Disclaimer-Still no ownership on my part
Tidings of Great Joy
"You know what I've just realized?"
Heero glanced up and backwards at Duo. "What?"
"It's Christmas Eve," Duo said, snapping his fingers. "Which means I've been 15 for 5 days. Happy belated birthday to me."
"You know your birthday?" Heero said, incredulity lacing his words lightly.
"Yeah, I looked up my birth certificate when I was 8." Duo tossed his braid over his shoulder to his front and began toying with the stands of hair sticking out from the tie. "December 19th, AC 180." He looked over at Heero. "You know yours?"
"Sometime in November," Heero answered, shrugging. "How's the side, Quatre?"
"Not feeling much better," Quatre said. Sweat was still pouring from his head. His hand, covered by Trowa's, clasped against his stab wound, and he leaned into Trowa's side for support.
"Sally will take care of it," Heero said, coming to a stop. The doors in front of him led to the command center of MO-II. Inside, he somehow knew deep in his mind, Relena was waiting for him. Briefly he wondered if it was a good thing to meet her again.
"Heero, are you just gonna stare at the door all day, or are you going to let us in?" Duo said, tapping Heero's shoulder.
"Mm." Heero reached forward and pressed his hand against the fingerprint identification pad. "Heero Yuy."
"Identification: Recognized. You may enter."
The woman's electronic voice stopped abruptly with a click, and the stainless steel doors parted like the Red Sea.
"Heero?"
The bright white lights of the command room at first blinded Heero for a millisecond. He blinked away the brightness and managed to see Relena staring at him, her hands clasped to her chest. She took a tentative step forward and then hesitated, biting her lip. Confusion animated her eyes, which stared at him.
"Sally," Heero said in monotone, "Quatre's been wounded in his side, just above the hip. He needs some medical attention."
"Right," Sally said, the doctor in her rising to the surface as she started forward toward where Quatre leaned into Trowa, panting.
Wufei stepped back and leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes and crossing his arms. Duo went forward to Howard. Heero vaguely heard him ask where Hilde was and if she was still okay, and Howard directed him to follow Sally. Une started giving orders to the soldiers, and all eyes averted from where he had been standing with the other pilots. All eyes except Relena's.
Heero cleared his throat and turned his gaze away from Relena, moving to leave. He took one step forward when the click clacking of running feet halted him in his tracks. A body rushed into his back, two arms wrapped around his middle, and a head rested against the base of his neck. Heero's hands traveled to Relena's wrists and softly pried them from his torso. He turned around, managing to twist his wrist so he still gripped one of her hands.
Two bright streaks of tears ran down her cheeks as she tossed off his wrist and launched into him, burying her face in his chest. Her shoulders shook as silent tears cascaded down her face. Heero's uncertain arms faltered in mid-air, unsure as to whether to hold her to him or push her away.
"I suggest you remove yourself and her from the room."
Heero turned his head to look at Wufei. His eyes were still shut, his foot cocked against the wall.
Heero looked back at Relena. She pulled away and straightened up, wiping her tears away with her bent index finger.
"I'm sorry…to cause such a scene," she apologized, continuing to wipe her tears with her wrist.
Heero made a small, guttural noise. He reached forward and tentatively grabbed her sleeve.
"You should probably rest," he said.
"You should, too," Relena said, her eyes still wet but her cheeks now finally dry. "Come-come on, I'll show you to the rest quarters."
She pulled her sleeve from his grasp, and her hand went to his. He blinked at her fingers interlacing with his and gripping his palm. With a step and a small tug, she pulled him forward, towards the door still standing agape.
"How are you doing, Quatre?"
Quatre looked up from where he had been inspecting the fifth layer of bandages wrapped around his side, the only layer that didn't show bloodstains on its surface.
"The anesthetic helps," Quatre said, as Trowa stepped into the room from where he had been leaning on the doorpost. "But…" Quatre had to acknowledge the fact that he had nothing but a paper-thin hospital shirt to cover his upper half. "It's a little cold."
"I imagine it is," Trowa said, walking directly towards Quatre's direction. He glanced to the side towards the other hospital beds. Lying across one of them, IVs still transporting the liquid of life into her arm, was Hilde, her eyes lightly shut.
"She's still unconscious. Duo left to wash up a few minutes ago," Quatre explained.
Trowa nodded his comprehension, and stood in front of Quatre, barely a foot away.
"Here, Trowa, sit." Quatre patted the space next to him. Trowa complied silently.
"The war is finally over," Quatre continued, looking off towards the wall, a smile gracing his lips.
"What are you going to do now?" Trowa asked, glancing at Quatre.
"Go back home, if my sisters will have me," Quatre said, suddenly frowning.
"Why wouldn't they?"
"I defied my father's last wish for me not to fight in Mobile Suits anymore. I dragged my sister Iria home with seven broken ribs without an explanation. And then I built the Wing ZERO and…" Quatre looked away. "You know about that."
"I'm not angry about that at all."
"You have every right to be," Quatre looked back. "I took your memories from you."
"And you gave them back to me," Trowa answered automatically.
"It still doesn't change the fact that I nearly killed you." Quatre looked away abruptly. Trowa thought he saw Quatre's hand go to his face and swipe away something from his eyes. "You could've died because of my weakness."
"I daresay that dying by you is preferable than dying by something like Oz or White Fang," Trowa remarked placidly.
"Don't even talk about dying!" Quatre said, still not looking at Trowa. "We've killed so many people…I'm sick of hearing about killing and being killed…I'll go insane if I hear any more!"
Trowa fell silent for several seconds while Quatre tried to brace his frame again.
"You know…" Trowa started.
"Wha-what?" Quatre said, his voice quivering.
"When my memory was coming back, three very distinct memories hit me. The first was when Heero woke up from his month-long coma in my trailer. The second was when I once tried to self-destruct, but Sis stopped me by giving me a rather hard slap across the face." He paused, flicking his finger against his cheek. "And the very last one was when we first met back in April at the Corsica Base."
"I remember that," Quatre said. "We got in a fight."
"Yeah…sorry about that," Trowa apologized.
"Don't worry about it."
"You'd said we shouldn't be fighting in my memory," Trowa continued. "You've been a pacifist at heart from the very beginning. I, on the other hand…"
"What?" Quatre turned to look at Trowa again.
"I've been a soldier since the day I was born," Trowa filled in. "My very first memory is of being thrown from a cart in an explosion, and my next one is being found by my Captain."
"Your "Captain"?"
"He led a mercenary squad on Earth. They took me in when I was four years old." Trowa's mouth twitched, and he leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.
"What happened to him?"
"He died when I was 10."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Trowa." Quatre's hand stretched forward and took Trowa's.
"I know you don't want to talk about death now," Trowa said abruptly.
"But you've never told me about this…you've never told anyone, have you?" Quatre wondered out loud.
Trowa shook his head. "I won't talk about this if you don't want to."
"No, if you need to talk about it, I'll listen," Quatre insisted, squeezing Trowa's hand.
Trowa exhaled slowly. "We were betrayed. There was a spy in our squad. A girl named Middie. I'd found her and brought her to live with us…I thought she was another orphan like me. She was working for the Alliance to feed her family. We were both 10, and she was in love with me."
Quatre made a small noise of confusion and sympathy mixed together.
"I abandoned her somewhere in France and found another mercenary squad. I left them in 194 to go to L3. I worked for the people who built Heavyarms. The real pilot was killed, and I took his place and his name."
"Your name isn't—?"
"I don't remember what my real name is," Trowa said simply.
Quatre opened his mouth, but shut it again. He squeezed Trowa's hand, which he had not released, again.
"W-when I was 11 years old," Quatre started slowly, "I found out about the test tube process, which is why I have so many sisters. I thought that my father had created me for the sole purpose of having an heir. I went through an identity crisis so bad that I almost ran away to Earth when I was 13. But…when I think about you…my problems seemed so small…"
"Your problems weren't any less important than mine, Quatre," Trowa interrupted again.
"You're too kind, Trowa," Quatre said self-deprecatingly.
"No, you are." It was Trowa's turn to seize Quatre's hand and grip it. "So stop putting yourself down. You do that far too often and you don't deserve it."
"Trowa…"
"Stop it, Quatre."
"But…"
"I said—" Trowa grabbed Quatre's face, effectively stopping his mouth about to move—"stop it."
Quatre's eyes were filled with confusion and a trace of misgiving in between Trowa's tanned hands. He lifted his own hand and swiped at his eyes again, as much to clear his vision as to halt any coming tears. He gave his face muscles a little tug, but Trowa seemed to not notice or ignore it.
"If it'll stop you from hating yourself for at least a minute…"
Trowa twitched his arm muscles and brought Quatre's face up to his. Quatre's eyes instinctively shut as Trowa's own face brushed his, and soft lips connected with his own. Quatre's face gave off a very small spasm as his eyes opened again. Trowa's own dark emeralds for eyes had opened again, and were gazing at him without the odd blankness that usually thrived within them. Quatre shut his eyes again and pressed his face closer to Trowa's. He mind seemed oddly blank even though his stomach was beginning to feel uncomfortably full. From some unknown place in him his Space Heart flared into even more power than when Heero had self-destructed in Siberia, but the power didn't make his heart hurt with unbearable agony this time—rather, it warmed him.
"Guys, I think it's in extremely bad taste to make-out in a hospital room."
Quatre suddenly pulled himself away. "Duo…!"
Duo was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking rather expressionless.
"I suppose it was only natural for at least one set of Gundam pilots to get together," Duo continued blandly, a muscle above his lip twitching, "but must you do it in the same room as an unconscious hospital patient?"
"Duo…I can't believe how tactless we…I'm so sorry…"
Duo suddenly broke into a grin. "Guys, I'm not mad, really. I just felt like busting your chops."
"I think that's in even worse taste," Trowa said placidly.
Duo shrugged, still smiling. "I guess it is. Well, I will be right over there visiting Hilde. Don't stop kissing on my account."
Quatre managed a smile. "I'm glad you don't really mind…"
"Why should I? I was almost making bets with Sally about when it might happen. You two? Man, even Heero could see it coming."
Quatre briefly remembered Heero's words in the Sanc Kingdom: "You can't afford to get killed at this stage of the game. Not until you find Trowa." Had Heero known even then? Had the spark of affection starting in April and steadily fanning into flames of love been an obvious bonfire since even then?
"Quatre."
Quatre looked up at Trowa again. Trowa had fixed him with the soul-searching gaze he had perfected long ago.
"Sorry for kissing you without asking."
Quatre's eyes softened. He let his hand float up to Trowa's face and cup his cheek.
"I'm not mad. Not at all. In fact…you've just made me happier than I ever imagined."
"All right lovebirds, don't cause too much of a scene with the public displays of affection," Duo admonished teasingly. He flipped his braid over his shoulder, buried his hands even deeper in his pockets, and made his way towards Hilde's stainless white bed.
Duo heard the rustlings as Trowa stood, followed by the slower and more methodic movements of Quatre, who was whispering that they should "Leave him alone for a bit". He shook his head and cracked a rueful smirk. It had certainly taken long enough for those two.
His eyes rested on Hilde as he sat down on the bed next to hers. He intended to spend the night on that bed, and every night hereafter, until Hilde woke up again. He wanted to be the first one to know she was conscious again, back to her joyous, hopeful self.
"Hey, Hilde," he said softly, leaning over the gap separating them. She looked so ghostly and helpless, lying under the sparkling white sheets, with IVs pumping blood into her veins. This wasn't the Hilde he knew. The Hilde he knew was resilient and vital, stubborn and bullheaded, but kind and loyal and forgiving. The Hilde he knew wouldn't lie there like a discarded rag doll. She'd be picking up that rag doll and giving it away to a child who needed it.
He took her hand, her fingers curled into a half-fist. He unbent her fingers so they were splayed wide open, and began tracing patterns in her palm lines and up and down each of her fingers.
"You're one stupid girl," he breathed, not taking his eyes from her face, still holding her wrist lightly in his hand. He stopped moving his other hand, and interlaced his fingers with hers. "One very, very stupid girl. Who was one humongous help in ending the war. That data you nearly killed yourself to get was absolutely instrumental in helping us bring down Libra. I know you're glad to finally have helped with the war effort." He snorted lightly. "You wanted just too frickin' badly to help me out. Well, you've succeeded, and I hope you're happy."
"I'm glad you're safe."
A fleeting image of a woman with dying eyes, lying on the ground with her lower half blown away, suddenly filled his mind's eye, and his mind's ear was suddenly barraged by a little boy screaming to anyone who could but would not hear. He shook his head savagely, trying to erase the sound and images from his mind. He succeeded. He had gotten good at it after 7 years.
"Tonight's Christmas Eve," he informed the still body. "I've never had many good Christmases. There was just the one when I was 7 years old, when I claimed there was no God." He snorted sardonically. "Well, I've since become pretty much Deist, but I've still never had that much of a good Christmas."
He raised his arm and her hand with it, and began stretching out smooth folds in he skin. "Now, I know you're Jewish, Hilde, but if you…ever felt like giving me a…a good Christmas gift, you'd…you'd wake up."
He rubbed harshly against his face with his sleeve and swore quietly.
"Heero?"
Heero looked up from where he had been intently studying the windowsill. Relena was approaching him, her eyes dry now.
"The war is over."
"I know."
"You won't have to kill anyone ever again." She was now right in front of him, her arms folded against her stomach.
"Probably not," he conceded.
"So what are you going to do?" she asked wonderingly.
He glanced at her. She was still the same compassionate girl she had been at the beginning of the war, but now a quiet kind of sadness radiated about her. Something had replaced that flippant girl of days gone by. For some reason, Heero felt a little twinge. It had been his influence, inadvertent or not, that had doubtlessly led her down that path.
"I've never lived in a world without war. But…I thought…I might try to live in this one." He turned his face away. "But that's all I can say for now."
"Then you can come with me…no." Relena grabbed her elbow behind her back and looked away, cocking her head in doubt. "That would be too much to ask."
Heero looked back at her. There was something of that child still left in her. A small feeling of gladness sparked in his chest.
"This is best, Heero," she said, turning to look at him again. "You should see with your own eyes, this world without war that you helped to make."
"Relena…" He had gotten so used to saying her name to banish the uncertainty in his soul that uttering it had become a reflex.
Relena put her hands on the windowsill and hoisted herself up so she sat next to him. She crossed her legs, ladylike, and interlaced her fingers on her kneecap. "You know it's Christmas, right?"
"Duo said something to that effect," Heero said thoughtfully.
"Do you celebrate it?"
"I don't believe in God," Heero said flatly.
Relena pressed her lips together and chewed them. "Do you believe in anything?"
"The human race."
"Supernatural, I mean?"
"No."
Relena sighed and looked at him pityingly. "It's a sad thing to not have a religion—any religion. I know that when I was Queen of the World…and I just felt so lonely without you or Miss Noin or anyone I care about…I felt some comfort knowing that God still loved me." She propped her chin up on her fist, her elbow resting on her highest-set knee. "I always thought that it might be doubly so for soldiers."
"Hn."
"There's an old war song about soldiers coming home for Christmas. I heard it when I was very small. It made me so sad, but I guess it might be comforting. It's called I'll Be Home For Christmas."
"How does it go?" Heero asked abruptly.
Relena looked surprised that Heero had ventured to know, but complied. Her voice bobbed up and down as she tried to speak the melody.
""I'll be home for Christmas; you can count on me. Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents on the tree. Christmas Eve will find me where the love-light gleams. I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams". It repeats two times."
Heero gave a slight nod of his head and turned to look out the window. Relena's hand suddenly grabbing his stopped him from further movement.
"Relena?"
There were tears in her blue eyes as she looked at him. "I wish my brother was home for Christmas. I…I never really got a chance to know him, but I know he…he cared a lot about me, and-and we could've had a good relationship if this war hadn't gotten in the way…God, I don't even think I can face Miss Noin ever again…if it wasn't for this war…this stupid, meaningless war…"
"Don't call this war meaningless," Heero said. Relena looked at him, hurt and a bit shocked, but he pressed on. "Zechs took the wrong side, but he had peace in his mind all the time."
"I-I knew that he really didn't want to drop Libra on Earth. But he started a war that wasn't necessary…"
"The war wasn't necessary for you," Heero corrected. "But there are people out there who just don't get it. If they were to know what true war was, they'd be far more interested in peace." A muscle in his face twitched. "That was what he thought, anyway."
"W-what did you think, Heero?"
"I thought he was brilliant in theory but beyond stupid for thinking he could knock the sense into the warmongers on Earth with those methods," Heero said plainly. "In the end, he agreed with me. It was him who destroyed the first core block of Libra. I was going to self-destruct to stop it, but he wouldn't let me. He had some idea that I was necessary in bringing about peace." Heero shook his head disbelievingly. "He thought that you and I are the same."
"Heero, we are the same," Relena said. "Listen, Heero. When I was 11 years old there was a new student in my school. He was homeless and an orphan. The other girls thought he wasn't fit to wipe their shoes on. I wanted to talk to him—I'd run into him in the hallway and needed to apologize—but I was such a spineless little brat that I couldn't work up the nerve…until he was leaving. He disappeared before I could even tell him my name. I hated myself for being such a slave to the other girls' standards. They hated him because he was poor and homeless, even though he was a human being just like me. Now I don't even know if he's still alive. But he was a human being…and I treated him so badly…"
Heero looked at her, amazed that she had remembered. "That was me. I was on a spy mission."
Relena's eye widened. Her mouth opened to talk, but what came out was a laugh, a happy laugh of pleasant disbelief. "Well…it's about 4 years too late but…I'm sorry for running into you."
"Apology accepted," Heero deadpanned.
Relena giggled again, and another tear spilled out from her eye. She wiped it away with her index finger. "Isn't it amazing that we should meet again? But what a weird circumstance. I always manage to run into you just when you need absolute secrecy."
"I suppose I've learned to trust that you won't go blabbing my secrets," Heero said, smirking.
Relena smiled, her eyes glistening but dry. "I'm glad you've learned to trust Heero, and I'm really glad that you trust me."
Heero responded with silence. Relena cocked a half-smile. "I guess you still don't like talking much, though."
"Talk isn't necessary. That's how I was trained."
Relena put her hand on Heero's. "If you want to live in a peaceful era, please forget your training. You're a human being, Heero. You don't have to be a perfect soldier any more. You don't have to kill or destroy or hate any more."
"All thanks to you."
Relena looped her arms through Heero's and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for the compliment, but it's really you who's done it. My brother was right about you. You are necessary for peace."
"Why not call it a draw?" Heero smirked.
"If that's what you want," Relena said distractedly, shutting her eyes as she adjusted her jaw bones against Heero's shoulder.
"Relena?"
"I'm so tired…merry Christmas, Heero…"
Heero felt rather than saw Relena's consciousness drop into sleep. He closed his eyes and gave one of the few smiles he ever really meant. He leaned against the window, resting his head in the corner between wall and glass. Relena's head fell onto his thigh, just above his knee. An urge both natural and strange came over him, and before he could really think about it, his hand reached forward and cupped Relena's head, just behind her ear. As if on instinct, he buried his fingers in her hair. It was soft and warm and clean, like some part of him thought it might be.
"Merry Christmas, Relena," he whispered, before allowing himself to drop off into sleep.
"Colonel."
"Lieutenant."
Lady and Noin eyes each other from across the room, but the animosity that had livened their standard exchange had gone. Both had lost part of themselves today, and that shared sorrow blotted out the old enmity.
Noin was the first to sit down, and Lady followed her. Silence reigned between them as both found themselves fascinated by something else: Noin by the wall, and Lady by her hands.
"This is ridiculous," Lady suddenly said, looking up sharply. Noin looked up, startled. "Noin, I have something to give you."
"What is it?" Noin asked, rising from her chair.
"Before I give it to you, you have to swear to never tell of it to anyone. I can't imagine the repercussions it might have."
"What is it? Is it about Zechs?" Noin's voice was pushing frantic.
"Swear to me first."
"I swear it, I won't tell a soul. Now, please show me what it is!"
Lady stood up and walked towards the electronics panel against the wall. "This came addressed to you just after Heero destroyed Libra. I'm the only one who's seen it—I managed to intercept it before anyone could watch it."
Noin was at her side in an instant, practically shoving Lady away from the screen. Lady chose not to comment on Noin's rough motions, knowing within herself that she would kill for a recording of that last transmission from Treize. She pressed the button, and the screen flickered to life.
"I didn't understand the language," Lady said, stepping back and allowing Noin to practically collapse onto the counter. "It sounded like German, I think. I only know French."
"It is, it should be," Noin said breathlessly, her face barely three inches from the screen. She hailed from Germany, and she'd missed using her home language in the English-speaking academy. Zechs had offered to learn it to make her feel more welcome. She had often teased him that German was not the most beautiful of languages. He had told her that any language she spoke was beautiful.
It took a long moment for the image of Zechs to speak to her, and when he did, everything came back to her, starting from the moment they had been placed near each other in their very first class at Lake Victoria Military Academy, to their graduation and his revealing of all secrets to her, to Antarctica, to space, to everything that had happened just a day, just an hour before.
"Noin. Dies ist Zechs. Sie haben nie mich gewusst, als "Milliardo Peacecraft" und ich nicht denke, dass Sie mich sehr viel mögen würden, wenn Sie machten. Nach allen, habe ich jenen Namen auf Anschließen des Weißen Fangs angenommen. Ironisch genug, das ist der Name, den ich benutze, wenn ich mich selbst mit Pazifismus verbinde. Rechnen Sie den aus."
A pause. Zechs seemed to be arranging his thoughts.
"Sie wissen, warum ich machte was ich machte, deshalb werde ich ihm alle zu Ihnen jetzt nicht erklären. Aber wenn sie rechnet es aus selbst, bitte Relena für mich nicht informiert. Vergewissert sich, dass sie die Idee hasst—es ist die Art des Geists, den wir jetzt brauchen.."
"I will, I'll make sure of it, Zechs."
"Wir brauchen Ihren Geist jetzt auch. Unsterbliche Treue und Liebe für die Leute sind notwendig in einer Epoche des Friedens. Ich habe immer jenen Teil von Ihnen bewundert. Ich habe immer jenen Teil von Ihnen geliebt."
Noin pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. Fresh tears were starting to appear in her eyes as she twisted her hands together to try and distract her eyes.
"Es gibt zu viel von Ihnen, der mit mir herum aufgehalten werden würde. Aber ich kann Sie allein ewig nicht verlassen. Ich weiß, dass Sie das nicht wollen, und meine selbstsüchtigen Gefühle wollen dass entweder nicht. Vielleicht kann ich lernen, in diesem Frieden Relena zu leben, wird schaffen. Wenn ich mache, werde ich zurückkommen. Wenn Sie mich nicht wollen, werde ich verlassen und werde nicht je wieder zurückkommen. Ich habe keine Idee, wenn ich hinter sein werde, aber ich werde nicht sterben, bis ich Sie persönlich wieder sehe."
"You'd better," she whispered, tears falling freely, one after another after another. "Don't you dare break a promise to me."
"Ich habe nie es vor gesagt, aber ich werde es jetzt sagen. Ich liebe Sie."
The image lingered for a few moments, and then the transmission cut. Noin buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
"Ich liebe Sie. ICH LIEBE SIE!"
Translation:
Noin. This is Zechs. You never knew me as "Milliardo Peacecraft" and I don't think you'd like me very much if you did. After all, I assumed that name upon joining the White Fang. Ironically enough, that's the name I use when I associate myself with pacifism. Figure that one out.
You know why I did what I did, so I won't explain it all to you now. But if she doesn't figure it out on her own, please inform Relena for me. Make sure she hates the idea-it's the kind of spirit we need now.
We need your spirit now, too. Undying loyalty and love for the people are needed in an era of peace. I've always admired that part of you. I've always loved that part of you.
There is too much of you that would be hindered with me around. But I can't leave you alone forever. I know you don't want that, and my selfish emotions don't want that either. Maybe I can learn to live in this peace Relena is going to create. When I do, I'll come back. If you don't want me, I'll leave and won't come back ever again. I have no idea when I'll be back, but I won't die until I see you face-to-face again.
I've never said it before, but I'll say it now.
I love you.