Progress: 12 of 14
General Notes: Wow, my highest review count per chapter ever! You guys rule! Anyway, I'm glad you people are enjoying the story, and enjoying finding out about Heero's past. Heh, hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as the previous one! Hope I get so many reviews too XD. Anyway, I present all my readers with part two of Heero Yuy's memories. Ohhh…I feel jumpy. After this chapter, there's only two remaining…Anyway, hope you all enjoy this!
Music: Eyes on Me – Faye Wong; Gladiator OST (yes, the entire thing); Balamb Garden – FFVIII OST

Covetousness

Chapter Twelve: Heero II

'There's something wrong with me.' Quatre furrowed his brow as he watched Heero pace around the study room, a bottle of tequila clutched tightly in his hand. The blond was drinking tea as usual as he watched Heero pace nervously. It was unusual, Heero decided, this strange feeling of being jumpy and anxious. He had never felt nervous before, or at least, not this badly, and Chopin's rapid Fantasy Impromptu was not helping. With shaking hands, he brought the bottle to his lips, finishing off a third of the bottle in one go.

'Why don't you tell me about it?' Quatre suggested gently from the couch. 'Don't drink so much Heero, it's bad for you.'

'I keep skipping days.' Heero said quickly, his pacing increasing in speed. Lifting the bottle, he finished off half of what was left. Quatre made a noise from the couch, looking as if he was going to wrench the bottle from Heero at any moment.

'What do you mean skipping days?' The blond asked, confused. 'You're skipping work?'

'No!' Heero replied sharply, as if daring Quatre to think of him in such a way. 'I'd never skip a day of work…at least, I don't think so.'

'You just lost me then.' Quatre gave him an imploring stare. 'What's wrong Heero?'

'I go to work.' Heero started, taking another swig of his drink. 'I go to work, and then I come back at night, and it's a week later.'

'What?' Quatre looked lost. When Heero brought the bottle to his lips again, the blond sprang from the couch, racing over and trying desperately to detach the blue-eyed man from the bottle. But Heero was far stronger and fought him off easily, enjoying the spoils of war soon after by finishing off the bottle.

'It's strange Quatre.' Heero dropped the empty bottle on the coffee table. 'Time seems to be passing, and I'm not even aware of it. I leave in the morning knowing it's Monday, and yet I come home knowing that it's Friday, but still thinking it's the same day as when I left. I don't even remember what happens in between. I go to work, I see J, he gives me my mission, I do it, come home. All in a day's work, but what happened to the other four days?'

'I'm afraid you've lost me again.' Quatre sat down again. 'You're telling me that you leave in the morning, and come home thinking it's the same day's afternoon, only it turns out that several days have passed?'

'Yes.' Heero approached the coffee table again. 'Where's the alcohol Quatre?'

'I think you've had more than enough tonight.' The blond replied flatly, nodding his head at the empty tequila bottle. 'Come, sit down, talk to me.'

'No.' Heero declared, returning to his pacing. 'There's something wrong with me, something really wrong. I don't understand Quatre!'

'You're not making it any better by walking back and forwards like that!' Quatre cried, aquamarine eyes frantic. 'Come on Heero! Calm down, please?'

'I am calm.' Heero responded, voice flat. 'I am always calm. Always calm. Never frantic. Always calm.'

'You don't sound calm!' Quatre protested. 'Sit down Heero, damn it! You're scaring me.'

'I'm broken Quatre.' Heero gave his friend a pained look. 'I need to be fixed.'

'Heero!' Quatre stood up quickly, marching over quickly and dragging the agitated man over to the couch. Heero sat after some persuasion, but his body was thriving with energy, completely restless. 'You're a person! People don't break, and people don't get fixed.'

'J fixes me!' Heero protested, giving Quatre a wild look. 'J always…'

Heero was on his feet again in one rapid movement. Quatre was about to protest, but the brunet was already running off, knocking over the coffee table as he dashed away.

When he went to work the next day, Heero was careful with what he did and tried memorize everything he saw. When he went to see J, the doctor handed him some pills as usual with a small booklet of documents held within a manila folder. Heero accepted the items as usual, and moved to the back of the cafeteria as always. He was just about to swallow the pills when he reminded himself not to. Setting the pills down, Heero flipped open the folder and examined his job. It was the assassination of some rich man who had taken part in one too many dirty deals. Carefully, Heero stowed the pills away into his breast pocket, and rose from his seat, ready to begin his mission.

His first mission ended normally, so after he handed in his report, he expected to go home as always. Instead, J handed him a second manila folder and dismissed him. Heero nodded like he did after receiving any mission, and left with the folder clutched tightly in his hands. Once he was out of the office, he examined it and felt himself go into a temporary state of shock.

Heero rarely went into shock, and every time he did, it was reported to J. Since beginning his work in the military at the age of six, Heero could count the number of times he went into paralysis due to shock on his two hands. Seven times exactly, now eight. He suspected the number would probably higher had he been awake when he undertook these "extra missions" which had previously gone unnoticed.

The file detailed the location of a prisoner of war camp on the outskirts of a small town in the southernmost point of the country. It included various guard schedules and other timetables. One thing that Heero noticed immediately was that there was a small ninety second interval during the middle of the night where the camp was almost completely unguarded. His mission was simple: to wire the facility and detonate it. No more former-soldiers, no more troubles for the government who had little ideas as to what to do with these people. Heero was angry, but he hid it well. He had a mission to do, and his own personal ideas came second to completing the mission for J. He had never failed J, and he would not fail him now, even if this particular assignment gave him the chills.

Heero returned back to headquarters three days later, with the mission completed and his mind in disarray. Still, he put up the front of calmness for J, frightened that the scientist might discover he had not taken the pills. The doctor took his mission report and dismissed Heero calmly, telling him to take care of himself, and reminding him almost incessantly that it was now Thursday. Heero knew of course, but he had a feeling he was not supposed to. He nodded anyway, as was his standard response and left, the pills still tucked carefully in his breast pocket.

He did his own set of research on those pills a few days later, but found nothing on any database, including the standard military database which matched to what he had.

Heero was a good hacker. It was one of the many skills he had been taught as a child, and perfected as his life progressed. The weeks following that last mission, Heero never accepted the pills once. He was an expert at his own body, and knew how to keep it calm and in character at all times. J did not notice, and gave out missions as usual. It was always the same sequence: a simple, almost nominal mission, followed by another which was always crueler than anything else. Heero eliminated two federal orphanages amongst other things, and it really made him wonder about the time when he was at an orphanage as well. He could not remember those times clearly, but he did remember that he had been content, satisfied. The feeling was almost foreign, and more often than not, Heero would not feel anything at all when he tried to recall his past. He was surprised that he could remember so little. He even forgot the boy from his orphanage, the one who had once meant so much to him. Heero could not even remember when he had become so forgetful. He knew that when he first married Relena, and she had declared her love for him. All he could do was nod and add silently that any love he had belonged to…he could not remember. No matter which way he looked at it, his childhood seemed to far away, and all Heero could remember of that boy was that small ponytail which was one day going to be a long braid.

Heero broke many laws, including those that had been given to him specifically to keep him out of trouble. J once said that Heero knew too much, was capable of too much, and that the military was frightened he would go out of control. He had added almost scarily after that that he knew Heero would never disobey orders. The blue-eyed man (who had been a boy then) had nodded dutifully, the idea of breaking an order from J about as preposterous as the concept of walking on water. But now, Heero isolated himself in his study room every spare minute he had, and hacked. There was something wrong with him, and he sure as hell was going to find out what it was.

It took him months, but he finally had the answer. A medical file, not under any of his names, but an obscure call-sign number that he had only heard once as a child. The file was so heavily embedded into the system, that it took him weeks alone just to separate it from the database, and then another three days straight of unscrambling. But the results were unlike anything Heero had ever seen before.

Pages after pages of drugs, most of which were in their experimental stages and should not be anywhere near a person, and a couple which had been outlawed years ago and were not even allowed to come into contact with lab rats. Enough medication with enough strange effects to kill at least a dozen normal people, all for him. Most of them were long term drugs, taken over the course of several years at a time. Yet he could not remember any of it. There was always the occasional pill from J, but nothing even close to what he was looking at. J said that the pills were to make him function better, Heero now saw why.

Over eighty percent of the drugs prescribed were for dealing "foreign equipment", for instance: his hands, which could crush stones, could only do so because of strengthening procedure done on his bones, and many alterations in his flesh and skin, so that his skin would break less easily, and heal faster when it did. There were at least fifty different types of nanomachines running through his body, hasting recovery processes, strengthening his defense and keeping him in control of his body, always. Relena had once told him something about him always having control of himself, of what he felt and what his body did. His ability to just make his heart stop beating, she had said, was something that normal people could not do. Heero had not understood then, but he definitely understood now.

Heero supposed he must have caused Quatre a lot of grief, and if the blond ever developed a mental disorder, then it would be because of him. But when Heero burst into Quatre's house that night (or rather evaded the guards and climbed into the blond man's bedroom through the second floor window), the man had only shown a moment's surprise before alerting a maid to bring in some alcohol, a glass and some tea. He then half fell onto his couch, trying desperately to stay awake for his obviously agitated friend. Once Heero saw that the alcohol had been delivered, and that the maid was long gone, he attacked the bottle of cognac, preferring to drink from the bottle than to trouble himself with pouring the stuff out. The blond gave him a wary look, but did not say anything as he switched on his stereo, allowing Carmen by Georges Bizet to fill the room, probably not the best music for the occasion, considering Heero's agitated state.

'You said I'm a person.' Heero murmured before taking another long swig and setting the bottle down again. 'You said a person can't be broken, can't be fixed. But I can break, and I can be fixed.'

'What are you talking about Heero?' Quatre's eyes were fully awake now.

'I told you I kept skipping days.' Heero reminded, starting to pace around the room. 'I wanted to know why. So I watched what I did, and kept myself from doing anything strange. J gave me some pills, but I didn't take them. I found out why so much time kept passing: he was ordering me to go on missions that no normal person would allow, not even the government would be able to authorize. He trusted my stealth, my control. Damn it Quatre, he used me more like a tool than I ever! A small handful of pills, he gave them to me every time I went to work. I was just too stupid to realize.'

'What?' Quatre looked alarmed. 'He's been drugging you?'

'Yes.' Heero nodded quickly, taking another swig from the bottle. 'I hacked into the military database, and found the file. It was so heavily embedded and encrypted, it took me ages to find and even longer to decode. But I got it in the end. Over the course of my nineteen years here, he has given me over five hundred and seventy different drugs, most of which are illegal, most of which should not be anywhere near a person. But he made me take them Quatre! I was such an idiot, I didn't even realize.'

'That's not your fault Heero.' Quatre said calmly. 'You trusted the man, and he betrayed your trust. Don't hurt yourself over it! It was not an error on your part.'

'I'm so stupid.' Heero took another long drink from the bottle. 'Not only that, but my own person. He changed me Quatre! My organs, my muscles, my tendons, my bones, everything! There are nanomachines running around my body which allows me to stay under superhuman control of my body. Remember Quatre? I once told you that Relena said that my control was strange, now I know it is! Damn it! I can lower my blood pressure at my leisure, make my heart stop beating to pretend that I'm dead…worst of all Quatre, he took away my memories. I…I find myself forgetting more every day, but I don't know what I'm forgetting. I…I can't even remember that boy from the orphanage…was he even a boy Quatre? He had long hair, but boys don't have long hair.'

'Calm down Heero.' Quatre's voice cut sharply through Heero's babbling like a knife through butter. The blond smiled weakly and patted the seat next to him, indicating for Heero to sit down. The brunet sat down despite himself, but remained agitated. 'And please stop drinking so much, or I'll have to order my maids to bring you something non-alcoholic.'

'Name one time when I got drunk.' Heero grunted, pointedly tipping half of what was left down his throat.

'There's always a first.' Quatre warned, reaching over to tug the bottle out of Heero's hands. The man swerved away quickly, finishing off the rest of the bottle and dropping it down on the coffee table.

'I can't get drunk Quatre.' Heero muttered. 'Wish I could, but I can't. The most that could happen is that I lose a little of my control over myself, but I have so much control it hardly matters. J made sure of that.'

'Oh, Heero.'

'J won't be happy with this.' Heero continued. 'I found out about his…experiment. Is there not a law that says specifically that a prosthetic limb and a pacemaker are as far as one could go with science? A person is not allowed to be…engineered, turned into a robot.'

'You're not a robot Heero.'

'I'm as good as one.' Heero sighed, slumping back into the chair. He stretched out his hands directly in front of Quatre's face and curled it into a fist. 'Synthetic bones, synthetic flesh, synthetic skin, synthetic-'

'Stop it Heero!' Quatre grabbed Heero's hand suddenly, holding it tightly between his own shaking hands. 'You're not synthetic! You're a person Heero, even if some psycho scientist decided to use you as his experiment. It's alright Heero, you're still a person. Your body was made stronger, but that doesn't change who you are.'

'Who am I Quatre?' Heero asked slowly, taking his hand away. 'I have no parents, and I can't remember my own past. Every day, I feel like more of me is slipping away, I feel like I'm losing more of me. But I can't do anything about it, and things just keep going. That child Quatre, from the orphanage…he was so important to me, but I can't even remember his name anymore.'

'Duo.' Quatre whispered. Heero stared at his friend in confusion. 'His name was Duo.'

'Don't refer to him in past tense Quatre.' Heero hissed, feeling suddenly very protective…of what? Quatre looked sad as he poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it, eyes fixed on the swirling contents.

'It's better if you forget him Heero.' He murmured. Heero stared, but his friend did not say anything else on the topic. Just as he was about to ask Quatre about it, the blond changed the topic. 'How about your wife Heero, do you love her?'

'I'm grateful for Relena.' Heero said slowly. 'She looks after me, treats me well, and doesn't let anything awkward ever slip between us. I think she sacrificed too much for me though…'

'Because she loves you.' Quatre looked sad again. 'Don't act like nobody loves you Heero, because we all do.'

'I don't deserve to be loved.' Heero murmured, staring down at his hands.

If he looked up, he would have seen a sad, guilty look flicker through Quatre's aquamarine eyes.

Heero sat on the bottom of the pavilion steps alone, watching the sky swirl with rain clouds, wishing that it would rain soon. His mind was in a state of turmoil as he went over what he had found out, and how he should confront J about it. J was had been his mentor, his guardian, and try as he might, Heero was unable to just go up to the man and speak about what he had done. There was just something about J that frightened Heero, left him terrified. Something which left him feeling ill every time he wanted to go against or question the doctor's orders, something about him which forced Heero to obey, always. But where had that taken him? A life which was not a life at all, a life that felt more like a dream than anything else. J had never done anything good for Heero, nor had Odin. The both of them had used Heero for his skills, only Odin had merely used Heero, J exploited him. How had all this happened? How could Heero have let this happen? How could he let his life be so easily taken away, so easily used? Easily used, easily manipulated, a puppet, a pawn for someone else's game.

Don't become a pawn for someone else's game.

Sure Odin, Heero thought sadly, must have been your greatest epiphany. After living an entire life as a dog for the military, you took the easy way out and attempted to redeem yourself by telling your adopted boy not to be a puppet. Too late Odin, Heero sighed, you were too late.

'What's wrong papa?' Heero looked up quickly, seeing Xander standing before him, blue eyes wide and enquiring. 'You look lost.'

'I've always been lost.' Heero murmured sadly, staring at his hands. 'Always.'

Heero returned home the barely a week later through the back door. He often alternated between using the front gate and the back gate, not wanting his routine to become too predictable. He got out of the car and approached the house, but something about the pavilion distracted him. Deciding that it would not take all that long to visit the pavilion, Heero changed course and headed over to the stone structure. He knew something was wrong the instant he came within clear view of it, seeing the shattered glass all over the floor. Still he walked on, finally stepping into the pavilion and seeing the small, stone table in the center holding a disrupted game of chess. This had been the game he and Relena started about a month ago, but it was normal for them to leave games. Heero was often called to work at random times, and Relena was always busy with meetings and conferences. But the chess pieces were not standing as they usually did, but rather his king was lying on its side, chipped and rolling off the board. He stared around him quickly, taking in the smashed glass on the floor to be from one of Relena's glass flutes. His gaze flew over to the house, and locked on the open back door. No doors were ever left so carelessly open in their household – Relena had too many enemies for that. Swallowing slightly, Heero dashed towards the house, feeling fear spread through him.

He pushed open the back door slowly, drawing his gun as he went. He held the weapon before him as he swerved around quickly, securing the area. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, save for one of the dining chairs. He righted it as he walked by, his footsteps not making a sound on the cold, marble floor. Quickly, he dashed through the hallway, until he reached the entrance lobby. One of the vases had been smashed, but everything else appeared to be in tact. A check on the stairs showed one of Relena's shoes. She must have been in a real hurry, and decided that the heels were retarding her progress. Heero continued up the stairs, gaze flicking around quickly, searching for signs of abnormity. Apart from the broken items, Relena's shoe and the unsettling silence, everything else seemed to be in tact. Somehow, this made Heero feel more uncomfortable.

He was halfway down the second story hallway when he spotted Relena's other shoe, although it appeared to have been discarded more hastily than the previous shoe. The straps had not been released, but rather, the shoe seemed to have been yanked off quickly. He could almost hear Relena's desperate footsteps as she raced down the hallway, screaming out Xander's name. His grip tightened around his gun, but he moved on, eyes narrowed and all senses alert. Finally, he stopped at Xander's room. He settled his left hand on the handle and waited for a moment before wrenching the door open. The room was just as it had always been, with the messy bed and the toys all over the floor. Heero's eyes narrowed further. Closing the door behind him, he proceeded down the corridor, not even bothering to check the other rooms as he passed. His one destination was the master's bedroom, the room he shared with Relena.

He paused outside the door, left hand resting on the golden handle. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on the gun and pulled down on the handle at the same time, pushing the door open. He thrust his gun out before him, eyes taking in the state of the room. His eyes widened and he heard the soft "thunk" of his gun hitting the carpeted floor, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were fixated on the large bed in the center of the room.

The normally white sheets were stained a dark red, almost copper color. Lying on the bed with her arms wrapped tightly around Xander was Relena. Her golden hair had fallen out of the loose bun she usually wore at home, and the light dress she wore was torn at the base, as if she had tripped on it in her desperate dashing. Her face was forever frozen in a state of fear, her blue eyes wide and glassy, her mouth open in a silent plea that went unanswered. The bullet holes in her forehead and through her back told of a quick and painless death, although undoubtedly she had been in pain. Heero could almost hear her desperate voice, pleading desperately to the attack to spare her boy. But the request went unanswered, and Xander lay motionless in his mother's arms, eyes shut tightly and face scrunched up in fear. Similar bullet holes in his forehead and back told of a similarly quick death. It also told Heero that a professional assassin had been here and dealt death to his family.

It also told Heero as his legs gave way under him, that this was all his own doing.

'Quatre!' Heero cried desperately as he dashed into the blond man's study. Quatre had been working on his laptop, and looked up abruptly, surprised with Heero's tone. The brunet locked the door behind him, grabbing the bottle of tequila on the coffee table as he passed. 'My family has been killed.'

'What?' Quatre swerved around fully in his seat, aquamarine eyes widening in shock. 'What do you-'

'My family is dead!' Heero repeated, wrenching off the cap and dumping half the bottle down his throat. 'I come home and they're dead. Relena and Xander, dead on the bed in the master bedroom, all the sheets stained red. They had been died for quite a while, considering that most of the blood had dried. They…they were assassinated Quatre! Damn it!'

'Calm down Heero.' Quatre said imploringly. 'Have you called the police?'

'Police?' Heero let out a harsh chuckle. 'I am the police Quatre, the police are probably the people who killed them.'

'Why?'

'Because I found out about what J was doing to me.' Heero fell back on one of the couches, downing most of the remaining alcohol in the bottle. 'It's illegal you know Quatre? And I did some illegal things to find those files, this is punishment.'

'Punishment…'

'Strange thing is.' Heero looked up slowly, finishing off what was left in the bottle and pointing the empty bottle at Quatre. 'You're the only one I've told.'

'What are you implying?' Quatre asked, his face calm.

'You're the one who told weren't you?' Heero asked slowly. 'You sold me out, sold out my family.'

An almost deafening silence filled the room as the two men stared at each other, both with equally calm and blank expressions on their faces. Then Quatre smiled, a small smile that sent a shiver down Heero's spine.

'Yes, it was me.' Quatre leaned back in his seat, enjoying the comforts the reclining position brought him.

'Why, Quatre?' Betrayal. Heero felt his hands go limp, the bottle dropping along with his arm. He felt all of his confidence leave him, and leave in its wake a vulnerability for everybody to see. Heero's face fell, his eyes sad. Quatre, kind, always helpful Quatre, the person responsible for his family's death. Quatre, his friend, somebody who said they loved him. Quatre, somebody whom Heero…loved? Yes, Heero loved Quatre about as much as he could, he loved Quatre and he betrayed him.

'Oh Heero.' Quatre stood up slowly, walking a wide circle around the couch Heero was sitting in. 'But you were such an interesting boy! Cold, family-deprived, a perfect target! You know, the more I learnt about you, the more I wanted to play with you. Play with your life! It's strange though, for such a brilliant agent, you are very inobservant. In all the years we've been "friends", you never once doubted me did you? You never once thought that I was the one pulling the strings.'

'You…' Heero shook his head. 'Why Quatre? Are you with J? Do you work for J as well? J planned this didn't he? Have somebody spy on me, always. That's why he let me be friends with you, isn't it?'

'Oh no.' Quatre stopped in front of Heero, leaning in with a condescending smile on his face. 'You couldn't have been more wrong. You see, J didn't arrange for you to be my friend, I arranged for you to be my friend.'

'What do you mean?' Heero asked, his grip on the bottle unconsciously tightening. Quatre smiled again before pulling away and dancing around the couch once more.

'I think you're missing the true brilliance of this whole situation.' Quatre smirked. 'Remember how Odin told you not be someone else's pawn? Well, you've been my puppet since day one Heero, you know how?'

'How?'

'Because I control J.' Quatre smiled brilliantly. 'And J controls you.'

'You!' Heero tried hurling the bottle at Quatre as the boy stood in front of him once again, but missed by several inches. His arm was not responding properly to his commands, nor was the rest of his body. His vision was even growing blurry, and he could feel a burning fire growing in the base of his stomach. He would have yelled more at Quatre, but he suddenly found that he could not speak anymore. Before he could control himself, he had fallen forwards off the couch, crashing onto the cold, marble floor. His hands barely had time to brace themselves against the floor before he found his body arching in the first convulsion. Poison in the tequila, Heero's thought uselessly, one of the few that worked on him. XS263, type B, if he was not mistaken. He had seen this poison at work in the laboratory when they were just testing it. The body would abandon the owner's control, and would suffer three convulsions exactly before coughing up blood and dying.

'Quatre…' He managed between gasps as his body arched off the floor once more in the second convulsion.

'You were my favorite you know Heero?' Quatre's voice was kind as he knelt by Heero, one hand petting his hair. 'My favorite soldier, my favorite tool, no…my perfect soldier.'

Heero would have responded with something, but his vision was dimming again and his throat seemed to have closed up. His hands were shaking, as was the rest of his body. Then came the third and final convulsion, his body rising in a beautiful arch before falling forwards once more, suddenly very still. Heero felt blood in his mouth as he lay there against the cold marble, with Quatre's hands tangled in his hair. The other man was whispering something, but he could not understand the words. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges, but he forced his body to fight it. For once, his body did not respond eagerly to his command, and he could only watch as the room slipped away. There was the sound of a violin, a beautiful melody he had never heard before. He heard Quatre's voice, this time clearly, coherently, his friend's final words to him.

'This song is called Farewell, Heero, I wrote it just for you. May it carry you to the other world.'

He coughed heavily, spitting out blood.

Then there was nothing.

Blissful, tranquil, nothingness.

Peace.

Endnotes:

Well, there it is folks, dear Heero's past. Dear Heero is dead also, poor guy. But we know he's going to wake up again! But damn, he's a major alcoholic isn't he? Quatre being the evil guy, did you guys expect that? Kind, generous Quatre, evil? Never! Well, he is. Don't get me wrong though, I like Quatre, but I had to make him evil. Oh darling Quatre…what have I done to you?