Awa: *peers over Tori's shoulder* What'cha working on?

Tori: Making a firearm out of a book of matches, a stapler, and four click springs. *poking around inside the stapler*

Awa: If I may ask…why?

Tori: I've been falling behind on my resource training. Gotta stay sharp.

Awa: Ah… that explains why you're working by potato-light.

Tori: Don't make jokes. You just never know when you may need to blow open a door with only a bottle of RediWhip and a pair of safety scissors.

Awa: …knowing your friends, that may just come in handy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

         Saint Peter peered over the top of his newspaper at the two men in front of him. "Back so soon, Quatre?"

         Quatre smiled and gestured for Kevin to approach the high desk. "Don't worry," he whispered reassuringly.

         "Name?"

         "Kevin Jordan."

         "Jordan… Hmmm… Ah! Kevin Jordan," Saint Peter mumbled to himself as he ran his finger down the page. "Let's see… Big turn-around at sixteen. Things were really going in your direction after that." He looked up and smiled. "Go right in, Kevin. I'm sure your penance will be short."

         "Thank you, sir," Kevin replied and held a hand over his heart.

         "Quatre, you go in too. Report to Julian as soon as possible."

         "Yes, sir."

~*~*~*~

         Mrs. Marshall was a petite woman with wide brown eyes and long, dark hair. She was not Italian, but she looked the part. The slight wrinkles near the corners of her mouth and eyes were the only hints at her age. Her walk was that of a business woman and she seemed almost imposing despite her small stature.

"I've been talking with Aunt Amanda… She says you're welcome to stay with her as long as you stay out of trouble," she said in fluent Italian, tilting her chin up slightly so she could look her son in the face. Heero stood behind her, but Tobias looked away.

"You're sending me to America?"

Heero perked up. America…was good. It was familiar. Maybe…maybe Heero might actually be of help there. If only Duet would come back and explain exactly how he could accomplish that.

"Tobias, it's for the best."

"When am I leaving?"

"On Sunday. Be ready by then."

"Whatever…"

Tobias stuffed his hands in his pockets. A moment of silence passed between the two, then, with a rustle of starched fabric on worn flannel, Mrs. Marshall clung to her son, hugging him about the middle.

"I'm sorry, Toby. I understand… And I'm not mad. Please just remember I love you, okay…?" she murmured. Tobias froze for a moment, then lay a slender hand on her shoulder.

"I know, mom. I know."

Heero smiled.

~*~*~*~

Rachel sat on the concrete and brink steps in front of her house and stared blankly at the weeping cherry tree blocking most of her vision. Beside her was her bluish-purple book bag, one strap slightly torn from three years of wearing it on only one shoulder. She wore a blue plaid skit and a light blue golf shirt, her school uniform.

Behind her in the open doorway, Duo leaned against the frame, hands shoved in the pockets of his uncharacteristic white robe.

Neither moved. They rested so still it seemed more like some surreal photograph. A light breeze plucked a few blossoms from the tree and scattered them across the walkway. Finally, Rachel spoke.

"I'm graduating next week," she said, but didn't move.

         "You must be excited."

         "Oh yes… Thrilled…" she grumbled and glared at a stray piece of mulch as if it deeply offended her.

         "You don't want to graduate?"

         "Not at all. There are fifty-eight people in my whole class, including me. We've known each other since we were all five or six years old. I don't know any other life besides this one and frankly I'm content this way. I have no desire to grow up, move on and put those years behind me. Life is good right now."

         Duo heaved a sigh and sat down next to her on the stoop. He looked at the little girl and smiled. "All you have to do is make an effort to keep in touch."

         She slid him an evil glare. "We both know that's a lie. Everyone will make new friends and move on, but I can't and I don't want to. I'll get left behind. Everyone's going to different high schools… I'm going to public school."

         "HEY! There is nothing wrong with the public school system. I know you'd rather be at the catholic high schools with your friends-"

         "You better be careful throwing around a phrase like 'I know', Duo. It was my decision to go to public school. My parents wanted me to go with everyone else."

         "Then what the hell are you complaining about?"

         "Duo… If I'd gone with them, I'd only be fooling myself. I may be in the same school with them, but it would never be the same as the old days. I'd be there to see them ditch me for new friends or ignore me because I'm not cool enough for them anymore. Besides, I need to do some growing up. And there are more opportunities at a public school. More budget. More kinds of people."

         Duo blinked at her a few times. Then a few more. Then, with a rustle of cloth and a surprised squeak from Rachel, he hugged her.

~*~*~*~

         The stench of rotting sewage mixed with the smell of honey-roasted peanuts sold by a vendor on the street corner wafted in the open door of the New York deli. Maria wilted in her chair behind the counter and next to the noisy air conditioner, fanning herself with yesterday's sports section. Robbie busied himself stocking drinks in the refrigerator and shooing flies away from the open buffet of salads and coleslaw. Once in a while a customer would wander in, usually a tourist looking for a bottle of water or iced tea and the paper.

         It was a slow day.

         Wu Fei and Carol watched disinterestedly. As angels, they weren't subject to the discomforts of the sweltering combination of heat and humidity or reek of the city in early summer.

         "Something exciting better happen to Maria and I soon or they'll cut us out if this doujinshi completely," Wu Fei muttered off to the side.

         "Hm?" Carol arched an eyebrow at the younger angel.

         "Er… Woah, that fly totally has the hots for that piece of potato. Look'it 'im go."

         "… … …you and my daughter would have gotten along so well. Same strange sense of humor."

         "…does she like punk rock?"

         "…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tori: o___o *hides behind Heero*

Heero: …what are you hiding from?

Tori: *points at you* Them.

Heero: *looks at you* Better start running, then, Tor. They definitely look like they could kick your ass.

Tori: -___-* …my hero…