By zapenstap
Heero clasped the cool medal rails separating the milling humanity from the heavy machinery at the spaceport, leaning forward as he stared down vacantly out at the people loading boxes and bags into the cargohold of a space shuttle below. He hadn't said two words to Mandred since leaving the Castle, and could hardly bring himself to look at him fully, though none of his uncertainty showed on his face. They had taken a taxi to the space station in silence as Heero gulped in air and tried to steady the roaring tumult in his mind in body.
He had killed Mandred. But he had not. And he wasn't even sure that was what was upsetting him. Seeing him now, remembering what he could piece together ten years in the past, it wasn't really all that surprising that Mandred had survived. What was surprising was that the guy had remembered a wayward youth he had taught to tie his shoes and found him in the Cinq Kingdom Castle ten years after that same youth tried to kill him. And yet, he wasn't sure if that was surprising either.
Heero tried to remember the faces of the others in the room, Relena, Duo and Quatre, but he could not. He had never really looked at them. He had glanced into Relena's direction once, to remind himself of the setting, but her features were cloudy in his memory. The only thing that filled his mind were Mandred's eyes, dark brown piercing eyes, deep in wisdom, staring at him with utmost intensity, much like his own, only rich in love and not in death. That face and those eyes had brought reality to him like a tidal wave, in Relena's conference room, and even when Mandred was no longer standing in his view, his presence was felt, hovering in watchfulness. It made him shiver, but he wasn't sure why. He knew he was not afraid, not for his safety, but he could not comprehend why he was in this place, and it was unnerving to be under someone else's care, especially Mandred's. It was too much like a dream, surreal and indistinct, like fog, like a watercolor painting, out of time and place and comprehensibility.
"Are you all right?" Heero nodded and said nothing, his breath catching as Mandred passed by his right shoulder and leaned against the rail beside him. Mandred said nothing more, but handed Heero a ticket he had just bought. Heero took it without really looking at him, his expression flat as a sheet. He stared again at the commotion below as the last of the boxes were loaded into the shuttle. Mandred wasn't important, he told himself. Heero had honed himself to weed out personal distractions and Mandred was certainly one of those, something that must be ignored, or escaped if he could not be tuned out. Only... there wasn't a mission, or a war to excuse him from trying, and he knew that Mandred knew that perfectly well. What did the guy want with him?
Neither of them had any luggage. Heero supposed that meant Mandred had come to Earth only for the purpose of bringing him to the Colonies and had brought nothing with him. The thought increased his discomfort, but he was troubled to discover he was also almost... relieved. Why should it relieve him? He glanced at Mandred briefly, stealing a peek at his face as he looked down over the rail. He looked content, patient. The world could come crashing down around Mandred's head before he would stir himself to move or speak before he was ready. That was how Heero remembered it anyway, a vauge impression, like a taste in the air of a familiar place. It took only once glance at Mandred's face to know that it was nothing against him that Mandred was so quiet and still. He was thinking. Most likely he knew Heero was thinking as well and was taking advantage of the time for his own thoughts in letting him. That suited Heero just fine.
"They're calling for us to board," Mandred said quietly. Heero nodded absently and followed him to the shuttle without speech. Once they were seated, he returned to his thoughts, conscious of Mandred sitting beside him but doing he best to ignore the man's presence.
He remembered Mandred with vivid clarity, or as well as he could remember anybody he had not seen very often. He had been there when Heero first saw the Wing Gundam, the day Dr. J brought him in from the streets and introduced him to the mechanics and tacticianists in the complex. Mandred had taken notice of him in that first minute, giving him a long look of contemplative study. After that, and during his first few weeks with Dr. J, he had not seen Mandred at all. He had heard his name mentioned only once, during a short controversy between Dr. J and one of his mechanic assistants.
"Mandred said we oughtn't install the zero system," the mechanic had said. His name was Taylor, but Heero had not been allowed to associate with the mechanics on a personal basis, or anybody really. It was thought that emotional attachments would be a hinderance for someone like him who must learn to do his duty to 100% completion. Heero had been suicidal then, surviving only because he thought he could do some good with his life before he ended it. For at that age he hated the war and everything it had taken from him. The scientists had thought it compromising to educate him on any particular social graces he wouldn't really need beyond the most basic interaction. Therefore, he was not really encouraged to make friends. At the time, Heero agreed and even took his own training further than his trainers intended.
He tried hard to follow his emotions, remembering Odin Lowe's last words. He hadn't wanted to end up like Lowe, killing because he was ordered to, when his own personal thoughts rebelled against it. But he was also a soldier, and under orders whether he liked them or not, and he had not been fond of Operation Meteror. Death had seemed less grim, and by that point, almost welcome. But while he lived, the compromise was to limit all distractions until his emotional choices were as few and clear-cut as possible. The contrast between the two often made him miserable, but it was the only way he could figure out how to live without going insane. But he welcomed the misery. It was much easier to bear misery than happiness if he had to bear it alone, much easier certainly than trying to learn to love and also kill without compromise. It was what he had tried to explain to Sovia Noventa, though he was not sure she had understood. She had called him a coward, but to this day, he wasn't sure how Quatre or Duo or Relena or any of the others lived through the war any other way. Or Mandred.
"Yes, we five scientists agreed to that as well," Dr. J had replied. "But it's not in Mandred's authority to advise anyone. He's only here because he knows more about enforcing gundamian alloy to withstand huge amounts of abuse than anybody. His influence ends there. He's almost done anyway; soon, we won't need him anymore. Pay him no mind."
When Mandred actually arrived, everybody found it very difficult to "pay him no mind." Heero remembered it with a small smile. He swept into the complex handsome, confident, and completely in control of all his faculties, with an air of wisdom and authority, yet he never told anybody what to do. But if Mandred made suggestions, they were done with little time wasted. Seemingly, he spent most of his time surveying the gundamian alloy that was shipped in to build the gundam. He spent hours staring at it, making marks on clipboards and surveying the mechanics who worked to make it into the pieces needed to build the actual gundam. He surveyed the team that welded the pieces together too. Heero had once watched him stand lie that, completely still, for an entire hour, oblivious to anything happening around him. When he finally walked away, he never returned to the same spot.
When Mandred wasn't working, he sometimes argued with Dr. J. When they argued, it was usually about the gundam or the war, but sometimes, it was about Heero himself. Heero was never close enough to hear exactly what they argued about, but it seemed to be about his mission. He never discovered who won the argument, but he supposed it was Dr. J from the tightly controlled anger in Mandred's face when Heero saw him after. Heero had always found that peculiar, because it seemed to him that if Mandred really wanted something, it would happen.
Mandred spent the rest of his time with Heero. He didn't really remember how this began; Mandred, like all the mechanics, wasn't supposed to have anything to do with him. Yet, somehow he was always around. He answered Heero's questions, about anything, and encouraged him to ask more. Twice that year he gave Heero gifts; once for Christmas, and once (he now assumed) for his birthday. Thinking of it now, it seemed highly strange, but at the time he had appreciated it beyond anything; he had never received a present before. The first gift had been a toy plane, which had enchanted him as a six-year old. The second gift was books, several books that Heero had very much wanted to read, but Dr. J took them away when he found out and he never got the chance. The plane he was allowed to keep because it was very like a model of the Wing Gundam in its ariel form; but Heero had not known that at the time. Mandred bought him other things as well, things he needed like shoes and clothes and coats. Dr. J never noticed when Heero grew too big for his old things, but whenever this happened, Heero always found new things laid out for him and his old gone.
During this time, Heero was already learning how to operate explosives and shoot several different types of guns. Some of it he had already learned while working with Odin Lowe, but there was more to learn than he ever dreamed and he was worked hard. If he failed, he was disciplined, but if not, he was not rewarded. It was expected that he should always succeed. Dr. J always said that when the time came, a failed mission meant death. Gradually, Heero failed less often, and eventually not at all. As Heero's training intensified, Mandred argued more frequently with Dr. J. Soon, Heero began to go out on missions, detonating mobile suit factories or intercepting OZ intel. When he was not out on missions, Mandred spent even more time with him, personal time. It was during their talks that Heero began to learn "lessons" from Mandred. He learned everything from following through to reading between the lines to how to be courteous in a public situation. Most of his social etiquette he promptly forgot. They were not enforced in his daily activities, and soon Mandred was no longer around to remind him.
Dr J grew angry at Mandred's increased interest in Heero. He repeatedly told Mandred to stay away from Heero while he was training, but Mandred always refused. They argued about "confusing the boy," about his missions, about everything. Even so, Dr. J slowly managed to isolate Heero from everyone, including Mandred. Heero trained from dawn to dusk and dropped asleep too tired for talking. This went on for several months until Heero began to learn that Mandred was not important to his mission, and thus, not important at all. Dr. J taught him new principles and grew increasingly proud of his growing dedication to the mission. Heero had nothing else to focus on.
One day, there was great activity in the compound. Wing Zero was almost finished and Dr. J had his workers preparing it for transportation. Heero asked what was going on.
"You are to begin your training with the mobile suit soon," Dr. J said. "But there is no room here. We will move to an isolated colony for that."
Heero understood, but it wasn't until later that he realized the falsity of Dr. J's reply. Heero was not yet big enough to use the mobile suit. Indeed, after the move, he wasn't big enough for several years. What Dr. J really wanted was to get away from Mandred. When all was ready, the Wing Gundam enroute to its new location, Heero was ordered to detonate the compound. He knew Mandred was still inside, asked to do the final check-ups. It might have gone against his emotions a year or so back, but now that he saw Mandred as merely another distraction, he saw no reason not to accomplish the mission as efficiently as possible. So he detonated the colony, and as he thought, Mandred with it. It was only after that he felt the shard of ice go through his heart, and the strange pain in his chest. It was then they at he realized how much he actually had cared about Mandred, and the realization caused him tremendous grief, even tears; they were some of the last he ever shed. It wasn't until his first failed mission that cost the life of one little girl and her yellow dog that Heero understood how kind Mandred had really been to him. After that, Heero's training changed. He was completely isolated, rebuked for his emotions, ignored for his successes and given every incentive to take his own life. Only a few things kept him from doing this. One was Mandred's first lesson; he had promised that he would always follow through, and that meant completing his mission against OZ. Two, he hadn't quite gotten rid of the hope that things would change someday, that peace would come all would be well. He wanted to help accomplish that, even if he did not live to see it. So though he was miserable, his strongest emotion was his desire to stop OZ, and Operation Meteor if possible. Anything relating to himself was a distraction. He really didn't think his own life that important, but the end of the war was something he could help achieve, and that was worth fighting for. When it came down to Operation Meteor itself, Dr. J told him he had three choices: to accomplish Operation Meteor according to the purposes of the Barton Foundation, to ignore the orders, kill Dr. J and escape, or somehow die before he had to make either choice. Dr. J had seemed to urge the third, but when Heero landed on Earth and attempted to self-destruct his space suit, it had failed, as did his attempts after that.
A lot of things had changed since then. Heero turned in his seat and stared out the window into the deepness of space, sympathizing with its vast emptiness. When had they taken off?
"Have you figured it all out yet?" Mandred murmured suddenly from the seat beside him on the shuttle.
Heero looked his way. "No. I don't understand why you came for me." He stopped. "Did you really know my mother?" That had shocked him when it was said in the conference room. He had never known that.
"Are you wondering if I took an interest in you only because of that? Don't. Perhaps I take you in now partially because I feel I owe your family something, but I did not know you were Caroline's son until after you were gone. I discovered it when I began searching for you."
Caroline? "I don't need to be 'taken in' " he said darkly, and with that strange fearful feeling.
"Yes you do," Mandred countered with infuriating surety. "Everybody needs and wants to be taken in and cared for. It's part of the human condition. I know Dr. J tried to train that out of you, but I do not think that can ever fully be done. You want to live in a home as much as anybody else. Some people like to travel, true, but especially for young people, a home is very important. When I say "take you in" I don't mean it as a form of reluctant charity. I wanted you to come live with me or I wouldn't have spent ten years looking for you. I don't need you as much as you need me, but I do care about you and it would grieve my heart if you refused my offer."
Heero was silent for a moment. There was too much in that he did not understand, and to his unbelieving ears, it sounded almost like false manipulation. But somehow he knew it was not. Mandred was always simply honest. He decided to change the topic. "How did you escape the compound all those years ago? I know you were in there when I detonated it."
"And I knew Dr. J didn't like me very much. I also knew it was too early for a move. The "how" of the matter isn't really important. I had many tricks to aid me in my escape. It's not easy to kill me." He sounded a little amused at this pronunciation, and Heero almost smiled.
"Maybe I get it from you then," Heero said, crossing his arms smugly.
Mandred's eyes flickered with thought as his eyebrows rose expressively. "Oh? Is that the beginning of a joke? I've heard how invincible you are." He smiled. "It is quite interesting to me that someone can try equally hard to both kill themselves and survive. It's very hard to die on a mission if you refuse to fail."
Heero swallowed. Well if Mandred was going to be straight-forward, he might as well reply in kind. "Unless the mission is to self-detonate," Heero replied.
"Yes, you do tend to make that a prerogative, don't you? Even when it's not necessary. I've heard you've even told others to try it, though it didn't work very well for you."
Heero glowered. Was he being made fun of? No. Only honesty. "It hurt like hell."
"That's what I mean," Mandred replied more soberly. "I've never been very fond of suicide, and more than because it is against my religion. The only kind I approve of is when a man is willing to lay down his life in love and selflessness. I still haven't quite figured out why you attempted tp self-detonate. The colonies were in danger, but your destroying yourself didn't really save them, and they probably wouldn't have appreciated it anyway."
He certainly seemed to know a lot about it. Heero decided to keep it factual. "The gundams couldn't be allowed to fall into the hands of OZ."
"Then detonate the gundams. You can always build a new one, but you're a little harder to replace."
Heero succumbed into silence. He had never discussed this with anybody before. He was harder to replace? He understood what Mandred meant, but it didn't make sense to him. Finally, he spoke, half to himself, looking straight ahead. "I wanted to end it," he said firmly, hoping to finalize the conversation by returning Mandred's honesty. "To finish the mission and myself. Dr. J gave me the order and I accepted it. It was perfect. I did everything the most efficient way."
"Look at me." The tone in those words sent a chill down his spine. Heero looked up defiantly, his eyes drawn to Mandred as if the man were pulling his face toward his, but his defiance died at Mandred's expression, and he suddenly felt very small. "If it was really perfect, it would also be good, and death like that is never good. What you did hurt a lot of people, you most of all, and me as well."
"Everybody dies," Heero said quietly. Why did he have to be looked at that way? Too personal, but he couldn't escape those eyes. "Why not die fighting? In completing a mission?"
"Did you self-detonate for the Colonies or because you wanted to die and it was a good excuse?" Heero felt something like a stab in his gut and could not answer. "You don't have to answer that," Mandred continued. "That's not what I meant by selflessness. If your own life is not precious to you, then it means nothing if you give it up. You will get no reward for giving away that which has no value to you." Heero looked away quickly, swallowing. "No, look at me." He turned back again, wanting nothing more than to flee as he never had before. "Heero, your life has great value, even if you do not know it."
"I wasn't looking for a reward," he stammered, and flushed slightly at his clumsiness. He looked down again, crossing his arms.
"No. You were looking for an escape."
"What do you mean by good?" Heero asked in as low and even tones as he could manage, trying to both change the subject and clarify what Mandred meant. "Is death ever good?"
"By good I mean the purest form of the meaning of the word, what people mean when they say 'God is good' not 'that's some good pie.' It's something beautiful of which you can never get too much. Like joy. You ask if death is good? I'm not sure I fully know, but I do not believe it is any sort of escape. People often contemplate if death the end of everything or the gateway to something new. If it is the latter, does the method of death really matter except to those who are still alive, or even if death is nothing but blackness, which I can not comprehend? Living things are always better than dead things, but if you are the sort who believes in eternity, the body is the only thing that really dies. A corpse is decidedly ugly, pale and cold, without color or movement, without life. Certainly death is an end, but not necessarily the end. So why look at it as an escape? If you believe in Heaven or Hell, do you think it likely that you could ever be ready to choose when to enter either? Of course not. If you think you do, your understanding is even smaller than you realize. You don't know anything, not what will happen in death or in life, so who are you to take that decision upon yourself, and by doing so end any chance of a better future and also grieve everyone around you?"
"Is that a Catholic belief?" Duo would sometimes talk about the Catholic faith, but not really as if he believed any of it. Quite the opposite. He seemed rather bitter about it, really, even angry.
"I don't know much about Catholocism. These are my own understandings, and the influence of people I trust. If God has a place in them, it is because God has a place in everything, but it is not a religious matter. If you do not believe in eternity, or in God, or Heaven or Hell..."
"I don't."
"Then the situation remains the same. You know nothing, less than someone who does believe in something, and one would think that taking your own life would be more terrifying than anything you might face by surviving. At least in this world you have some idea of what to expect. Even misery is better than the unknown, and there is always hope of escape from misery to the goodness life has to offer for those who seek it."
"But you said that you could admire someone who dies selflessly."
"I have rarely heard of that," Mandred replied, "and never from someone without some idea of where they were going." Mandred looked at him, taking in his tenseness in a glance. "I'm not trying to scare you. I know you are not afraid to die. I am not either, but I think our reasons are different. Neither am I trying to convince you of anything. I merely wanted to communicate that I do not want you to take your own life so casually, or even earnestly, and to explain why. It might be easiest for you to simply know that it is partially because such an act would grieve me," and there was that terrifying expression again, "but I also want to you live because you want to, as you did for awhile at the end of the war, and I thought I would shed light on what a difficult and complicated choice death is, for I perceive you have not given it much thought. You must come to love life before you can think maturely of death."
They didn't say anything more for the rest of the flight, but Heero
thought about it, and more closely about that look in Mandred's face that
so unnerved him.
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