Impossible

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction

Rambled Off by The Manwell

Book Three: PARTNERS

Heero Yuy

It should have felt odd to take a page from Duo's book and run like hell.

But it hadn't.

I suppose I could blame that last mission and my struggle to adopt as many Duoisms as I possibly could...

But I don't.

My flight had been fueled by pure fear. And I might be miles away from the site of my abrupt confession, but the information hasn't changed. Oddly enough, I'm surprised by this. As if traversing a significant amount of distance has the power to erase a moment in time. But it doesn't. And it doesn't make my confession any less honest.

The truth is still the truth, after all. I don't have to like it to recognize it as such.

I sink down onto the arm of my couch, my eyes riveted to the small, solitary figure of the only plant I own: the cactus Duo had given me. I try not to notice the fact that my couch isn't nearly as comfortable as his is. I try not to dwell on the tiny, shriveled corpses of the small, pale flowers that had blossomed in my absence.

This is the perfect, clichéd scenario for the ever-popular self-recrimination: "Dear God, what have I done?"

But I don't ask myself this question because quite honestly – and unfortunately – I know exactly what I've done.

I've confessed the depths of my devotion to the one person who I'd follow to Hell and back. And it doesn't help that the recipient of my devotion is an honorary schizophrenic with a phobia of deep, emotional introspections, a case of chronic near-violent emoting, a talent for Machiavellian manipulations, and borderline obsessive tendencies towards technology.

At least I'm not looking at him through damned rose-colored glasses.

I snort at the thought.

But God, for all that Duo Maxwell is a seriously fucked up mess, he is a genius.

Duo Maxwell can and does manipulate me as easily as he handles a loaded gun, and believe me, I know of what I speak.

Last night's conversation hadn't been coincidence. I'd figured that out as soon as I'd realized Une's little lecture about my future had been too thorough and concise to be spontaneous. She'd no doubt asked Duo to bring me in. And I'd let Duo maneuver me into thinking the whole thing had been my idea to begin with.

He is underhanded and evasive and ruthless in the pursuit of his goals, no matter what those goals are.

And he is the one person I would choose to have by my side through anything.

I pause at that silent declaration and find that I have to amend it.

Duo Maxwell isn't just the person I would choose. He's the person I have chosen.

My eyes had finally been opened to this truth the night before when I'd realized the strength of my attachment to him. I wouldn't just follow him into the proverbial Hell. I actually had followed him into Hell. Into my Hell. Into a life where my greatest fear hovers constantly over me like a great, invisible thundercloud, waiting for a moment in which I'm unguarded to strike.

Two years ago, the world had been on the verge of a second war and I'd answered the threat as I always had: as a trained killer. But I hadn't anticipated the effects that intervening year of peace had had on me. On my psyche. I hadn't realized I'd been changed by it. But I had. I'd poured everything I had into the role I'd had to play... but it hadn't been enough. Even now, many events are fuzzy.

Why had I asked Duo to hit me only to have a fair chance to return the favor?

What had transpired in the Earth's atmosphere when I'd fought Wufei?

How had I gotten into Dekim's underground fortress?

These events and so many others are vague and blurred. My rationale for these decisions and my actions during these events elude me. I had only been a Gundam pilot again for twenty-four hours, and it had almost destroyed me. And I had almost killed needlessly.

What if my gun hadn't been empty?

What if I hadn't murmured my deepest desire before I'd collapsed?

What if Relena hadn't been there to hear it?

In the aftermath of the most traumatic battle I'd ever experienced, my subconscious had offered up something precious. Something I needed. Something to cling to. I had heard myself almost whisper in something akin to awe that I would never have to hurt anyone ever again.

And I'd meant it.

And yet, as much as I'd needed that, I'd needed Duo more.

I still do.

So I wander through an existence that – most days – doesn't seem so bad really, following the one person I'd somehow tied myself to before I'd even been aware of having done so.

And now that he knows how I feel? Now that he knows I what I would give up for him... just to be near him... Now have I finally lost him?

I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's anything that I can do. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I'd lost all control of the situation. And one thing is certain: I can no more influence Duo's reactions than I can go back to being that impersonal weapon. Many people believe I haven't changed – including Une – but I know. And I think both Duo and Wufei know, too.

And I have to trust in that. And I have to trust in the friendship I'd started to cultivate between myself and Duo. And I have to trust in the fact that I'd willingly placed my mind in Duo's care. I have to trust that Duo will not disregard my actions these last few weeks. I have to trust that he will take them as proof of my sincerity.

There are only two downsides:

One: I've never been very good at blind trust.

And two: if Duo actually does consider my actions as proof of my feelings for him, it will be a first.

I sigh and stare at my cactus. Duo's cactus. The me that Duo sees.