. Chapter Two . Child
The Maxwell Home was opened in the Central District of L-2 six years after the end of the Earth Sphere War as it had come to be known in posterity. Duo would have much preferred to not give such a malicious and devastating curse of an event a name and rather just learn from the horrible experiences and never make the same mistakes again. But most of humanity had been more than happy to risk repetition of history at the cost of lives, innocent and otherwise, and simply buried the pains that bothered them. If it was human nature to do so, then Duo thanked whatever Devil manipulated his fate that he had torn that piece of humanity out of him through trial and tribulation. No, that was a tame word to use—Hell was more appropriate.
He may have died thousands of times over in that cockpit and he may never again feel totally comfortable in the normal flow of life, but as long as he lived, he would not let such an incident repeat, and there were six other people who shared his unique circumstances and felt exactly as he did. The Gundam Pilots, Noin, and Zechs.
Well, that wasn't completely accurate. Seven, counting Relena.
After the war, which Duo doggedly called nothing more than that, he went back to the only home he'd ever known. L-2 had not necessarily been the warmest welcome in the past, but it was all he knew. And after going through Hell kicking and screaming, he wanted familiarity, no matter how terrible it had been before. There was nothing worse than drifting, utterly alone. And even though his past was riddled and at times unbearable to relive even in faint memories, he would do his damnedest to honor it.
After a few years of making ends meet with salvage with Hilde, things had come to a halt. There simply was too little business to survive on it. Relena, being just as adept as one particular pilot had believed her to be, enacted the strict banishment of any sorts of mobile suit with weapons grade abilities, greatly restricted and supervised the smelting of all Gundanium alloy, raised stark taxes on the manufacturing, transportation, and trading of mechanized equipment larger than five meters, formally allied and supported the Preventers, organized judicial courts to strictly deal with Mobile Suit Edict infractions, and taken up overwhelming owning stock in former manufacturing companies at the expense of the Peacecraft and OZ bank accounts, and all of this within three months of the end of the war and gaining political clout.
She was far from the child he had seen, sitting innocently in her prep uniform and eyeing the boy who sat beside him, waiting to corner him outside just to see him. And Duo thoroughly enjoyed that change. It was the next best thing to actually having a Gundam Pilot in power—though Relena insisted on mentioning almost each and every one of them in her sweeping orations. All in all, it was a slightly irritating but flattering vice. Duo knew life's troubles could always be worse than repeated, embarrassing compliments—always.
And in the Sixth year of Peace, excluding the failed coup d'état on Christmas in the First, she caught wind of Duo's plans to build a memorial orphanage in the Central District where the Maxwell Church had burned to the ground. At that point, the furthest planning done had been Duo lying down on his couch, tossing a baseball up in the air to keep his mind focused, discussing the possibility with Hilde as she sipped some coffee. When asked about the mysterious leak, Hilde had declined to give him any more insightful information than to say she had "many ears in many places." And through that transaction of words through old wartime friends, most likely by Duo's own videophone only minutes after he'd fallen asleep that night, the Maxwell Home Project was born, already financed and monetarily sound for the rest of its life.
Relena had pulled out all the stops when the idea came to her attention. Duo was honestly surprised at her dedication to his minor cause. She had much, much bigger fish to fry and L-2 had never garnered much political support, and often came under fire and threat of destruction from health inspectors. Those claims never saw realization solely because without L-2 there would be no place to keep the unwanted immigrants and colonists. Among the colonies, it was always in the worse need of repair and the last to receive some if any at all. There were bigger issues, the politicians said, to be tended to. And during the wars, that may have been true.
But under Relena's careful watch, it was irrelevant.
She contacted Duo the next day, and he arranged a meeting in L-2's worst slum, Dark Water, where drinking water back in the day had been infused with invisible run-off from thermal energy testing. Duo had spent a few days there, writhing in agony as the toxins gave him the worse routing he'd ever felt, before Solo found him and taught him the hazards of colony life. It was something he found himself surprised to tell her—he'd told no one about Solo save for Father Maxwell and Sister Helen—but she had turned her head to him for a moment, not staring piercingly into the wreckage, desolation, and dirty children surrounding them. She had been wearing a white shirt and blue jeans that were dirty at bottom. Average clothes—colonist clothes. And she had seen something in his eyes that made her smile. And she swore it again, to help him however she could.
Then she hugged him.
Duo never forgot it. And on bad days, he would stop and picture the gleam of her eyes when she had pulled away, still holding his shoulders tightly. She was not a child, but she was young in the way the world needed. And she did help him. She gave him the means to build his orphanage and slowly begin reconciling his past and protecting the future from repeat Duos. She was the Pilot without a Suit, as far as he was concerned, for all that she'd learn to put before herself, but she was brighter, purer than they could ever be. Duo would die for her from that moment on.
Now he understood why he had protected her so fiercely, why he had gone after her time and time again, why he would stand at Peacemillion's observation decks and stare into the stars with her name in his eyes. And here he thought it had been love.
Quatre, however, not to be outdone upon hearing of Relena's generous donation, poured a substantial chunk of his time, energy, and money into the renovation of L-2. Quatre had not called Duo for a meeting, though. He showed up at the front door and threw Duo into a bear hug upon opening it. Needless to say, Duo was more than happy to see him, even if he hadn't yet combed his hair or even had his coffee that morning in the face of the blond's perfect grooming. Eventually, Quatre drew the conversation away from catching up and jokes and pledged his support. And days later, through the same contractor that was building the Maxwell Church, he announced the beginning of a rebuilding, sanitation, and improvement project of LaGrange Point Two. And, the company being based solely out of L-2, it brought an influx of jobs that had been sorely needed for twenty-five years.
So life was good.
The Maxwell Home was coming up on its third anniversary in a few months. There was always construction in the works, and potential employees to be interviewed and oriented. Cooks and assistants, a nurse, psychologist, and tutors. Thanks to Relena's funds and the never-ending existence of orphans in L-2 and the surrounding satellites, they were always growing. Currently, they maintained the same three-acre plot for the building, and an additional two and a half acres of recreational area, but Cartier and Son Contractors were already looking into the area around the central campus for more classrooms, a dormitory, and nearby housing for the older orphans who were either unable to be placed or were nearing legal age and needed to learn the responsibility of independent living. They were quickly becoming the leading facility among the colonies and soon had growing numbers of children from L-1 and L-3.
Duo had also requested information about the possibility of building a small chapel on the grounds. Michelle would love that. Should it actually work out, he was going to surprise her with the plans on the next anniversary.
Duo's closest assistant and confidante had come from St. Michael's Parish, a church that had been founded by one of Father Maxwell's close friends in Seminary. It was clear on the other side of L-2, a more polished side of an otherwise gritty place. That was where the relatively few money-holding citizens gathered, away from the ordinary people, fondly known as the Grime.
Michelle came to Duo four weeks after construction had started. Relena had been firm in rejecting Duo's pleas and made a completely thorough media presentation of the building, thrusting him and his project firmly into the spotlight. Michelle had seen him on the news one night, trying his best not to act nervously in front of the camera and rattle on, and called him immediately afterward. Duo had been slouched at his counter, sulking as he shoved ice cream into his mouth, while Hilde was intently watching and taping it off the news, and very grateful for the distraction.
Speaking of which, he sorely needed one right now. They were walking down the corridor that lead from the offices and file-keeping rooms—the boring adult stuff, Duo often told the kids—and into the first atrium where kids were often seen sitting watching movies, reading, hanging out on their free hours. It was an enormous room to Duo, who had often slept in the impossibly fractional spaces between buildings, with two couches, bean bag chairs, five tables for playing cards, drawing, and writing, an electronic billiard table that only answered to children who were doing all their schoolwork, a television, a stuffed toy corner for the younger kids, a giant shelf of books, and a coloring and paint station. And that was where most of their young charges were now, mid-afternoon, with classes done for the weekend.
The corridor leading there was on the outer edge of the building, so the windows looked out into the metallic landscape of L-2, giving a good view of the curve of the Colony. On the other side, though, it was large glass panels gazing out into a small garden Michelle and a few other workers had started, and now was overtaken by the older kids. Ivy-doused walls surrounded it, one looking into the Big Room, and the others looking into offices and other corridors.
Duo watched the rows of tomatoes and onions and rhubarb for as long as he could before he stepped out into the Big Room.
It was silly for an adult to cower before a tiny orphan, but the fear was there no matter how forcefully Duo tried to coax it away from his mind with more important thoughts. It seemed only to react to these attempts by digging deeper, striking closer to much more tender memories and vulnerable spots. Duo swallowed around a lump and his eyes fell true on the new addition.
He was the only one at the bookshelves. Most of the children were currently wrapped up in an afternoon movie, lying scattered around a few couches, bean bag chairs, and a few of the younger ones huddled around the television in a group, sitting on the laps of the older ones. They took little notice to Duo or Michelle. They were always darting in and out, here and there, stopping to play Go Fish and Colony Shuttles, a game that Duo had known as Leap Frog, and the movie was getting good, so their presence garnered little attention.
Duo hadn't ordered his feet to move, but he couldn't very well resist it without looking a fool, bolting wildly to avoid seeing the face of a four-year-old.
Michelle reached him first seeing as she had no reservations to taint her will and knelt down to his level. He was pretending to be raptly gazing into a page of Aesop's Fables, a book that was thicker than the arms that supported it, ruffled head bowed. Duo could see a cautious tension run taut and fast up the child's back, squaring his shoulders the tiniest bit. It was familiar. An echo of a louder memory.
Michelle looked up at him, giving him a knowing, sharp glance, and he crouched down as well.
"Hello, there," she said gently.
Duo felt his throat knot tight when the frail-looking four-year-old turned around to look at them and his eyes were blue.
He glanced at Duo, then back to Michelle. He did it once more, but lingered on Duo's face longer, before he lowered his chin and pulled out a quiet voice. "Hello."
"Hi," Michelle cooed. She looked delighted to get even that tiny word out of him. "My name is Michelle, and this is my friend Duo. We're going to take care of you until we can find your Mom and Dad, okay, sweetheart?"
He looked at Duo at the mention of his name so intently and with eyes so blazingly blue that Duo thought he could see something like recognition in them. But he said nothing.
Michelle gently touched her hand to his back in a reassuring gesture meant only to coax him out of his insecurity. So many of the children who came to need the Maxwell Home needed much more than just shelter and hot meals, and Michelle took each one into her heart and consideration, knowing she would probably never have ones of her own. Sometimes he envied her motherly touch, but the thought of touching this rail-thin boy, even ruffling that disheveled dark hair, intimidated him.
"Can you tell me what your name is?"
Finally, he tore his gaze away from Duo and clutched the book close to him in a self-conscious motion. He gazed into Michelle's warm face with a timid expression, and shook his head. "Don't wanna," he muttered. "Taken."
Michelle smiled and gently laughed at that, reaching forward and using both hands to touch him. Duo couldn't help but notice the tension that first met her contact, then melted into a more vulnerable position, almost swaying into that motherly energy. And attached to that face, those eyes of déja vu color, it was an odd image.
"Oh, honey, that's alright. Lots of people share their names with someone else. It's nothing to be ashamed of," she told him, reaching up to push a lock of hair out of his face. He could have told her that it was just going to fall back in a stubborn streak. "I share mine with many other people, you know."
"But Otousan said mine was special," he answered, looking almost distraught at the idea. He glanced over at Duo again. This time, the former pilot thought, it was a reflex of anxiety and fear.
Funny, he thought. I feel exactly the same way.
Michelle smiled and cooed. "It is. I know it is, because special boys deserve very special names. Would you like to tell me what it is? I'd really like to know."
Again, he shook his head.
"That's alright, sweetheart. Maybe later, hm? When you're ready?"
This time he answered with a nod. He was still clutching the thick book to his chest. Duo wondered honestly if he could read such a thing already, but the dark comprehension in him said yes, he could—being a descendent from whom Duo knew he must. A fresh wave of nausea hit him at the thought of his intuition being right about this. Terribly blue eyes set upon him again, and the orphan seemed almost to stare straight through to his soul for a moment. And then he shyly bowed his head and sat down in a tiny red chair with his book.
Michelle smiled and reached for a book as well. It was not until she'd swept her habit neatly beneath her, in order to sit properly in the child-sized chair next to their new addition, that she registered that Duo was gone. She sat bolt upright in the tiny chair, glancing around the room. It was as if he hadn't even been there, moments ago. She had heard tell of about the former Gundam Pilots and their mysterious and often mythical abilities, but Duo had never shown such behavior. He was so modest and normal—she could not put his face to some of the horrific hearsay that still haunted them, even in the Sixth Year of Peace.
She now realized if he didn't want her to know that he was leaving, then she wouldn't.