drifted to the soul picture he owned. One of himself and Mako. His Mako, the girl he'd promised himself he'd marry when he was only four. His strong affection for her lingered in his heart even after thirteen years of absence. Relena meant nothing to him, for she was nothing but a thorn in his side from the moment he'd met her. Mako, however, was his soul mate. He would find her, he had to. She was his very last hope for life.
Heero hardly noticed when the doorbell rang. When he realized with irritation that he would have to be the one to answer it, he rose and walked crisply to the door. It didn't matter who it was, he could pretty much guarantee he didn't want to speak to them.
He was quite wrong, however, on this count.
In the instant in which he opened the door and looked upon the face before him, his world turned upside-down. Heero Yuy, a man of a stone face and cold heart, felt sudden and stubborn tears flood his eyes for a fraction of a second before he impatiently blinked them away.
"Makoto," he whispered his voice hoarse. And then he cried.
*~*~*~*~*
Angel Tsuiraku hummed a little as she assisted in cooking breakfast for the Maganac. She and the other women were working quietly. Light, comfortable conversation passed easily among the women in the mess tent- little digs at their husbands, laughter at the antics of one of the children, and other things to that effect were shared. Angel smiled to herself as she listened. This was peace. There were no worries other than what to feed 70 men, no tears to shed over a heartless war. All there was, all there needed to be, was just this easy conversation and the satisfaction of knowing and being comfortable with those around you.
Angel paused, a pang of loneliness suddenly hitting her. Mako, her best friend, had left her in search of a past that she wasn't entirely sure she could face. Angel had every confidence that Mako would return to her, but it was strange to be without her best friend. Especially after sharing their lives together for so long. What they had been through had cemented the fact that the two of them would remain friends until the end of time. Therefor, it was not easy for Angel to be alone.
"Angel?" a familiar, deep voice called. That voice caused a different pang, a pang of bittersweet happiness. Rasid, her father, was calling her. The father she'd once thought she'd lost forever.
"Papa!" she replied, rushing over to hug him. He towered over her, and looked nothing like her, but he was her proud and loving father. Of that she had no doubt.
"I'd like you to meet Quatre-sama," he told her, smiling at the simple sight of her. He gestured for the young man behind him to come closer. Angel bowed respectfully, smiling. So this was the man her father cherished as a son. He certainly was attractive . . .
"Miss Angel, it's a pleasure. Please, don't bow," Quatre told her. An amused smile tugged stubbornly at Angel's lips. How very interesting he was.
"Certainly, Quatre-sama. It's a pleasure to meet you, as well." If it was formal politeness he wanted, that's what he'd get.
"Just Quatre."
"Then I'll have to insist you call me Angel."
Quatre felt his lips curving at this witty little toss of words. Obviously she was well educated. And quick, as well.
Rasid was also amused by the exchange between his daughter and his master. Angel was certainly going to cause a challenge for Quatre. It was satisfying to know that at last Quatre was showing interest in something other than work. It was equally satisfying that he found Rasid's daughter to be that interesting something.
"You'll have to insist? Rasid, are you sure she's your daughter? She seems awfully headstrong."
"Headstrong?" Angel replied haughtily. "I've just got all the guts of the family."
"Guts? Is that what you're calling your blatant disrespect?" Quatre asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Disrespect? I daresay not."
"Oh, do you?"
"I do."
"Well then. Do you take your tea at four, madam?"
"That I do."
"Very well. I'll see to it that you have the finest tea England has to offer."
"Nay sir, only the strongest, and not the best."
The women in the tent were desperately trying to hide their laughter at this witty, amusing exchange of words. Apparently this woman had the courage to challenge their beloved Quatre-sama, whereas most girls were trying to prove their gentleness and beauty. It had gone from open challenge to stiff and proper English in a manner of minutes, and both parties involved seemed to be on the verge of laughter.
"The strongest, you say?" Quatre managed through chuckles.
"Aye," Angel agreed, then let her laughter ring out. She snuggled into her father's arms, still giggling.
"It really is a pleasure to meet you, Angel."
"Thank you, Quatre. Same goes for you. Now, why don't you sit down and have some breakfast, hm?" she asked, gesturing to the table. Quatre smiled and took a seat, contenting himself to watch her. She moved with an easy grace that fascinated him. Her movements were smooth and flowing without her even having to try.
Rasid smiled in deep satisfaction. Maybe their betrothal would work out after all.
*~*~*~*
"Heero!" Mako murmured, giggling between kisses. "Knock it off!" His response was a longer, deeper kiss. And oh boy could he kiss. They certainly didn't nickname him the Perfect Soldier for nothing. Giving up for the moment, Mako kissed him back.
"I can't believe you're here," he murmured, unable any longer to contain the rampaging emotions inside of him. The very sight of her made him want to melt. He was instantly reminded of a time when he was sill Heitai, young and happy. Probably happy because she was there, his Makoto.
"Whoa, Hee-man, what's up with you? And who's the pretty lady?" chirped an all too familiar voice. Heero loosened his hold on Mako a little, turning his head to look at Duo Maxwell. After all, only an American boy could so rudely interrupt.
"Makoto Tanaka," he answered, turning back to her, meeting her gaze with his own.
"I see.so, when did ya meet her?"
"Duo."
It was a warning Duo had heard many times before. Maybe that's why he figured it was okay to ignore it. He smiled cheerfully and plopped into a chair.