The Perfect Soldier

Chapter 14: Chances and Paybacks

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            "Geez, George!"

            The exclamation seemed to echo in the silence left in the wake of the distinct sound of a fist connecting with human flesh. In the golden, serene, afternoon light of the colony, Taki stared dumbstruck at the hulking musician who stood aggressively over the bleeding figure of Wufei Chang.

            With a blink, Taki recovered and took in the bulging muscles in George's arms. "You've been working out. That's some arm you've got."

            Her compliment flustered him and a slow blush burned at his ears. Around a sheepish grin he managed to stutter, "Th-thanks, T-taki."

            Her dark eyes traveled downward again to where Wufei had crumpled. "Why'd you hit him?" she asked, beginning to feel like she'd been cheated out of the pleasure.

            George smiled, albeit a bit nervously as he sensed her change in mood. "T-to k-keep you from breaking one of m-my guitars over h-his h-head."

            Taki chuckled, her eyes not leaving Wufei. George's gaze followed hers and silently assessed the damage. "I'd say h-he's in prime condition for receiving h-his p-payback. Wh-what do you say, T-taki?"

            She couldn't help herself. She laughed. In fact, she was still chuckling when she called Heero and told her to boogie her butt over to George's. No doubt, as soon as Heero saw what had been so amusing, she'd tie Taki up and throw her in the loony bin. But until then, she could have a good laugh. Or two.

            And, boy oh boy, did it feel good.

.

            They debated moving him. With a glance at George's rippling biceps, she argued that it wasn't a good idea; Wufei might have a neck injury. Plus, she didn't want to make the jerk too comfortable and the chances were that he'd feel worse if he spent the night on the wood floor. But George was adamant. Hugh could not see a bleeding, unconscious man in George's foyer. It would be bad for the band for sure. So Wufei was moved, but not without a good amount of grumbling on Taki's part.

            Hugh arrived before the blood on the floor could be dealt with and Taki had to stand on it and use a lot of hand gestures to keep the new visitor from looking down. But, by the time he'd decided to leave, Prometheus had another gig at The Red Eye and at a second club called the Soaring Cactus.

            "Soaring Cactus?" Taki said, incredulous. "I don't think they could have thought of a more ridiculous name if they'd held auditions."

            "You sh-should see their logo."

            She imagined a red-caped saguaro in a super-man pose and shuddered. Taki was saved from dwelling on the concept by the second wave of visitors. Heero walked in, followed closely by Duo who had insisted on accompanying her. She glanced down at the blood Taki was still standing in and her gaze flicked to George's raw knuckles.

            "H-he's in there," the musician replied to the silent question in Heero's eyes.

            She followed the direction of his nod until she saw the guestroom door. "He's alive?" she asked.

            "For the moment," Taki told her. "But, the night is still young; I may reverse my decision."

            Heero grunted. "What happened?"

            George shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her expectant stare. The artist/ex-wealth-redistributor/gutter rat came to his rescue. "Oh, the usual. You know. I was complaining about the other night to George and then he got all primal and stuff on my behalf. You know, some people have a really bad sense of timing. So what are you doing here, Duo?"

            He looked at Yokaze as he spoke. "I promised Heero I'd... give Yokaze a hand if she needed anything." He held up the canvas bag Yokaze had grabbed before leaving her place.

            "Uh huh." Taki didn't buy it. Neither did Yokaze/Heero if her wry expression was any indication of her thoughts.

            Duo ignored them and also tried to ignore the foreboding that rolled over him. "Whose blood is that?"

            Taki realized that she was still standing in the midst of at least one type of body fluids. She grimaced and decided to take her shoes off there rather than track the stuff all over the floor.

            "A little salt water will clean that up," Yokaze volunteered.

            Taki rolled her eyes. "Is there anything you don't know?"

            "Yes."

            "What?"

            "I don't know."

            Taki blinked. Yokaze took the opportunity to collect her duffle bag from Duo.

            "Can I help?" he offered.

            "No." With that, she strode into the guestroom and shut the door.

            "Well, the great Heero has spoken."

            Duo nodded at Taki's comment. "God help us if they really are siblings."

            "Us?" Taki laughed. "The universe."

            George coughed discreetly. "C-coffee, anyone?"

            "I'll take one," Duo replied, feeling the strain of trying to tail Yokaze over the last few days begin to set in. He was about ready to give up on his promise to Heero but he knew that he wouldn't. Couldn't. He'd seen the secret hope in those cobalt eyes. Yokaze was becoming important to Heero on more than one level. Duo couldn't allow himself to fail.

            For a few moments after George had disappeared into the kitchen, Taki studied Duo's drawn features. He looked as if he'd forgotten how to sleep. For at least three days. It was obvious to her that he needed some quality rest, but if the set of his shoulders meant anything it was that he had no such plans in the near future.

            "So," Taki drawled, "why are you really helping Heero, er, Yokaze?"

            Duo's violet eyes snapped up and he winced as if he'd been caught in the act of thinking that same thing. He sighed, feeling his exhaustion weigh on him. "I promised Heero."

            "How come Heero's not doing it himself, then?"

            The violet-eyed young man ran a hand through his bangs before stuffing both of his hands in his pants pockets. "He took off a few days ago."

            "And he asked you to keep an eye on Yokaze," Taki summarized. "Any particular reason or is he a control freak by nature?"

            A small, affectionate smile curved his mouth. "He's a control freak, but he's never really trusted anyone else to take care of something for him. At least, not before." His brow beetled as he tried to sort out the words to describe the situation. "I've recently acquired a sibling," he informed her. "Her name is Bisho, and, according to Yokaze, she sort of found her by accident. So, I'm beginning to understand what Heero must be feeling. For so many years, you live alone, answering to no one except the missions. That's everything for you. And then, the war is over and there are no more missions. And you start to feel lost, useless. Then, suddenly, you discover that you're not alone, that your life does matter to someone else, that you can't do whatever you want with it anymore." Duo sighed. "It's hard. And, I imagine that Heero's got a lot left to resolve before he can even start to deal with Yokaze's existence."

            Taki absorbed all of this in silence, all the while thanking her lucky star (or, more likely, black hole) that Heero hadn't handed her a sibling to deal with. Nope. Just and arrogant jerk. God. Of all the people who'd belonged to the Dragon Clan why had he been the only one to survive its destruction? Fate must have a seriously sick sense of humor. That was the only explanation.

            "So, what's your sister like? I honestly can't picture her."

            Duo cocked his head to one side, still gazing out the bay window Taki had stood at not so long ago. "She looks like me," he admitted with a trace of pride in his voice. "And she's impossible, stubborn, swears all the time, likes to tell me where I can shove my concerns for her well being."

            Taki bit back a smile. "How old is she?"

            "Thirteen or so."

            "Well, I'm glad I didn't know you when you were thirteen or so."

            He rolled his eyes and grinned. "Oh, I was worse."

            Taki believed him. "How did you meet her?"

            "Oh, man. You shoulda been there. I was on my hands and knees raiding Yokaze's fridge and then she just barges into the kitchen and demands to know what Quatre and I are doing there."

            "Was Yokaze around?"

            "No, but she walked in just when Bisho was going to bolt for the front door." He shook his head. "How she managed to talk Bisho into staying for another week, I'll never know. But what I wouldn't give for her secret."

            "You and me, both." Taki's mind lingered over the word "secret." "Do you know how long I've known Heero? Four years. And over the past three weeks, I've begun to see that I never really knew her at all. She never told me about working for OZ or about being a gundam pilot prototype. And she sure as hell never said anything about 'missions' involving reuniting people with their pasts. I'm still pissed about that."

            They were silent for a moment, studying the computer-programmed darkness outside. "Well," Duo said at long last, "can either of us expect any different from the perfect soldier?"

            Taki glanced at him. There was no mockery in his tone, no censure in his eyes. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, that affectionate look was back in his gaze and smile.

            "No," she admitted. "I suppose normal human behavior is an impossible expectation."

            George, having heard only the last two comments, came up behind the conversing pair and stated, "There's nothing w-wrong w-with my H-heero."

            Taki started. "Dammit George. You weigh over two hundred pounds, can't you manage to make some noise when you walk around?"

            George ignored her and handed Duo his coffee. Just then, the guestroom door opened and Yokaze emerged with a handful of bloody rags. Her flat stare traveled to George.

            "Congratulations," she intoned flatly. "You somehow managed to not break his nose."

            George looked shocked.

            Taki snickered. "Guess you can't put a notch in your gun belt for this one. Although, I can't say it surprises me. I knew he had a thick skull the moment I saw him."

            "I'm glad I h-hit h-him. My guitar w-wouldn't h-have survived."

            Yokaze looked squarely at Taki. "Payback?"

            "That? Oh, no. That was just George all pissed."

            She didn't seem surprised. "What's it to be?"

            "Shall I g-get the w-women's lingerie?" George looked hopeful.

            Taki shook her head. "No. That's something you do to drunk people because you can. I have something more devious and useful in mind."

            George made a mental note not to get drunk in Taki's presence. Ever. "W-what's the payback?"

            Taki grinned. "Well, ever since our... discussion the other day I've been experiencing the undeniable inspiration to draw. The human figure. The nude human figure. For many, many, many, many hours."

            Yokaze's eyes sparkled. "Then it's a good thing I'm taking his clothes back to my apartment with me."

            George turned to Yokaze with a desperate expression he couldn't quite hide. "C-can I s-stay at y-your place for a few d-days?"

            Duo's gaze dropped to the articles of clothing draped over the middle of the duffle. He recognized them instantly. "Wufei's in that room?"

            Three pairs of eyes watched Duo rush to the guestroom door.

            "He figured that out a lot faster than I thought he would," Taki noted.

            "Well," Yokaze observed, "he was a gundam pilot." She looked at George. "Pack your stuff."

            "Right." George marched off to collect as many articles of clothing as possible. Who knew how long he'd have to bunk at Yokaze's. He eyed his music equipment but only selected his favorite guitar. Yokaze's studio on the fourth floor of her apartment building could rival a professional recording studio.

            "Whatcha gonna do with his clothes?"

            "Wash them, of course."

            "Of course. And then?"

            "Dry them."

            "Uh huh?"

            "On the hottest setting."

            Taki grinned. Yokaze's dryer was lethal at shrinking clothes.

            "I'll send some replacements."

            Taki's eyebrows went up.

            "But it'll take at least all day tomorrow to find something, I expect."

            Taki grinned. "Sounds good."

            Duo emerged from the guestroom on that note shaking his head. "Oh man, I can't wait to tell everybody." Taki could tell he was plotting his delivery already. "What did he get hit with?"

            "Four knuckles."

            He chuckled. At last, something had happened to make this Yokaze-watch worth the lack of sleep.

            George emerged carrying two bulging duffles. "I c-cleaned out my c-closets, T-taki. The place is all y-yours."

            She grinned. Wufei's clothing options were now limited to a sheet, a blanket, and a towel. "George, you're such a great friend."

            He grinned back, thinking of the pink, fuzzy bathrobe he kept in the bathroom for guests. It was still hanging on its peg. He said, "I know."

.

            "But, Master Quatre, your presence is essential," Rashid pleaded. "Please promise you'll be home in time for the annual celebration."

            Quatre sighed. "I wish I could make that promise, Rashid. But I simply can't leave yet."

            "Well, perhaps we can postpone the celebration for a few days. Can you estimate when you'll be coming home?" Rashid was nearly frantic with worry and it showed. The Winner family had always sponsored a holiday to commemorate the first wave of colonists to arrive in L4 region. How would it look if the Winner heir wasn't present on that fateful day? Rashid knew exactly how it would look: like a disaster.

            "I'm sorry. I can't do that either." He swallowed, hating the next words he had to say. "Can one of my sisters conduct the ceremony? I know they're all terribly busy, but..."

            Rashid nodded. "I can make some inquiries, Master Quatre."

            "Thanks, Rashid."

            There was an awkward pause over the communicator and both parties stared at each other on the screen. "How are things there?" Rashid finally asked.

            Quatre thought back over the blur that was the past few weeks. So much had happened, and he had the feeling that so much more was yet to come. So many lives had been turned upside down by this mysterious double. He had seen something in Duo's eyes whenever his violet-eyed friend looked at Heero, something that had not been there ten months ago, or even three weeks ago. It was the same with Wufei; the unguarded glances he'd sent Taki's way when her back was turned had not escaped Quatre, either.

            And then there was Trowa, his main reason for staying behind. Although he knew Trowa would never come to him for anything, Quatre could see the changes he was struggling with. The emotions that were slowly growing stronger and more frequent. Quatre feared the most for him.  Trowa was finally breaking out of his prison of silence and so easily the world beyond those walls could crush him. Quatre was well aware that no one else ever looked at Trowa and saw someone fragile, someone in need of being protected. That was why he had to stay. It was a well known fact that what goes up must come down, and he hoped he was wrong, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the emotional roller coaster all of them had been riding for the past weeks was about to take a sudden plunge.

            "Master Quatre?"

            He shook himself. "I'm sorry, Rashid. Things are still rather hectic here."

            "I see," he replied, his gaze thoughtful once more. "Master Quatre, if you have need of us, only say the word."

            Quatre smiled. "Thank you, Rashid."

            Rashid nodded once and then the transmission terminated.

            Quatre sat back in the chair and considered his situation. Honestly, he ought to return. The colony was his first obligation. However, he simply couldn't leave Trowa. Not until the issue of Yokaze was resolved. Quatre frowned. He'd noticed something changing in Trowa's usually flat gaze as well. And it always happened when Yokaze entered the room.

            Immediately, Quatre recalled her in black leather and blushed. That had gotten a reaction out of everyone.

            Quatre looked up as a soft thump in the other room reached his ears. The sound must have come from Bisho's quarters. He turned off the screen in Yokaze's office and wandered next door. As expected, the door was closed. But, he thought he heard the muffled sound of weeping coming from the other side. He hesitated only for a moment, aware that he'd only seen Bisho a handful of times and that he was a total stranger to her.

            "Bisho?" he called softly.

            There was a pause and then a sniff. "Go away!"

            She was crying; he could hear the pain and tears in her voice. He opened the door. "It's Quatre. Can I get you anything?"

            "Yes. Leave me alone."

            She was sitting on the floor beneath the open window. The curtains waved gently in the night wind above her. He took in the clean clothes she'd struggled into and the pillowcase at her side. She cradled her ribs with her arms, tears streaming down her face. Her violet eyes glared defiance at him and her honey-brown hair had come partially undone from its braid. She was chaos personified and Quatre was compelled to go to her despite her insistence to the contrary.

            "Do you have a hearing problem?" she demanded, tears turning her eyes to shimmering, dark liquid.

            Quatre shook his head and sat down across from her on the floor. "What's wrong?"

            There was no response to his gentle inquiry.

            "You were leaving. Why?"

            She glared at him.

            "Duo would be frantic with worry if you left," he pointed out softly.

            "Yeah?" she challenged. "Well, it's better for everyone that I go. He'd see that eventually."

            "What?" Quatre was shocked. "Better for everyone? What about you?"

            "I can get by on my own."

            "But you don't have to," he replied softly. He watched as she turned her face away, her throat working. "Think of Duo. He's been alone for so long. You'd hurt him terribly if you left."

            "I am thinking of Duo," she croaked out. "He's safer if I leave."

            Quatre blinked. "Safer? Duo fought in the war. He's very good at taking care of himself."

            "Yeah, taking care of himself, not himself and a kid."

            There was something to what she said, and there was more pain buried in those words than she'd ever willingly admit to. "Why not give him a chance?"

            She shook her head. "A chance turns into a month, then a year, and then longer. Pretty soon..." She hiccupped. "Somebody... loses."

            Quatre's blue, blue eyes moved over her, compassion flooding out of him. After a long pause, he gently asked, "Who lost?"

            He watched as the tears came harder and harder until she was sobbing. He felt his own eyes prick with the heat of tears and he opened his arms. She fell into him. Bisho gave herself to the comfort of a compassionate stranger rather than burden Yokaze, her hostess, or Duo, her brother.

            "Her... her name was... Cera..." She forced out the words until she'd told the entire story. She even told him about that night she'd first met Yokaze. She'd been determined to kill all of the men who had ever used Cera. Determined to extract revenge for her dead friend, mother, and sister. She'd seen one of them enter The Heartbeat and so she'd followed him. She still remembered the sickening feel of his eyes sliding over her. She still felt repulsed at the words she'd used and the ways she'd touched him to convince him that she was ready to take up Cera's trade. Did he want to be the first customer?

            She cried. Even now, she felt dirty and soiled; he'd touched her. She'd let him touch her. And when she would have rammed the knife into his ribs, he'd been so much stronger, knocked it away with a flick of his wrist. And then she'd been helpless, but struggling. And then he'd hit her again and again and again.

            She leaned closer to Quatre. Another strange man. But one who seemed so nice and safe and perfect. Why hadn't she grown up with him? Why had she made Cera care for her? If Cera had been alone, then perhaps she wouldn't have had to sell herself to dirty, diseased men. If Bisho had never existed, Cera would still be alive today. Didn't he see? She had to leave Duo, or he'd die, too. Die because of her. She couldn't loose another person again. Not like that. Not like that.

            Her voice was broken by her sobs and gasps for air, but Quatre understood all of it. There was so much pain and fear inside of her. He tightened his arms around her shoulders and tucked her head under his chin. He found that he couldn't whisper nonsense to her; she needed something real, something to hold on to, something to believe in.

            "Yokaze knows what she's doing. She brought you and Duo together because this was how it was meant to be. Trust Yokaze. Has she ever given you reason not to? Trust Duo. Let him try to be a brother. It won't be easy for either of you, but don't you think both of you deserve the chance to try?"

            She wrapped her arms around the solid figure in front of her. "I want to... to try... and... and I'm... I'm scared."

            With one hand, Quatre stroked her hair. He laid his cheek against the top of her head. "He is, too, Bisho. It's okay to be scared. You have each other. That's what will make everything alright. You'll have each other."

            He could feel her tears through his vest and shirt. Her hands gripped the hem of his vest in what he was sure was white-knuckled desperation. Desperation he had sensed in so many people, people he would never be able to hold like this, comfort like this. He felt something shift inside of him as the girl in his arms held on for dear life. Even though he had dozens of sisters, he'd never held any of them like this, and had only been held himself on a handful of occasions. Especially now, when his life was the colony. There was no time for physical contact. But here, and now, his real life didn't exist. He realized that he needed Bisho in this moment as much as she needed him.

            She sniffed one final time and concentrated on her breathing. Quatre dug an embroidered square of cotton out of his pocket. After a minute, Bisho lifted her head and he wiped away her tears. He held the square to her nose and told her to blow. She did and they both laughed when her nose squeaked loudly. Her eyes were bloodshot with the bitterness of her tears. Her nose was red and her lips swollen from biting back her sobs. But she smiled at him with those violet eyes and Quatre knew he'd do anything she asked of him. She said, "I'm okay now."

            "I'm glad."

           They sat there, Quatre with the wet hanky in one hand and the other tucking stray strands of hair away from her face, Bisho simply watching him, her violet eyes large.

            He said, "Will you stay?"

            She nodded. "Yeah."

            He smiled. She returned his gaze. That was his cue. He moved as if to get up and leave.

            Her hand shot out and her fingers curled around his wrist. Instantly, he froze, concern written over his features.

            "Don't go yet," she rasped. "I don't want to be by myself. I've been by myself for days."

            Quatre smiled again. "You've been in this room for days, too."

            She gave the room a thorough inspection. "Yeah," she replied. "It's really sucked."

            He laughed. "Okay, then let's go somewhere else." He got up and held out his hand to her.

            "Like where?" She winced as she pulled herself up from the floor with his help.

            "Like an exotic land where your every worry is instantly obliterated."

            She gave him a speculative look. "There's no such place."

            "Of course there is."

            "Fine. Then what's it called?"

            Quatre gave her a conspiratorial grin. "The kitchen."

            Five minutes later, he was sitting across from Bisho at Yokaze's table. Both had bowls of chocolate ice cream. His gaze moved over her as she savored the dessert. Her nose was still red, her eyes still bloodshot, and now there was a growing ring of chocolate around her swollen mouth. In short, she looked like hell.

            Quatre had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

.

            Ah, so this is misery, Wufei mused as he came to. He wallowed in the rush of pain as it overwhelmed him. He frowned at it, but the action only sent more darts of pain slicing through his brain. What had happened?

            For a solid minute, he remained still, his eyes closed, his memory working. Ah, yes, he remembered now. He'd come to see Taki. To apologize. His mouth turned down at the corners as he replayed George answering the door, Taki's clipped words, and then George saying his name. And then a fist moving through the air too fast and too close to avoid.

            George. Wufei almost growled. What had he done to provoke the man? His mind drew a blank. As he lay there, thinking, soft sounds filtered through his awareness. Someone was pouring something, and now stirring. The musical tink of a spoon against porcelain continued for a bit longer. Someone was sitting beside him. He was in a bed with the blanket tucked up to his chin.

            And then he digested one final, important piece of information.

            He was naked.

            Wufei opened his eyes. He said nothing as he took in the sight of Taki leaning over a tea set, a can of hot chocolate mix on the tray with two cups, a pitcher, and a bowl. His black eyes moved slowly over her hair where it was tucked behind her ear and feathered against her neck. As if she sensed his gaze, she glanced over her shoulder at him and held up a mug. She smiled, an expression that promised unpleasant things in his future.

            With saccharine sweetness, she inquired politely, "Marshmallow?"

            Wufei eyed the mug with growing dread. The apartment was silent. And he was naked. And then he saw the stacks of unopened sketch pads and tubes of pencil lead. Behind her, there was an easel with a canvas, paint, and various other supplies. His dread increased and he revised his original thought about misery. Somehow, he was sure that the worst was yet to come.

.

            So this was it.

            Heero studied the perfectly normal-looking home nestled in C181's suburbs. His gaze flicked to the neat, black numbers posted next to the door. The address matched. Still, it was not without a good deal of unease that Heero contemplated ringing the doorbell.

            At worst, he would ring the bell and his quarry would not be there. Then he would simply have to consult his laptop once more for clues. At best, everything would go as planned. But was that what Heero really wanted? The answers he hoped to gain were such that they would change his life forever upon hearing them. If the truth was that he was no longer alone in this world, then he would begin to feel emotions—dangerous emotions—that could never be unfelt, erased, forgotten.

            He thought of Yokaze and recalled her silent humor when Duo had been unable to tell the two of them apart.

            Can't you two wear name tags or something?

            There had been something on the other side of Duo's violet eyes that Heero had tried not to see. Now, as he stood on the threshold of a new life, they filled his awareness. In that moment, Heero realized that what he had seen was caring.

            Duo cared.

            Heero froze, shocked by the revelation, rejecting it automatically. He shook himself. He was mistaken. It was the dream again, influencing his ability to infer accurately.

            He lifted his hand and rang the bell. A minute passed without a sound being made inside the residence. He rang the bell a second time. It was then that he saw the discreetly placed video camera pointing toward the welcome mat Heero was standing on. No sooner had his gaze been electronically transferred to a screen elsewhere in the house, than a small key pad was revealed by a sliding panel. He placed his right thumb on the pad and entered the code for his name. A small green light scanned his flesh and then beeped softly. The equipment retracted into the wall beside the doorbell. By now, Heero was reasonably sure that he had the correct address.

            The front door clicked as it opened and Heero stepped inside. There was no one in the foyer. He glanced to his right where the kitchen opened up, and then to his left where the living room stretched out. He could see no one. In fact, he could detect no signs of anyone actually living in the house at all. He frowned and started to head further into the house, but then the television monitor in the living room clicked on and presented a rectangle of static. Curious, Heero moved closer. After a moment, an image collected on the screen. It was a figure. A man.

            Heero moved even closer as he identified his quarry. "Doctor," he said.

            Dr. J grinned from his true location. "Heero! How have you been? How do you like my arrangement there?"

            Heero nodded. "Impressive."

            The doctor grinned. "So, what's on your mind, young man?"

            Heero stared at the screen. "I came to ask you a few questions."

            "Oh? What about?"

            Heero didn't so much as blink. It was vital that he catch every bit of the doctor's first reaction. "Zero-one."

            "Ah, yes," the doctor replied slowly, leaning back in his chair. "I take it you've met?"

            "Aa."

            "How is Zero-one?"

            Heero shrugged. "Fine."

            "Good, good." The doctor smiled. "I'd hoped that she'd survived the war." He transferred his attention to Heero once more and considered him. "You must have been a bit surprised. How did you two find each other?"

            "It's a long story."

            "And you don't have time for talk," Dr. J summarized. "All right. What do you want to know?"

            "Everything."

            "Now that's a long story."

            Heero nodded.

            Dr. J sighed, took a deep breath, and began. "She was brought to us by a mercenary. He'd heard that the organization was looking for exceptionally talented children, children talented in military tactics. The fact that she was a girl was a minor disadvantage. But, she was also very young, perhaps six or so years old. None of us had ever worked with a child that young before. But, the organization decided to begin to test the new training programs on her. It was vital that we understand what the long-term effects might be. From the time she was brought to us until nearly five years later, she was our primary test subject. In fact, it was her flight simulation data that you fought against in your early training, Heero."

            Dr. J took another slow breath and continued. "She was approximately eleven years old when you came to us. We'd had a lot of children come and go through our doors, but your remarkable resemblance to Zero-one guaranteed you a place in the organization with her.

            "It was decided that through reconstructive and cosmetic surgery and hormone treatment, Zero-one could conceivably be your double. Nearly two years later, most of their work had been done. And she was your double. It was then that the plan was detailed to the rest of us. The two of you were to be trained to act as one person, similar to how identical twins are treated as if they are one person when they're children. This was necessary for the creation of the prefect soldier. Two of you would strike in different locations at the same time. Even I could see it was a brilliant, if immoral idea. Somehow, Zero-one must have discovered the plot. And she fled.

            "That had surprised everyone except me. I had always known that we'd trained her too well, tested too many programs with her. She could have left at any time. But, I think she stayed for you. The fact that she'd left without taking you with her had surprised me. It still does. I don't suppose she's mentioned anything about that?"

            Heero shook his head.

            "Well, that's the story. But, you look like you've heard it all before."

            "Aa."

            "And now you have questions."

            "Aa." Heero took a breath and selected his first and most important inquiry. "Is Zero-one my sister?"

.

~End of Chapter 14~