--

They sat at the dinner table, all of them silent except for the little boy's ramblings. Cathy and her husband, named something like Gary or George, something with a G, were sitting on one side of the table along with Trowa, Heiji, or now revealed as Heero, and James sitting on the other. Cathy hadn't had quite a pleasant surprise realizing that her son's playmate was none other than the "insane, suicidal pilot." She had spent a good time ranting about him as he hid slightly behind Trowa, who tried to calm his sister down.

So we did know the same Trowa. Heero looked up slowly from his food, barely listening to his little companion, meeting the green eyes as they struck deeply into his own. He's staring at me. Trowa's looking at me.

Trowa didn't break the gaze but sat there, staring at him almost sternly. "Cathy," he finally spoke up, spooking James a little as he realized that some one else had actually begun to talk, "Could you excuse Heero and I?"

"Uncle Trowa, his name's not Heero!" James chimed in.

Trowa flashed a smile at his nephew. "James, it's just a nickname, don't worry about me calling him Heero, he knows I'm talking to him."

"Oh, okay." The little boy quieted back down, looking at his plate.

"Fine," Cathy said irritably, still cross about Heero.

Trowa stood from his chair and walked to the other side of the table, standing almost behind Heero's chair. Words were left completely unsaid, making Heero feel as if Trowa was breathing down his neck. He finally pushed out his chair, slowly, and stood up. It seemed as if it had taken forever just to reach the door of the apartment, an eerie feeling gripping Heero as Trowa walked behind him the whole way. His fingers gripped tightly around the knob, feeling it resist a little as he turned it. The door swung open slightly and he slipped through, making just enough room for himself. Trowa followed.

"What are you doing here?" Heero's voice broke through the silence that Trowa seemed to have created since they left the dinner table.

"Better question is why are you here?"

"Your nephew, James."

"What about him?"

"I thought I already had to go through this with Catherine."

"I had to go through this with Cathy. Now, you're going through this with me."

"Why is this such a big deal?" Heero turned so not to look at him, feeling the anguish building up in his throat, like the tightness of the elevator.

"Because he's a tiny child. No one would expect the almighty perfect soldier to play with a little boy every single day."

Heero looked at him, square in the eye. "I'm not that anymore. Just like you're not the pilot of Heavy Arms anymore, or any of us the pilots of our Gundams. Just because... just because I lived that so long doesn't mean I have to remain that way."

"But why him, Heero?"

"Do you think this has anything to do with you, Trowa?" Heero could see the invisible blood wash through Trowa's eyes, knowing that his words were the knife that had created them.

"N...no, of course not."

Heero looked at the floor, running the tip of his sneaker into a dust-bunny. "I didn't know he was your nephew. I didn't."

"That's fine." Trowa had shut off, his emotion put away now. Heero didn't like it.

"Am I not allowed to see him anymore?"

"Cathy will calm down. He likes you too much to take you away. You'll be fine."

"Arigato."

"Don't thank me," he sounded almost bitter.

"Trowa, what are you doing here?"

He blinked for a moment, trying to understand the reiteration of the question. "I have to be here for the parade, it's for the circus. I came to see Cathy and James and..." he trailed off.

"Relena told me you asked where I was."

"Did she?" It really wasn't a question, more a murmur of some sorts.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Heero laughed lightly. "Why any of this? Why not act like you didn't know me, and that it was just some odd person that looked like the old Heero Yuy?"

"Heero..."

"No, don't Heero me." He said bitterly, crossing her arms. Heero sighed deeply. "You should just call me Heiji anyway. I'm not the same boy I was."

"You're not a boy, you're a man, but that doesn't mean you have to change your name to make yourself feel better."

"Who said it was to make me feel better?"

Trowa walked over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Stop it."

Heero lunged for him, his lips wrapping around Trowa's, pushing into something they both hadn't felt in a long time. Trowa accepted it, pulling him in tightly, gripping to the fabric of his shirt. After fulfilling their appetites for each other for the moment, they parted, both slightly out of breath. "Gomen."

Trowa hugged him closely, burying his head in the crook of Heero's neck. "I should be apologizing, not you. You know that."

You were dead for so long. I even told your nephew you were dead. "It doesn't matter." Heero rested the side of his head against Trowa's, rubbing his cheek against him gently.

He could feel Trowa sigh against his neck. His head slowly left it's hiding place and looked directly into his eyes, questioningly. His words remained hidden in his throat, confusing Heero to no end. Instead, he pushed himself out of Trowa's arms, pushing himself back onto the wall. "I need to go back."

"Where?"

"Back to the apartment..."

"Let me come with you-"

"No." Heero stared at him blankly. "Go back to them. Leave me alone."

--

His head fell back on the pillow. Words could kill, and he'd deadly injured the one he loved. He hadn't known how harsh the words "leave me alone" could be to Trowa, but he found out. There was a hit, on straight across his face, a punch that sent him reeling for a little. He hadn't realized why he was hit for a moment, and then he saw the frustration and anger in those green eyes, the ones that had caused the drawing him to James in the first place.

He'd run away then, like many times before, retreated to someplace, his apartment, where he thought he could at least avoid Trowa for a few more hours. There hadn't been a sound, at all, the room still extremely dark. Heero finally slunk into his bed, gripping onto the sheets tightly, tugging at each and every thread until it felt as if it would burst. His eyes closed groggily, still feeling the effects of the completely sleepless week.

It was red, purely and violently red. He was started to get disgusted by the sight of his own naked body, the dream emphasizing the scars and other skin deformities. The block of ice was the same size, the same glossy sheen. He looked away, hoping to at least save himself some sleep before looking into the frightening site he knew was there. The silence was suddenly broken by something. A splash. His body tensed. This had never happened before.

A fleshy hand reached from the red ooze, grabbing a firm hold on his wrist. It was brightly colored, far from the pasty gray his body was. He could feel it pulling, pulling him into the molten liquid below. I don't want to go. I can't go. Don't make me. He struggled slightly, but the grip tightened, the pulling became more intense. There was nothing to grip to, and the ice block was far to slippery to get an stance on. Heero looked down at his own reflect, just in attempt to save himself from the hell below.

He awoke on the floor, the sheets wrapped violently around his body, still slightly attached to the bed. His back was sore from the hardwood floor, but after such a dream, it was the last thing he was thinking of. It's changing now. Why does it have to change?

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Heero called from the doorway of the bedroom, now slowly making his way to the door. The light slanted gently through the shades, proving to Heero that he had actually slept for a good day or so. Guess some one missed me.

"Heiji? It's JAMES!" The little boy emphasized his name, causing a smirk from Heero.

"Hold on." Heero undid the locks across the door, and opened it fully, expecting the little boy to pummel him as soon as he opened the door.

Yet the boy stood still for once, his shoulders being held by Trowa. "Heero."

"Hello, James," Heero stuttered, recovering from the very unexpected surprise.

"Momma said I could play as long as Uncle came along for now."

"Trowa, don't you have something better to do?"

He just shook his head.

"Why don't you come in?" He seemed a little awkward, rubbing his hands in each other.

James had brought a few of his toys, and he quickly scattered them in an assigned area on the floor. Trowa sat at the kitchen table, looking at Heero and his nephew. Heero had decidedly taken a seat on the floor, playing uninterestedly with the blocks that were in front of him. James was in the beginnings of making a castle, and Heero helped here and there.

"You look like you just woke up."

"I did," Heero murmured in answer to his question. James paid no attention.

"Your still tired."

"I haven't really slept in a week."

"Oh?" Trowa seemed worried for a moment, his eyes betraying his otherwise unchanged face.

"It's just a dream."

"Was it-"

"No. A new one."

"I see."

James looked up for a moment at his uncle. "Uncle, did you know Heiji from before this?"

It had been obvious, but they both supposed that he was only a little boy. "Yes, we-"

"No." Trowa looked at Heero, surprised. "The Trowa I knew is dead." Heero threw down one of the blocks, standing himself up, and walked into his bedroom.

James didn't say a thing, just went back to playing with his blocks. Trowa sat, aghast for a moment, letting his words sink in. "Have I really changed that much?"

"Don't worry, Uncle, he does this now and then."

"Heero..."