This is the second Nicol x Yzak story of mine – this one will be more than one chapter, though I'm not sure how long it will continue for – it'll be short though! It's totally A/U so there… No space, but there is a war.

I don't own Gundam Seed or the characters D:

Summary: Life is cruel – crueller still to those who are close to giving up. Nicol is beginning to become suspicious of Yzak's mysterious money generating activities.

Yzak's Memory

X

Watching the stained, tattered sheets move with each even, light breath brings back memories. The green haired male lying next to me in the dark flat was the cause of much grief in my life, but then much personal satisfaction and pleasure came from the knowledge that he was here because of me. Any smile of his would brighten up the darkest of my days. My eyes can't see his innocent features in the lightless room, but I know two little lines mark his frown. Frowning was a common feature of Nicol's sleep. I wonder if he dreams of his past, perhaps nightmares caused those small indentations.

Our pasts are similar, alike in the most unfortunate ways; both of our fathers were conscripted for a war which tore our country apart, and our mothers died from the drugs that dulled the pain of grief. His was a slightly more violent end, his mother raped and murdered whilst he watched, helplessly trapped in the closet in which she hid him. I would say that it wasn't fair, but life was never fair. Life is a bitch. There is no argument against it. It was that bitch that brought us poor orphans together, and not under pretty circumstances.

Once left to fend for myself, I toughened up fast. I didn't even notice the loss of conscience, or the way I became more cautious and cold towards others. There was little room for love, warmth and sympathy on the streets. I fought everyone and anything just to survive. It must have worked, because I'm still alive today. I'm even lucky enough to be living in a one room flat that barely fits the mattress my companion and I lie on. The area is rough, not a place one typically aspires to live in, and the noise is continuous. The reason I can't sleep is the constant crashing and shouts that echo through paper thin walls. I never was a deep sleeper anyway. Back to the point; whilst I was hardening myself to the criminal life, Nicol refused to leave behind his childish sympathies and naivety. And as anyone could predict, the boy was a target, prey to the perverted minds of the drug addicts and bozos of the underworld. As he got older, I assume he got tired of running from knives and guns, or his health dragged him down, because I've seen the scars on his lithe body. The frown on his sleeping face is there for a reason, sleep is the only time his shield of fake contentment is dropped.

I remember the day I found him so clearly, it wasn't a good day. A storm threatened, it had been gathering in thick bruised clouds, waiting to bleed torrents on the streets in a feeble attempt to clean the scum away. Most sensible people were avoiding the thought of leaving shelter, I was too young to stay inside, too poor and too out of luck. I had to eat somehow, and on the streets, you live by the day, the moment. So I had to leave, and find a source of cash for the day. First attempt to pick pocket my way to a meal had been a failure. A particularly sensitive woman had picked up on me, the short female moved too fast to see, landing a backhander before I could scat. Pride bruised, and the cops alerted to the fact there was a thief in a brown hoodie wandering, I knew that I couldn't stay in the area. Apart from sticky fingers, there are other talents that I didn't know I had until I was forced to protect myself; some of them come in handy if you want to gain a little extra cash. One such talent would be street fighting. It helps that I had a mentor for a month who taught me much about the style needed. As the day was probably going to be a failure and I needed something solid to eat, street fighting seemed the obvious tactic to gain the needed meal.

As afore mentioned, it wasn't a good day; I ended the only fight of the day almost knocked cold. Having no cash to pay my opponent, I was marked as being in debt, I would have to pay interest on the winnings later – probably get another beating to top it all off. So I wasn't in the best mood as I limped back to my apartment, by which time the foul sky had decided to let loose and was planning to flood the city out. It was as I passed the entrance to a particularly grimy alley that I heard the sounds of a fight, but it wasn't a typical street fight with spectators. No, to my ears it sounded as though two men were beating up a woman. Small gasps, only just audible, seemed to me very feminine. The thought of a woman being beaten up ticked me off. It dug at some odd sensibility instilled into me in my childhood; my father after all had been a most chivalrous man and had insisted that a man had to look after a woman in trouble. In my beaten state I wasn't going to be much of a help to any woman, but a nagging dragged me into that alley. In an attempt to appear more foreboding, I had my hand shoved deep into my pocket, as though I had a gun hidden there. Then it was time for the big entrance, without even taking my opponents into account, I charged and shouted. God, I was so incredibly stupid on that day. My shouts caught the men by surprise; they turned away from the cowering woman and stared at me. They were obviously fools for they took one look at the shape under my pocket and fled. They were cowards, and I have a lot to thank for that small piece of good luck.

The small feminine figure crawled away from me, assuming that I was now the predator, that I had chased away the previous attackers to take her for myself. Begging weakly for mercy, she finally curled up into a ball, her body racked with silent sobs. The scene almost made me choke. What was I doing? She was terrified of me, how was I supposed to prove to her that I wasn't going to hurt her? As I moved slowly toward the pathetic figure, she flinched. Finally, I rested a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling violently. How could anyone be in such a state? "I'm not going to hurt you, miss. Please, can you stand, did they hurt you?" I know I sounded pathetic, but obviously it made me sound more trust worthy. It took a lot of cajoling to get the woman to finally lift her face and look up at me, by the time she did so I was knelt beside her and we were both thoroughly soaked. It hadn't stopped raining either. Slowly the damp head lifted, her hair was short, rat-tailed by the rain but appeared to be a dark colour. That was when I realised this was no woman. In fact, it was a boy. He may have looked fairly feminine and small, but there was no doubt in my mind that that beautiful face belonged to a male. Brown eyes brimming with water, red from tears and shadowed from hunger and lack of sleep, begged me to help – to do something, anything. But what could I do? I was in a state of shock, how could anything so masculine be so attractive? Never had I thought of a girl in such a way, I had thought it odd that I wasn't attracted to any of the beautiful girls that surrounded me, and now I knew I was completely insane. Confused, that I was, but I also knew for certain that I had to take this weak creature home and nurture it. He needed help and I would provide it.

"Th..." There was a small pause before he gained the courage to attempt to speak once more. "Thank you..." Even though his body trembled violently from the cold and fear, the words were whispered so delicately. Convulsively, I reached out and took his small body into my arms. I had no idea what I was doing, but he was cold and wet and my body seemed to be producing enough heat to make my skin steam. The embrace of course caused the boy to flinch and stiffen. It must have been minutes before he finally relaxed, seeing that I was not going to hurt him. Still, he didn't wrap his arms around me. Realising that the shaking was getting worse, I released him and moved to lift him. I know I didn't eat much, but this boy was somehow much thinner than me, dangerously thin. Lifting the boy didn't take much, although he seemed to want to fight back, but he didn't have the strength. With some effort, I carried his shaking body back to where I was currently residing – where I happen to still be residing.

The room we live in is just that, a room, a very small room. When I found it, someone had kicked the door in and dragged the last resident away, so I don't legally own it – I couldn't own anything. Still, it's a shelter and a pretty good find if you consider where I could be living. Anyway, this room saved Nicol's life. It seems odd to thank a room for saving someone's life but I do anyway.

When we had reached my room, the boy in my arms was asleep, frowning just as he does now. So, I placed him carefully on the mattress, gathered all the sheets I owned and stripped his wet clothes off him. During the removal, he writhed a lot, though he didn't wake. He was probably trying to fight me off unconsciously but not doing a very good job at it. Completely stripped, I could see every little scar and mark on his body. Every single one of them made me cringe. To see a body of a young boy marked so made my blood boil. I had a desperate wish that I had found him earlier, that I had been able to protect him from the treatment he had endured. But no one can change the past by wishing, and I forced myself to work in the present. I could help him now. After drying him with one of my extra shirts, I stripped and dried myself. It would do no good if I got ill from neglecting myself. Both of us dry, I looked him over again. I could see now his hair was an odd moss shade. Trying not to think about him as attractive, but as a person in need, I noted that indeed even wrapped in my blankets he was still shivering. This was bad. If I could not warm him, I probably wouldn't get him well again. There was only one thing I could do, use my own body as a heat source.

Slipping into the sheets, I was increasingly aware of how naked we were. It was unfortunate but perhaps for the best that all my clothes were completely soaked – I'd used my only spare clothing to dry him. Trying to put it all out of my mind I wrapped us both tightly in the sheets and blankets, and finally wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. He was so frail, I was afraid I might break him. Without much warning he turned toward me and buried himself in my arms. I remember tensing at that moment. The action caused the sensation of being needed surge through me, but the awareness of the naked male in my arms clashed. I had to calm myself. Breathing in the scent of his damp skin and hair didn't help in the least. I knew that it was going to be a torturous night. Still, I lay awake and held him close to my body's warmth, feeling his own boy warming in my arms.

I think I only slept for minutes at a time that night; every small movement in his sleep caused me to wake. Only I didn't want to feel attracted to the boy, I didn't want to be so weird. I was sure he would only hate to have anyone, especially another boy lusting after him. I resolved over that night to not let my feelings for him show, I would deny their existence and they would disappear. Eventually, I thought I would fall for a girl. I was only attracted to him because he needed me, and it was a rare feeling that I seemed to hunger for.

At least, that was what I had thought at the time.

X

Ah, chapter one. It's pretty short. Any criticisms are greatly welcomed! Please, please C&C, please?