The Perfect Soldier
Epilogue
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The pain is intense but, at the same time, it falls dully against the prone figure, as if it has traveled miles to arrive at its destination. Forever is sitting upon the closed eyelids whispering to the mind, creating a picture of quiet, of oblivion, of numbness. But the urge to awake is instinctual and inevitable. With a slight frown, the cobalt eyes flicker open.
The white.
The eyelids move to shield the pupils from the painful glare of the colony light on the pale linens. Lying silent and hurting under the white fabric, the figure takes in this new, pain-filled world.
And thinks: I am alive.
Blinking, the sluggish mind digests this as it attempts to understand the place it has come into. A sheet. A bed. A white room. An uncovered window. A hospital.
At this moment, the cobalt eyes are aching; the pain is intensified by the white. Another thought runs through the numb but turbulent mind: Is there no other color in this place?
"Good afternoon, miss."
A pleasant voice spills into the figure's ears. A moment later, a kind, maternal face smiles from above, eclipsing the glare of the sun.
"How are you feeling?"
The figure on the bed does not try to reply with words. The young mouth stretches slowly into a small grin, the blue eyes close for a moment as a sigh comes up from the unexercised lungs.
When the eyes open once more, it is to the ragged cityscape of an L1 colony. It is early morning and a single duffle bag is clutched in the left first. The gaze is glancing off over a shoulder. The figure turns back to the forward and confronts a memorial. Extending out to the perimeter of the colony, lines of memorial stones form their silent, marching columns. And, directly at the feet of the youth, rests a single stone for a young woman who had been called Heero Yuy.
The figure sucks a small breath of cool, dry air into its lungs as the significance of the name strikes home.
He has died with me...
Tears press against the cobalt eyes, but this is not the time to mourn for the young man. This is the time to mourn for the soldier buried here. The soldier, who had never been a child but who had never seen her ninth birthday, one of the creatures to have been borne of a young girl's harvested DNA, that soldier's remains now rests in this place.
A shuttle is approaching. The grind of the colony's spaceport gears and roar of the engines disrupts the morning calm. The figure turns in the direction of the city. It is time to go. It is time to leave the past behind and begin again...
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Cobalt eyes were slowly revealed as the figure on the bed came awake to the L4 dawn. For a moment, Heero Yuy thought of nothing as the early light tumbled through the windows. And then slowly, as if a warm embrace was softly stealing around him, he remembered the dream. He let out a slow breath.
He had dreamed of her, his sister.
Heero almost smiled as he watched the false sun climb a fraction higher across the colony's dome. For the first time, he was free to think of her, free from the relentless guilt and loss that had permeated his existence over these past months.
A movement behind him pulled at his memory of the night before and he turned, slowly, to see his best friend shifting in his sleep. Duo's angelic face was framed by his dark turtleneck and loosened honey-brown hair. Although still deep in sleep, he was attempting to burrow further into the warmth of the blankets and the dark of the shadows created by Heero's body.
Quietly, Heero got up from the bed and drew the curtains closed. He turned to the room's most comfortable chair, which boasted a blanket neatly folded and thrown over the arm. When Heero turned back to the slumbering young man, his face held a soft smile. He was aware of his expression and the miracle of Duo's caring that had made it possible. For so long, he had pushed Duo and the emotions he awakened away. Heero found it odd that the transition of acceptance had been so easy.
He carefully tucked the blanket around the turtleneck and jean-clad figure. It was a bit cool in the room, which made Heero realize that he should have adjusted the room's thermostat last night. He did so now and headed for the desk.
In silence, he collected his things. He paused in the act of reassembling the gift of his past, his gaze lingering on the photograph of himself and his sister. He saw in her serious gaze a soul that had already started down the road to soldierhood. The shadows in her eyes whispered of death and battle. As if she'd sensed the bleak, dark path ahead of her, she stared at the camera, standing guard over her father and younger brother.
This was the girl who would soon come into the organization's possession. This was the girl who would become the first soldier trained as a gundam pilot. This would be the perfect soldier. Or, rather, she would be half of it. Heero traced the outline of her face with his fingertips. For a long time now, he had understood the significance of that title: the perfect soldier. It represented two individuals who had been trained to act the same, adjusted to look the same, taught to be the same person. Without each other they were nothing more than excellent soldiers. Only together could they be the perfection envisioned by the organization.
Shortly after he'd received word of her death, he'd realized that. He'd understood that without her he could never be the perfect soldier. He'd also understood that without her there could never be a home, a family, a place to belong. The latter had surprised him. It would have surprised the General. Surely none of the scientists or strategists could have known that he and Zero-one would eventually look to each other and see a home. Although he was reasonably sure that Dr. J had suspected this for some years.
Heero carefully repacked the photograph and the clipping and the note. It was getting late and he needed to get going.
With his hand on the knob, he glanced back at Duo and paused. Never had he guessed the strength in another person's arms. Never had he known the peace and the healing that came with a friend. They had only been a whisper in his dream.
He knew these secrets now.
Silently, he slipped from the room. He closed the door softly but heard something else over the sound. He straightened and turned his gaze to the short hall leading to the common room. Someone was already awake. And from the sound of silverware clinking against china, he had ordered room service.
Heero started toward the common room, thinking that he would have to be on his way soon, that he had to find her. He regretted leaving this new-found friendship behind, but he knew that while Duo would not be happy about being left here, he could not blame Heero for leaving.
The sound of a voice drifted down the hall. Trowa's voice. He was speaking to someone. Heero was not surprised that Trowa was awake at dawn, but he thought it odd that someone else was also up. He frowned as he listened to Trowa's footsteps, softened by the plush carpeting, disappear down the hall that ran along the opposite side of the common room. Still, Heero could hear the sound of someone pouring liquid (probably coffee) into a cup and stirring in either cream or sugar.
It was with a frown that he turned the corner to confront the early riser. For a moment, he saw no one. And then the sound of breath being expelled over the rim of a cup caught his attention. He turned to see someone—a friend of Trowa's, no doubt—perched in the chair Heero had occupied last night at the table displaying the chessboard. The opposite place was empty except for a lone cup of steaming coffee. Wrapping both hands around her own cup, the stranger inhaled the steam.
He did not recognize her short, spiky hair or her profile. But when she glanced in his direction, he found that he couldn't move. A few seconds ago, he had not known this woman from Eve. But he knew those cobalt eyes.
She offered him a level, affectionate stare. "Good morning."
Heero stared back at her. His initial shock was slowly giving way to both wariness of her excellent timing and elation at her presence. He took a step closer and then another. She watched him with large eyes reading his tension and disbelief. When he was close enough to touch, she put her coffee down, her gaze never leaving his. For a long moment, they remained thus. Not speaking. Not moving. And then, as if he were sleepwalking, Heero put out his hand and touched first her hair and then her temple and finally her cheek, tracing the thin line of raised flesh.
And still she waited.
His thumb moved back and forth across her skin, reveling in its resilience, in its realness.
For the second time this morning, Heero Yuy's expression gentled. He whispered to her, "It's you."
"It's me," she replied, standing.
He was taller than her by an inch or so now. A distinction Duo would have greatly appreciated all those months ago. She reached up and brushed a few wayward locks of hair away from his eyes and silently read his thoughts in them. The relief that he'd found her, the strange freedom of finality, the fear of having almost lost this moment forever. But then he blinked and those things were gone. In their place was a warm, knowing look.
"Merry Christmas," he rasped.
The gift of his acceptance washed through her completely. She remembered the last gift he'd given her and stepped into the circle of his arms to press her left cheek to his. And when she leaned away, she held his gaze and whispered a single, simple sentence: "Thank you."
And he remembered, too. His gaze went to her left cheek and he traced a single line on her skin with a calloused fingertip where her scar—his gift—would have been.
"I didn't get you anything," he told her, his expression serious.
She grinned and wondered if she could explain to him how she felt about that:
And as far as beginnings went, this was more than enough.
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~End of Epilogue~