I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this.

Epilogue – 19 Years Later

By the Black Rose

AC 221

Heero opened the steel core door with no windows that served as the back entrance to their home; he swung it forward to let his youngest son Jonathan in ahead of him. The eleven-year old boy with almost white-blond hair darted through the doorway, and bounced his soccer ball on the tile floor. The hollow thump followed by a high-pitched zing echoed in the small space as his dad, the former pro athlete, shut the door behind them.

The boy grinned up at his dad with flushed cheeks; dark blue eyes sparkled beneath his mop of thick hair. "That was so cool, Dad!" He bounced the ball again and watched it bound into the air – it leapt over the top of the kid's head. "I want to be able to-"

Heero snagged the soccer ball out of the air and tucked it under his arm. "You know your mother doesn't want you bouncing any balls inside the house."

"That's gonna limit our dating life." Aidan, his oldest son, said as he walked by – on his way from the kitchen to the back hallway that led to the kids' rooms. He flipped his dad an insolent smirk, his dark brown hair tossed over his forehead; bright blue eyes barely visible beneath the fringe that was far too long – on all sides of his head. The sixteen-year-old had a tall, lean build, was wearing one of his dad's old tank tops (because it was 'vintage'), and had paid someone actual money to put those ridiculous blond highlights in his hair.

"Huh?" Jonathan looked up at his father; his light-colored eyebrows scrunching in the middle of his forehead.

"Ignore your brother." He handed the ball back to smaller boy, and turned to address the older one: "And you know you can't say sh—stuff like that in front of the younger ones!" Heero projected the last part at his son's departing back. "Your smart mouth is going to get you grounded!"

His son stopped just outside his bedroom door and shot a glare at his Dad. Heero knew that look; it was his look when he was that age... He ground his teeth together and then took a deep breath.

"Dad? You ok?"

"Yeah, son." He ruffled the younger kid's hair. "Go get some water, ok? It's hot outside." Heero paused and took in the sweat-covered, mud-smeared child's appearance. "And you're gonna need a bath tonight."

"Oh man!"

Heero dropped his head to the left to look at his son. "You're sweaty and stinky and you need a bath. So, mind your mother when she says it's time to take one."

"Ok, Dad." His son ran off in the same direction Aidan disappeared a few moments before.

Heero turned to go to his bedroom. He wanted to check on Relena—

"Hi Dad, bye Dad!" His youngest child, Isabella yelled out as she darted from the kitchen towards the hallway. He grabbed her loosely by the arm.

"Walk."

She pouted. The eight-year-old girl had his chocolate brown hair, but her mother's eyes and coloring. It was just...completely unfair when she looked at him with such a small version of his wife's expression. He bent down to her level and tucked a few strands behind her ears. "Come on, I was going to get some water and an apple. You want a snack?"

A slow smile spread across her face. Heero sighed and waited for the inevitable.

"Can I have some ice cream, Daddy?"

"Ice cream? In the middle of the day?"

"Please, Daddy?" He was pretty sure she just batted her eyelashes at him. Where did girls learn this stuff?

"How about you eat an apple, first, and if you're good you can have ice cream after dinner?"

She huffed and looked down at the floor. "Okay, Daddy."

He stood up and took her hand and led his daughter into the kitchen for a snack.

Heero paused in the hallway leading to their room. It was a house built with the ability to shut areas off in sections. Industrial grade flooring in the main rooms gave way to the warmer, more homey wood floors in the bedrooms and private living areas.

Pictures of their family adorned the walls leading to the master bedroom: their wedding day, the births of all three of their kids, family photos from Christmas and random shots from a few, rare vacations.

He smiled at their wedding photo; they had agreed on a small affair with just their closest friends and the pastor of the church where Relena's parents had been married. He'd often heard over these past twenty or so years that brides and even the occasions themselves were 'never more beautiful'... But Heero couldn't have cared less about the dress or venue. It was the look in her eyes, that still captured his attention.

It was a look that hadn't changed in all these years...

Heero heard a sniffle and a sob coming from inside their room. He opened the door to see his wife, holding a tissue to the side of her face as she watched one of those digital photo collages scroll by in a silver frame.

Her hair had, over the years, become a darker shade of golden blond; it still hung past her shoulders. She often pulled it back into a low ponytail, but today it hung in loose waves.

"You ok?"

She looked up at him with watery light blue eyes the same shade they've always been. Relena shook her head: "Our baby."

Heero felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Which one?"

"Aidan."

Tension fled from his shoulders and Heero sunk down on the bed to sit next to his wife. He placed a hand on her leg. "He's sixteen, about to be seventeen. He's hardly a—"

"I know!" And she burst into full-on tears.

Heero sighed. He pulled her into a hug and gently took the photo frame from her grasp. "How are you feeling?" He asked the top of her head.

She kissed his cheek and disentangled herself from her husband's embrace. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "The nausea, Heero. I can cope with everything but the nausea."

"And our child being in his junior year in high school, apparently."

"He was my first baby." Her mouth quivered and he was afraid tears were going to start again.

The first trimester is the worst , he reminded himself and took a deep breath. "You have two more."

"Three," she said and rubbed a hand over her small, just starting to protrude, belly.

"Yes. Three." He let her take his hand and hold it to her stomach.

"Aren't you happy about," her eyes met his, "baby number four?"

"Of course I am." He tried to give her a small smile. "I just thought we..."

She looked down at his hand on her belly.

"Hadn't planned for any more."

"No." She released his hand and he watched her sigh with her whole body. "I'm still not sure how it happened."

Heero smirked and knew he was going to get in trouble. He stood up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "You mean after having three, you still don't know where babies come from?" He took two large steps backwards.

Relena huffed and picked up a pillow from their bed. She threw it at him. Heero caught it and laughed at the expression on her face.

She shot him a glare that was about as menacing as Isabella could manage. "You know what I mean."

"I guess we're just lucky." He moved closer, placed the pillow back on the bed and reached for her hand.

"Every day." Her eyes warmed with her smile. "I mean, we have great kids, Heero." He helped her to her feet; she leaned her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

"Look at Aidan. I'm so proud of him."

Aidan. Heero fought the urge to roll his eyes. His son was smart and...far too much like his father for Heero's comfort. If Heero didn't watch him like a hawk, his son was going to get in serious trouble, or, in the wrong circumstances... "In what way?"

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Your tone. That disapproving father tone you've developed into an art."

Heero leaned back so he could look his wife in the eyes. Relena was wearing her political negotiations face. Principals and teachers saw it often over the years... "He's really a good kid. Healthy, strong, kind. Extremely smart."

Her husband released her and stepped back. "He also up and quit the soccer team in the middle of last season and hasn't made the honor roll since he entered high school." Heero ran a hand through his hair. Soccer was an outlet. An outlet that served Heero well when he was younger. It provided discipline...

"You're too hard on him, dear."

He leaned back against the dresser and crossed his arms. "Hn."

"Your sons are both very much like their father. But, it's interesting to see how different Jonathan is from his brother. He's such a good-hearted child."

Heero nodded.

"He's very sweet to his sister. Has lots of friends—-"

Heero shook his head. "He's also as hard-headed as they come. And mischievous. And loud." He rubbed at his temples. "So. Loud. Reminds me of his Uncle Duo."

Relena crossed the few feet between them to put her right hand on one shoulder, and her left on his other shoulder. It was like she managed to draw the tension from his posture, with just her touch. His arms fell to his sides.

"He idolizes you. Wants to be just like his Dad."

The stress returned. Heero met his wife's gaze and sent her a stern look. "That's not always a good thing. At least Aidan doesn't. He quit the soccer team just to spite me."

"You've got to let that go." She moved her hands to cup his face. She gave him a soft, slow kiss on the lips, that made him want... His arms moved on their own to reach for her—

She drew back. "It didn't help that you had to coach him every second..."

"I played pro. It could have been an advantage for him. Instead—"

"Instead, he felt like he would never measure up."

Heero looked away. Relena pulled his chin back to make him look at her.

"So, he wants to find his own way; his own path. I know you're disappointed, but can't you see his side?"

Heero grumbled, and looked at the floor. "Our daughter is the only good one."

Relena chuckled. "Isabella's going to be a handful. She's very focused. And incredibly smart."

"Like her mother." Heero felt his mouth twitch into a smirk.

She smiled, and put one hand on her hip. "You're saying I'm a handful?"

Heero raised his eyebrows. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. "She's also beautiful like her mother," he said and reached for her again. He pulled his wife into his embrace and buried his face in her hair. It smelled...so familiar. Like soap and honey. He kissed a lazy path up her neck.

"Which means, she'll be bringing home boys..." She sighed and tipped her head; Heero brushed her hair out of his way, so he could continue his ministrations.

"Before our little tomboy even realizes she's bringing them home."

Heero froze. Boys. Daughter. He cringed remembering some of the stunts Relena pulled back when they were teenagers. He shook his head. "No dating until she's thirty."

"Good luck, Dad." Relena giggled.

Heero glared down at her. How could she be ok with one of her 'babies' dating? "I have weapons."

Relena pursed her lips together and withdrew from his embrace. She planted both hands on her hips. That was the look that said he'd gone a step or a hundred too far.

Time to retreat. He sighed and took her hands in his, effectively disarming 'the look'. "Which I would only use to scare...unworthy cretins, er, boys away from our daughter." Like Duo and Hilde's son.

"No killing." He looked away, but couldn't resist: "That anyone could prove."

"Hee—" He cut off her exclamation with a kiss. One that lingered for a moment between them. So comfortable, after all these years, but still with a heated current between them.

When it broke, Relena wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another one.

"Mmmmm... We don't have anything to do today, do we?" She opened her eyes and gave him a different kind of look. One he preferred a thousand times over.

Heero pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. He wanted to take his wife up on some adult alone time. Since they found out she was pregnant with number four, they hadn't had much 'alone time'...

It physically pained Heero to say...what he had come to say: "Trowa texted a bit ago. He's on his way over. I came to tell you..." He opened his eyes when he felt her pull away. "I didn't want you to be surprised."

A frown creased Relena's features. "I don't like it."

"I know," He sighed and turned to leave.

"I don't like that you're running Preventer missions, again." He could hear the worry in her voice. He froze with his hand on the door.

"Couldn't you coach somewhere, if you need things to do?"

"They're not missions. They're exercises. Most of the time, they're not anything worth worrying about – just practice. Or, occasionally, one or two men runs." He squared his shoulders. "And you know that I didn't do anything for a long time."

"I know. And they did just fine without you." Her voice wavered. "You have children, now."

Heero felt his shoulders slump and he turned to face his wife. "So does Wufei. And Duo. Quatre, your brother and Noin." He crossed his arms. "Trowa's the only one who doesn't. And he can't protect everyone."

"But, Heero." She moved closer. He could see the overhead light reflect in her eyes; the small worry lines etched into her forehead and between her brows. "I didn't want this. You gave up your career too early."

"Because my family was in danger." He ducked his head but held her gaze. "You were due any day with Jonathan. I couldn't let anything happen to you, or him, or Aidan."

"But—" She placed her hands on his crossed arms and peered up at him.

"I don't regret anything. I'd make the same choice every day." Heero dropped his arms; he gripped one of her hands in his and raised the other to her cheek. His wife closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"I do make that choice every day, and every time Preventer calls. I choose to protect you and our family."

She opened her eyes and her mouth.

"Our life, Relena. The one we fought so hard for." He traced a line down her cheek with his thumb. "The one we still fight for."

"Heero..."

"Your favorite Uncle Trowa's here. Again," Jonathan said and made a face at his younger sister. They were in the game room across the hall from Aidan, the inhuman one's, bedroom.

The room had a large, carpeted floor; a giant TV was mounted to the wall and the room must have gotten its name because of the gaming consoles they kept inside the cabinet underneath the TV. There was a brown couch along one wall that her parents liked to sit in, and a couple of bean bag chairs she referred to as "marshmallows" in the middle of the room. A smell like moldy onions hung in the air, which made Isabella wrinkle her nose. Jonathan was hanging out in one of the marshmallows, engrossed in his iPad. Probably playing Fortnite.

Her middle brother still had some mud on his face and forearms from when he was outside, kicking the ball with their dad. And she was pretty sure that smell was coming from him...

Her older brother was probably reading comic books even though their dad had told him to keep an eye on his younger siblings. Isabella rolled her eyes. She didn't need her brothers to watch her anymore. She was old enough to take care of herself – and Jonathan.

Isabella darted her head out of the game room and looked one way down the hall, then the other. "Where is he?"

"Yes!" Her brother shouted. She glanced back at him, stabbing his finger into the touchscreen on the tablet in his hands. "He's in Dad's office. Why do you like him?"

She crossed her arms and stared at the tow-headed idiot. He reminded her of that Duo Maxwell, Jr. - except blonder and without a long, stupid-looking braid. "Why don't you?"

"Because he shows up and Dad leaves. And we never know where he goes."

She looked out and down the hallway again. Uncle Trowa was at least nice to her. He would take the time to say hi and ask her about her day and her dolls. She liked it when he gave her a hug. He smelled nice, too, like soap. "It doesn't bother Mom."

"That stupid storm!" Jonathan tossed his tablet at the other bean bag chair and groaned. He looked up at his sister. "It does, too, bother Mom."

The younger girl shrugged her shoulders and looked back at the hallway. "She never complains about it."

"You don't get it!"

The sharp exclamation brought her attention back to her brother. Jonathan stood up from the marshmallow; his hands balled into fists at his sides. "When Dad's gone, Mom stays up pacing the kitchen until two in the morning, or until Aidan makes her go to bed."

Isabella lowered her head and slumped back against the doorframe. "Oh." She felt a little...sad that she hadn't noticed, before.

Jonathan scowled at her. It was a much younger version of her father's 'unhappy face', which she saw plenty of. Any time she brought home a paper with a bad grade, or the time she got detention for pulling Duo Maxwell Jr.'s braid in class - until he howled like a little baby. And then there was the time she told her mother to go to hell - before she knew what that meant.

Her mother had just finished a long shift at the hospital; she was still wearing her nurse's uniform while she cooked dinner for the family. Isabella had turned her nose up at the meat-infested dish, shoving the plate away and crossing her arms to display her disgust. And that's when she realized... Her mother's patience was gone.

"Why don't you go to your room, young lady?"

Without thinking, the words she read in one of those online books that Katherine Winner had shared with her – rushed out of Isabella's mouth: "Why don't you go to hell?"

Her Mom gasped and her face turned white. Before she could apologize, her father announced he'd arrived home just in time to hear his daughter...

The look he gave her. She had a hard time forgetting... Her father had always been so gentle with her - treating her with a fondness that was different than how he dealt with her brothers.

But that day... He didn't have to say anything. And she could have lived without the grounding. The look was enough. She felt shame wash over her, and regret, at just that look.

And then he roared like a lion, and Isabella thought she was lost: "Isabella Mareen Yuy , WHAT did you JUST SAY to your MOTHER?!"

"Aidan said our Uncles hardly ever visited before Dad retired." Her brother was back in the bean bag chair, arms behind his head, talking to the ceiling. "He said Dad retired at the 'top of his game'? Or something. There were a lot of news articles about it. I wonder why."

Isabella moved away from the door but kept it open. "He was probably bored. Soccer is boring." She rolled her eyes. "Kick the ball, run around. Occasionally flop on the ground and cry."

Jonathan sat up and stared at her. "How are you Dad's offspring?"

"Even Aidan quit! And he's like mini-Dad all the way!"

Her brother shrugged. "I like soccer."

"Whatever. But, Dad quit around the time you were born, you know. Mom probably wanted him home more with two kids to take care of. And then they decided to have the best one."

"The best one?" Jonathan grimaced.

"I'm the smartest," she held up fingers and ticked off her examples: "I'm in all advanced courses. I qualified for the equestrian team next year. And the tennis team."

Her brother rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion with his fingers. "I'm in advanced courses, too! Big whoop. And I play soccer and am on the kendo team."

"You got a C in math." She cocked her head to the side and planted both hands on her hips. "You're not that smart."

"The teacher hates me!"

"Probably because you can be a big old jerk!"

"Hey! Enough! Quiet down in there." Their oldest brother, Aidan poked his head in and glared at his younger siblings.

Isabella made a face at him. He rolled his eyes and turned around; he crossed the hall and disappeared back into his own room. "Butthead." She called out after him. Aidan's hand reappeared in the doorway with an extended middle finger. Super b utthead.

Isabella went and plopped down in the marshmallow next to her brother. He was back to being absorbed into his tablet, but something about their earlier conversation nagged at her brain. "Do you ever find our family…a little odd?"

"Odd how?" His blond eyebrows rose, but he didn't look at her.

"I dunno. It's just little things. Like Dad retiring all of a sudden. In the middle of the season, I think?"

"It's not unheard of."

She tilted her head to one side, and closed her eyes... A trick she used to try to consider a problem from another angle. "But it happened within a week or two of your birthday. But also, around the same time as that big shuttle explosion."

Dad suddenly retired. Shuttle explosion...

"Yeah, every year, around my birthday, we gotta listen to all the news stories about the incident and they rehash the telling of the secret Preventer mission to bring the bombers to justice."

"Preventers. Yeah. That's right. Uncle Trowa's in the Preventers."

"Why do you like him?"

"Why don't you?"

"Because he shows up and Dad leaves..."

"Not sure what that has to do with our family, though."

"It could be a coincidence…"

"Huh?"

Puzzle pieces. But, how do they fit? She opened her eyes. "Did you ever notice that we really don't know anything about our parents before they were married? I mean, they don't talk about their childhoods or parents or even much about school. Just that Dad played soccer in college..."

"Yeah, and we have zero grandparents." Jonathan put down his tablet and looked at her. "Which is kinda weird. No one else I know doesn't have any grandparents."

Isabella nodded.

"And now that I think about it, there's our weird Uncle situation." He put his hands behind his head and leaned all the way back in his bean bag chair again.

The stink in the room sharpened. Ew . She wanted to pinch her nose closed. "Weird? You mean uncle Duo?"

"They're all weird. We can't even mention Uncle Milliardo…" His head rolled to his left and he looked at her. "Remember what Mom said?"

"Never talk about your Uncle Milliardo, Aunt Noin or their kids – to anyone," Isabella said while wagging a finger – like their mother had done at the time.

"Yeah, but who names their kid Milliardo? Seriously?"

Isabella shook her head. It was truly an awful name. I'm missing something...

"Mom's parents must have had a few screws loose. Maybe that's why she doesn't talk about them."

She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. "I bet Aidan knows."

A smile crossed the boy's face at the same time his blond eyebrows lowered. "Let's go."

The eldest Yuy turned another page of his digital comic book when a quick knock rapped at the door. Not even a full second could have passed before his younger, super annoying siblings spilled into the room.

He refused to look up and do anything that would encourage them to stay. "What?" He growled at them.

"Aidan. We have questions," his younger brother said and bounced onto his bed. It shook the entire mattress and the eldest son closed his eyes and fought the urge to strangle his brother.

"About what?" He said through gritted teeth.

His sister joined the conversation. "Mom and Dad," she said and, thankfully, sat down like an almost normal person on the edge of his bed.

"What about them?" He flipped another page, but was pretty sure he'd have to come back and re-read this entire section.

"Uncle Trowa's here again…" Isabella's voice trailed off as she glanced at the door.

"How is he our uncle?" Jonathan asked and bounced on the bed. He stunk something awful.

"Seriously, you need to go take a bath. You stink." Aidan shook his head.

Jonathan sniffed his shirt. "No, I don't!" He glared.

"Aidan, why do we have so many 'uncles'?" Isabella asked again.

"It's a figure of speech."

"What's that mean?" Jonathan asked like an idiot. God, he reminded Aidan of that loud-mouthed and annoying kid, Duo, Jr. - that brat hung around his sister like a love-sick puppy.

The teenager looked up at his brother, and said: "It means that they're not related to Mom or Dad but they're supposed to be close enough to the family, that Mom and Dad want to give them titles that make us trust them over other adults who should be treated as strangers."

Jonathan nodded his blond head vigorously. "Oh. Okay."

Isabella piped up from the doorway. Why had she moved? "How come Dad keeps getting visited by Preventers?"

"Yeah, and how come Uncle Duo and Uncle Trowa aren't always Preventers when they show up? But others are?"

"Except Uncle Quatre." Their dark-haired sister added. "He's never a Preventer, is he?"

"Oh. Yeah. Him too."

Aidan put his iPad aside. This was troublesome. He remembered asking many of these questions…

He crossed his arms and shifted his gaze to the window. "You should really ask Dad…"

"You KNOW!" His sister practically yelled; she ran across the room and threw herself down on his bed. She looked at their other brother: "I told you he'd know."

Aidan brought his hands up to his temples. "You find out in 'World and Colony History' when you're a freshman. Mom and Dad sat me down before the school year started…" He didn't look at them. They really needed to stop asking these questions. "They'll do the same when you're old eno—"

"What's a freshman?"

"Your first year in high school." He ran his left hand over his forehead and willed them both to leave.

"That's a long time. We're old enough, now!" Isabella still sounded far too excited. "We figured out there's something up, didn't we?!"

"Come on, Aidan. Tell us!"

"Yeah, Aidan," his sister's voice lowered. "Or Mom'll find out about your more adult comic collection."

Aidan gritted his teeth. He dropped his hands and glared at her. "You can only use that once. If this is what you want in exchange for keeping that quiet from Mom, this is all you'll get. Threaten me again and I'll tell Dad."

"Fine." She stuck out her tongue.

"Proof you're old enough." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "They fought in what's called the Great Colony Rebellion, or, what's known on the Colonies as The Gundam Rebellion."

"Mom wasn't a soldier," Jonathan said; he screwed his face up into an expression of disgust.

"No, dummy." Aidan reached over and thumped him on his forehead.

"Ow!"

"Dad was. He fought for the Colonies." He hoped he could leave it at that. "Mom was the princess and then queen of a pacifist kingdom. They were both rebelling against the oppressive government of Earth. At the time."

"And they met during the war ," Isabella said. "Ohhhh." She nodded slowly; Aidan could tell the wheels were still turning inside her head.

"How?" Jonathan asked.

"Well, it was more a world history session than a history of Mom and Dad, but based on the things they said and what we learned in the actual class…plus some of my own research—"

"Yeah, we get it. How?"

Aidan glanced away. "Seems like Mom gave sanctuary to Dad and a few of our Uncles." He made air quotes when he said the word: Uncles.

"What's 'sanctuary' mean?" Jonathan asked and looked at Aidan and then turned to Isabella.

Surprisingly, his sister beat him to the punch: "It means that what was supposed to be a pacifist country took in soldiers, fighters, who were basically wanted as criminals by their own government."

Jonathan's eyebrows disappeared beneath his mop of blond hair. "It seems that you think that's…exciting somehow?"

Aidan shrugged at his younger brother. Their sister was probably romanticizing the events a bit, but, she was also...right. "Hn."

"So, if Mom's a princess, why does she work so hard at the hospital?" Jonathan shook his head and raised both hands, palms up, near his shoulders. "Seems like we should all be royalty—"

"Mom is still, according to Dad, a hero to the Colonies. But, on Earth, where we live, she apparently committed a crime."

"What?!"

"Mom?!" The two younger kids gasped and spoke at the same time. Isabella was back on her feet at the end of the bed; her hands clasped to her cheeks.

"Yeah, she burned all recorded evidence of the Gundam pilot's identities."

"Wait, wait wait, Mom knows the Gundam pilots?! Woah!" Jonathan jumped from the bed and raised his fist like he'd just scored a goal. "Some of the bigger kids at school talk about them like they were the bad asses of the—"

"Language!" Isabella punched Jonathan in the arm. The blond boy winced and scowled.

"Mom would make you do a week of dishes for that."

"According to some, she's the only one who knows who they are," Aidan recited the information from their history lesson. "And the government wanted the information, but she burned it. So, she was charged with a crime and it took some years to get sorted out. But," Aidan shook his head, "she can't be a princess anymore."

His poor mother. She was beautiful enough to be a princess. She should have been. If not for our dad...

Aidan mentally chased away the thought. His mother hadn't been pleased the one time he'd said that out loud.

"Why'd you do it, Mom? You gave up being a princess; you gave up your father's kingdom. For Dad. I don't get it. He's kind of a jerk—"

His mother looked up and met his eyes from across the table. Her eyebrows scrunched into a frown, and her mouth turned down on one side.

Aidan finished with a mumbled: "most of the time."

"Your father is a very special person to me."

"Well, yeah, I mean you are married to him. But—"

"Aidan, he loves me more than his own life. And he loves his children the same way. He would die to protect you. And me. Please understand..." She shook her head. "I didn't give up anything that could ever rival being with the man I love, and having his, our, three amazing children."

"She still seems so happy…" Isabella sat down and looked towards the door.

"She's got Dad!" Jonathan threw his arms wide.

"Dad has her." Aidan scowled at his younger brother.

"Well, I call BS that Mom's the only one who knows." Isabella was standing in the center of the room with her arms crossed. Aidan felt a sense of dread run down his spine.

"Why's that?" Jonathan asked.

No. No, don't ask.

"There's six of them, right? That's at least six more people who know, plus their families and anyone involved in sending them to fight in the first place."

"True," Aidan said and nodded. He hoped this was enough information without being—

"Wait…" Isabella's face screwed up, and she started counting on her fingers: "One, two, three, four, five…"

"What are you doing?" Jonathan bent down and stared at her fingers. "What are you counting?"

Don't count! Sweat broke out on the back of Aidan's neck. His sister was too damned smart. Shit. Dad's gonna kill me.

"Who's six?"

And here it comes...

Her face slackened and her jaw dropped open. "It's Dad. Isn't it?"

Aidan crossed his arms against his chest and looked at the wall. "I don't know what—"

"Dad and our Uncles." Her voice was surprisingly calm. Even. "They're the Gundam pilots. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"What? No way?!" Jonathan gaped at her and then turned to look at Aidan.

He didn't look at his sister and brother, only offered a weak: "You're making that up. It makes no sense."

"Who would Mom protect besides Dad? And us, but we weren't around yet."

Jonathan stomped his foot. "But Dad doesn't need—"

"Who would Dad let her protect if it would cause that much trouble?"

Aidan pressed his eyes closed. Annnnd he was dead. Dad was gonna kill him. He wouldn't even make another year to graduation…

His siblings were staring at him. "What?"

"You knew!"

He shrugged and picked up his iPad. "This history lesson is over." Aidan stared at the pages of his comicbook, but nothing was legible...

There was a flurry of motion and then those two annoying brats ran out of his room, into the hallway.

He could hear them shouting: "Dad! Dad!"

"Dad! Were you a Gundam—"

"Was Mom a princess?"

Shit. Aidan dove from his bed and ran after them.

He caught up to the loud-mouthed idiots at the mouth of the hallway that led to their father's "office" – hardly used except when his sometimes-Preventer-sometimes-not Uncles would stop by.

The two brats had halted in place; Aidan moved to grab them by their necks and drag them back towards the game room. But a quick glance down the hall—

The eldest son froze with them… At the end of the corridor, stood his parents, and "Uncle Trowa", Aidan's least favorite uncle of the group. Next was Quatre, but mostly because of "Aunt Dotty", as she insisted on being called. That woman could irritate his mother like no one else…

Despite the interloper nearby, his father held Mom's hands, his head bowed with his forehead resting against hers.

Aidan read their lips, as they held a hushed conversation…

"I promise, I won't be gone long. We're just going to—"

"You've been summoned for a mission. Heero, you haven't been away on an authorized mission since Jonathan—"

A mission?

"I know. But, that's why we run the exercises. So I stay sharp."

"Yes, but, couldn't someone…" Her hands came up to rest on either side of his father's face. "I know I'm being selfish, but Heero, I'm pregnant and—"

Pregnant? Again? What the hell?!

"Who should go?" He pulled her hands down, but continued to hold them in his palms. He stroked a thumb over the top of her hands. "Whom should I choose to put in danger if I'm not willing?"

He saw his mom tilt her head down and to one side. His father's left hand came up to move her chin.

"Nothing will happen. And if it does, Aidan's old enough, now. I trust him. And Trowa—"

"Heero…"

He kissed her forehead in such a gentle gesture it defied reason and logic that the same man could have ever killed someone. Even in a war.

She craned her head and looked up at him. His father smiled, leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Aidan looked away.

The public display of affection turned his stomach. But, there was also a part of him that felt fortunate that he didn't have the issues so many of his classmates struggled with – shared custody arrangements, bitter parents, stress-filled holidays. He'd rather have this… Gross though it may be.

His father pulled away, told her to get some rest, then turned to nod at Trowa. The seemed-to-be-on-again-Preventer grasped his mother's hand before giving her a quick peck on the cheek – and then sped towards the back door. The familiar gesture from his 'Uncle' made him want to throw up all over again, or punch him in the face.

He remembered when he'd complained to his father…

He found his dad in the garage, working on some piece of machinery – Dad had it hooked to his laptop and seemed to be using the computer to...troubleshoot...whatever that thing was. A drone?

Regardless, the jerk had been outside for hours, away from his family – while that-that interloper was in the kitchen helping his mother make dinner. What the hell was wrong with that guy? "Dad, who is Uncle Trowa?"

"A friend. Why?" His dad had grease smeared on his right cheek, and left shoulder. He wore a ratted out tank top over a pair of ripped up jeans. How did he expect to keep a woman like Mom when he was such a mess?

"Your friend or Mom's?"

His Dad lifted his head from his laptop and quirked one eyebrow up. "Both. Why?"

"I don't like him."

"Oh?" He had his father's full attention for the moment. It was...somewhat unnerving.

"He looks at Mom in a way…" He raised a fist and shook it. "Why do you let him look at her like that?"

His father sighed. "Son, I hope someday you'll understand." He lowered his eyes to his laptop, again. "Your mother," an uncharacteristic smile curved his lips, "is beautiful."

"Yeah, she's my mom."

His father dropped his screwdriver onto the workbench and closed the lid of his laptop. "I'm not worried about any other man who looks at your mother because, Aidan, your mother only looks at me."

Their father turned to follow Trowa, but stopped when he caught sight of his three children. His eyebrows rose and he headed their direction.

Jonathan broke the silence: "Dad, Dad! Where are you—"

"Dad, Aidan said—"

Aidan cut off his sister, "I didn't tell you that! You made it up on your own!"

His father's dark blue eyes met his eldest son's. Aidan felt his shoulders slump and he looked away.

Jonathan tried again: "Dad were you a G—"

Their father held a finger to his lips. "Not in front of your mother." His voice was a little more than a whisper. He gestured to the backyard. "Come."

Their dad led the way through the set of double doors that had been specially reinforced with steel gates and locked every night. His siblings bounded after him, babbling something. Aidan trudged a few feet behind, noticing the navy and army green Preventer jacket his father was wearing.

For his mission?

The small group moved down a long, covered patio that abutted the back of the home they'd lived in for as long as Aidan could remember. It turned at the outside wall of the kitchen and continued parallel to the north wing, ending at the wood and metal gate that led to their back driveway.

His father stopped at a certain point, in a space that seemed, completely unremarkable. Small, boring, round bushes sat on either side of the walkway; a blue and grey bird rested on a tree branch a few meters away – in one of the two large trees in their yard. The scent of grass and juniper filled Aidan's nostrils; the odor of early Spring. He noted that the covered walkway ended just a few feet behind them.

"This is one of very few spots on our property that's completely, well, silent. No listening devices, no smart speakers."

Aidan gaped. "What? Dad? Listening devices?"

His father frowned in his direction. "If I ever catch any of you using this area for your own purposes, I will redefine the meaning of 'grounded for life'."

Aidan couldn't help but grimace at the thought of what that could mean.

Their dad knelt down to speak at the brats' height. "You can have," he flicked his wrist and glanced at his watch, "seven minutes. Ask anything you want about me, and I'll tell you as much as I can. But, understand, you can't repeat any of it. And you can't un-hear it. Once you know, you know, and it could change some of what you think you know about your past. And your family."

"Were you a Gundam pilot?" Jonathan practically hopped up and down. Aidan rolled his eyes. Such an idiot.

"Yes."

"Awesome!" He pumped his fist in the air. "Which Gundam? Which one? Was it Deathscythe?"

Aidan caught his father's grimace. Deathscythe. That was Uncle Duo's mobile suit.

"No. Wing and Wing Zero. I also piloted Epyon once, but it wasn't a great experience."

Wait. Zero and Epyon ? Aiden supposed he knew that, but when he took his historical "Mechanics of Mobile Suits" class - they'd had a whole unit on how those suits did dangerous things to the pilot... One of the tipping points for eliminating Mobile Suits from the world's arsenals.

"Oh. Those were cool, Dad! What was it like?" Jonathan's face was pink with excitement. His younger brother clearly thought all of this was great...

Aidan frowned. He supposed he had, too, when he was fifteen. But, now—

"Terrifying." Their dad looked at each of his children in turn. "And then, when it wasn't anymore…It made you question whether you were still human."

His father's mouth turned down at one corner. Aidan tried to picture...going to war when he had been just a freshman – like his Dad. Commanding, piloting, fighting... Killing. Trapped inside some huge war machine. His stomach twisted; life felt difficult enough dealing with high school cliques, his parents' expectations, and how to ask out a girl he liked, but was probably out of his league...

His Dad said that his revelation could change what they think about their family. Aidan felt like...there was so much he didn't know or understand about his dad.

Isabella asked the next question: "Was Mom a Queen?"

Aidan snarled and felt his shoulders tense. Their mother... She was going to be up pacing in the middle of the night. Again. Only this time, she was pregnant. What was his father thinking?

"For a few months," his father said and nodded. "The government of Earth tried to make her a puppet. I was sent to kill her."

Isabella gasped. "You tried to kill Mom?!"

"Dad!"

Aidan felt his blood run cold and his heart pounded in an odd rhythm. Why? Why is he telling us this, now?

Their father shook his head. "I never tried to kill your mother. I said I was sent to kill your mother. I failed. I couldn't—"

"You fell in love with her." Isabella reached out and slipped her hand into their father's.

The man they called Dad merely nodded. And it was like another new lens slipped into place – coloring over his memories of his family. Aidan started to get a sense of why…why they seemed so connected. Why they could cause the world around them to freeze and stare in wonder - even their grossed out children.

"Are our uncles Gundam pilots, too?"

"Which one piloted Deathscythe?" Jonathan asked and Aidan had to fight the urge to smack him.

Their father shook his head. "I told you, you could ask questions about me. Not other people."

"Where are you going, now?" Aidan asked in a quiet voice. Off to kill again, Dad? But, he couldn't bring himself to ask the question.

"That's classified." He shifted from kneeling on his right knee to his left, and turned his body to look over his shoulder at his eldest son. "I need you to look after your mother while I'm gone."

"Are you coming back?" Isabella tightened her grip on their father's hand.

Their dad nodded. "Of course."

"What was your code name, Dad?" Jonathan was grinning from ear to ear; he hopped up and down like he was about to open a well-wrapped Christmas present.

"Heero Yuy is my code name."

"Wh-what!" Aidan sputtered. He brought a hand up to rub against his forehead and hairline.

Isabella frowned up at their father. "What's your real name, then?"

"I don't know."

Jonathan stopped hopping and just stared. "But!"

"Most of us didn't know our real names. Your Uncle Milliardo, though, had enough names, he could have given each of us one of his."

"That's why we can't talk about Uncle Milliardo?" Jonathan asked.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Aidan cut in. It was a code name, and yet—

"It did. Once." His dad shrugged. "But, names are things other people call you; who and what you are on the inside is much more important."

Aidan scowled. "You got that from Mom."

"I think Uncle Duo said the first part of it. But, your mother has always been a smart and amazing woman," his father said. "You all need to listen to her."

"What was her crime?" Isabella asked.

A frown formed on his features. "Protecting me due to my role in the war." One side of his mouth turned down. "People couldn't know or I'd never have been able to have this life. Our family." He gathered the two youngsters into a loose embrace.

Jonathan shook his head. "But Mom's just—"

"There are still many people who know that your mother has always been the real hero." He gave them each a hug and stood up. "Time's up, we have to go back inside. I have to go with Uncle Trowa for a while. Be good for your mother."

"Yes, Dad," Isabella said and nodded. She smiled and hugged his arm.

Jonathan echoed his sister. "Yes, Dad."

Their father nodded at his two youngest children and gave them fond pats on the back. They turned around and took off running towards the house. His father glanced at Aidan out of the side of his eye. "I need you to watch them."

He crossed his arms against his chest and stared at his father. "I know."

"And there are some other things...you'll need to take on, when I return."

"Things?" Aidan's stomach churned and he felt electric air fill his lungs. Something about his father's tone—

"You're going to start Preventer training." His Dad pressed his eyes closed, a small frown creased his forehead. "You'll go with me on exercises." He opened his eyes and met his son's gaze. "Our lives are more complicated than they appear on the surface. I need someone I can trust."

Aidan started. His father trusted him? That was new. He was usually permanently disappointed...wasn't he? "Dad?"

His bratty younger brother's voice suddenly called out. "Hey, Dad, are we rich?"

He saw his father roll his eyes. "You'll find out when I'm dead and the lawyers read the will. Until then, you have what you need and some of the things you want. Which is more than most people. Be grateful."

He vaguely heard his brother exclaim: "Rats!" before they heard the door slam shut.

"Dad, when you said…you said Mom. Mom was the hero." Aidan looked down at his hands for a moment before stuffing them in his pockets. "I mean, we learned in class that she stood up for things she believed in and by all accounts, she was, is, I mean, she's Mom."

He looked off in the direction of the house. "We know she's a special person. But," Aidan scowled. What was he trying to say? His father...wasn't revered or even known in the history books for his role in the war. He was—

"Isn't it harder to do what you did? To fight, to pilot those machines…to not even know who you were, are?" He pulled his hands from his pockets and raised clenched fists. "I mean, Yuy's not even our last name!"

His father placed a hand on Aidan's shoulder. "I have to go." He started to walk back towards the house.

Aidan sighed as he tried to match his dad's pace. He glanced at his father out of the side of his eye. Dark brown hair fell over his forehead; his jaw set into a grim line.

It occurred to Aidan then: the man rarely smiled. His childhood memories were filled with images of a tough disciplinarian; dark blue eyes much like Aidan's own, flashing, glaring. A few, rare, beatings – but only when he'd done something to purposely hurt his mother, or siblings.

There were a precious few instances where he could recall his father being proud of him and articulating it in a way his son could understand. The rest of the time… It was his mother that often kept them from butting heads like stubborn rams.

And then there was the fact that his mother had given up everything – her name, her rank, her reputation; her life – for him.

As they neared the back entrance to the house, Aidan couldn't help but ask the question of his father: "How come you call mom the hero? Even now, you're taking on secret missions. The Gundam pilots saved the world at one point! I mean, she's Mom and I love her. And in some respects, she deserves better—"

A wry smile formed on the older man's lips. "The world will always need saving." His father came to a halt just outside the door that led back into the house. And that's when Aidan got a really good look at the man he called his father.

There were no pictures in the history books of the Gundam pilot Heero Yuy, the way there was of his mother when she was fifteen. The only time Aidan had seen a photo of 'Pilot 01' (as he was referred to in their history class), when he was about Aidan's age was when he uncovered a small, framed photo that sat in the top drawer of his father's desk. He unearthed it once when he snuck inside his father's office…and got the grounding of a lifetime when he was caught.

"I told you never to come in here!" His father's voice was a harsh growl. He grabbed the picture with reflexes as fast as lightning.

"B-b-but Dad! I just wanted—"

The older man glared at him. "You're grounded. For a month. Your trip is canceled, too." He turned to walk out of the room.

Aidan followed after him. He felt like the world was tilting underneath him. Canceled his trip?! He and his friends were going skiing - loosely chaperoned. It had taken weeks of buttering up his mother to get permission to go – and that was on top of all the lawns he'd mowed and babysitting he'd had to endure the summer before.

"BUT! You can't DO that!" He wanted to punch his father, a wall, something...

He stopped a few feet down the hallway and half turned back around. "I'm your father. I can." He glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye. "Don't bother appealing to your mother, either."

"Y-you have a Preventers jacket in here. And that picture of you and mom—" he gestured in the direction of his father's office. What was the big deal?! "That is. That was—"

His shoulders squared and his posture stiffened. "Go to your room," he said in a low voice.

"Why does this family have so many secrets?!" Aidan pounded his fist against the wall. It made a satisfyingly hollow 'BANG' sound with every blow. 'BANG BANG BANG'! "Why can't you trust me? I'm your son!"

His father turned around and it was like some other person was talking to him – not his Dad. There was just this blank, completely emotionless set to his features. "My son would have more respect for me than to disobey a standing order. My son would listen to his father."

"ARGH!" Aidan grabbed both sides of his head. "You act like a soldier, sometimes."

"Enough. Forget you ever saw that picture."

"B-but...but why? You two looked young. Happy! What's wrong with that?"

"Because someday you'll understand that the more you know, the more this family is at risk. I can't afford that. And neither can your mother!"

Aidan turned and ran down the hallway. Tears blurred his vision as he sped out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Mom found him an hour or so later; he'd climbed a tree because his bike was in the garage and he didn't want to have to go back inside. She smiled at him, wiped his tears away, and hugged him like he might vanish if she ever let him go.

The framed photo Aidan had found in his father's desk was a young version of his father dancing with a young version of his mother, in some school uniform, he assumed – and hoped they never dressed like that on purpose. There was a tough look on his Dad's face, even then….

But this man, this man wasn't the same, and he wasn't even the same man that he remembered when Aidan was little. Yelling at him to stop climbing, growling at him to mind his mother…

This man had the beginnings of wrinkles etched around his eyes; some small streaks of gray at his temples… There was a softer set to his features when he turned and faced his son. This is a man who trusted him to take care of his mother. Who would train him to be a fighter, a protector like his father was…Still is.

"Aidan."

He started, swallowed, and finally found his voice. "Yeah, Dad?"

His father was staring straight ahead at the back door his siblings had already disappeared through. One hand gripped the doorknob. "I hope someday you'll understand."

Aidan sighed. Those were his father's favorite words whenever he didn't seem to want Aidan to understand... "Understand what?"

He closed his eyes. "Your mother…made me the only things that ever mattered."

"Huh?"

"She gave me a name, a wife, a family." He opened his eyes again. Aidan couldn't help but notice the way his father's knuckles had turned white where he gripped the doorknob.

"But, but," Aidan shook his head, trying to understand. "I thought you said you didn't know your name?"

His dad turned his head to look at his son, and the teen felt like his legs might crumple beneath him. His father's eyes..."It's the name you call me every day that matters, son."

"Huh?" Aidan ran a hand through his hair. "The name I call you? But, but Dad!" What does that mean?

And with that, his father stepped through the doorway, and was gone.