A dark-light skinned hand rose in the air and brought against the cheek of the young brunette. The brunette bothered not to flinch at the contact, which was not the reaction in which Bonzo wished to see. With dark eyes, the Spanish man glared at the male. "Pay attention, Wiggin," he commanded in a soft voice. "Yes, sir," Wiggin responded in the equal soft voice.

Bonzo tore his sights away from the brunette and continued down the line. "You will follow any order I give you. If one of you gets shot, no one will stop to help." His eyes flickered back to the brunette. "Is that understood?" A chorus of yes, sir! echoed through the air. "Good," Bonzo whispered, stepping towards the middle of the line up. "Make me proud." The words came out as a faint whisper, but the soldiers in line heard. They all saluted him at once and ran towards the fields of war cries and blood.

It did not end well.

Within ten minutes, his force was gone. Bonzo, standing to the side, observing the world impact happening, spat on the ground.

They had failed him. They had failed him. Not they all.

The Spanish commander stood in place as he watched one lone soldier of his march up to him, not hurt, not defeated. Bonzo raised a hand to prepare to issue another slap against the cheek, but at the last moment, he froze, an inch from the brunette's face.

"I defeated them," Wiggin said, "I destroyed them."

Bonzo's hand fell to his side. "So I see you did."

Silence overtook the arena as the two stared at each other.

"How old are you, Wiggin?"

"Twenty-one now, sir. It's been fifteen years since we met."

"I know that," Bonzo replied softly, "I'm not stupid."

"Of course not," agreed the brunette with no enthusiasm.

Darkened eyes trailed over the twenty-one year old's body, then towards the eyes.

"It's only the two of us, now," Wiggin whispered.

"What about it?" Bonzo questioned.

It was answered by Wiggin placing a hand out.

The Spanish man glanced at the hand, then returned sights to the face of his only survivor.

"Why would I become friends with some fool that broke me?"

The hand fell, and Wiggin's face twisted into pain. "I didn't know."

This time, Bonzo's hand did fly across the younger man's cheek.

Wiggin's head remained turned in the direction in which the blow was given. "I was six years, nine months, and twelve days old," the brunette recited in a quiet voice.

"You broke me," the commander repeated. Anger began welling its way up the chest. Bonzo stared at the figure in front of him, who remained unmoving in position.

"I'm sorry." The apology was whispered and barely audible for the Spanish man to hear, but it was heard, nonetheless.

Bonzo kept his sights on his surviving soldier. "No, you're not," he replied quietly through thinned lips.

Wiggin lifted his head and looked straight him. "I love you, sir."

"You are fifteen years too late," the Spanish man whispered.

The lone soldier held his gaze with Bonzo's. "I thought you were beautiful fifteen years ago, sir."

"I do not care what you thought of me fifteen years before this time. That was the past. It stays the past."

The brunette, instead of answering by words, grabbed his rifle and held it out to the commander. "I did not shoot, sir. "

A frown dawned upon Bonzo's lips. "Why did you not?" he asked thinly.

"I did not want to die yet."

Bonzo's lips pressed into a firm line. "And why is that?"

Wiggin met his eyes once more. "Because you were still alive, sir."


Notes: I'm not entirely sure if Ender was brunette or not. I imagined him to be. Annnd this is alternate universe, by the way. We needed some Endzo ( or Boner . . . ? ) love on fanfiction ; so here's to that slash couple ! Reviews are LOVED!