Feels Like Home

By Shikata ga nai

~*~

Heero groaned and peeked his eyes open. The peace officer's face hovered above him, blocking most of his view of the sky. He shivered a little. It was cold.

The man looked sympathetic. "Move along, kid. This is no place for you." He helped Heero off of the park bench and waved him along, onto the pathway streaming with people who had places to go, things to do, and money to spend when they got there.

Heero, on the other hand, didn't have any of those three things. He had left L2 in a hurry, the same day that he got there, spending the majority of his remaining money on a shuttle ride back to Earth. He now had about twenty-five dollars to his name, as well as a backpack that no longer had food in it, and a very large chip on his shoulder. It had been a week, and he had spent his nights sleeping on park benches in a beautiful region of the former France. Today, he thought that he should move on. Perhaps he could find a place to get cleaned up, and maybe an actual bed for the night. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and walked aimlessly along the park path, looking for an exit to the rest of town.

Two hours of walking later, he found a halfway shelter. Inside, there were a few bathrooms that included showers. He almost laughed out loud. The water was kind of cold, but after a few minutes of vigourous scrubbing, he could almost forget that he'd spent seven nights on the street. Fresh and healthy, he wandered back into the main room of the shelter and joined the food line. He felt a bit guilty and ashamed to find himself standing among poor, homeless people, waiting for a handout, until he remembered that he currently qualified as poor and homeless himself. The thought didn't cheer him up much.

Five minutes later, he was at the front of the line with a red plastic food tray in his hands. A few volunteers were ladling out bowls of watery soup for the lineup, and although it didn't look like it would be terribly appetizing in better times, the smell made Heero's stomach growl insistently right then. He walked forward to take his food. A young, blonde woman in a green apron handed him his bowl. She smiled encouragingly; she looked like the type of high society person who helped out at shelters to build up her reputation among her social group. Or maybe she just genuinely cared about others. Heero couldn't read people very well.

He knew a familiar face when he saw one, though. It was so dimly remembered that it took him a few moments to recall her name. He stood there and stared at her in confusion until he did, and he watched absently as her smile became a little strained. Finally, it clicked. "Sylvia Noventa!" he gasped. He backpedaled a few steps, remembering their last encounter, when he'd told her about her grandfather's death and offered to let her kill him in revenge.

Sylvia froze, and her eyes widened in fear. Soon, though, it faded to curiosity, because the man before her didn't look like he was dangerous. She peered at his face strangely for an eternity, and when she suddenly dropped the ladle with a clang into the soup pot, he knew she'd recognized him. Her lips moved unintelligibly for a minute, but then she formed sound. "Heero…" she said softly. Then, her expression changed from reminiscent to forceful in the time it took to blink. "Wait right there," she commanded, and then she ran off to talk to an older woman who was supervising the volunteers.

Heero obeyed, standing in front of the food line awkwardly with a steaming bowl of potato soup, while those who had been standing close enough to hear the exchange stared and whispered among themselves. Finally, she came back to her station with another young woman to replace her, took off her apron, and came around the counter towards Heero. "Come on," she said, pulling his arm gently. "Let's go find a seat."

The two of them found an empty table, and Heero sat down with his soup while Sylvia sat across from him. She waited patiently while he practically inhaled his food (he hadn't eaten much for three days), and when he pushed away the empty bowl, she grinned. "It's been a while, Heero," she said.

Heero, at a loss, twiddled his thumbs. "Yes, it has." She had grown up a lot since he'd last seen her; she wore a pink turtleneck that only seemed to amplify the size of her chest. Her hair was a very pale blonde and in a simple ponytail. She wore tastefully expensive diamond studs in her ears that sparkled when she moved her head. "You look good," he said, feeling a need to fill the silence.

She smiled. "I feel good. I'm living on my own, now. I have a job, and a social life, and I make good money. I also got an inheritance after Grandpa died." She cleared her throat awkwardly and looked at the laminate tabletop, trying to avoid Heero's eyes.

"Uh, that's great," he stammered, ashamed of his memories. "How is--?"

"Grandma? Oh, she's doing great," she said quickly. "We talk all the time." The conversation trailed off again, choking on the tension in the air. Then her eyes lit up. "So how are you?" She looked around, marking the scenery and Heero's slightly scruffy appearance, and changed tacks. "What's happened to you since I last saw you?"

Heero gave her a quick summary of the last year or so, filling in details when she prompted him. When he got to his current position, he faltered and trailed off. "And then…hn. Free soup," he finished, gesturing at his empty bowl.

"Oh, my god," she said softly. She chewed her lip in thought as she stared at him, evaluating him. Her eyes were the colour of robin's eggs, narrowed a little. Suddenly, she smiled, having made a decision. "You need a place to stay, don't you?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't really--" Heero objected, even though the thought of park benches and potato soup made him groan inside.

She waved off his unsaid excuses. "No buts. I have a hide-a-bed and a hot shower. The fridge is full of food." She stood up and held out her hand, pleading him with her eyes. "No strings attached."

He exhaled through his nose, slowly. He frowned, trying to resist the offer. He was beholden to no one… "All right," he said finally, standing up and taking her hand. She led him out the front door of the shelter, into the sunlit street.

***

"Okay, so the bathroom's the third door on your left, down the hall, and you can help yourself to anything in the fridge. TV, sleep, books…whatever you want. If you need anything, my work number's on the fridge." Sylvia grinned at Heero, who had just taken off his shoes. She had to go to work.

Heero nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem! Bye!" she called as she left.

When the apartment door shut behind her, Heero sighed tiredly and dropped his backpack off his shoulder with a thunk. He pulled off his jacket, hung it up, and dragged himself and his belongings over to the couch in the living room. His first priority was rest, and the couch was much more comfortable than any bench ever thought of being. He fell asleep almost instantly.

***

It was dark, instead of afternoon, when Heero woke up. Sylvia was home, striding into the kitchen with a paper bag in each arm.

"Hey," she greeted him when she saw he was awake. "Did you sleep well?"

"That was the most sleep I've had in two weeks," he called back. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before wandering into the bathroom. When he came out again, she had set the bags down on the table and was getting out some pots for dinner.

She smiled at him. "I hope you like spaghetti."

"Love it." Heero peeked inside the grocery bags and arbitrarily started putting food away, finding the right cupboards as he went. "Do you know where I might be able to find a job?" he asked.

She looked him up and down from the stove, taking in the stubble on his chin and his clothes, which had seen better days. "You might want to buy a few things first."

"I have other clothes," he replied. He had used his funds to buy a small, simple wardrobe while he traveled. It all fit in his backpack.

"We'll have a look at them after dinner," she said, stirring the sauce.

They ate quietly, chatting a little about what he thought he'd like to do. He established fairly quickly that all he thought he could manage was lifting things. She replied that it would make his job hunt easier; most of the warehouses in town needed help, since many valiant young men had died in the wars. His ears burned red, and she quickly said that she hadn't meant it that way.

After cleaning up their meal, Sylvia instructed Heero to show her what he had for clothes. He obliged, although he needed to do laundry. When she saw his collection of worn T-shirts and jeans, she decided that washed or not, these clothes would never do.

"You're going shopping, I think."

"I can't afford it."

"I'll give you money."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"No, you won't."

"Heero, you'll take the money and buy yourself some new clothes, if I have to glue it to your hand."

He glared at her. She glared right back.

"Fine," he growled, "but I'm paying you back."

Satisfied, she smiled and gathered up his clothes from the couch. "I'll put these in the laundry. Tomorrow's Sunday; we'll go out after lunch and do some shopping." With that, she left the room.

Heero stared at the doorway in consternation long after she left, knowing that he was out of his element here.

**********