Pairings: 1xR, brief mention of 2x5 and 3x4

A/N, or Warning Section: Okay, well, here goes. This fic isn't meant for kiddies – hell, most of Nickelback's songs aren't meant for kiddies. This was written with the song 'Never Again' by, obviously, Nickelback, in mind. Wrote this for English (though originally wrote it last summer) and, while still getting an A, I got cited for having profanity. Bah. Whatever. *g* It's written from Heero and Relena's son's point of view. I'm not normally a 1xR shipper, but I made my Relena to be wicked-brill, so she's aiight. Instead, Heero's evil. Ish.

Flames?: Sure! Why not. Flames are pretty! ^_^

Geez! Lighten up there, will you? I'm not made of gundanium! I'm a freakin' human being – y'know, blood, bones, skin – things that break really easily? Thank you, that's better. Now see, if you had just allowed me to walk ahead of you under my own power instead of dragging me along, I would have been a lot more cooperative from the start.

Shut up. Do you want me to talk or not?

Okay then. That's what I thought. Where do you want me to start? The beginning? Fine. I can do that.

My father is Pilot 01, from way back during AC 195. He had a reputation even then of being heartless, cruel, and painfully vicious to those around him. The others think it was his training that forced this... heartlessness upon him. His training started when he was just a child! A toddler, even! To be trained not to love, not to feel, not to... use the emotions instilled upon us from birth...

Don't glare at me. I'm going.

He always threatened to kill my mother. That definitely started during the war – somewhere in the beginning, I think – because he had never met her beforehand. He wouldn't have even thought about it, if she hadn't found him lying seemingly dead on the beach one day by chance. Ever since, though, he's always had this thing with threatening her with a swift, effortless death. Mom's always laughed it off, so I just assumed that it was an inside joke between them. Uncle Duo's the one who eventually explained the backstory to me.

He became a drunkard after the war, actually. After the Earth and the colonies finally settled on terms of peace, he became Mom's bodyguard. She was of course overjoyed at this. Somehow she wrangled the promise to be her eternal bodyguard out of him. She had always had a crush on him, so it was nothing that wasn't expected. I'm not sure, but I think he figured he was supposed to protect her from outside forces, and not from him. Who knows? The only person who ever got far enough inside his behaviours was Uncle Duo, and Uncle Quatre with that space-heart of his knew his emotions. Unfortunately, they weren't over enough to predict the change.

Oftentimes, Heero would come home drunk. When he'd had enough alcohol – I don't say beer, because he shortly graduated to the harder stuff – his hands would start twitching, and he became louder and more aggressive. I always knew that when his hands started moving on their own volition to stay the hell out his way for the next twenty-four hours for my own safety. Why? 'Cause when he got this bad, any little thing would set him off, raging about this and that.

His answer to everything during this was violence. It used to be that he got drunk enough to be angry but still sober enough to go into the workout room and beat the punching bag until it sprung a leak. Then - I'm not quite clear on the whys and wherefores - but then he started hitting anything that crossed his path. He'd throw things, or he'd just slug me on the shoulder a few times, but he'd stop when you asked.

By the time I'd turned twelve, he'd cracked. There was no warning, no signals, no reason behind it. He just came home late one night, headed straight up to my parents' room, and started beating my mother senseless. I remember sitting straight up in bed following the first scream of pain, and having trouble falling back asleep until long after silence reigned.

What? Of course I thought about coming to you Preventers for help. But then again, no one wants to know that the former Queen of the World was being beaten at night by the Perfect Soldier, the same man who was supposed to be her bodyguard. And, despite my obvious ties to them, no one would believe me. They would think that I was going through the teenage phase of hating my parents and that I wanted to see him in jail so badly that I'd resorted to making up stories.

I'm not one to be laughed at.

So it continued. My mother and I occasionally switched places as the enemy Heero saw before him. She always tried to get to him first before he got to me, though, and that's what happened the last time. See, I'd gotten my report card that day, and was foolishly proud of my straight A's. I had finally brought my microbiology grade up from a B+ to an A-, and damned if I wasn't pleased. The class is my hardest, being an advanced placement course, and I'm the only junior in a class full of seniors. Of course I was happy!

But when he got home after boozing that night, he must have seen the report card hanging on the refrigerator. He hates weakness almost as badly as Uncle Wufei did before Duo got him to loosen up. The way Heero saw it, since he was perfect and had been forced to become so, his son had to live up to his standards.

My mother had anticipated his anger, and had been waiting in the kitchen for him to come home. I was still up in the study, doing my report for microbiology, when the first scream rent the air. My whole body must have jerked horrifically, because I could see heavy, nonsensical scribbles across my paper - once I could see something other than white, that is. For some reason, I couldn't take him beating her any longer. I got out of my seat and started down the hallway as fast as my legs would permit. I was still too late; the only colour I could see around her was red. I must have made some sort of noise – a strangled whimper in the back of my throat, perhaps – because her eyes swung around towards where I was standing. It took a little bit, but they finally focussed upon my own.

"Go back to bed," her voice croaked, and I was astonished. Her neck – hell, and the rest of her body - looked as if it had been run through the wringer, or had been put into the blender and some sadistic bastard had hit puree. Bruises were heavily sprinkled along her throat, and some looked deep enough to warrant permanent damage to her larynx. I remember falling to my knees beside her in shock and appalling amazement that she was still alive.

I was hesitant to move her body, but I knew that every phone line was tapped in the house, and a call to emergency services would be enough to get Heero back in that kitchen. Not knowing to do anything else, I scooped her up as gently as possible and headed out to the garage. Even this slight movement was enough to render her unconscious, for which I was thankful. I drove to the hospital, going over 200 kmph. I left her in the car and dashed into the ER, telling the nurse on duty in no uncertain terms that I needed paramedics outside immediately.

The professionals pretty much took it from there. The next day, my mother was able to write legibly enough, considering her eyes were swollen shut, and she had stitches along the corner of her right eyelid, to explain what happened. She was as diplomatic as ever, not even needing my prompting to say that she had tripped and fallen down the main staircase when an older pair of high heels had broken unexpectedly. The doctors were obvious in their assessment of not believing a word she had said, but hey. She was the former Queen of the World and current Vice Foreign Minister. Whatever she said went without question.

I was able to take her home the day after that, and I could tell that she was far from being ecstatic about the concept. I didn't bother using my cell phone to call any of the other former Gundam pilots, or even my blood uncle, Milliardo. They would figure out what had happened within an instant, and then all hell would break loose. I couldn't allow something like that to happen, especially with Mom's fragile physical condition. So, like any good son, I decided to watch more closely and pay more attention to Heero's drinking patterns. I was determined that next time, there would be no next time.

Things seemed to go a lot more smoothly, however, for the next few weeks. Heero didn't go out drinking as much, and was a much more pleasant person to be around. Mom healed slowly, and after a week she was able to whisper short sentences without much pain. It looked as though she would regain her voice.

Despite the much more peaceful atmosphere of the place, I didn't let my guard down. Even as I hoped that he had finally realized what he was capable of doing, I didn't let my head be run by my emotions. I confronted him about it once Mom could speak in a very low voice for half a minute at a time.

"Do you see the progress she's made?"

"Hn."

"Do you realize how long it's taken?"

"Hn."

"Do you remember how long it took to inflict all this damage?"

"Hn."

"Good. Never forget it. Oh, and one more thing. Get this through your head: Touch her again, and I will kick your ass. You're not fit to be called 'Father.' Fathers are role models for their children. You've been nothing but childish, with these temper tantrums. Stop now, or you'll regret it."

He didn't really reply, but he finally met my eyes at the end of my little speech. I think he knew that I was serious, because a week or two more passed, and he didn't go to the bars once.

But then, for some reason last night he did. Maybe he did badly at work, maybe he was feeling horrible for what he did to Mom and needed to drown his sorrows – I don't know, I can't read minds. I do know, however, that he decided to be incredibly dumb and get drunk. We had thought things had been bad before – we hadn't seen anything yet.

He came home pissed. It was a miracle that he didn't go up in flames on the way home by the manner in which he was driving. I'm surprised no one pulled him over for it, either. Maybe if you had, none of this would have happened.

Yeah, I guess I am blaming you in a way. What? Gonna hit me for it? I doubt it would hurt anyway; Heero's stronger than both of you combined. Oh yeah? Try it.

Hah. Didn't think you had the guts. -- Whoa, man! Geez, okay, okay, no more antagonizing. Sheesh! You don't have to take it personal, you know. Honestly...

Anyway, he got home last night and was... monstrous. He was definitely representing the most terrible side of humanity – if what he was expressing could even be termed as human. No one would have been able to stand up to him and win. I'm not joking. I don't think that even all five of my uncles, with their war skills and training and ganging up on him all at once would have worked, let alone my mother succeeding.

Heero was a stickler for protection, I have to admit that. He made sure that both Mom and I knew how to fire a gun, how to do the basics of martial arts, etc. He also made certain that there was a gun, loaded, in every room of the house. I think he was preparing for the general populace to suddenly have the urge to invade our house at any time.

He came into the kitchen, and this time I was there with Mom, since I was getting a glass of water before bed. He seemed to ignore me entirely, seeing instead my mother with a sense of tunnel vision. I saw her face turn pale, then red, then back to ghostly white. She started backing up timidly as he advanced, and for all of my determination, for all of my intents and purposes and planning, I couldn't move. I couldn't do a damned thing except watch as my mother was about to be attacked by a madman.

Soon, too soon, her back hit the counter, and she jumped. Her hands started scrambling into the drawer next to her. I didn't know what she was planning on doing – beat him to death with a rolling pin, perhaps? – until she pulled out the gun. If I hadn't already been rooted to the spot, I would have been flat on my face in shock at the sudden turn of events.

Heero didn't seem in the least phased. He just kept coming closer, and closer, until there was mere feet separating him. Mom swallowed nervously, took a deep breath, and said clearly, "Stop."

He just grinned ferally, and moved to take another step towards her. Before his foot even fully left the ground, she pulled the trigger, and he fell with a thud to the linoleum flooring.

So. There you have it. My mother killed my father in an act of protection, of self-defense. Is she still going to jail? No, of course I don't want to press charges. He was the sorriest excuse for a human being I've ever encountered! We all die eventually, anyway, and he had long since died on the inside. He'd stopped being the person I grew up knowing.

Okay then. I should just have the lawyers come down then in the morning? Sure, sure, of course. All right. Yes. Thank you for your time.