Chapter 2

Have you ever just stared at the wall, at the shadows as they dance across it? You can see everything in the shadows, all of the world, cars that rush by your window. I mean, you can trace a person in the shadow and see who they are, what they see of themselves. Shadows are a true reflection. In the shadow world, there is no sound to interfere with thinking, no reason to be terrified of the sights, for sights of all there is. Shadows can be memories, too, things that have already passed. The cars you see go before their shadows; shadows are only a memory. You can look into a shadow and almost see what happened in the past itself, long before, hints of some unknown dream from an unknown time.

I watched the shadows and saw blurry images of reality, smudges across what it should be. I stood in the shadows and saw through a tinted glass. I walked through them and felt the cold hands straining towards me to get a grasp on my skin. And now, as I sat in my dark apartment, lit only by the flickering light bulb in the kitchen, I watched the shadows over my bed, dance like spirits from another life. And maybe, they were spirits. I did not know, instead to busy watching as they drifted idly around each other.

I looked to my wrist, in hopes that I would see blood, but there were no fresh cuts upon it. I knew that any new scars would endanger my hopes of that job at the school. Still, the urge to feel that pain, slice along the old cuts, so that I could see them grow back, then cut them open again, just to feel their pain. I had done that before, remembered how blissful it felt to have that one center of pain. But now I was past that. I was no longer even allowed the dull throb as blood poured from my veins. The gods must have seen that as too much of a pleasure for me.

I got up from where I sat at the kitchen table and began to pace around the room. I had let my hair free from the braid, and had just finished brushing it, so the locks felt like silk as they brushed my back. I shook out my head and sighed.

A few hours ago I had just gotten off the phone to the nice secretary at the school...it was called the Richardson school of "excellence." She informed me that they could fit me in for an interview on Friday. Then, I would be led around, showed the school, learn what it is that they want from a teacher, and the headmaster would see if I fit that. My stomach was turning knots already. This was my big break, the "golden door of opportunity." It was only a little step to staring anew in my life. And I was quite aware of the fact that life was not working. I had lived for years in the shadows, attempting to drag my past behind me. It was time I leave. It was five years ago that I lost Heero. I should stop mourning the loss that was my fault as it was.

"How many times have I said that over the years?" I chuckled. I sat down in the living room, on the collapsing couch, and looked across the room. There was a small bookshelf sitting there, crammed full of books, photo albums, novels, some sketchbooks from long ago. I got up and pulled a book from one side. On the front of it were people's names scribbled on it. "Happy times! -Quatre. "Justice is returned –Wu-fei." "A celebration like none other –Trowa." "Wahoo! Drinks all around! –Duo." And then, simply to one side, Heero's name written in his flowing hand. I brushed the dust from the cover and opened it. On the first page was a picture of all of us, the five Gundams, standing in front of a lake smiling. I had my arm around Heero's neck, and he was even smiling. Under it read the caption "our first moments free." This...this was a collection of pictures we took the month after the war was over. It wasn't all smiles like this, as the book revealed as I flipped through. There were some pensive moments caught on camera, quiet moments, and then times like the first picture, where we could not help but enjoy ourselves. We had found a house by a lake and stayed there the whole month, to get ourselves sorted out, figure out what to do since the war was over. It was a tiny place, with barely enough room for all of us, but we never complained. Wu-fei left first, to return to his home in the colonies. Then Trowa and Quatre wandered away, together, to settle down. Heero and I were the only one's left after that.

That is where the majority of those picture were from, that last week Heero and I had to ourselves. Most of them were of Heero. I would take pictures of him sitting alone, reading, looking over the lake, swimming, whenever I could. He never seemed to mind, even giving the camera a smile sometimes.

Then...then one day he was gone. He said he was going for a walk and never returned to that cabin on the lake. I searched for him desperately, thinking he might have died somewhere in the woods, but in my heart I knew he had left, deserted me, and still walked the earth. I spent another week or two afterwards at that place, the grief of having him gone too much for me to bear. Then, I began my long search for the man who abandoned me.

I closed the photo book, blinking back the tears. Those smiling pictures of Heero were so beautiful. I wondered what he looked like now, hiding in the shadows to protect his dear Relena. Would he still have that glint in his eyes? Did his eyes soften for her, as she gave her speeches, sat in meetings? Was...was he happy?

"Of course he is," I spat. "That is what he wanted. And what I want is to forget him." I replaced the book and went to my bedroom. I had been pacing too long; what I needed now was sleep. Let dreams brush away these cruel ghosts of times gone by. Heero was no longer mine, and he was happier now then, he had ever been. What was I doing clinging to his memory? I was ready to forget, move on in my life, I told myself as I crawled under the covers and flipped off the light. He needed to be no more then a memory on a shelf. The time was right to tuck those memories in a little box and forget about them.

Wasn't it?

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I woke up, dug around in my closet, found the nicest suit that I owned (the only suit I owned), took a long showers, brushed my teeth, straightened out the mass of bangs atop my head, redid my braid, ate a whole two pieces of toast for breakfast, and was ready. I strode into the bathroom again, whistling to myself, forcing happiness on my body that was so unused to this treatment. I smiled for the mirror, at my clean appearance now. There were bags under my eyes, but they looked a little less dark as I grinned. I swung my braid from side to side, struck a commanding pose, and nodded. I was ready for my interview, for sure. I hoped I looked dignified enough for these people. But...the words of the man at the unemployment office came back. It was a high end place, and my braid had grown so long over the years now it ended halfway down my thighs. Still, as I fingered the tuft and the end of my braid, I wondered how I would cut it. It had been with me as long as I could remember.

"Well, so, for now then, it stays!" I announced. Flipping it behind my back, I bounced out of the apartment. Today I needed to rid myself of the air of grief that hung in a thick cloud around me before. Be happy, I told myself, enjoy life. This was my fresh start, my new life, one where I would leave behind sorrow. This was my time to live...

"Well, well, where are you going today?" my landlord called from down the hall. His pounding footsteps echoed up and down the hallway as I waited for the elevator. He grinned and slapped my ass. "You're looking quite fine today, Maxwell. Not going to the school, I don't think." The elevator doors opened, and I slipped past him, hoping the doors would close on him, but he entered the elevator also. My insides began to churn, but I smirked.

"To a job interview. And if all goes well, you won't have to worry about your rent. I'm moving out of here if I get the job, since it's a far distance away." The landlord nodded and advanced towards me. The stench of his body odor almost suffocated me, and I darted away from him. Still, he pressed against me and ran his hands over my crotch. He grinned as I stood still, my eyes narrowing. Not today, oh no, not today, not ever.

"Get your hands off me," I whispered. "I never promised you anything." With a flick of my wrist, I drove my fist into his gut. He staggered back, doubled over. The elevator stopped, and I left quickly, so as not to hear what he was shouting at me. I left the dingy apartment, dusting off my jacket, and a sad smile crossed my lips. That was the last time he would ever get a nice grope in on me. I was tired of being used.

As I walked down the street, slipping into the flow of people going to their jobs, I looked around. By mid-morning, most of the people had gotten to their jobs, but there were still some who were lucky enough and did not have to wake at the crack of dawn to have enough money to support themselves. And others were just coming home from their night jobs. Now those were sad looking people, dragging their feet, dirtied, weary, shying away from the bright light of day that they only saw in this trek from work to home. I smiled at them as they passed, in hopes that they would lift their heads, but none of them even looked towards me. Obviously my fake happiness was not shared in this part of town.

After a long bus ride and a ride through the subway system, I had left that part of town far behind. Now I was surrounded by others in suits, bustling about to their nice jobs behind safe desks in glass covered office buildings. I was amazed by this part of the town, the high-rise buildings, the beautiful streets, kept clean for once, a few trees even planted here and there. It was an astonishing sight, after living the past few years in the poorest slums of L2. I had almost forgotten such nice places existed; my only world had been one of darkness, damp despair.

More astonishing, though, was the school I came upon. Among all of the giant buildings was what looked like a castle from ancient times. It had a huge yard in front of it, with towering trees lining a walkway. A wrought iron fence surrounded it, with two automatic gates, on for foot traffic and one for cars. Out front there was sign, done in beautiful curving letters, reading "Richardson School of Excellence: strong education, strong foundation, strong life." I could barely make out the old building behind the autumn-tinted trees, and students milling about outside. They were dressed in uniforms, looked so elegant standing under the trees in their well tailored clothes. The gate swung open for me, and I made my way through the grass. Grass, what a special thing, touched with the finest cover of dew. The pathway leading from the gate was done with cobblestones, an almost non-existent form of stone-working. Tress swayed above me, casting shadows across the ground, the rich gold of the autumn leaves, astonishing me. My feet crunched on leaves, deep reds, yellows, some green even.

As I approached the school, a bell rang out. Students slowly made their way inside the large double doors, to a great foyer. I thought I could follow them inside, then find my way to the offices from there, but when I entered the hall, I realized that would be almost impossible. The students were all moving up either of three staircases, to a second level where classrooms were, or going down any of too many corridors spreading out from outside. I had thought this was a smaller school, but I realized that this was the most prestigious school on L2, so any family of wealth would want to send their students here. I did not know where I would go in all of this mess. So, I took my chances, and stopped one of the men passing by.

"Excuse me, but do you know where the offices are?" The boy, who was probably a senior, nodded and pointed down a corridor to the right.

"That way and to the left," he said in a smart, clipped voice, cultured and refined already. I felt my stomach sinking slowly. Even these students seemed so...refined, so cultured, so unlike I was. Surely they wanted a teacher who would be even more refined than the students, a teacher who had spent their lives in this type of atmosphere. This was a new world to me, one I was not used to. But I thanked him and moved away, shoving my way through the crowd of people.

The offices were located in a hall decorated by awards. Smiling faces looked down at me, students' who won awards of some type, or successful businessmen who had attended this school, or contributors able to give millions to the building and upkeep of the facilities. They all wore perfect white teethed grins, coats and ties, or the women had their hair done perfectly, shining in golds and browns. Scattered through those walls were offices. Most were empty, since they were for teachers also, but I found one, where a kind, gray-haired lady sat behind a desk. She looked up at me when I came in and her mouth formed a silent "o."

"You must be Duo...Maxwell, yes?" she said. "My name is Sandra Plathers. I am so glad that you were able to make it here, since it was first bell and all. I was worried you might get crushed in the flow of students." I laughed, as she shook my hand. She had a genuine smile that spread across all of her wide face. "Now, you are here for a job interview, right?"

"I believe so," I said. "Though I feel a little intimidated now. I never imagined you would have so many students." Sandra nodded and put a hand on my arm. She led me behind the desk and down another hallway. "I had known that schools were scarce, but..."

"Well, since most government-managed schools are falling through on funding and must close, we've gotten a lot of business lately. Enrollment has almost doubled since last year. It's not under promising circumstances for everyone else, but we are happy here." I chuckled. This lady seemed nice enough; I had a feeling that she could become a friend of mine here. "Now, usually when new hopefuls come here, they get long, drawn out lectures about this hallway, how those pictures on the wall of the old headmasters, but I find that tiresome. I hope you don't mind." I laughed now.

"Not at all!" I said. "Thanks for saving my ears." She grinned and raised and eyebrow.

"But don't say that around the current headmaster. He likes to stick to old tradition, thinking we need something to hold onto in these rough times." I cringed to think of them speaking of rough times, when they really hadn't suffered at all. What did they know of the "rough times" of L2? But I held back my anger and nodded and smiled and laughed. Finally, we came to a large door, with a gold plaque hanging on it. With a smile, Sandra excused herself, and told me to knock on the door whenever I felt ready. The headmaster should be free. I smoothed down my coat, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come in," a voice boomed from inside. The voice was deep, but welcoming, and I opened the door, hoping that the shaking in my hands wasn't apparent.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Duo Maxwell, and I came here for an interview." The man looked up from his desk. He was a large man, not round, just large, with a steely gaze that sized up me immediately. He glared at the braid, swinging into place behind me.

"Yes, Duo Maxwell. You said you were an...English teacher? Please, take a seat." I sat in the large chair, covered in leather, and almost sighed. Such comforts...how long since I felt such comforts as this? I had almost forgotten leather existed...well, for uses that would actually bring comfort, that is. The man adjusted his glasses and pulled up a document on his computer. "It says here you have previous teaching experience. Tell me, why are not teaching any of these places any more? It does say you were fired from both." I shrugged my shoulders.

"I guess they didn't appreciate what I was doing. Really, though, those places are looking for very specialized teachers, and if you do not fall into that category after a year or so, they will fire you. It is the not the lack of teaching skills at all, I assure you. They were quite particular." He nodded slowly. This measurement of me unsettled me; I had been expecting a jovial man, fakly so, that would smile at least when he decided not allow me into the school. Instead, I was met with a cold glare.

He asked many questions, about how I would deal with situations with these "young adults," as he called them, how I would control them, what type of mentor I wished to be with them, if I understood that they were going into environments where the men were probably expected to inherit companies, and the women also were expected to be well learned, in case there was no son or something happened to him. I answered with a grin, straightforward (but not always truthful) answers, and he bought it. He began to loosen up around me, and cracked a smile here and there. Skills were coming back I hadn't used in a while. Persuading enemies who didn't know I was their enemy or talking my way out of threats had been one of my strong points in the war. Heero loved to tease me, say I acted less like Shinigami and more like a trickster god.

"Mr. Maxwell, is something wrong?" I must have let on that I was thinking about Heero, because the headmaster looked worried. I nodded and laughed.

"I was just thinking that this job might be so...much for me to handle!" Concern, the headmaster liked that. He motioned around him, to the richly decorated office.

"We are a welcoming school, and the faculty and I will be willing to help you in any way that you need. It is in the school's history to be helpful and inclusive, allow assistance and chances for those who need it. And I do think, Mr. Maxwell, that handling these children shall be of no concern. You will work fine at this school. And, I think you will give the atmosphere...character." He glanced over my shoulder to my braid. "Though, I must say that, if you were to take the job, there might have to be a few changes..." I took the end of my braid and flipped it over my shoulder, eyes wide.

"You mean...cut my braid?" I asked. "Surely you could let it stay. I can understand that it would be a mark on the appearance of the faculty, but, please, consider letting it stay." Still, even as I said this, I was thinking of the advantages of not having it there. It was becoming a dead weight nowadays, five years worth of dead weight. I ran the end of my braid between my thumb and forefinger.

"I can understand that this must be quite an...accomplishment for you. How long have you been growing your hair?" The man put back on his smile, which I had wanted to coax out of him and now made me cringe. But I shook my head.

"Maybe it's time for it to be cut. Don't worry! If I get the job, and you want me to, I'll chop it off." The headmaster chuckled and stood then.

"Well, you must want to have a look around the school. We've arranged for one of the students to give you a tour; we like to instill good values into the students, and have found that these tours do that. It teaches them valuable skills, you see. Hikara is her name, and she should be outside of the office any minute now. Why don't you go wait for her, Mr. Maxwell." I stood, and the man took my hand in a hardy shake. He grinned.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Duo Maxwell," he said. "I'll be getting back to you by the end of the week on whether or not the job's yours. But, just between you and me, I think you might be a good person for this course." I smiled, a little embarrassed.

"I'm quite interested in this position, and think you have a wonderful school. I'm glad I could meet with you today." He showed me to the door and laughed as I left, a deep, rolling sound that echoed down the hallway. I let out a long sigh, only when I had rounded the corner and neared the exit to the offices, back into the entrance hall. I passed Sandra's desk, but she had left, unfortunately. So, I hurried into the hall and looked about. Hikara...Hikara...

"Sir, are you Duo Maxwell?" I heard a voice ask behind me. I looked around to see a Japanese girl standing behind me. "My name is Hikara, and I'll be showing you around today." She smiled and flipped back a strand of hair from her face. She turned around, looking over her shoulder with a bit of disdain. "I was told to show you to some English classes and around to other places: the lunch hall, student lounge areas, and such. Well, if you'll come this way you can observe one of the classes." She walked away, quick little steps in hopes to leave me behind. But I caught up to her and stood alongside her, even though my own hate for Hikara was quickly growing.

"So, what year are you here?" I asked.

"Senior," she replied tersely. I raised my eyebrows, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by her. "You'll be teaching sophomores, right?"

"Yes, that's right." Hikara snorted.

"You'll be teaching Tonako, my brother, then. I'm sorry." I laughed at that, but a glare from her silenced me. I quit my attempts at polite conversation. She took me through a labyrinth of hallways, past numerous classrooms, until she came to abrupt halt in front of one door. Hikara waited a moment, listening to the noises inside the classroom.

"They have a substitute in there right now; this is the class that will be yours if you get the job. I think they're reading stories they've written right now, but I'm not sure," she explained. Hikara opened the door. Once inside, she put on a sickening smile.

"Excuse me, but we have a visitor. This is...Duo Maxwell, and he has come to observe a class. Mr. Maxwell, I'll let you go and will be outside waiting," she said, with that same grin on her face. When I entered the room, trying to act relaxed, she gave me a little shove. "Baka," she whispered. I glared at her.

"That wasn't nice," I muttered back. She looked up startled. "Yes, I know Japanese, fool." Hikara quickly left after that, almost catching the edge of her skirt in the door as she shut it. I turned around to the class. The substitute was a young looking woman, nervous as hell at the thought of not only having to teach for the students but for a guest, and by the way she looked at me, as she thought about it an attractive guest.

"Hello, Duo Maxwell. There's a seat at the back," she stammered. "You can observe the class from there. I was just having students volunteer to bring up stories to read to the class. They've been writing them since we don't have much to teach to them without a good teacher to teach it." Her words blended together near the end, and she blushed when I flashed a grin.

"No worries. You just go on teaching." But she was too off balance. When I took a seat in the back, apart from the students, she could not continue with any sort of grace. Firstly, most of the students were watching me sit down, and the teacher's shaky voice could barely carry over the noise.

"Now, where were we?" she asked. "Oh yes, Tonako, you were coming up, weren't you? Yes, Tonako, you have to. You have good writing." A man on the first row shuffled to the front. His black hair fell to his shoulders, in an unruly mass, and he was thin, lanky, but muscular. He turned around. "If I can remember correctly, Tonako, you wrote a poem, right?" Tonako nodded.

"It's called Wing," he said with a voice that froze my heart in its beating. My mind had wandered from the class, but that voice brought it back. That voice could bring a person back from the grave.

Heero...

If his voice had confused me before, his appearance almost made me drop from my chair. He had black hair, yes, and black eyes, not shining blue, but they were the same eyes. They held that same intensity, same...insanity. His firm jaw, strong face, lean shoulders, the way the uniform clung to his body...who was Tonako? Surely not who he appeared to be. This was no student. This...it had to be Heero. There was no man who was quite like him, yet here stood an almost mirror image of Heero. I shook my head. Heero could not be Tonako, though. Heero would be around my age, and this youth looked only fifteen. No, I was only imagining the similarities between them. And Heero had no sister, as Hikara had claimed to be to Tonako.

But, when he began reading the poem I knew there was once crucial difference between them: Tonako was a talented poet. Heero might have been the perfect soldier, but his poetry was less than mediocre (no offense meant to him). But Tonako had skill with words. No, this was not Heero. I was seeing things, for sure.

Still, I could not bring myself to leave alone the sound of his voice, a mumble, but comforting to my ears that had stung from all other voices I heard. I closed my eyes and saw Heero standing in front of the class, not this mysterious student. It was Heero!

And as I flew towards an unbroken sky

Where your dream shatters like glass into

Soft petals of sound, each one a chance at life...

I heard the echoes of clapping around me and brought myself from my dream world to notice that Tonako had finished. He folded the paper and returned to his seat without another word, settling into the chair what I had called "the Heero slouch." I watched the back of his head, the way the black hairs caught the light, how he shook it out until it was away from his eyes. I kept my eyes fixed on him, noting every little movement he made, every shift of a muscle or change in position. Halfway through the next story, his eyelids drooped, and slipped into position over his eyes, the long lashes brushing his cheeks. He was sound asleep, and out in the open; of course, if the teacher noticed this, she paid it no attention, probably out of fear.

So...if I got the job I would teach him? My heart beat faster, though I tried to calm it. There was no way this child could have known Heero, been related to Heero, or be tied to him in any way. I was overdoing the similarities between them, all probably a trick of the light. For one thing, Tonako did not have blue eyes. Those eyes were what defined Heero, one of the first features that came back to me when I recalled his appearance. They pierced the soul, while at the same time, they could be so loving, and compassionate, and when Heero closed them, I saw even then the blue peeking at me from under the eyelids, playfully. That, and Tonako's hair was black, and longer than Heero's, though I saw traces of that familiar messiness quite unique to only Heero. Tonako was Heero's size, with the same body type of my former lover. What, even their voices were the same!

Tonako turned around.

His eyes met my own, and he glared at me, noticing I had been staring at him. So caught off guard was I, I could not even bring myself to stop gaping at him. He mouthed something at me in Japanese, and though I could not catch all the words, I guessed it went along the lines of "fuck off." A blush crept to my cheeks, and I turned to front of the class, forcing my eyes to stay on the student there and my ears to listen to the story she told, no matter how dull it might be. Tonako's eyes were still on me, I could tell; whatever peace he had found in sleep was obviously shattered. I wondered: did he notice the tenseness in my posture, the way my senses were still trained on him. If he did, he paid that no heed, too busy staring at me as I had stared at him before.

I gave up trying to divert my attention and turned back to him. Our eyes met, if just for a second, and for a moment, I thought I saw fear in him, the way I held his gaze to steadily. Fear...another difference to remind myself. If anyone was afraid in my relationship with Heero, it would have been me; of course, I was never afraid of him. No, this was not Heero. Tonako turned around when he saw that I would not leave, no matter how much he glared, and closed his eyes. I sighed.

I was just fooling myself.

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That night, when I came home, I dreamt of Heero. I can't remember the details, but I woke the next morning seeing his face beside me. I put my arm around Heero, nuzzling close to him. His strong arms encased me in warmth. Heero was here by my side, helping me through my hardships, guiding me, loving only me. His kissed me, and tears sprang to my eyes. His kisses made me collapse in on myself, or made me rebuild myself, however I was feeling that day. They were my lifeblood, the only thing I could not live without. Even just the dream of his kiss kept me going, and this was a dream. When I opened my eyes, I was alone on the small bed, the sheets above me barely providing enough warmth to fight off the drafty chill of my apartment. I curled into a little ball. Beside me, an old clock read in bright red numbers that it was around noon; I had slept clear through half of the morning. No loss, of course. I had nothing to do until that call came from the school, deciding my fate. Until then, all I had to do was avoid my landlord and wait.

I pulled myself out of bed, yawning. If I could remember correctly, I came home late again last night, spending most of the evening...drinking. That explained the headache, and why the world began to feel like it was tilting when I rose. Memories floated back. I had gone out to drink to clear my head, try and get rid of the frightening image of Tonako, that replica of Heero. Maybe, if I could forget, I would not act strangely if I got the job. As it happened, I spent most of the evening talking with one of the drunks of that bar. He was a despicable fellow, smelling of stale beer and human waste. I wouldn't have been surprised if he told me he slept in the bar. Instead, we spent the night exchanging life stories. Once I knew him a little better, he wasn't such a bad man, though I could tell that most of his problems he brought on himself. We drank long into the night, until he finally told me to leave, that my lover was probably missing me. In our conversations, I guessed he never got the part that Heero was long gone. I staggered out of there, leaving him to drown himself in more beer, and struggled home. There, I fell onto the bed and passed out, too drunk and tired to even pull off my clothes.

Now, I felt sick, and not just from the hangover. Drinking was not a habit I enjoyed, though I found myself all too often returning to the comfort of alcohol. Heero instilled in me that hatred of drink; he never touched a bottle in his life, saying that no matter how good it was the aftereffects were something he would not be able to stand. I followed suit; after spending my childhood on L2, I had seen too many drunkards not to believe Heero. Still, there were times when there was too much in my head, and I needed to be free of it. Last night was one of those times.

"I'm sorry, Heero, I promise I won't drink again," I whispered. Yeah, I said that every time, and so far I had broken my word every time, but saying that made me feel a little bit better about the whole ordeal, at least. "Now, how to waste the next seven hours..."

I ended up wasting them cleaning. My apartment was a wreck, and Heero had always said that cleaning "helped the mind. It's monotonous enough that you forget everything else." It wasn't an easy feat, since my whole body protested it, after the amount of alcohol consumed last night, but I managed to get the apartment into straight order. I reorganized the books on the shelf, dusted all the surfaces, washed my clothes and the sheets and the cleaners down the street, emptied out all the old food in the refrigerator and cupboard; the apartment glowed. In all that time, unfortunately, no phone call came, though I was always ready to spring towards the receiver at the first hint of a ring. There was nothing. By evening, I had gone over all the surfaces so many times I had begun to wonder if the cleaner was hurting them. The old, grimy apartment was gone now; in its place was finally a hospitable place. I settled down on the couch, with a copy of a book in my hand, ready to read it and let my mind slip into the trance of words.

It was then that the phone rang.

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Today, Sunday, the day after Saturday, this was after Friday, the day that determined my life. I sat in front of the phone now, my hand poised over the receiver. In my other hand was a card with a number on it. I was shaking all over and sweating, but gulped back the lump in my throat.

"It's time to move on. Get a hold of yourself. It's time to move on." I looked down at the card, ran my hand over the slightly raised numbers in ink, and picked up the phone. I dialed slowly as my hands were shaking so badly. The phone rang for what felt like hours, and with each ring I told myself I could just hang up there, turn away, forget about my new life. I could stay where I was right now, leave everything behind. But, when I stared at the notepad next to the phone, with all of the other calls I needed to make crossed out except this one, I knew that was impossible. I had talked to the owners of another apartment complex, had paid for all payments overdue on this one with a loan, and had already even started packing up my belongings to move out of here on Wednesday. There was only one more number left for me to call, one thing left to bet set into place. A voice answered on the other side of the phone, and I closed my eyes, letting the unfeeling side of me run through the words I had practiced in front of the mirror already, just so I wouldn't shy away from this when the time came. Tears collected under my eyelashes.

Heero, I'm sorry...I really am...

"Yes, I would like to schedule an appointment to have my hair cut."

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Long chapter...or at least long compared to my other chapters. Hope you liked this one. Hopefully I'll have another chapter up soon! And maybe by then I'll figure out something better to use as section dividers than a lot of "T's." Augh, I don't like QuickEdit!

Please, please review. I love all comments!