Disclaimer: I did not make any money from writing this story. Gundam Wing does not belong to me. The closest I can get is owning a copy of the series on DVD.
An Absence of Warmth
In the end it's the cold that gets to you. Not the blood or pain or fear, but the never ending cold that seeps into your bones and chases away the last remains of warmth. You think about Heero and his Gundam and the explosion that lit up the sky and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.
At least he went out warm.
From the small window of your cell you can see a patch of the sky. As night falls the stars slowly appear; tiny, sharp and bright. You wonder if Heero's soul is flying through those stars, free at last.
Then you remember that you've been to those stars, you were just there yesterday, and Heero isn't to be found anywhere.
He's dead.
You roll the words around in your mouth, tasting them, surprised by how salty they are.
"Hey Heero? What would you do if you had one free day to do anything you wanted? No war, no Gundams, no fighting...just a day for you."
"Swim in the ocean."
If you listen carefully enough you can hear the thump of a basketball as he dribbles it across the court. The clang of metal as iron shackles are ripped off a bed.
He wasn't your friend.
And yet he was the closest thing you'd had in a long while.
"Duo."
"Yeah?"
"What would you do?"
You never did get to answer his question.
The clanging is louder and you realize it's not just a memory but an actual noise and you think they've come to finish the job and so you stand up resigned to a cold frozen death on an icy concrete floor. Not that it really matters because you're beginning to suspect Heero took every last bit of warm with him, the selfish bastard.
Your cell door opens.
Calm blue eyes study you from the doorway and you discover there's warmth to be found after all.
If Heero took it all when he left, he brought it back when he returned.