He stood there for a moment, staring at his beaten body lying in the bed. Trowa had expected him dead, but to his surprise, a pleasant one at that, he was alive. It had taken a while to get him back to breathing, and his pulse even slightly close to normal.
Comatose hadn't even come close to describing how he was for the longest time. Trowa had watched him day in and day out, waiting for some flicker of consciousness. Of course, the time he chose to wake up was when Trowa was lingering outside of the circus, reliving the night that Heero decided nothing was worth living for. His only thought was if he could have, by any chance, changed that.
"He's awake!" Catherine shouted from the trailer, sending Trowa into a deeper pit of despair.
He walked into the trailer, hiding behind his "silent one" facade. Heero, of course, noticed no difference, just continued to have a fairly oblivious conversation with him.
Out of the corner of Trowa's eye, he saw Catherine peeking through the door. She was like a child, he thought. And just as if she were one, he shot a glare, causing her to dash away.
He looked blankly at Heero, yet his voice had a slight wave of discomfort. "Are you in pain?"
"Hn."
Trowa stared at him for a while. He finally got up, gently holding Heero's arm, checking the bandages. "Stop." Heero's tone was harsh and cold.
"Let me take care of you..." he whispered inaudibly, his lips hardly moving.
"Nani?" Heero whispered back.
"Heero," Trowa looked him straight in the eyes, "Let me take care of you."
--
Heero crouched on the bed, his legs pulled in beneath him. Trowa was across the darkness, the small light coming from the window illuminating his features. The glass was fogging around his breath as he watched the snow fall outside. It was Siberia.
He couldn't lie down, feeling far too cold and... something else. Heero had already assured himself that it wasn't sickness, that the "Perfect Soldier" doesn't get sick. Trowa wasn't as sure.
Trowa's attention finally came away from the window, allowing him to slowly take a seat right across from Heero, on his own bed. "You're going to fight with Zechs?"
"Yes." Heero's voice was shaky. He hadn't noticed his teeth had begun to chatter.
"You're cold..." Trowa picked the blanket up off his bed, whipping it around Heero.
Heero weakly tried to push it off. "You'll freeze. I don't need it."
Trowa forced the blanket back, reinforcing it with his arms. Trowa could feel Heero's muscles tense as he placed his hand on the back of his neck. "You've got a fever."
The "Perfect Soldier" with a fever? Heero thought. I've really become weak... "I don't."
"You have to stay warm. You can't fight with a fever, and I know you'll fight tomorrow, so we'll break it tonight." Trowa wrapped the blanket around him tighter, hence holding him tighter to him.
"You can't hold me." Heero said, trying to push him away.
Trowa stayed quiet, trying to decide whether or not to let go. Come on, Trowa, use an excuse. He needs this, and you want this. "I'm not holding you. I'm holding the warmth. You need to keep warm in order to get out of this." Trowa, that was the worst planned lie you've told.
Heero stopped moving. A silence fell between them as Heero sat, wrapped up tightly in Trowa's arms. They stayed like that for an hour or so; Trowa wasn't exactly keeping track of the time. He gently slipped his hand back to Heero's neck, finding the warmth had lowered, and that his extensive shivering had stopped. Heero turned his head slowly, almost tiredly, as if he had been asleep until Trowa's touch.
"Well?" Heero asked, not impatiently, but... once again, tiredly.
"Your fever's gone." He said quietly, not attempting to loosen of his hold on Heero.
"Trowa..." Heero was wondering what was keeping Trowa from letting go.
Trowa almost sighed. He looked into Heero's eyes, seeing the expectation of being let go. Instead, something inside his head clicked, something he hadn't let connect in a long time. He leaned in, his face peering through Heero's messy bangs. Awkwardly, he pressed his lips against Heero's, still unsure of what he was actually doing.
Heero neither rejected it nor embraced it, just sat there, aghast at Trowa's forwardness. Trowa took advantage of Heero's unaffected state, and deepened the kiss, removing his awkward feeling. Heero could feel Trowa's tongue trying to push through... and he was about to let it slip though, let Trowa do what he wanted... but he didn't.
He broke away quickly, his face instantly hiding in his hands for a moment. "I'm sorry." Trowa said quickly, immediately letting go of Heero and walking over to his own bed. He laid down on the bed quickly, not even looking at Heero, not wanting to know what he was even thinking. "I shouldn't have."
"...hn..." The sound stuck in his throat, making him practically choke on the air. He couldn't... he didn't understand. Why, Trowa? Why did you do that?
--
Heero sat there, staring quietly out the window. Quatre had just left the room. He had been checking on Heero to make sure his injuries were alright. He should be more worried about himself, Heero thought. Heero had never been good with emotions... but he had tried to put things into word for Quatre. Quatre was suffering far worse than he could ever, anyway.
Suddenly the vision exploded back into his mind. Trowa... just floating out into space... and it was all Quatre's fault! He slammed his hand against the glass in frustration. Trowa was gone because of Quatre... the one that Trowa loved most of all. I'll never see him again, Heero though. Fine. I don't need to see him anyway. I don't... But I want to see him. Trowa...
His body seized up. He could feel a tightening in his throat and all his muscles pulling together, causing him shoulder to curl in. What's going on? What's happening to me? His breathing was frantic, wheezing in and out. He fell against the wall, that being the hold thing that held him up.
Quatre appeared again quickly in the doorway, running over to where Heero was suffering. "What's wrong, Heero?" He was a little frantic himself.
Heero reached out one hand, grabbing at Quatre before he fell. "I can't... I don't..." he tried to stutter, but his breathing was too frantic.
Quatre closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on what Heero was feeling. He crouched down next to him, speaking quietly. "It's about Trowa, isn't it?"
"...n...o..." He managed to make the letter sounds between breaths.
"Heero, you're..." Quatre's eyes widened a little, but he tried to smile. "Heero, you're body's trying to cry."
"...cry?" Heero forced his eyes shut, taking in one last loud breath. As he let it out, he could feel something warm stream down his face. Confused, he reached his hand up and wiped it with his fingers.
"That's it, Heero. You're crying..." Quatre smiled gently, wiping the rest of his tear away.
"I'm not." Heero turned back into the Perfect Soldier, suppressing the rest of the tears that were in his eyes. I don't cry, he thought. I wasn't made to cry. Humans cry. I'm not human.
Quatre's smile became sad... sympathetic. "I understand."
--
Heero stood in the dressing room, watching her as she stared in her mirror. She finally noticed him out of the corner of her eye. "Heero!" she said happily, turning around to look at him. She was about to go out and talk... to all those people after what they had all done. What Mariemea had done. What he had done, and now what he would never do again.
She had started talking, but he hadn't been paying attention. Finally, his silence got to her. "Heero, can I ask you something? Something serious?"
"Hn." He stared at her, still cold, yet completely exhausted internally.
"The war's over now, Heero. You don't need to fight anymore." She seemed uncomfortable, worried. "You'll feel out of place now, but you really are need, Heero. What I wanted to ask... what I want, is for you to stay with me. Please, Heero?"
He stared at her. Stay? With her? He once again didn't understand... Why would she want that?
The girl leaned in, trying to reach in and kiss him. The memory flashed into his mind. Trowa. He pulled away, feeling his back hit against the wall.
"Don't be afraid, Heero." She reached out to touch his face, but he fled it again, closer to the door. "Please, Heero, stay with me. I wouldn't ask you to stay if I really didn't need you. Heero, I need you... I..." She stopped, biting her lip.
"No." He said quietly, inaudibly.
"Heero?"
"I need to go." Heero fled quickly, out the door. He climbed the stairs quietly, replaying the scene in his mind over and over again. Relena and him. She wanted him to stay. What did she mean? What was she going to say? It was all so confusing... and then remember Trowa in the middle of that. Why was he there? Why did he mean... so much?
He reached the balcony, hearing her voice already sounding through the microphone. As he watched her, memories came back, but he suddenly suppressed them. I have no right to have memories, he thought. I'm nothing... I was only a weapon... weapon's don't have memories.
He finally exited the balcony, walking out to the street. His mind was muddled with the thoughts of the war, that was now over, and Relena. Trowa... I can't lie, he's in my mind, too. Consciously walking no where, Heero kept his eyes to the ground, trying to push away the disobedient thoughts that were clouding his mind.
The sleeve of his jacket suddenly caught on a gate, making him jerk back. He then realized where he was. "The circus," he murmured. What brought me here? All these thoughts... and that kiss... He touched his lips gently, feeling his calloused fingers go over his dry lips. Why was that so constant in my in mind? Why can't I forget it?
--
Heero was in the hallway, writing on a piece of paper he had managed to get from Quatre. The boy himself was sitting across from Heero, carefully watching the boy write on the paper. There had been silence for about ten minutes now, but there was no tension between the two of them. Tension never happened when Quatre was in the room.
"Where are you going to go?"
Heero paused from his note for a second. It wasn't as long as he had expected it to be, considering that he had lost all ability to put things into the correct words. "It's in the note."
"You're lying." Quatre said softly, a smile on his face.
"You don't need to find me." Heero looked up at him, shaking his head gently. "Just let me disappear, Quatre. I don't exist."
"He'll want to find you."
Heero stared for a few minutes... he will, but I won't let him. Heero quickly wrapped up the letter, folding it up and handing it back to Quatre. "Take it to him."
"You should."
"I won't see him again. Ever." Heero stood up, grabbing his jacket from the floor. "I'm sorry, Quatre. I won't hurt him ever again."
--
Heero walked up the stairs, finding a seat at the top, in the darkness. It had been three years... three long, nothing years. And what could he say for himself? He was still nothing. He'd always be nothing... Just nothing.
He watched as the little blond boy, now not so little, and not as much a boy, walk over to where he was seated. "I was hoping you'd show."
"Hn." Heero replied, dragging his eyes back to the ground.
"You haven't changed," Quatre replied quietly, taking a seat next to Heero.
I know, Heero thought, I'm still the same worthless boy. "You have."
"Thank you," Quatre smiled. His smile was still the same. "Trowa says I'm almost as tall as he was. Though, he seems to always tower above me no matter what."
"Hn." There was a tightening in his chest. He remembered now why he had almost run away before coming in. That was the whole point to coming... so see Trowa, wasn't it, Quatre? Some how, he had know he was being set up, but had fallen into the trap anyway.
"Duo and Wu Fei are fine, too. I haven't heard much from them except for the occasional email from Duo. Trowa and I have kept in close contact."
And I've been the black sheep, Heero thought. I never contacted any of you. I hid away to save myself from the misery. I'm a coward, Quatre, say it.
"We were worried where you'd gone to, Heero."
Heero froze. "I'm not some one to worry about, I can take care of myself."
Quatre stared at him a while, letting the words sit stale in the air. "Come on," Quatre said quietly. "Trowa's waiting." Quatre stood up and pulled Heero along, bringing him down each stair slowly.
As they reached the outside of the tent, Heero was finally gripped with the fear he had been pushing away. "No, Quatre, I can't." He remembered... and he remembered the note.
Quatre started to back into the tent slowly, "Well, it won't matter, he's here."
Heero hadn't noticed the figure standing in the darkness in front of him. Quatre smiled at the figure and waved gently, then walked slowly back into the tent, silence ruling over them the whole time.
"Trowa." Heero said, giving a nod of recognition, trying to keep his voice steady.
"You came back." The figure answered, his voice slightly deeper than Heero had remembered it... but then again, how many times had he actually heard Trowa speak?
"Three years." Heero replied quietly, almost trying to make it sound as if it hadn't been as long as it truly had been, or even, that it hadn't happened at all.
Trowa threw something at him, a small folded piece of paper. "What's the point to a weapon after the war it was used is over? Nothing... it becomes scrap-metal. And no one has a use for scrap-metal, especially not you, Trowa Barton. Ai shiteru. Ai shiteru. Ai shiteru, Trowa."
He opened the letter, knowing that it was that which Trowa had just recited. He had written Ai shiteru three times, trying to decide what it meant, and if he was even writing it correct. It was Japanese, and he knew very well what it was, but it had been a word void from his vocabulary ever since he could remember. It had been the most difficult part of the letter. "Ai shiteru," he said, throwing the letter back at Trowa, almost wondering why he had it.
"What does it mean, Heero?"
"Only the truth."
"Tell me, Heero." Trowa emerged from the shadows, finally showing his face to the Japanese pilot he had not seen for those long three years. Heero could see that he was taller, but just as muscular as before. Catherine must take good care of him, he thought.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Tell me." Heero could feel Trowa's hands take a good grasp on his shirt, pulling the shorter boy higher in some attempts to rattle him.
"Hn."
"Tell me, damnit." Trowa hit him, leaving a red mark on Heero's cheek. He didn't retaliate, just stood there, still held up by Trowa. Trowa hit him a second time, using him as an emotional punching bag. "You give me this note, and leave, and never come back. What's the point of coming back now, Heero? What did you hope to accomplish? Just come back and rip another whole into my life?"
A third hit, and Heero shrunk a little lower, tasting the blood in his mouth. He looked into Trowa's eyes for once, trying to get him to see. Hit me again, Trowa, he thought. Hit me again, I deserve it. Please, just hurt me until it makes up for what I've done to you. He shut his eyes and fell limp in Trowa's grasp.
"Heero?" He let go slowly, watching as Heero allowed himself to fall. "Heero?" The fear grasped tightly onto Trowa's heart... had he really hurt him that bad? It was only three punches... but... He fell to his knees, scooping the smaller boy into his arms. "Heero, wake up."
Heero's eyes shot open. He was awake, and it had been a good ploy, if he did say so himself.
"You tricked me," Trowa whispered, clearing the bangs away from Heero's eyes.
"Why didn't you find out?"
"About what?"
"You could have asked some one what Ai shiteru meant."
"I wanted to ask you," he murmured.
"I wasn't going to come back."
"I knew that, that's why..." Trowa went silent for a moment, just staring at Heero. "That's why I was looking for you. I had Quatre get you here."
"You did this?" Heero had only seen it as Quatre's elaborate scheme... he would never have thought that Trowa was behind it all.
"Please, Heero, tell me what it means." Trowa tightened his hold on the Japanese boy, not worrying about whether or not he struggled to get away this time... he just wanted to hold him.
"Ai shiteru, Trowa..." Heero's voice was shaking now, so where his hands, his body. He had never said this to anyone... and he hadn't been sure of what it was when he wrote it. Living away from them... from him for three years really dug deep into Heero's heart, force-feeding him the truth that he had been ignoring for so long. His own advice had laid dormant in his mind, but now he would do it. "Ai shiteru, I love you, Trowa."