The Perfect Soldier
Chapter 4: Death and Damage Control
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"Whatever you do, do not open that present!" Duo shouted.
But Trowa's hands were on it, fiddling with the wrapping.
"Trowa!" Quatre said, following Duo's lead. "What are you doing?"
Trowa's eyebrows drew together.
"Do you ever wonder about who you are?"
"There could be anything in that box!"
"Use your head, Barton," Wufei scolded.
"And if you had the chance to know? Would you want it?"
"No..." Trowa muttered. "It's not that kind of death."
"Would you want it?"
"I don't know."
"Trowa?" Quatre whispered, shocked. "What are you talking about?"
"He... she asked me something when we played chess last night... asked me if I ever wondered who I really was..."
"T-trowa?" Duo stuttered.
"The note is addressed to Trowa Barton, not Nanashi."
It came to all of them in a flash of insight. Tears pushed at Quatre's eyes, but he blinked them back. "Your... your past is in that box?"
Slowly, the Heavyarms pilot nodded. His slim hands slowly caressed the box.
"And if you had the chance to know? Would you want it?"
Green eyes narrowed. I don't know.
Taki stared in silence. She'd always thought that the missions Heero went off on weren't life threatening or harmful to others, but she'd never expected this. You'd give this man back his past? My God, Heero. I thought I knew you, but then you hand me this new mystery. What goes on inside your head?
"The note is a warning. If... if I don't want to know, I should destroy this now, before I open it."
"How can you even think it?" Duo replied, suddenly changing sides. "That's you in there! How can you just not know?"
Taki silently agreed with him.
Trowa's hands made small, restless movements against the seam of paper. His face pulled into a frown. "If I open this, I can't be Trowa Barton anymore."
Duo gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly. "What if you have a family, Trowa? What if you belong with people who are waiting for you?"
His eyes squeezed closed. That's why I'm hesitating. I promised to protect you myself, Kathy.
What if he had a family business somewhere that he was obligated to return to? Once, he'd appreciated Quatre's niche within his own family, but now... Trowa had been on his own so long... Could he return to these unknown obligations now that he'd made promises of his own?
What would Kathy tell me to do? What would she want?
His eyes opened.
She would want me to know.
His long fingers slipped under the paper, pulling the adhesive loose. Everyone in the room waited with breathless anticipation as Trowa slowly, deftly revealed the plain, white box.
"Open it. Open it," Duo chanted.
The suspense was killing him.
Trowa was unmoved, he was so focused. He found the crease in the box where the lid had been tucked in. With gentle hands, he pressed it apart. Duo and Quatre leaned over his shoulders as the top fell back. They had to dig their fingers into Trowa's shoulders to keep from tearing at the froth of tissue paper that obscured the contents from their eyes.
Heero, Wufei, Relena, and Taki watched with just as much interest, but from a short distance. They wanted to give Trowa some space, at least.
His hands pushed at the tissue, his gaze never leaving the mystery in front of him, his mind completely ignoring the weight on his shoulders. Something brown and soft and fuzzy was hidden in the depths of the box. Glimpses of it through the veil of wrapping quickened Trowa's pulse. He reached in and pulled out a small, worn teddy bear.
Behind him, Duo chuckled. "I guess Heero, er, that girl, did have a stuffed animal with her after all..."
Trowa stared with big eyes, his hands holding the toy under its outstretched arms.
"It's time you grew up, Nanashi. There's no place for toys on the battlefield. And there's no place for children in a war."
"No! I want my teddy! Teddy!"
"This is your first lesson, Nanashi. Be strong. Learn from this or the next ones will be even harder."
"N-no! Give me back my teddy!"
*Smack!*
"This is what happens in a war, Nanashi. People will take everything from you. But you have to be strong or they'll conquer you. Do you understand?"
"I-I just want my teddy back!"
Trowa didn't realize there were tears running down his face. His hands trembled as he pulled the bear closer and inhaled. A small sound of joy escaped his tightened throat as the familiar scent of flowery perfume washed over him. He'd always imagined that this was his mother's scent, that she'd been the one to give him this precious toy, that she'd held both of them in her arms, imprinting her scent on the fabric of the bear. Although he couldn't picture her, this bear had always made him imagine that she was close.
Mother...
He cradled the bear close to his chest, his head bent over it and his tears soaking its ears. The child's toy was almost completely obscured by Trowa's larger body as his arms crushed it.
He said, his voice impossibly soft, "I'd... I'd forgotten."
Taki sighed and whispered to herself. "Yeah, normal people forget, but Heero remembers everything." And for the first time in her life, Taki wasn't irritated by that.
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All his life, Heero had only ever had one dream as he'd slept unguarded and vulnerable. Long ago, in the beginning of his life as a soldier, it had been the one possession he hadn't been able to let go. It had comforted him in the face of his nightmares. It had soothed him after a battle with death. It had strengthened him when the pain was so intense he knew he could not go on. It had given him hope that he wouldn't die alone, surrounded by the screams of anguish, of battle.
It was a simple dream, really. More sensation than vision. He was surrounded by darkness, tense, expecting an attack from the enemy. Instead, an embrace stole around him and held him close and safe. In the dream, he was surrounded by the scent of another soldier, but was comforted by it. For years he'd kept this dream a secret, lest it be stolen from him by the scientists and killers who trained him. And even now, he allowed himself to remember it on occasions when he needed that closeness, that comfort of another person. He supposed that Dr. J and the others had failed in their attempt to mold Heero into the perfect soldier; as long as Heero still craved contact with others, he could not be the perfect killing machine they had originally hoped he would become.
Heero stared blankly at the dark screen of his laptop. His face was a mask; it was impossible for anyone to know that he was wrapped up inside of the dream, allowing himself the pleasure of human contact, a pleasure he did not seek out in his daily life.
He was suddenly knocked out of those strong arms when someone rapped on his door. Rising, Heero Yuy shed the clinging remnants of the dream and crossed the plush carpet. The door whispered open. Relena was on the other side.
Relena. Before she spoke, Heero studied the shape of her face, the shine of her hair. He admired her; she was young and beautiful and idealistic; things he could never be. He was drawn to her innocence and purity; he had seen so little of either in his short lifetime. However, during his self-imposed solitude in space these last months, he had realized that while he and Relena had lived during the same turbulent year, they had not experienced the same war. While she had survived the politics of the war, Heero had survived the battlefields. She would never understand the loneliness, the necessity of killing in cold blood, the toll that each action took upon your soul. No, she had been spared these things, and for that he was grateful. Her determination and spirit had enabled her to survive, to be compelled to realize her dream of a peaceful future for both Earth and the colonies.
He had not been so fortunate. Heero had but one dream, an impossible dream, a dream of being comforted by his enemy: another human being. But that human being was not to be Relena. Although he saw the desire in her eyes to share a life with him, he would not allow it, would never allow it. Heero Yuy was a dead man; in the end, he would only succeed in destroying her innocence, her purity. During that final, fateful battle last Christmas Eve, he had vowed to himself that he would always protect her, that her idealism would survive. And until his final breath, he would do just that. But he had seen his destiny; he was to remain alone in this task.
She said, concern in her eyes, "I wanted to check on you, to be sure you were alright."
She was referring to the existence of his look-a-like. "I'm fine." He didn't think to invite her into his room; the further others were from him and his territory, the safer they would be.
Her clear eyes examined his face. "I know it's premature to suggest, but, if this other girl really is your sister—"
"She isn't."
Relena blinked. "How do you know?"
How did he know? He didn't. But he told her, "It's too much of a coincidence." And it was. There had to be another hand in this, orchestrating. Although Heero had always known it was possible, even likely, that he had siblings somewhere, he had accepted the fact that he would never find them, did not want to find them. However, in the event that he did, somehow, manage to locate his family, he had never expected that identifying them would be as simple as looking in a mirror. If what everyone said was true, then this other Heero was his double. He could have accepted that, perhaps, in an identical twin. But a paternal? No, it wasn't possible that he had a sister who looked just like him. She would have needed make up at the very least to complete the illusion. But the other pilots claimed (blushing as they did so) to have seen her in the sauna and the steam gathering on her face had not disturbed her mask. To his knowledge, there existed no such miracle make up. And what about her training? Trowa had said she'd moved and acted exactly like a soldier, a pilot. How had she acquired those skills?
Heero swallowed a sigh. There were so many questions and so many possible answers. Would he ever discover the truth? Again, he didn't know.
Relena's compassionate eyes didn't waver from Heero's face. Her emotions in her eyes, she reached out to him and took his hand in hers. "When I discovered that my parents had died years ago, and that the Darlians had never been my mother or father, I... I was lost. But you were there, Heero. You gave me the strength to fight the people who had destroyed my family."
Heero shook his head. "I gave you nothing. That was your own strength, Relena."
Her eyes questioned him. But she said nothing. Heero waited until she'd gathered her thoughts again. "I have to leave tomorrow morning. A conference for a couple of days. I wish I could be here for you..."
The young soldier shook his head. "This is my battle, just as your parents' deaths were yours. There is nothing you can do."
"I can care," she retorted softly, knowingly. "And there's nothing you can do about that." She turned as if to go, but paused. When she glanced back at him, his mask hadn't slipped. His gaze was dispassionate, as always. "I hope she really is your sister; I hope she is everything a sister should be. Stay here as long as you like if it helps you find her."
She left him with his thoughts, then. And as he watched her walk away, he felt a loosening in his gut. Relief. She would not get in the way. She would stay safe.
From what information he had been able to gather from the others, his double seemed capable of anything and everything that Heero was capable of. That made her a very dangerous target. And yes, in Heero's mind, she had become a target. The moment she had declared her existence to the others months ago, she had become a target. Unfortunately, he was only now taking the implied threat seriously. There must be no more mistakes.
Heero knew what he had to do. He also knew that he could not do it on an empty stomach.
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Duo yawned as he pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. God, he was hungry. And tired. It had taken him a few moments of reflection before he'd decided to place food before sleep; he doubted that his stomach would let him get any rest until it was satisfied.
It had been a long day. First he'd discovered that his bathing partner had been a girl (who'd somehow managed to borrow a bathrobe from Relena—a very disturbing thought) and not the real Heero (still disturbing, but it would have been worse if the real Heero had turned out to be a girl). And then Trowa had been killed. What was next? No, wait. It was better not to ask.
He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles to wake them up and smothered a second yawn. At this rate, he'd fall asleep in his Cocoa Puffs. Duo finally pried his eyes open long enough to take a quick survey of the kitchen. And there was Heero standing in front of the window in the breakfast nook. Just standing. He didn't have a cup of coffee, or a sandwich; there was nothing in his hands. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was simply standing there. Looking out the window.
It must have been the set of his shoulders that did it, but Duo had the urge to wrap his arms around the lone figure. Often, Duo was sure he saw the loneliness in Heero, often he empathized with it. But Heero was so alone, and the barrier that encased him so thick, that Duo could never just hug him. So it had to be banter, jokes, wisecracks. That was all that Duo seemed to be capable of tossing at the wall Heero wore. Someday, he'd get him to laugh, Duo was sure. Someday. But probably not today.
Duo accepted his defeat even as he stepped forward and placed a hand on Heero's shoulder. "Well, it's not much of a view," he said, referring to the driveway Heero was contemplating, "but if it makes you happy..."
A look passed over Heero's face that Duo almost recognized. It was so fleeting that it was gone before he could be sure. But he thought he saw a flicker of questioning, of vulnerability, and it made him want to make everything all right. When Heero said nothing, Duo acknowledged the silent rebuff and removed his had from the stiff shoulder. "I'm gonna fix some cereal. You interested?"
Heero's dark eyes finally turned and locked with Duo's gaze. A long moment passed, far too long for Heero to simply be deciding if he wanted some teeth-rotting Cocoa Puffs. Duo suppressed a shiver and tried to look unassuming; something was going on behind those eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, Heero replied, "No. I have work to do."
"Work, work, work," Duo mocked in a light tone. "Don't you have a hobby? Like collecting stamps or taking long walks or something? You must've had plenty of free time doing whatever it is you're doing in outer space."
Still, there was no smile.
"Although, I personally think that stamp collecting is for you. I can tell you're destined to be a great stamp collector. All the stamp collectors will know your name. Think about what wonderfully boring fun it'll be. It might even compete with spending time with your laptop."
Nothing.
It wasn't as if he'd been expecting anything different.
Duo squashed his disappointment with a smile. "Well, I'm hungry."
Heero watched as Duo fussed about in the kitchen, his braid waving happily. He still felt the warmth of Duo's hand on his shoulder and he knew that in his dismissal of Duo's offer of friendship he'd failed himself yet again. The dream was as yet, unrealized. And it never would be. He was Heero Yuy, after all. But this time was different. This time he felt strange, as if he'd not only failed himself, but failed Duo as well.
It was time to get to work.
He tossed a "'Night" over his shoulder and fled the room, pretending not to hear Duo's parting reply.
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The young man who'd called himself Nanashi and then, later, Trowa Barton, slowly turned over the slim diskette that had been the only other item in the box. No one else had seen it, yet. And he intended to keep it that way.
His decision to learn about his past had been made far too quickly he now realized. This was something that should be thought out with great care and consideration with regard to current circumstances. This was a path to be taken after, and only after, objectively and methodically evaluating the external factors that would be affected by the information.
Long, elegant hands turned over the diskette again and again. Green eyes shifted from the play of the moonlight over the holographic surface to the scene beyond his bedroom window. His gaze sharpened as he caught sight of two racing snowflakes. They fluttered down, down, past the window casing and onward toward the pale landscape below. More snowflakes followed.
I must be cautious. Even though my past may be a dead thing—even though I may confirm the fact that I am alone—the very knowledge and certainty of that fact will have effects that even I cannot predict.
He turned the disk over and silently, objectively, emotionlessly, wondered at the power this woman had encased in such a small object. It was temptation itself. And for that very reason, he knew that he must resist its power over him—its silent, siren's call—until he was prepared to take the necessary risks involved with eliminating his ignorance.
In the smaller, more intimate reality of the night, he was able to see that the situation was far more complicated than he'd initially thought. That afternoon, he'd only looked so far as himself and Kathy, but now...
Now, unanswered questions plagued him.
Who was this girl who looked so much like and called herself Heero Yuy?
Who was this girl who was like the night wind, itself?
She had been seamless in her performance. He had rationally convinced himself that she was Heero Yuy.
He should have listened to his emotions, as Heero had once told him.
How ironic. Heero gave me that advice and then I ignored it in only his case.
Still holding the diskette, he leaned against the wall beside the window, letting the heavy, winter curtains fall over his shoulder. He crossed his ankles and then his arms and contemplated the falling snow.
He realized now that she could have given him back his past not because she was a kind person, like Quatre, but for other reasons, reasons that made sense only to her. It was not only possible but most likely that her own personal motivations had played the main role in delivering this information to him. To her, this would be one more step in some elaborate game toward accomplishing her goal. And because of that very real possibility, he could not trust her.
But at the same time, he could not ignore the promise he held in his hand.
I must understand her motives before I can even consider viewing this data.
I must know why she chose me. My life or my death is of little consequence. So why did she give me this gift?
His eye lids twitched at that thought.
A gift. How long has it been since I've received one?
His gaze hardened.
A long time. Perhaps she was counting on this weakness. Perhaps she had been hoping to exploit it.
He turned the disk between his slim fingers.
I cannot afford to be reckless.
He thought of Kathy: the only person he could have called a sister.
He thought of Quatre, Heero, and Wufei: the only people he could have called close friends.
For their sakes, he would be cautious.
For their sakes, he did this.
With a motion of his wrist, the disk disappeared into the depths of a pocket of his faded, white jeans.
He leaned away from the window and walked toward his door on silent yet determined feet. Mindful of the late hour, Trowa approached Heero's door. He doubted that the Wing pilot would be asleep, so he knocked softly out of consideration to Duo and Wufei, who had rooms on either side of his.
The door opened without a sound. Heero was still dressed and the blue glow of the laptop screen illuminated the room behind him.
Trowa said, "I want to help you find her."
Yuy's eyes narrowed but he nodded. "It's not going to be easy," he said, his voice expressionless in the face of a mission.
Trowa nodded. He wouldn't have expected otherwise.
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~End of Chapter 4~