Title: The Forsaken

Author: Link Worshiper

Pairings: 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

Rating: PG-13

Stuff: Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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Part XIII

The Feast of the Winter Veil

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By the time the minstrels had struck up the evening's fourth waltz, Heero was already deep into almost that many glasses of wine. He wasn't drunk, but he felt a pleasant numbness that was keeping him placid as the Winter Veil Ball progressed. He supposed for what it was, it was nice – perhaps even mildly enjoyable – but that was probably a conclusion he'd found at the bottom of one of his flagons. To that end, he was glad that Quatre had taken the reins on the social aspect of being there, because it meant that all he had to do was follow him around and shake the hand of whoever he was introduced to. It was an acceptably simple routine.

Unfortunately, Heero's easy compliance wasn't meant to last the entire night. Ever since he had gotten dressed for the evening, the memory of the conversation he had overheard between Quatre and his friend, Relena, was nagging from the back of his mind. So when he caught sight of the lady in question amongst the other partygoers, it was with trepidation that Heero trailed after Quatre, who was casually making his way towards her. He wasn't sure if Quatre had also noticed her or if the blonde was going to pretend like their eventual meeting was pure coincidence, but Heero was wary: he eyed one of the passing servers, wondering if it would be a good idea to partake in another glass of wine. He had barely decided to follow through on that plan when he felt a tug at his sleeve.

"Heero, I would like you to meet a friend of mine," Quatre was saying as Heero turned around, unhappy that the interruption had let that fresh goblet of wine slip away. He glowered, even as Relena started to introduce herself.

"My name is Relena Proudmoore," she said, offering a friendly hand that was promptly ignored as Heero quickly strode after the escaping server. "What's… yours…?" she found herself asking the empty space where Heero had just been standing.

Quatre let out a sigh so despondent, his entire frame seemed to droop. "By Elune, Relena, I am so sorry. These sorts of functions aren't really his forte, but I hardly expected something as severe as that…."

But Relena was hardly listening to him. With a resolve she had inherited from her father, the Grand Admiral of the Alliance navy, she strode confidently in the direction Heero had gone, her blue gown fluttering behind her as she moved. Quatre stared after her, his jaw slightly loose: he couldn't decide if such a presumptuous move would bode well.

"A little fire to her, isn't there," came a new voice from Quatre's left. The blonde turned to see the speaker, surprised to find himself standing next to the most regal looking elf he had ever laid eyes on. Even by elf standards, this newcomer was extremely handsome, with long, red bangs that swept over half his forehead and the most startling green eyes Quatre had ever seen.

Swallowing a lump he hadn't realized had risen in his throat, Quatre gathered his composure and replied, "Yes, well, she has always been one to pursue the things she wants with unspeakable precision." He laughed, albeit a bit awkwardly, as he added, "It almost leaves me to wonder why she had asked for my help in speaking to him in the first place."

"Ah, I see," mused the elf, though it was hard to tell exactly what it was he was seeing. "I trust your evening is proceeding with more success than hers," he went on, nodding towards Relena.

Quatre straightened, unsure how to take the comment. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked, feeling a little insulted on Relena's behalf.

The elf turned to face Quatre, quirking one eyebrow as a tiny smirk flicked the corner of his mouth. "Can't you tell? He's half the world away," he said. "She'll leave this place heartbroken, I can assure you." Then he shrugged, adding, "But I suppose everyone needs to learn the lesson somehow."

Quatre furrowed his brow. "I still don't quite see what you're getting at," he pressed, unsure why he was having such a hard time looking the stranger dead on. There must have been something in those sleepy eyes that kept Quatre feeling so anxious, something the blonde found himself troubling over more than the subject at hand. It was then that he realized that the elf was giving him a cursory once-over that clenched at Quatre's self-esteem and reddened his cheeks.

"Who would have thought that a flushing human could look so becoming," the elf commented drolly, fruitlessly trying to push his long bangs out of his face. Then, with that, he offered Quatre a gentlemanly bow and disappeared into the crowd with a swoosh of his cloak almost as mysteriously as he'd come.

"What was that?" Quatre whispered to himself, almost too stunned to even assess the encounter logically. "And who…?"

Meanwhile, Relena found that Heero had not wandered too far away. He stood by a large window, contentedly sipping a new glass of wine and leaning against the wall in such a way that told other people he wasn't interested in their company. Relena completely ignored all of that and brazenly reached out to tap Heero's shoulder.

Startled, Heero nearly dropped his goblet as he spun around, his free hand zooming for the decorative knife he wore on his belt. With the glower immediately returning to his face, Heero snapped angrily, "Can't you see I want to be left by myself?"

Refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by Heero's affront, she merely replied, "What I can see is that you would rather be a hundred other places right now, but I think that since you're here instead, you might as well make the most of it." Then she dropped a perfect curtsy and said, "So would you please give me the pleasure of this dance?"

Heero didn't immediately reply, surprised to find himself reassessing his opinion of this girl. He still wasn't eager to involve himself with the festivities, but he had to admit that he found Relena's determination admirable, if a bit too forward. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Fine," he said curtly, pointedly setting his glass down on the nearby windowsill and offering her a stiff elbow.

Heero had been taught to dance by Helen, and though he was technically skillful, his lack of enthusiasm was apparent in the mechanical way he guided Relena across the floor. Relena didn't seem to notice, too elated that she was able to share such a romantic moment with Quatre's handsome friend. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she mulled over what she should say to him, all the while trying to catch his elusive eyes.

Reluctance was probably the best way to describe what coloured Heero's ginger touch. There was something intimidating about meeting her gaze straight on, though, and he tried his best to avoid it. If he looked at her, it was because that was what one was supposed to do when he danced with someone else, but he couldn't suppress his wandering attention, even as her fingers curled more tightly into the fabric of his tunic. Like Relena, he also wondered if he should say something, though the sorts of things he was considering were far different from what was passing through her mind. It was with a sense of trepidation that he realized that she had laid her head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice flat. His stomach was churning, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the wine or anxiety.

She drew back, an earnest expression in her eyes. "Is something wrong?" she wondered, concerned that she'd upset him somehow.

Heero faltered, unsure how to word his discomfort with the proximity. He couldn't tell if it was her, or if it was something in his own heart that made him want to recoil, but he knew something wasn't right about it. "You lean on me with the helplessness of a kitten up a tree," he finally said in his best effort to express these things, though it was a pretty feeble attempt. Truthfully, her demeanor had almost nothing to do with Heero's apprehension.

Astounded by such a comment, Relena could only blink at him, her lips parted in surprise. Despite Heero's callous attitude, she couldn't help the butterflies hovering in her stomach and tickling her heart. Shaking her head, she begged him to understand how she felt. "It's as though you've had me by a string since the moment I first saw you," she said, pressing his hand to her chest and holding it fast. "Can't you see how hopelessly in love with you I am? That's why I'm following you."

It was Heero's turn to be left in a state of disbelief after such an admission. Quickly, he tried to pull his hand away, afraid of what might come of leaving it in Relena's custody for another moment. "I don't know what to tell you," he finally admitted. "You say you love me, but I hardly know who you are."

"But that doesn't matter, don't you see?" Relena suddenly exclaimed, passion building in her chest. She clasped her gloved hands over her breast, trying hard not to let her emotions get the better of her. Reigning in control of her voice, she whispered, "Sometimes, you just know the moment you encounter someone. And I… I knew it had to be you. I can feel it."

"You're a fool," Heero said succinctly, not even taking a moment to consider how harsh his reaction was.

Unexpectedly, a small chuckle escaped Relena's mouth as she hung her head, her honey coloured hair falling around her face as she murmured, "Yes, I know. But that's how it goes when a woman loves a man."

Heero was not inclined to agree. "What a waste of thought," he said tartly, his dancing lending itself to a more abrupt pattern as he continued to lead Relena across the floor. "You play a silly, one-sided game."

Relena tried to catch Heero's distant eyes with the pleading expression locked in hers. "Haven't you ever been in love?" she asked sympathetically, almost as if she pitied him. "Don't you believe in romance?" Her arms tightened around his neck as she leaned in, her eyelids fluttering over her blue irises. "If only you'd take a chance on me," she whispered, suddenly very close.

Heero drew back almost immediately, threatening to drop her with the speed at which he recoiled. "But it still feels wrong," he gasped, a hint of desperation riddling his tone. There was no mistaking that she'd almost managed to kiss him, but it was the fear that had suddenly consumed him that had instilled such an immediate urge to flee. He wanted to break free of this fruitless dance and escape, to be somewhere quiet and solitary so that he might gather his thoughts and better understand what had transpired. Quickly, he pushed her away, careless of decorum.

Relena felt as if she had been dropped over the edge of a tall cliff, falling even as she stood by herself in the middle of the dance floor, watching Heero slowly retreat. "So cruel," she murmured, her voice drowned out by the merry waltz that was still twirling around her. She barely even noticed the tears that had started to dribble down her cheeks, still too focused on Heero to let him go, even as he continued to slip further away. Things had seemed so magical scant moments before: it made her wonder what had caused the pieces to fall apart like this.

For his part, Heero was suddenly too overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo to concern himself about Relena, and quickly found his defense mechanisms kicking into overdrive. The huge ballroom felt much more crowded than it had earlier, and it only made him want to get out of there even faster. Grabbing a final glass of wine for the road, Heero made a beeline for the exit, desperate to escape to wintery gardens outside.

That place was dangerous, he told himself as he picked up his pace, careless of the people he was elbowing through to get out sooner. He felt as if he'd just avoided a harrowing death, nervously looking around as if peril was still at his heels even as he left the building and alighted upon a bench in the neighbouring courtyard. His ears were filled with the splash of a nearby fountain's bubbling water, a welcome change from the dull roar that had purveyed the ballroom, and he was pleased to find that focusing on it did well to calm his twisting innards. A light snowfall began to flurry around him, adding to his newfound tranquility. He let out a thankful sigh of relief and sipped at his wine.

He had just reached a moment of perfect inner peace, when an unexpected shout filled the air and ripped him from his calm state of mind. Eyes snapping open, he angrily looked around, frustrated that he couldn't find a single moment for himself. There was a chorus of laughter echoing through the streets, easily finding its way to his once quiet spot, and it didn't take long for the unsurprising culprit to reveal himself. "I should have known," Heero growled as none other than the longhaired acolyte from the library appeared near the fountain.

The acolyte easily heard the comment, and upon recognizing Heero's voice, turned in his direction with that lazy smile of his in place. "Well, look who we have here: an ice prince dressed gaily for the ball, yet alone in the snow," he drawled, swaggering towards Heero with the gait of someone who had perhaps had one flagon of mead too many. "Staying up late to see if Father Winter has a gift for you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Heero scoffed, sniffing in the other direction even as the Kirin Tor apprentice neared his bench. He tossed back a rather indulgent gulp of wine and added, "I haven't the time for such wives' tales."

Grinning, the longhaired mage plopped down beside Heero, careless of the snowy crust that had built up since it had started to flurry. "Well, then we'll just have to find a more engaging way to whittle away your hours," he said, hoping Heero would have the depravity to fill in the insinuated gaps. With a suggestive elbow into Heero's side, he goaded, "What say you, my prince?"

Heero harrumphed. "I say, take yourself and your knavish ways far from my person," he grouched. "I just want to be alone."

With a roll of his eyes, the acolyte waved off Heero's command as if it were nothing more than a passing whim. "Nay, I doubt that. No one ever really wants to be alone – especially during Winter Veil," the mage said, combing a few loose tendrils of hair behind one ear. "Or at least, no one should be."

Annoyance finally flared up within in Heero, a culmination of all the frustrations he had undergone that night. Expressing more emotion than he had probably displayed around anyone other than Quatre, he raged, "How dare you assume to know how I think or feel? It's such presumptuousness that makes me wish for solitude at all!" He lifted the wine glass to his lips for another long taste.

"Who is being presumptuous?" the acolyte asked with a shrug. "I am merely stating what I have found to be true in my own experience. I do have a few years on you; I think I may have learned a thing or two in my time!" With that, he reached for Heero's goblet, easily plucking it from his numb fingers. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of it as he brought it nearer to his mouth, quickly returning it to Heero: "Ugh, such fancy brews don't suit me at all."

Heero hardly noticed the proffered glass, too busy trying to make sense of his companion's eccentricities with a furrowed brow. It did not occur to him how strange his own behaviour seemed to most others, instead more focused on the fact that the acolyte was not put off by the airs that most other people found troublesome in him. Despite the easiness in the young mage's attitude, Heero was prickled by the other's flippant ignorance of it all. He swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by a chill that had nothing to do with the coldness.

Arching his eyebrows, the acolyte retracted the goblet and swirled it beneath his nose again, as if trying to decide if he ought to indulge in it after all. He smirked at Heero when he came to a decision about it, pointedly putting his lips on the spot where Heero had been sipping. "Perhaps an acquired taste," he assessed afterwards. "But maybe its aberrance is part of the appeal." With that, he knocked back the rest of the wine in one gulp, indulgently allowing it to dribble around his chin as he did so.

It was then that Heero noticed that the acolyte had planted his hand on the bench beneath Heero's cloak, his wrist pressing into the small of his back. Unlike Relena's hands, which had sent waves of neurosis throughout his body, the feel of the mage apprentice's forearm created a sensation of a different nature. He still felt a similar anxiety, but where he had been uncomfortable before, he now felt something more akin to anticipation radiating from the acolyte's touch. It left him trying to ponder out what the difference was.

So lost was Heero in his mental reasoning that he was almost alarmed when he realized that the other had leaned in closer, practically sighing into his ear. "What are your Winter Veil plans now, my prince?" he asked, his voice strangely husky.

The sweet scent of mead was fresh on the acolyte's breath, almost as intoxicating to Heero as the alcohol itself might have been. His blue eyes darted in the acolyte's direction, catching his hooded expression. Another shiver crumbled down Heero's spine, and he absently moved to tighten his cloak around his shoulders, inadvertently pressing his companion's arm more tightly against his back. He tensed.

Noticing Heero's discomfort, the Kirin Tor apprentice quickly tucked his wayward appendage beneath his own cloak, though its absence did nothing to relieve Heero's nerves. "Don't misunderstand," the acolyte assured Heero.

"Misunderstand what," Heero breathed, hardly allowing air to escape his lungs. It bewildered him that he felt just as helpless without the acolyte's touch. The very things he had so heartlessly said to Relena and the emotional response she had returned to him earlier replayed in his head, leaving him with the taste of a hypocrite's words on his tongue.

The acolyte, who seemed unaware of Heero's inner turmoil, merely shrugged and said, "Wanting to be here with you." He leaned in again, smiling as he clarified, "For wanting to know you better – for you to come with me."

The clatter of women's shoes on the frozen cobblestones and the sound of a woman calling Heero's name threw a noose around his heart, threatening to squeeze his soul right out. The moment he realized that Relena had left the ball and had come out to look for him, Heero felt the anticipatory swelling inside his chest become one of dread. The contrast was as stark as moon and sun.

"I don't mind," Heero quickly said, his lips moving of their own accord as Relena's voice grew nearer. The garden where they sat was practically adjacent to the Violet Citadel, the ballroom of which was hosting the Winter Veil gala; it wouldn't take long for a quick girl like Relena to figure out to where Heero had vanished. Heero sucked in another mouthful of air, wondering, "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you like," Duo drawled. "But if it's all the same to you, my brother is hosting a holiday party – small, intimate: nothing like that circus you were trapped in before."

But Heero didn't even have time to wonder how the mage apprentice knew he had been at the ball – or how he seemed to know everything about his life and his habits – and instead staggered to his feet, dizzy. His hand immediately darted out, flailing around for some kind of support until it was caught in the acolyte's sturdy grasp. Heero's eyes wandered down the length of their conjoined arms, slowly lifting his gaze to meet the other's. For a minute, it felt as if he'd lost himself, his breath frozen in the air and hovering around his lips too slowly to be real. Never in his life had Heero dreamed that even the deepest stars of Elune's ream could fit into such a well – that he could fall and sail to the moon all at once.

A microcosm.

--

The moment was shattered like a summer rain suddenly needling a still pond. Just when it seemed that Relena would find the snowy garden at any moment, the longhaired acolyte suddenly jerked Heero closer and, with speed that was befitting of a rogue, muttered what sounded like a spell. Immediately, the entire world around Heero seemed to flicker and blink away, ceding into another place altogether. Now they stood further down the street, well away from the garden and closer to the mercantile district. "A trick I just learned," the acolyte informed Heero with a grin before grabbing him and blinking down the street yet again. The acolyte's peals of laughter echoed through the quiet streets as they flickered along like fireflies in the night.

They were soon deep in the more residential section of the city, entering a humble walk-up apartment building that seemed to blend in with the others along that particular stretch of road. Heero couldn't help but wonder if the constant teleporting to reach this place had been truly aimed at showing off, or if it was instead been employed to keep Heero intentionally disoriented. And yet, despite such an observation, which would have normally sent Heero reeling in the opposite direction, he found himself following the acolyte inside without protest. Try as he might to moor himself in logic, he was only able to flash back to dancing with Relena, picturing her mouth as it shaped the words that described her irrational fixation on him. The parallels he drew from it only did to make his stomach drop and drag on the ground behind him, and he couldn't decide if he was more bothered by the fact that he was going along with this despite all that, or if it was to do with admitting that he was no better than Admiral Proudmoore's headstrong daughter. Then he decided it was best to try not to think about it at all.

The creak of hinges groaned from somewhere upstairs, followed by a series of brisk footsteps. A male voice called down from a higher landing: "O brother mine, is that you, home at last?" There was definitely a sarcastic twang in the unseen speaker's tone.

"Aye, aye, 'tis me. Forgive my lateness, brother!" the acolyte shouted back, brushing away the snow dust that was clinging to his hood with the back of his hand. Obviously, he was not at all concerned with the other tenants that might have been sleeping then.

"Only if you managed to garner the flasks I sent you out for," the acolyte's brother snapped. For all of his younger brother's imprudence, the elder had a very no-nonsense air to him. "Now get up here! Hilde's been waiting to see you since her ship landed on the noontide."

Obediently, the Kirin Tor acolyte mounted the stairs, motioning for Heero to follow him up the rickety steps. "Don't mind his ornery nature. He thinks he fills bigger boots than he wears," he said in a sotto whisper as they climbed up to the third landing. Pausing for a moment, he also added: "And don't be put off by Hilde. In the end, she's just as much a misfit as you or I."

Heero accepted this prologue with his usual somber grace, not at all interested enough in the acolyte's brother or his friend to care a whit what kind of people they were. He trailed after the mage, shadowing him as he pushed open a door that had been left ajar for them. Instantly, they were thrust into a much more ambient space, golden in the light of only a few candles and a lantern that sat proudly on the floor in the middle of the apartment, surrounded by a scattering of lounge pillows and blankets. There wasn't much else of note in the small room besides a sparse table and some cabinetry. Heero thought it doubtful that any of them actually lived in this place, a dubious notion in and of itself.

Squinting into the dark, Heero could just make out two figures framed in the windows lining the front of the apartment. The falling snow outside cast them in a pale, silver corona, denoting two very different creatures. The smaller one cut a familiar form – that of a lean young man – easily marking him as the acolyte's moody brother, whereas the other lent itself to a more bestial shape. Heero couldn't be sure, but he thought he could just make out the curl of a tail swishing behind the larger figure, a hint as to what the creature might be.

"About time you wandered back," the hulking figure said in a pleasantly deep voice. Stepping a bit closer to the lantern with a footfall that sounded like the clatter of hooves, the speaker was liberated from the shadows, and Heero was actually startled to find himself in the presence of a mighty Tauren female. The gasp that escaped his lips at the sight of her quickly drew her attention, bemusement crossing her bovine features as she took note of the way the acolyte hovered near him. "I see you went and found yourself better company," she joked, still eyeing them. "I wonder if it's worth the trip across the sea to spend the holidays in Dalaran anymore…."

"You keep that bull ringed nose of yours in your own affairs, Hilde," the acolyte quipped. He was playful, but the way he was purposefully standing between the Tauren and Heero was far more assertive than anything he could have actually said.

"It's good to see you, too," Hilde joked back, the beads and feathers of her leather robes jangling as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her black fur seemed to glow purple in the hazy light, enunciating the tribal markings that covered her biceps. Then, clasping her large hands together, she quickly diverted the topic: "Well, then, now that we're all assembled, what say we get this party started? Let's have those flasks of holiday bourbon." She moved back towards the window and stooped to the ground, delving through what seemed to be a rucksack.

While Hilde was distracted by her search, the acolyte's older brother held his ground, glaring through the candlelight with ice blue eyes that glinted sharply in the dimness. "I didn't know you would be bringing a guest," he hissed at his brother, clearly not pleased by Heero's presence.

The acolyte groaned. "Really, Solo, it's not as horrible as you make it sound," he bemoaned, stepping closer to Heero still. He reached out to grab Heero's hand, which startled him, but, surprisingly enough, did not bother him.

The frown did not leave Solo's face as he grimaced, "You know why I don't like it."

The acolyte sneered and shot back, "And you know that I don't really care." His grip tightened around Heero's hand, though it seemed like the reassurance was more for the acolyte's benefit than Heero's.

Hilde shattered the mounting tension with an exclamation of triumph that she'd found what she'd been looking for. Heero peered around the acolyte to see the Tauren approach the group with what seemed to a pipe, but far longer and straighter than any pipe Heero had ever seen before. It was carved of light wood and painted in red, white and green, a decoratively beaded feather twirling from the bottom, where it turned up into a bowl. "The village shaman blended a special herb for Winter Veil," she was saying as she stood and plodded over towards the lantern to join the others. "I thought it would be a good gesture to bring it."

The acolyte was grinning at Hilde as he dragged Heero to sit with him on one of the pillows around the light, urging him to take off his cloak and make himself comfortable. Solo moodily sat down as well, shooting dark stares at Heero and the acolyte, who was busy conjuring a selection of liquor bottles from nothingness. Heero wondered if they were another product of the mage's wizardry or if they had been acquired by more dishonest means. The curiosity was almost immediately forgotten, tossed from Heero's mind as something that really didn't matter either way, especially once Duo started passing the first bottle around the circle. The burn of the whiskey on Heero's throat was far more satisfying than the wine he had been guzzling at the ball.

Meanwhile, Hilde was pressing a bowlful of the special herb she'd brought with her into the wide end of the pipe with practiced ease. She held the pipe to her mouth and lifted one of the lighted candles to kindle the brew, inhaling in deeply as the herb's piquant scent started to fill the air. Breathing out a lungful of the pungent smoke, she passed the pipe to Solo, who went through a similar ritual before handing it off to his brother. Heero watched from behind the bottle he had been nursing as the acolyte took a long hit, intrigued by this custom the Tauren had brought with her from Kalimdor.

"Want to try?" the acolyte asked, jarring Heero from his thoughts. The longhaired mage was holding the pipe out to him, the candlelight highlighting a particularly devious expression on his face. He seemed a bit less frenetic than usual, but Heero figured it was probably just the mood. He stared at the proffered pipe, debating whether or not he should partake in on a custom he didn't fully understand while the acolyte briefly elaborated with, "It's medicinal – calms your nerves."

Still dubious, Heero ended up accepting the pipe, slowly lifting it to his mouth with the discomfort of someone who knew that all the eyes in the room were fixated on him. He had never smoked anything in his life before, and his inexperience manifested itself when his first mouthful of smoke left him coughing and grasping for the bourbon as so he could clear his throat. He thrust the pipe out for whoever would take it as he poured a shot of liquor down his throat.

"You need to breathe in all the way first," the acolyte advised, his chuckling filling Heero's ears as he felt the pipe leave his fingers. "Here, let me help you," he added, hitting the bong again. At first, Heero thought that the mage apprentice was just trying to demonstrate how he ought to do it, but was startled to realize that wasn't his plan at all. Instead of exhaling into the middle of the room as he had before, the acolyte leaned over towards Heero, lifting his chin and guiding his mouth so near his own, they were just short of touching. Then, with almost gentle delicacy, he breathed out for Heero, who found this method much easier to fill his lungs with the noxious smoke than with the pipe.

The effect was almost immediate, and the reactions of the other two and the pipe's second round through their hands seemed vastly unimportant to Heero. Instead, he was more focused on the warmth of the acolyte's fingers, which still lingered beneath his chin, and hoped he might be allowed another turn like that. This time, he wanted to breathe the acolyte in and hold him there, hoping that doing so would perpetuate the satisfying numbness that was rolling through his body. Already, he felt as if the problems and tribulations that usually plagued his conscience were draining from him, almost as if he were being cleansed. Vaguely, he wondered if that was the doing of Hilde's medicinal herb or the acolyte's heady breathing. It was with an almost needy groan that he accepted the acolyte's offer for another taste, his entire body static with the thrill that ran through him when his lips accidentally brushed against those of his companion.

"Are you trying to test my patience?" came a voice Heero absently recalled as Solo's. "I sincerely think you do these things to addle me!"

"You're still too tense, Solo," mused Hilde with a rather lackadaisical lilt to her tone. "I think it's kind of nice watching them…."

Solo was clearly in disagreement, but he seemed incapable of doing much more than letting out a grunt of annoyance and muttering, "I still don't like it. If someone finds that boy here like this…." He trailed off, distracted by the fact that it was his turn with the pipe once more.

Of course, all of Solo's concerns were inconsequential to the ones at whom they were directed. Heero found himself half reclined in the pillows as the acolyte dipped in close, sometimes to share a hit with him, and sometimes just to nuzzle their mouths together. Other times, the acolyte would amuse himself by letting his lips graze other bits of Heero's face: his cheek, his neck and clavicle; his fluttering eyelids and the tip of his nose. Heero liked the thrill of it, even as the herb's influence started to ebb away.

Still, he might have lingered in that hazy bliss forever if it hadn't been for the sudden awareness that his body was far more pleased with the acolyte's touching than he had realized. Embarrassed that the acolyte might have noticed as well, Heero suddenly sat up, almost knocking over the bottle of whiskey beside him.

"What's wrong?" the acolyte wondered, just as surprised by Heero's sudden movements as Heero had been by the need between his thighs. He stared at Heero, wondering what he had done wrong: he hadn't thought that he had done anything to victimize Heero and was confused by Heero's abrupt change in attitude. A stray thought in the back of his mind suggested that he might have done well to spend more time helping Heero stay high than distracting himself with kisses and the occasional wandering hand.

"N-Nothing, I…" Heero stammered, his ability to speak tapering off when he realized that Hilde and Solo were looking at him as well. He was sure all of them knew exactly what had happened and fleeing, once again, seemed like the best option at the moment. Had he the pause to think about it, he might have found it ironic that his urge to escape had to do with wanting too much, whereas his need to leave Relena was laden with his inability to want anything at all. Quickly, he got to his feet and hurriedly thanked them for their hospitality. Then, without further ado, he quickly turned on his heel and left the apartment, skipping the stairs two at a time and bursting out into the wintery night without even remembering to put on his cloak before he left.

--

TBC.