Everything was running according to plan. There was perhaps a little more moonlight than there should have been, but as it was no-one noticed the dark figure creeping towards the house. The alarm system already disabled, it was almost effortless to open the door to the house, but it would hardly have been a problem for the Perfect Soldier.
He opened the door and closed it soundlessly behind him. Involuntarily, he stood stock-still for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of memories. He was home. It seemed like a life-time since he was last here. He half-smiled in the darkness and carefully made his way through the disused room to the door and out into the corridor. The paintings, the carpet; it was exactly how he remembered it.
Here, the fifth room on the right. Silently, he entered the room. This room had changed, however. Instead of an extra bedroom that it once had been, it had been transformed into a tastefully decorated nursery, filled with toys and picture books. None of these changes interested Heero. His attention was focused on one thing, the cot in the middle of the room. At the side of the cot, he hesitated. One look would change everything. One glance, his first glance at his son, that he would never be able to forget. But he hadn't come this far to give up now. He laid a hand on the side on the cot and looked at the small figure lying inside. His gaze was met by a pair of blue eyes. At that moment he saw the flaw in his plan. One cry, one scream from his son would bring the whole house running and then he might as well forget having been here. Neither father nor son made a sound. Heero continued to stare down into the cot, trying to burn every detail of his son's face into his memory: his mouth, his nose, his ears, his blue eyes. They were Relena's eyes, but even in the gloom it was easy to see that the boy took after his father. The fingers of his left hand in his mouth, the baby reached out with his right hand to his father. It was time to go. The boy might have his face but that was all he would have of him. His son would never have to fight, to see the destruction on a battlefield or to hear the screams of dying soldiers. He would learn to despise these things. He would learn to despise his father and everything that he stood for. Instead he would learn of peace, democracy and diplomacy. It was better that way. Heero wondered what Relena would tell her son about his father and if his son would ever be able to forgive him for what he had done. It didn't matter he could never come back. He could never be a father to his son. Heero realised he had been standing there too long, at the door he threw one last glance at the cradle and left the room.
