The Mandred Chronicles:

Home and Love

by Zapenstap



"Wake up. We're here,"

Heero opened his eyes sleepily to Mandred hovering above him. He blinked and threw off the blanket from around his shoulders, though he hadn't remembered covering himself when he fell asleep. Passengers around him were getting to their feet, reaching into the compartments above their heads for their luggage. He shifted, stiff and over-heated from heavy sleep. He hadn't slept that good in a long time. And on a ship too.

"Come on," Mandred urged again with something like laughter in his voice. "We want to get out before the crowd, don't we?"

Heero rose drowsily and followed Mandred through the aisle between the seats to the exits at the front of the passenger's cabin. Mandred nodded to the stewardess and moved aside to let Heero out before him. They stepped down the ramp and out into the station side by side. Mandred frowned, looking about as if lost.

"Don't travel much?" Heero said blankly.

"Do you have to sound so accusing?" his tone wasn't exactly mean. It was almost like friendly banter.

Heero blinked.

Mandred glanced at him. "No," he said. "I don't travel like this often." He smiled good-naturedly as he looked about the Colony spaceport. "But no matter; we'll hire a taxi to take us home."

Home. Heero wondered what Mandred's house would look like and whether it would really feel like home. He doubted it.

He had never been in a taxi before Mandred came to Cinq. The experience wasn't very exciting, but it wasn't what he was used to either. Come to think of it, he usually stole rides to his destination, either the vehicle itself or by hitching a ride unbeknownst to the driver. This felt odd, but he sat back and stared out the window at the colony with little visible agitation. He didn't think he's been on this L1 colony before, or if he had, he did not remember it.

The taxi driver, a woman with a dark hair and a cheery look, drove merrily through the main part of the city, following Mandred's brief directions. Before long, Mandred struck up a conversation with her, which Heero found odd considering they were perfect strangers, and eyed them askance with his arms folded, but the taxi driver responded as if they were old friends. Heero listened even as he looked out the window. He was intrigued by ordinary conversation, especially what one could carry on with a stranger. Mandred did this without much effort. The woman behind the wheel was chatting and laughing merrily right up until they pulled in close to the curve. Ignoring them, Heero looked silently out the window at a little brown house on a street surrounded by many other small houses just like it.

"Well, here we are," the driver said. "It has been good talking with you, sir. And your son too. Quiet boy, but he looks like a good kid. Have a good afternoon."

Heero started a little when the woman referred to him as Mandred's son, turning his head slightly, arms still crossed, but he supposed it was a logical conclusion and thought little of it ultimately. Presently, he and Mandred stepped out of the taxi. Mandred paid her generously from what Heero could tell, and she drove off.

"Do you always carry on conversations with people you don't know?" Heero asked darkly, expecting some lecture perhaps on his lack of social graces.

"No," Mandred replied. "But she looked lonely and eager to talk, and it does me no harm. I like to be friendly. Some people maintain that idle chatter is a waste of good intellect, but I do not really think it so harmful, unless, perhaps, the talk is loose. Loose talk can be damaging, especially among strangers, but that's not something we need to discuss. I could hardly pin that as a vice in you."

Heero snorted. "You think I should talk more, like Duo?"

"No, not at all. Whatever gave you that idea? As long as you are not melancholy and refusing speech out of some kind of self pity or vanity, your choice to use words sparingly is hardly consequential to your character. It is not even an indication of shyness, and sometimes even shyness is really just propriety in disguise. No, as long as you are not quiet because of oppression, fear or attempt at manipulation of others through pity, it is not really a concern of mine how much or little you speak. But a woman might tell you differently."

"Huh?"

"Women sometimes think some men speak little because they wish to hide their feelings. Perhaps they are right, but if so, they won't hear it from me."

As this thought seemed extraneous, Heero did not reply. His knowledge of women was so small it was hardly worth thinking about, and his understanding of them in relation to himself or his sex in general less than miniscule. He thought briefly of Relena, the only girl he might really claim to know at all, and then dismissed the image and diverted his attention elsewhere. Letting the matter drop, he stood alone on the sidewalk, looking about him. He felt a little hollow standing there in unfamiliar territory, not sure what to think or feel. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, peering about as the wind blew his shirt against his chest, contemplating this new environment. It looked more than a little stark, even prosaic, but almost any place he had ever lived did. The only place that looked welcoming at all was Cinq, and that, he supposed, was only because the people he knew frequented it. He again studied the house, simple, yet elegantly constructed, and seemingly fairly new.

"It's a nice little house," Mandred said from beside him. "And new to me too, thouh I was growing rather fond of it while unpacking. We will get used to it together. Tomorrow you will start school, but today we will just relax and get aquatinted with one another."

"We're already aquatinted," Heero said stiffly. Again he felt the urge to escape.

"We'll get better aquatinted," Mandred said confidently. "I want to hear what you've been doing and I'm sure you have more questions, things relevant now and perhaps things you did not ask all those years ago. There's more to both of us than a mobile suit. I want to hear about you and all your relations and you will hear about me and mine as well. If we're lucky, you'll get to meet Immilie soon." With that, Mandred began moving toward the house.

"Who's Immilie?" Heero asked, still standing on the sidewalk. He was getting tired of following Mandred everywhere. And that house still looked strange and unwelcoming. How could this ever be home?

"Come inside and I will tell you," Mandred said, opening the door. He stayed where he was, feeling uncertain and powerless. "Come on," Mandred urged. "I know it's strange, but it will become more comfortable. Don't you want to see your room and the things I bought for you?"

He had a room with things? Heero walked into the house uncertainly. The entryway was dark wooded floors and plain walls. He wandered about the few rooms on the first floor cautiously, taking in the classic coloring and uncluttered appearance. The furniture was heavy, but elegant, polished wood set with few adornments. There were stairs leading up to what he supposed would be bedrooms and bathrooms and closets, though come to think of it, he had never really been in anyone's personal home before. Unconsciously went searching for his own room, with the same curiosity one feels when checking into a hotel room, looking for that private space where he could "belong" for a time. He had never had a real bedroom before. It wasn't thrilling to look at when he found it, but it gave him a strange warm feeling anyway. There was a bed and a desk and a dresser, all of dark wood newly bought. He went to the dresser and began opening the drawers. To his surprise, there were clothes inside, folded nicely with price tags still attached. He began rummaging through them, picking out a gray fleece immediately and pulling it over his head. It was warm, new and... his, he supposed. He ripped off the price tag and continued to look through what he must consider his other belongings. He had never had so many things before. He wasn't sure how he felt about this charity, but he supposed this was normal if Mandred really was his legal guardian. Besides, it wasn't the first time he had accepted clothes from Mandred. He supposed all these things were like a compilation of all the things Mandred probably would have bought for him in the years since he had seen him. Since he had killed him.

"Anything you don't like?" Mandred said suddenly from the doorway.

Heero twisted on his foot from his crouched position, startled. "I don't know."

"Just put whatever you don't want in the hallway and I'll take it back when you're at school tomorrow."

School. He was not fond of school. "Don't you have to work or something?" Heero asked vaguely, rising.

"Yes, but not all day. I have some leniency in my field and from my superiors."

Heero absorbed that in silence. It was hard trying to imagine Mandred with superiors. It was hard imagining him at work, or himself at school. He refrained from asking what Mandred did. No use getting more personal than necessary. This whole situation was still only half-real, though he was accepting it more easily than he would have expected.

"Are you hungry?" Mandred asked.

"Yeah," Heero said truthfully. They walked downstairs, Heero following again. Mandred directed him to the table and he sat down uncertainly. The table was already set with dishes. Mandred walked into the kitchen, an area cut off from the dinning room just by space and counters.

"I am really going to school tomorrow?" Heero asked quietly, feeling as if something needed to be said.

"Yes." He came back into the room with a dish of breaded chicken and bowl of salad.

"Why?"

"Because people your age go to school, at least for another year, and I do not want you here alone all day, nor out working with adults who won't be interested in you."

"But I'm a soldier, not a scholar."

Mandred crossed his arms. "One thing I hope you will learn, Heero, is that you can be a great many things in this life. But you will go to school and get at least a semblance of a proper education. I'm not so concerned with classes or grades, but that you share the experiences of your peers so that you may not be estranged from them any more than can't be helped. So you will go to school, and hopefully you will graduate. From there it is up to you what you want to do."

"But I've already learned more than most my peers.  It will be awkward.  They're ignorant."

Mandred chuckled. "There's a lot you don't know. I have already dealt with the administration and managed to get you the credit you deserve for classes you didn't take, but there's still more you need to graduate and you'll have a full plate for the semester. As it is, you will be graduating a year late, and if you so choose, won't be able to start college until you're nineteen, if you want to go to college at all."

College? The thought never crossed his mind. Wasn't this the time when most people decided between going to college or a community school or work or the military? Strange to think he had already done the last bit.

"I'll stand out," he said at last. He looked down at his plate, studying the tabletop. He would be... different from the others. It would be hard to go to classes, really go to classes, with them. Not because he was less or more, but because his experience was so radically different. It had been strange even undercover, a sort of farse that made it bearable, but this time he would have to stick with it for over a year, and in earnest. It was a scary thought, thinking he would be surrounded by people and yet completely alone. And they would be the same people; they might learn more about him than he wanted to reveal, or maybe not bother to try, and then...

Mandred said nothing for a good minute, but gradually he became aware that his guardian was watching him. Presently, he spoke. "You are afraid. That is the real problem. I don't think you have cause to worry. Among those who aren't scared of you—and if you look at them like you're looking at me right now, they will be--you might even be popular, at least for awhile. Everybody will want to know the gundam pilot. If you attempt to be nice, you will make friends."

Heero tried to adjust his expression so he wouldn't look scary. "You really told them?"

"Yes. They would figure it out anyway, Heero. Your name and picture are in the media; you know that. One of the things you need to learn in school is interaction. From what I hear, you weren't always doing so well on Earth with Relena or with Duo, and those people already know you."

"They don't know me," he said flatly.

"I think they know more than you think. If nothing else, meeting other people your age might help you to appreciate these older acquaintances more.  Relena knew more about your past than even I thought."

"She told me she met Dr. J."

"Did she?  What did you think of that?"

"I couldn't kill her," he said. "I still don't why. Everything has changed since then. I no longer need to now, but why didn't I then? She knew too much."

"But she was no threat. I think you sensed that."

"She said she was on my side," he said, almost to himself.

"Did she now?" Mandred mused. "She knew something about you and she was on your side? I wouldn't have killed her either, if I were you. I imagine she was the only one in some time, and a complete stranger no less. Not to mention the top of her class, rather cute, admired by all her peers, and kept your secret. I think she knows you more than you want to believe."

Heero said nothing. Memories of Relena after the war, sitting beside him on the bench in the garden, smiling at him in the hall, eating beside him at meals as she tried to get him to talk to her, flooded his head. She had been patient with him in silence, but he had feigned indifference and clammed up around her every time. He would not meet her eyes, or if so, harshly and in defiance. At the end of the war she had known more of him than anyone, and that was fine for awhile, as long as he knew he was leaving and it didn't matter, but whenever he was in her presence now he felt insecure. It was the same with any of the others, though to a lesser degree. There was a permanent connection now between all of them, but it was more peculiar with Relena. She wasn't as foolish and idealistic as she had been. He could not behave around her as if he were a figure of wisdom, or only her protection or hope. He couldn't be an Idea anymore. She saw him as a person now, and it was unnerving. He wasn't going to kill her and he couldn't run away because had no where else to go. He hated loneliness, now that he knew it for what it was. For awhile he even thought he might love Relena, as far as his understanding of such an idea went, but in the end it didn't matter; she knew too much, way too much, and it scared him that she kept trying to get closer. He retaliated by pulling away, in fear and trepidation, and part of him regretted it. If she hadn't cared so much, her presence would have been comfortable. They were similar in many ways, and she was nice to look at, sometimes, when he thought about it, but she knew too much. They could never really be friends.

"Well?" Mandred prompted.

"She's strange," he said in a low, defensive tone.

Mandred chuckled. "Eat your dinner."

Heero complied with some relief.

After dinner, Mandred put the dishes in the sink and came back to the table.

"You never told me who Immilie is," Heero said, feeling a little more comfortable and little more brave. Besides, he wanted to head off any more questions Mandred would ask him.

Mandred laughed. "Immilie is my lady," he said with a touch of sentimentality, "a girlfriend, I guess you would call it.  But she keeps just far enough away so that I know I can't really have her." A strange look came over Mandred's face, a sort of contemplative, far-away look that was as intriguing as it was strange. Heero has never seen anything like it before.

"What do you mean?" Heero asked quietly, sensing this was very important to him. "She's your girlfriend, but she won't marry you?"

Mandred propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. "A simplifed way to put it. I have known Immilie for years. We have been exclusive for countless more. I consider her my companion and she considers me hers. There is the feeling of our relationship being life-long, but nothing has been agreed upon." He seemed amused by this more than upset.

"How do you know you want it be? Did you propose to her?"

"Several times. I knew Immilie was the woman for me the year after we first met, but I can't really explain how. At first I wasn't sure I was ready for her, but time passed and I realized otherwise.  I was determined to do something about it after we became used to fighting and making up again. One would think she'd marry me so we could go on fighting and making up more conveniently, but she won't."

"Why not?" Heero asked, interested in spite of himself. This story was almost funny, but he dared not laugh.

"I don't know. We haven't quite worked that out yet. She says I intimidate her. She doesn't feel she's good enough for me, or can't live up to my expectations.  I don't want anyone else. She just won't believe I want her."

"You're certainly being open about this."

"It's not a secret. All of our friends have heard the story. Sometimes I think it would be best just to tie her up and marry her however she protests, but I'm not quite brave enough to do that, and I'm not sure what her reaction would be."

"Brave enough?"

"Women are terrifying. Not much frightens me anymore, but Immilie makes me nervous. When our love was new she made me feel weak, which surprised me. I haven't felt unsure about anything in a very long time.  She still intimidates me sometimes, but more than that, it's a nervousness about how much we have against each other, how vulnerable we are. I trust her, but I've been alone a very long time, and these feelings are new and strange to me again, almost as they were in my youth and inexperience. She simply scares me."

Heero didn't quite know what to think of that, but he refrained from asking how old Mandred was, or when the last time was when he had those feelings, and what had happened. "But it sounds like she's scared of you too."

"Yes, well, that's the way it sometimes works."

Heero struggled, bringing as much information as he ever learned about love. It wasn't much. "But you're in love, aren't you?" he fumbled at last. "Isn't that all you're supposed to really need?"

"No. Whatever gave you that idea? I do love her, of course, but there's so much more involved than that. People fall in and out of love all the time. Even if I marry Immilie, I will not always be in love with her."

"Isn't that a self-defeatist attitude?" he said darkly, in his deepest tones.

"No, not really. You misunderstand me. I believe I will always love Immilie, but I will not always be in love with her. That feeling will fade as we become used to each other. My love for her now, I believe, is of the right sort, deep and quiet and merged so well with myself and my habits that no anger, fear or separation of space could ever cause me to stop loving her enough to leave her. Even loving Immilie as I do, it is possible I could fall in love with someone else, perhaps numerous times, in our lives together. That shouldn't happen if I don't let it—falling in love is less like an accident than it sounds—but it is possible, and has happened to a good many well-meaning man or woman. If I marry Immilie, it is a solemn promise I am making to her to continue faith in that union whatever emotional hang-ups we have along the way. If she and I keep that promise, and if our love was true to begin with, there should be no reason to ever think we were in error. We will enjoy being "in love" while it lasts, but knowing that the infatuation will die as frequently as it is reborn deepens the meaning of commitment. It is my understanding that the institution of marriage is a covenant between two people to love and cherish each other until death do them part, not a promise to live together until the floaty feelings fade and one is no longer gratified by the relationship. Marrying someone is like making them part of your family. No matter how often you fight, the love and commitment remains. But marriage is more because it is also asking and letting another person to be a part of you, and to attempt to become part of that other person, without fear of ever being separated. That is, in a sense, what sex is supposed to represent, and why it should only be one person, because, of course, sex produces children, and though that is not its only function, children are meant to grow up in homes with parents that can be this sort of example of love, that is lasts. Not that it often happens this way. Sometimes circumstance is such that the most idealistic way is not the best for the people involved."

"I wouldn't know anything about it," he replied without emotion. This was way out of his league. He wasn't even sure it made sense, but it felt... pretty, and, he hoped, possible. He hadn't really given it much thought before.

"I wouldn't really expect you to," Mandred told him, and the mood lifted. "Statistically, most men don't really think seriously about marriage until they are thirty or so. Women think about it much sooner, which sometimes causes problems through miscommunication, or so I'm told. Some women even begin planning their weddings as children." He smiled almost fondly. "They're very silly in that way."

Heero looked out the dining room window into the front yard and the neighborhood street. He supposed all sorts of families were just finishing dinner.

"Have you ever thought about children?"

Heero jumped. "No, never."

"Nor have I, not until recently anyway. You have more excuse than myself, being little more than a child yourself. Children are an abstract, future idea for most people your age, girls more than boys usually. But I had wondered if you had thought about it at all."

"I never think past the mission," he said slowly. "Honestly, I didn't think I would survive to this point. For awhile, I didn't want to."

"But now you do. You are no longer isolated, but have managed to form relationships to keep you tied to this world. That's excellent. All I want you to do now is give the future some thought. Don't think necessarily about marriage and children as that is a long way off if you're inclined to it at all, but just the future in general. Everybody needs dreams, Heero. In hard times, sometimes they're all you've got left."

Heero didn't say anything for awhile. "I think I'm going to go to bed," he said at last. "I have school tomorrow."

"Good night," Mandred murmured.