Disclaimers: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing nor it's characters. Merely borrowing them for a little torture.

Warnings: Shounen-ai (because I suck at yaoi) , major A.U, some OOC I think, mpreg (mentioned, implied, so on)

Reflections of the Past

Part 11

One month later

Keiran Walker stared at the little home he found and cleaned for him and his sister-in-law. By found, he meant literally. He had been travelling with his late brother's wife, Dorothy, for over a week before they found this perfect looking house. So, maybe it wasn't all that perfect, the paint was peeling, windows were broken, and there seemed to be a bad case of termite infestation, but it was the closest house they could find to the village and still maintain their privacy. For some reason, it was very important to Keiran. While crowds were fine, he was usually more comfortable when surrounded by nature. He assumed it was the quirk in his upbringing. He remembered loving walks in the woods with his father and picking berries with his mother and brother.

He raised his fingers to rub at his temple. For some odd reason, he couldn't remember how his parents looked like. He reasoned that he was probably too young when they died. His older brother was the one who raised him. His parents were killed in a fire when he was barely five whereupon his older brother had bundled him to another village where his brother worked in steel mines. Later he had met Dorothy and had been blissfully married for two years. Keiran had to admit the first time he had met Dorothy, he had been completely freaked out. She was what he considered a complete Ice Queen. Blonde, blue eyes, completely poised when they first shook hands with the forked eyebrow things. Keiran had asked her later why and with twinkling blue eyes whispered mischievously she was a witch and that was why she had forked eyebrows. His brother had lovingly whacked his fiancée on the head for frightening a then thirteen year old Keiran, who wasn't over fairy tales but was proud enough to try to ignore it.

Life had been good for the three of them when his brother had proposed to Dorothy, who had accepted. They lived with minimal conflict while his brother and his wife had pampered him outrageously, giving in to every whim that he ever had and wanted. Because of this, when Keiran wanted to pursue medicine, he was shipped off to an exclusive medical college despite financial difficulties. He had come back a full fledged doctor, or healer as they were still called in back water parts. He had promised not to let his brother work so hard in the mines, which fumes were slowly deteriorating his brother's health. That had worked and with the additional income Dorothy brought in from the various blessings she did around the village, they were able to live comfortably. Keiran frowned upon Dorothy's livelihood but was cautious enough not to bring it up too often. He prided himself a man of science now and his sister-in-law's superstitious beliefs were not helping his credibility. Dorothy still believes in witches and sorcery and various occults but since he respected her for who she was, Keiran kept his peace.

Of course, heaven wouldn't last forever. Two months ago, Keiran was off to look at a sick child in the neighbouring village when he came back to find his brother lying in a pool of his own blood, a knife lodged in his throat. There was fire in their home, the house Keiran worked so hard for them and he could see a figure running away. His brother's murderer! Even as he thought of it now, it still brought a wave of hatred to the person that broke up his happy family. He couldn't really recall the figure, but sometimes he still had nightmares of it. In these horrifying dreams, he could still see his brother calling out for him, his eyes full of haunted accusation for not coming back on time, for not stopping his murder. Keiran had called the local enforcement in but they were stumped and found no trace of the murderer.

He couldn't understand who would want to kill his brother. The man had never done anything to anyone and was by general consensus the most paragons of men within the village. His brother made no enemies and countless people were on a 'waiting list' to be introduced to him. Keiran hated himself, hated the fact that he couldn't remember clearly how the murderer looked like. It had seemed disturbing familiar, but he was almost certain that he had never met the man before. Besides, none of his friends would have wanted his brother dead, they respected the hard working, kind and humble man too much.

Sometimes, in moments of utter peace and quiet, Keiran could almost see the murdering bastard. He could almost make out the messy crop of hair and the bluest eyes this side of the summer sky, but the rest of the features were lost in blurriness.

Keiran had vowed to find that man even if it took the rest of his life. Dorothy had changed after that. She was once a cheerful, bright but losing her husband made her into a sometimes bitter woman whose only ambition was to bring her husband's murderer to justice.

Desperate to spare her the painful memories that still assailed him, Keiran made a choice and moved them away. Dorothy had protested vehemently, of course, wanting to be close to her husband's final resting place, but patient coaxing from Keiran had finally convinced her that moving away for a while was good. After all, they could always go back later. It had nearly been a kicking and screaming thing, but Keiran managed to pry Dorothy's fingers away from her husband's headstone. Keiran felt the pain of the loss himself, but he had steeled his heart. During the long trek over the country, he did the one thing he promised never to do. He took up arms.

For days on end, he practiced with twin medium length knives. It had felt so natural on him, slashing and stabbing. They seemed an extension of his limbs, like he had used them before in a past life. He had quickly squelched that thought. Thinking like that one showed that he was a heathen and Keiran Walker wasn't a heathen. He wanted to find the bastard that murdered his brother, tie him to a tree and proceed to find out in the most painful way why he had killed one of the pillars in the Walker family, before castrating the heartless monster.

"Keiran," Dorothy called from the window to the kitchen. "Come in for lunch."

"In a minute," Keiran panted a little, putting away his weapons. He was getting extremely out of shape recently and all that training with his knives was doing nothing to help him increase his stamina. He was keenly frustrated that he would still be relegated as the weakling in the family. His brother had always been the more physically fit one while Keiran was always the book worm.

He walked over to the water pump and worked the handle for a cup of cool water. For a moment, the world spun sickeningly around him. He held onto the pump for a moment, letting the world settle around him. He cursed himself once again. Why was he so weak? He wasn't sick, didn't have any problems with his health, accept for putting a few more pounds lately, other than that he was a perfectly healthy young man. But, he had been getting easily fatigued recently, and had to be careful not to overwork himself. More than once he found himself close to passing out in the middle of the woods and had to sit for a spell.

Not wanting to worry Dorothy about his seemingly failing stamina, where he was in top condition otherwise, Keiran had managed to exchange his services for his competent medical advice for the repair of the home he was staying in, fresh supply of cut wood, various vegetables and meat and so on. Because of this, Dr Walker was known to be a charitable soul that allows his patients to pay what they could afford, most of them time in services rather than coin. Keiran and Dorothy were never want for food and warmth although their clothes were sometimes threadbare and patched many times.

"Keiran!" Dorothy called again, sounding irritated. "It's getting cold."

Keiran winced at the tone. Dorothy got easily irritated these days and he was careful not to annoy her too much. It wasn't as if she was purposely cruel, but Keiran found himself nursing bruises from her anger days after. "Coming."

He strode up the steps leading into the kitchen and found a rather selection of meats, fruits and vegetables laid out for him. He gaped at the platter. "Dorothy, you shouldn't have," he exclaimed, thinking of the work his sister had to go through for him. He worry at the pace his sister set sometimes, taking care of the house and then him. She didn't seem to have much time for herself. It felt wrong using her like this. Keiran could take care of himself, he had all those years away from school. This was his brother's widow, not his personal servant.

Dorothy's eyes narrowed in anger. "Are you complaining?" She challenged, her voice sharp with reproach.

Keiran quickly shook his head. "Of course not," he hurried to placate. "It's just that you didn't have to trouble yourself like this." He put on his best smile. "I'm a pretty simple type of guy. Meat slapped in between two pieces of bread would do for me."

Those ice blue eyes thawed. "You work too hard, you need the nourishment." She waved him to a chair and took a seat opposite him.

Keiran lowered himself into the chair as he studied Dorothy carefully. His heart clenched realising how much weight she had lost since her husband's death. As a sign of mourning, she wore black constantly now, as did he, but she didn't give herself any respite from the sombre clothes at any time. Her once loose golden hair was tightly wound into a neat braid. Keiran had asked her why the first time she sported this new hairdo. Dorothy had explained that all memories and pain were now in this braid. It was a memento mori of sorts.

The doctor found himself staring at the braid longingly sometimes for odd reason still unclear to him and the desire to reach to touch it was sometimes overwhelming. Of course, he wasn't that daring to try that intimate contact with his brother's widow but it was undeniable that long length was like a siren call to him. He wondered idly what his patients would think if he showed up with a three foot long braid. The thought sent a stab of pain through his temples and he lowered his aching head into his hand.

"Keiran, are you alright?" Dorothy asked, her eyes oddly contemplative even as she hurried to his side.

"I'm fine," Keiran reassured, forcing a pained smile. "Just a headache." He was getting famous for them. This affliction was new and nothing in his knowledge of herb lore could cure him of it, except for a pretty vile concoction Dorothy makes.

"Do you need your medicine?" Dorothy asked, leaning over him. As she did, the tip of the braid brushed his arm lightly.

Keiran screamed as agony exploded behind eyes as a wild flash of images assaulted his mind.  Green, dark, laughter, tears, fear, pain. Emotions, images, they were coming from everywhere and no where. Vaguely, he realised he had fallen off his chair and was now a shivering mass in Dorothy's arms. His sister was running a soothing hand through his short hair while in her other hand was a small cup. He knew that cup. That cup meant comfort, meant the end pain, meant blessed nothingness.

"Drink," Dorothy ordered softly.

He did and as the pain faded, so did the world.

tbc…

Sorry for being so short, but it wouldn't have been fun if it didn't end here…

Don't yell at me. At least SOME of guy, if not all have guessed what is going on??

Takes a deep breath and waits for flames