Color2413: I agree with you on adultery. Opinions definitely differ widely on cheating, but I think you owe it to each other to try to work through this. However, although I understand what kind of dilemma Heero's actions from the previous chapter created, I would not draw a comparison to death penalty as you did. Death penalty is the result of gathering all available information and making a decision about what a person does or does not deserve, after the fact. Heero reacted in an instant, acting on instincts that he had no control over and I find this compares better to self defense (albeit that it got out of hand). I should warn you right now that Heero will not go to prison for his crime, even though according to law and moral code he should. I hope this won't offend you. I really hope you will continue to read and share your thoughts with me. Thank you :)
Starless-ocean: Haha, well, I had to make it clear to the reader that this guy was complete and utter scum, otherwise, we might all have a hard time forgiving our dear Gundam pilot for killing him in self defense :S I'll let you know right now, Heero won't get caught. No matter how much DNA research will have improved, you always need a sample of DNA to compare with the DNA found at the scene. Since Heero technically does not exist (as stated in a previous chapter), he isn't in any database, his fingerprints and DNA are not recorded. This might be a spoiler, but I felt I had to warn you, in case you were hoping that he did get caught, considering the moral dilemma of him killing someone and probably deserving to get caught. Thank you so much for reviewing, I hope I will hear from you again regarding this chapter :)
Frayedsoul: Well, I'm relieved you enjoyed the flashbacks as half of the story (what happened in the ten years since the war) will mostly be told through flashback, so there will be one in each chapter. I'm so happy you enjoyed it! Thank you for reviewing :)
MILHARU: I'm so happy to read you are so excited about the story! Thank you for sharing that with me, makes me really grateful :)
Shenlong1: Don't apologize for the length of the review, I love hearing your opinion on the story :) I'm very happy to read you enjoyed the previous chapter and I really hope you will like this new update. Thank you for reviewing :)
Guest: Thank you for reviewing the chapter :) I'm really grateful you are enjoying the story, I hope this update will not disappoint you :)
snowdragonct: Duo is definitely not going to screw over Heero again. I'm very sorry you had to go through that. I think it will always be hard to be sympathetic towards Duo considering his actions and the fact that I don't intend this story to cover a large timeframe, but I aim to send you off with a feeling of hope :) Hopefully I will achieve that :S But that's a long way from now, first, more drama. I hope you will like this update :S Thank you for reviewing again, it's always great to hear from you :)
Loveless8: Wow! Thank you! What an amazing compliment! I really don't have any dignified response to that... only: Wow! That is so kind. I really hope you will continue to like the story :)
Babydex: It will please you then that this chapter involves a little smut? :P Only a little, don't get your hopes up :P I'm sorry about the stretching out... I do that :S But in this chapter I definitely feel like we're getting somewhere. I hope you will continue to read this story, though :)
CircleKV12: Thank you :) I'm glad you are still enjoying the story :) Good catch on "the other reason", nobody else commented on that :P
Hikaru Itsuko: I'm glad you liked the chapter and thank you for reviewing :)
rockyBubbles: Thank you :) Heero definitely came a long way, this chapter will especially highlight that. I hope you'll like this update and I hope to hear from you again :)
Zethsaire: Well, sad was exactly what I was going for (why am I so mean to my favorite boys? :S), so... thanks :) I really hope you will like this update :)
Author's note:
I haven't been able to reach my beta so I'm assuming her computer problems are still alive and kicking. Once again, you will have to make do with my own proofreads :S Don't expect too much, painfully stupid mistakes somehow always get by me :S
Oh, by the way, there wasn't a little one-liner at the start of the previous chapter because... well, remember how I just said stupid mistakes get by me? Forgetting the opening was one of them -.-
Warning: (aside from my grammar) Ladies and gentle ladies and the occasional guy that reads fanfiction (Hi! Awesome! :D), I present to you *drumroll* smut. Yes, indeed, I went there again. Nothing too steamy, but it's the first and not the last. If the d-word offends you, skip the ending. If gay intimacy offends you... What the F are you doing here and please, wherever you live, don't vote. :P
Seriously, you'll let me know if I crossed a fanfiction .net line, right? I really wouldn't want my story or account to get deleted because I am pervert... Perverts are people too... with feelings...
I may or may not be a little drunk right now, but fear not, I wrote the chapter yesterday. Sober.
Loneliest Road
Chapter Five
- In life's journey there are no passengers, only drivers. Not all necessarily wanting to go in the same direction, or traveling by the same rules. -
AC 197
I slept under a different bridge every night. Several canals runs through Amsterdam, crossed by hundreds of bridges, plenty to choose from. People don't look twice at people sleeping on the streets. They are the invisibles of our society and in a way I was grateful to have joined them, to go unnoticed. I felt like I had completely disappeared and I was fine with that. I spent my days on park benches, watching the pigeons. Sometimes, a person would catch my eye; somewhere afar, a blurred figure, always with chestnut hair. Never with a braid.
I had come with a cause, a destination - I had hoped to find myself, within the hard outer shell in which I lived - but I had soon lost that. It felt like a challenge and I was too exhausted to see it through. The world around me felt terribly uninteresting. I supposed "uninterested" was a kind of emotional state and at the moment I considered it my only victory.
On exceptionally cold nights I sought refuge at the shelter. They had a bed and lukewarm showers. Those were the only luxurious I allowed myself. None of the other invisibles approached me, we were as blind to and distrusting of each other as the world was of us. We all wore the blue parka's that the salvation army had handed out in the park when the cold was reaching it's dangerous peak, but we didn't belong together. We shared a sort of uniform, like soldiers united in an army, but we were enemies. At the shelter my shoes were stolen two times before I learned I had to keep them on in bed. The people who managed the shelter were kind enough to get me new shoes each time. Amsterdam was filled with invisibles after the war, it had become a harbor to refugees as it was one of the few places where the government was generous to the unseen members of civilization.
I was the worst one out there, even amongst drunks and sexual predators that society had cast out. I killed someone to protect myself, stole money from him, then abused a system that owed me nothing, all for a life not worth living.
The bitter cold of winter drifted away, and perhaps it was the vain hope that the first spring sunrays offered, or just my steadfast rationality, but I realized I mustn't waste my life the way I had. I had taken so many lives so my own and my purpose could be maintained, I felt determined to find the answer that had bothered me since my very first kill, when my gun still felt heavy in my hands, rather than an extension of it: am I worthy of life?
I was inclined to believe no and recognized it would be obnoxiously arrogant to think otherwise but I was left with only two options: make the best of this life that I had fought to preserve, or kill myself. The latter I was reluctant to do because then everyone I had ever stopped from killing me, by killing them instead, would have been a wasted death and my life a wasted life. The former I was reluctant do because it just seemed too damn hard and impossible.
Yet, a free life, I had discovered, was about making choices. I could not run away from them because then they would always be there looming over you while you are stuck in twilight.
On a park bench, a pigeon eyeing me for scraps, I decided.
Option B, being the most definitive one, would make for a valid back-up plan.
I was skilled, a quick learner, highly intelligent, strong, punctual and reliable and Dutch was one of the twelve language I spoke fluently - growing up I had a lot of time on my hands, being deprived of free time and toys to play with, J made sure my time was spent productively. After a thorough shower the shelter supplied me with a presentable set of second-hand clothes and over the sink I cut my hair short, less haphazard and messy and did my best to make it look good. I didn't trust anyone to hold scissors near me.
But of course being an undocumented immigrant thwarted my best attempts at getting a decent job. Having the shelter as my "home address" didn't help matters either.
After a lot of raised eyebrows, I was finally, reluctantly, given a job.
My technical skills would be put to good use... The Espresso machine at the diner where I served as a waiter was temperamental at best.
I slept at the shelter for three months, sometimes on the floor, because there wasn't always a bed available for me and they couldn't play favorites. Even though I suspected I was a welcome sight to the kind manager, who had been appreciative of me ever since I fixed the problem that had been causing power outages. I worked hundred hour weeks, I only left the diner to sleep. I took on every shift that was offered to me.
The work was mind-numbingly simple, but I welcomed the numbness. The questions in my head had been more exhausting than the extra long shifts.
After three months of being named "employee of the month" I had saved enough money to start renting the tiniest studio apartment in a seedy part of town, above a noisy bar.
This meaningless life continued for a long time, not as long as it seemed to me, but still long. I got the impression my colleagues were starting to like me. They smiled at me a lot and no longer seemed jealous that my face kept appearing on that "employee of the month" plaque and they laughed sometimes, when I said something that I didn't think was funny. It was very peculiar. Stranger still was the touching. It caught me off guard at first and I gave Alex - a colleague of approximately my age - a bloody nose with my swinging elbow when he laid a hand on my shoulder passing me by in the narrow aisle between the tables.
Even more surprising is that he never suspected it to be anything more than an innocent accident. He laughed it off - blood on his lips and teeth - went to the back to clean up and never mentioned it.
He did keep touching me though. On the shoulder. On the arm. On the back. Once he put his hand on the back of my head and ruffled my hair. By then it had grown out to the length where I had kept during the war and for whatever reason he remarked he liked it best at that length, because it made me "look like the kid I was".
Alex was very strange, but not a threat, I learned. Neither were the others.
All of a sudden, it was Christmas again. I had offered to take the Christmas Eve shift, but the owner wouldn't let me, he wanted a more "cheery" staff to mind the diner that night, so he sent me home.
I walked through the snow. My hands were tucked deep into the pockets of the coat I had recently bought. I spent little of my modest savings. I didn't need much, as I had always made do with next to nothing.
When I reached my building, I realized I didn't want to go home. It wasn't really "home" anyway, it was just a leaky roof, drafty walls and chipped paint surrounding a whole lot of nothing, not even furniture. I wasn't sad. I searched for the feeling, but I couldn't find it. I didn't feel lonely either, I hoped I did, but the feeling wasn't there. The thought of spending the evening there just didn't interest me. It didn't seem very productive either. I realized for the first time that I hadn't been executing my Plan A very successfully; I had a job, not a life. I still felt nothing.
On a whim I pushed open the door, not the one that led to upstairs, but the one that led into the bar.
It was hot inside, I took off my coat with my second step into the space. I scanned the room. It wasn't very crowded, very few people didn't have a better place to be on Christmas Eve than a musty bar with old disco music. I noticed the bartender's eyes were on me, looking at me intently. Officially I was a minor, so I wasn't allowed to be there, but I lived above the bar long enough to know that they enjoyed stretching the rules. I was pretty sure smoking weed in the street was illegal, but I sure hadn't had the chance to open my windows for fresh air that summer. And surely having sex in the adjacent ally wasn't encouraged by law enforcement either but I had to learn to sleep through the moaning.
I approached the bar and seated myself on the high, leather padded stool. The bartender came up to me immediately, rubbing a beer glass dry with the towel in his hands.
His physique was intimidating, he was built immensely; tall, muscled and broad shoulders. His face was weathered, but handsome, with a cunning grin and plotting gaze. His hair was deceptively boyish, as he was clearly much older than me. Glossy chestnut brown in a short ponytail. He stood before me momentarily, just rubbing his big hands around the glass, looking at me. "Can I see some ID?" He asked in Dutch, with deep, gravelly voice.
I wasn't nervous, I knew at worst he would send me to the door, with no where else to go but my empty apartment. "Why?"
He smirked and leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the counter between us. "Because I would love to know your name, pretty doll."
A doll, attractive to the eye, but with a cold and unyielding exterior and nothing inside. It seemed only fitting. "Alex," I lied in response to his purred inquiry, appropriately distrusting of him.
His smirk widened and he leaned in even closer. "That is not your name," he whispered.
I was an awful liar, Duo had been the one to break that news to me. I didn't know why, in that moment, I thought of Duo, but I did. I looked at the bartender's hair and I remembered the feel of Duo's chestnut strands running between my fingers as he always had me braid his hair.
"My name is Heero."
"Heero... That is a very sexy name."
I didn't even know what that meant, but I was confused even more by his boldness.
The bartender shook his head and chuckled deeply. "You do realize this is a gay bar, right?"
Of course I did. The throaty moans in the depth of night of the exclusively male clientele left had no doubt. But gay and straight meant nothing to me, as they both referred to a kind of sexuality and I possessed no kind of sexuality. It was all equally alien. "I do. I live right above here." Only later did I think that maybe I should not have told him that.
"Ah, so you're the one! How come I've never seen you here before?"
"I work." I didn't understand why he kept prolonging the conversation. If he wasn't going to kick me out, wasn't he just supposed to offer me a drink and then leave me alone?
"Hm. All work and no play?"
"Playing is for children."
He chuckled. "Oh, yes and you are way too old for that." He added with a wink: "You're never too old to play. Would you like a drink?"
Finally. "Yes." I thought of ordering water, but decided against it. I didn't know if drinking and playing were somehow involved, but I recognized being playful is doing something that I normally wouldn't do. I quickly scanned the bottles that lined the wall behind him and picked the first that sounded familiar. "Scotch."
"Single malt, single grain, blended malt, blended grain or blended?"
The simple decision of scotch over water was suddenly very complicated. I had no idea what any of the things he just said meant, so I chose randomly.
"Straight up?"
More confusing questions. I didn't know what he meant but suspected I would make a fool of myself by asking, so I just said: "Sure."
"Straight up scotch in a gay bar," he commented, then poured an inch of the ice-tea colored drink into a glass and firmly placed it in front of me.
It felt like a challenge. Not willing to back down, I grabbed the glass and took a large swig of the liquid. I coughed as it went down leaving a strong, burning sensation in my throat and a nasty taste in my mouth. I managed to maintain an indifferent expression, or so I thought, but he started laughing at me.
"Where are you from, Heero?"
Innocent enough, but it was a loaded question to me, as I had no idea. I had no background, I had no roots. I was vague by only answering with: "The colonies."
"Wow, then you are a long way from home."
"My apartment is right upstairs," I reminded him.
"That is a different kind of home."
I had no idea what to think of a home, or what the word even really meant. People seemed to attach so much more value to it than the dictionary did, it had me all confused. I finished my horrible drink in two more big gulps, realizing that I didn't want to be in the bar anymore.
It seemed the bartender had different ideas. As soon as my glass was empty, he filled it with the drink of my choice. "You weren't thinking of leaving so soon, were you?" He asked slyly.
I guess not, I grumbled inwardly, succumbing to his persistence that I couldn't accuse of being anything other than charming. I looked up at him and saw more of Duo in him than I first did - or wanted to. His eyes had a mischievous glimmer in them that distracted the focus from the darkness that lurked in the depths of them. His features were handsome; masculine with a boyish, personable appearance to them. He had a strong jaw line that framed his crookedly curved lips as he smirked at me.
He didn't look like someone I could trust, but, paradoxically, that made me more inclined to do just that. He didn't try to hide, he didn't pretend to be a shallow archetype of an insignificant character in life's never ending novel. He was forward and made no secret of having secrets. That quality drew me in, made me take my time with the second drink and not make any objections when he poured me a third.
Having never had alcohol in my life, the effect of those three glasses was potent. I felt like I had been drugged. My vision was foggy, my mind fuzzy. My thoughts were slow and irrelevant, my limbs weak and uncoordinated.
The bartender - who's name was not yet revealed to me - physically carried me upstairs after last call. In the dark, smoky hallway he propped me up against the wall and searched my pocket for a key. I purposefully kept my hands out of the way and allowed my instincts to be obstructed by the blissfully mind numbing mist that had settled in my head. If I had focused on the panic that overcame as soon as his hands descended on me, I would have killed him, like I had killed that man in Luxembourg. I didn't want that. I might not have felt them yet, but I knew the emotional consequences would be unbearable if I ever did manage to reach that state of emotional awareness and openness.
The door was opened and I was picked up again.
The bartender said something. "There's nothing here."
"There sure isn't..." I agreed sheepishly.
He sighed and set me down on the sleeping bag in the corner where I typically spent my nights.
I had expected something to happen. I had expected to feel his big hands on me again. I knew I wouldn't fight it. It would be better if I would just stand it.
But he didn't touch me again. The nameless bartender covered me up. "Are you going to be okay, all by yourself, pretty doll?"
I nodded, already half asleep. More softly spoken words were exchanged, but I couldn't remember what had been said the next day.
I woke up in the early afternoon, blinking my eyes to stare quizzically at a glass of water and two Ibuprofen. For the splitting headache, I presumed. I popped the pills into my mouth and washed them down with the water. The glass, I realized, wasn't mine. How could it be? I owned but a single mug for my morning and evening tea. The gold logo of the bar - mostly faded and chipped off - meant I had no choice but to go to the bar again. An intentional move on his part, I believed.
There was something undeniably enigmatic about him; the way he moved, the way the words rolled off his tongue so effortlessly and the way he looked at me. For the first time in my free life I had found something interesting. I was drawn to him, to both the alien and the familiar quality to him. This inquisitiveness - I wasn't sure what else to call it - caused me to stop by the bar every day after work, just to watch him work and to listen to him talk. He seemed amused by my visits and my undivided attention. He seemed to enjoy it. He became increasingly forward, flirtatious and suggestive but I was too ignorant to notice.
Eventually, I was bothered enough not knowing to ask him: "What is your name?"
He revealed his most mischievous smirk yet. "I had been waiting for you to ask me."
He had been waiting for several weeks, so I mistook him for the patient type.
"My name is Hendrik Schuyler." He extended his hand out towards me, over the bar.
I hesitated, but then I remembered the strategy I had planned, to make the decision-making process less challenging: just do what I normally wouldn't. I reached out and tentatively shook his hand. "Heero," I repeated. I knew my last name would complicate matters so I purposefully omitted it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Heero," he purred and teased: "Pretty doll."
I noticed he held on to my hand unconventionally long, then felt him pull me closer to him, both of us leaning over the bar, nearly meeting in the middle. His face was so close, I was instantly reminded of what had happened between me and Duo in the hospital and I wondered with no defined preference if I would be kissed again.
Hendrik didn't kiss me. He studied my face, shamelessly, and I let him because embarrassment was not yet one of the emotions I was capable off. Curiosity had been a big step for me. The only time I had ever felt something was when Duo said goodbye to me in the hospital, but no trace of that had been left, like he had taken it with him. It was like him leaving had made even more dead on the inside than I was and than I thought I could be. I had to find a new Duo, to make me feel.
I had started to realize it wasn't easy to surround myself with people who could evoke feeling in me, but Hendrik - with his little oddities and facial expressions that reminded me of the braided Gundam pilot - seemed like my best chance.
I flinched when the fingers of his other hand suddenly grasped my chin. I strained my neck to pull my face away, but he shifted his grip to my jaw and firmed his hold, pulling me back towards him. I was squeezing his hand tightly, my other hand balled into a white-knuckled fist, as I struggled to suppress the physical reaction to his forcefulness that had been instilled in me. The lifeless body of the motel manager flashed before my widened eyes and I didn't yet understand why, but that was what definitively prevented me from reacting. My whole body relaxed when Hendrik's hold became more gentle and his thumb stroked the sharp edge of my jaw, under my ear.
"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he whispered with deep voice, staring into my eyes.
It was a compliment and even though I could not take credit for the genetic code that had engineered my facial structures, I thanked him, because normally I wouldn't.
He let go of my jaw and straightened up.
I found I was inexplicably slow in sitting back myself.
"You've been coming here for a long time now," he remarked, casually reaching for a glass to dry.
"Does it bother you?"
"Hmmm... not at all. I was just wondering if maybe you didn't have anybody else to hang out with."
I shrugged. "I don't have friends."
"That's a shame," he said matter-of-factly and briefly interrupted the conversation to serve a customer.
"Maybe you and I are friends?" I asked when he returned. "We've been 'hanging out' and you've been buying me drinks all this time."
He looked at me meaningfully, his gaze hooded by his eyebrows. "I don't want to be your friend," he replied severely. "We've been hanging out because you keep dropping by my workplace. And I've been buying you drinks... because I want to be more than friends."
'More than friends'. I felt dizzy as the words rang in my ears and I heard Duo's voice coming from a memory of a moment a long time ago by then. 'I always thought of you as more than a friend.'
My heart rate quickened like it had in the hospital and I felt a similar pain in my chest. Neither I could explain, but maybe they were effects of an emotion that I didn't yet understand or could define. Maybe being more than friends was the key to discovering my ability to feel and emote. I may not have known what emotions I had been experiencing, or why, but for the first time in a long time, I felt alive, felt something more than the distinction between bored and interested. It was fascinating and encouraging and it appeared I had Hendrik to thank for that.
I blurted: "I want to be more than friends too." Keeping to my strategy.
His mouth formed a satisfied smirk. "Yeah?"
"Yes," I affirmed. Ever since the first night we met and he carried me upstairs and never harmed me or abused me, I trusted him, if only because I desperately needed someone to trust. I trusted him to help me explore myself and bring me to life.
I trusted him.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
AC 206
"What are you thinking about?" Duo's words interrupted the lyrics of the song that blasted through the speakers. He had turned up the volume to drown out the uncomfortable silence, but I guessed to no avail, otherwise he wouldn't be trying to engage me in conversation.
"Nothing," I lied. Hendrik was a difficult part of my past, for both of us, albeit for different reasons. Neither of us enjoyed talking about him, so I spared us both.
"Are you hungry? It's about lunchtime." He turned down the radio, making it clear this conversation wasn't about to be ended, no matter how hard I would try.
"Not really." My appetite had suffered a significant blow as of late.
"We're making good progress on our trip now that we have cut the activities. Soon we'll be a whole day ahead of schedule. Our hotel reservations won't line up with where we are at the time."
"Motels are fine." To be honest, I was grateful. Those wonderfully decorated, romantic rooms only make me feel guilty and tense. I welcomed separate beds and itchy sheets that called for full, utterly un-sexual pajama's.
"You know, if we aren't going to make any stops, we might as well find an airport and book ourselves a flight to DC, then we'll be there in a matter of hours," He neutrally suggested.
And spend a week with glowing, beautiful, pregnant Hilde in DC, living up to the magic of childbirth? The mere thought upset my stomach. My trusty, rational mind readily supplied: "We are not going to leave this car at an airport somewhere. It's already damaged enough. When this is over I still have hope we can get some money back for this thing."
Duo chuckled and didn't argue with me. He probably didn't want to be in Washington sooner than planned either, knowing how hard that would be on me.
We drove the entire day, getting lunch and dinner at drive-thru's and peeing in the bushes lining the road, passing the hotel where Duo had made previous reservations. Duo talked and I listened with half an ear, staring at landmarks in the landscape as we speeded past, the wind messing up our hair and tugging at our shirts. At nightfall Duo stopped the car at the side of the road and while muttering and cursing he folded up the canvas roof to offer us some protection from the cooling wind that whipped across our faces.
Rather than getting back inside he squatted down next to the passenger door. "Maybe you can drive for a little bit, my eyes are kind of tired."
"Fine." Maybe some activity would keep my mind off things. I got out and walked around to the driver's side. I started the engine and laid my right hand on the stick. The flash of a memory overwhelmed me. Deafening laughter and the sensation of tears streaming down my face, Duo at my side, trying to teach we how to drive a stick, laughing with me as the car sputtered and jolted along the secluded road. I steeled myself and focused on driving the car.
Duo groaned, settling into his seat. "Feels good to rest for a bit."
I drove five miles under the speed limit as Duo dozed off in the passenger seat. I told myself I was just being cautious, because I wasn't used to driving this car. In reality, I had to own up to my childish attempt to postpone getting to Washington DC. I didn't want us to be late, I just didn't want us to be early either. I took a deep breath as I felt something welling up that I had aimed to suppress.
I had suffered so many injuries during the war, but no pain prepared me for scars I got during peacetime. I couldn't describe what it felt like. I had many examples to draw from, but falling off a building, setting my own leg and even self-destructing didn't compare to the pain of having everything my happiness is built upon be crushed.
I cast a sideway glance at Duo, fast asleep next to me. I could tell he was having a dream. Normally, he looked peaceful, but his expression was contorted into one of concern. I wondered what he was dreaming about. Lately that was all I had been wondering.
What was he dreaming?
What was he thinking?
What did he say to Hilde when he took the phone to the other room?
I couldn't help but worry that lately my name hadn't come up very often in his dreams, in his thoughts or in his conversations. Blame him, I could not. I knew this excitement, I knew the anticipation and I had a pretty good inkling what kind of dream could cause him to look so distraught. I just, selfishly, wished that I was a bigger part of his life. The way I used to be. The years when it had just been me and him seemed so desperately long ago.
Naturally, things get complicated when there's an extramarital child in the mix.
It was, however, an illusion to believe that we would be completely fine if not for Duo's slip-up with Hilde. Duo would have never sought comfort with her if I hadn't driven him away, right into her arms.
I lay my hand over my heart as it throbbed painfully. I told myself: let's just deal with one heart wrenching situation at a time.
When Duo's phone suddenly rang I nearly leaped out of my seat, but the seatbelt restrained me and held me in place. Duo was startled awake by the abrupt sound. Before he could reach over to answer it, I saw the name imposed onto the scenic screensaver: HILDE.
"Hilde!" He practically shouted before he even had the phone to his ear. He straightened up in his seat and brushed his hair out of his face. He looked flustered, he was probably as anxious as I was as soon as the name on the screen was recognized.
I adjusting my grip on the steering wheel, bothered by how sweaty my palms had instantly become. I could hear Hilde's voice through the phone but it was all incoherent. I only had Duo's side of the conversation to go by, which was more information than I would usually get. I understood that he wanted to keep things separated, he probably didn't want to hurt me nor Hilde, but it just made me feel shut out even more. I didn't know how to tell him that, I was very comfortable in the passive aggressive, detached state I was currently in. Being more involved would likely only mean more heartache.
"Well, we're making some headway, so we're probably going to be there a day sooner..." Duo shot a cautious look at me before he quietly asked: "How are you and the baby doing?"
The baby. I took a deep breath.
Duo's face contorted with unbridled distress. "Oh my God! You had to go to the hospital? What happened?"
I let out the shaky breath I had been holding as I felt myself become physically nauseous. My whole body was tense with anxiety. Being short of breath I started to pant. I could see my hands starting to tremble, rattling the rickety steering wheel.
"Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" Duo continued in his most worried tone of voice.
My chest started to hurt and I felt like I was about to vomit.
Realization hit me. I was having a panic attack. I had had one before, shortly after a similarly distressful phone call.
Afraid I was going to loose control over the car, I abruptly steered it into the grassy shoulder along the road. As soon as the car had come to a full stop I kicked the door open and pulled myself out of the seat. I could feel Duo's eyes on me as I walked around the front of the car, my hand over my stomach, walking further into the grassy field with shaky legs.
"Hilde, I'm sorry, I gotta go. I'll call you back." The passenger side door opened with a by then familiar creak and Duo chased me into the field, calling out my name.
I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees and threw up, not able to suppress the gag reflex any longer. What came out was mostly the water I had been drinking, as I hadn't had much to eat for dinner. My vomiting was quickly reduced to uncomfortable dry-heaving.
Duo had reached me and was stroking my back as I stood hunched over, saying my name over and over in a soothing but always apologetic tone.
I was done but I didn't want to straighten up and have him look at me. Not only had I soiled my chin but most embarrassingly I realized tears had been pouring out of my eyes uncontrollably. I finally asked him, with a voice that didn't even remotely resemble my own: "Do you have a tissue, or something?"
Of course he didn't. He took off his vest and offered me the sleeve.
"No, it's disgusting."
"I don't care, Heero, it's just a goddamned vest," he insisted.
Grumbling, I accepted it and cleaned my face. Feeling moderately confident that my mask was back in place I stood back up. I balled up the vest, wrapping it around the sleeve I had used and uncomfortably held it in my arms as I sucked in fresh air.
Duo's large hand caressed the back of my neck, fingers playing with hair at the nape. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.
I looked at him and noticed he seemed sick himself, sick with worry. I remembered the phone conversation that had started this all. "Is Hilde okay? Is... is the baby okay?"
Duo let out a deep breath. "They're fine. We don't need to talk about that right now, I just want you to be okay."
As it turned out, I sucked at being the cold soldier that I once truly was. I hated that. I hated being this mess. And I hated that I couldn't even blame Duo for all of it. That wasn't a very productive way of thinking, but I just found myself in that kind of headspace.
Feeling a little bit like myself again, I started walking back to the car.
Duo followed me, his hand on my back, trying to comfort me.
"Seriously, tell me. Why did she have to go to the hospital?"
"She went into false labor this afternoon, she thought it was premature labor so she had a friend drive her to the hospital. There's nothing to worry about, apparently. The doctor had told her that it was quite normal, she gave me a name for it, but I can't remember."
"Braxton Hicks?" I offered when we reached the car, looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact.
"Yeah, that's right... Nicky had those too, right?"
"Yeah," I answered morosely.
He stepped forward and gave me a hug. He was apprehensive at first, but when it was clear I wasn't going to pull away, he tightened the embrace and buried his nose in my hair. "I'm so sorry about this. I know this brings back a lot of bad memories." He pulled back and made me look him in the eye. His expression was sincere, but wrought with troubled feelings. "I want- I need you to know that I haven't forgotten. And I especially need you to know that I haven't stopped caring. Or that this baby I'm having with Hilde is a replacement." He casually ran a finger by the corner of his eye and offered me a small smile, wanting to be the strong one.
I slowly nodded. I really didn't want to talk about it.
I felt exhausted and drained and it must have been apparent. Duo suggested that we should find the nearest motel and call it a day. He opened the passenger side door for me and walked around to take the wheel.
We stopped at the first motel we came across and hauled our stuff inside. The air in the room was dry and musty. The wallpaper in the bedroom had yellowed and the corners were peeling. The tiles of the impossibly small bathroom were stained. Two single beds were pushed together and covered with an ugly patchwork bed spread, to pass as a double bed. It definitely wasn't the kind of room that expected to see any kind of romance.
Good.
I went into the bathroom to wash up. In the bedroom, Duo verbally expressed how disgusting the sheets were. Luckily, he had brought two sleeping bags along, he revealed and he left briefly to go get them out of the trunk of the car. I started pulling off the motel sheets. They were not dirty, but I estimated them to be older than we were - combined - and for this reason I certainly would not have enjoyed sleeping under them.
We rolled the two sleeping bags onto the beds and started to undress quietly. We sat on the edge of our respective beds, our backs turned towards each other. With my own panic attack in the past, it dawned on me how upsetting Hilde's phone call must have been to Duo, before she managed to relay the doctor's positive information. He must have been feeling many of the same things I was. It was selfish not to acknowledge that, just because it was hurtful for me to address anything that revolved around his baby with Hilde. With my back still turned towards him, I said softly: "I'm really sorry about freaking out just now. You must have been worried sick about the baby when Hilde called and I just totally drowned that out with my overreacting."
The bed creaked and the mattresses shifted as Duo turned around to face me. I didn't dare to look back at him.
"You weren't overreacting," he assured me. "And I was worried, but Hilde was quick to tell me everything was fine, so if anything, I should apologize to you. For keeping you out of the loop."
"It's probably for the better," I had come to realize. "I thought I would want to be included, but I know now that that would just make things ever harder." I nervously fumbled with the loose fabric of my sweatpants.
"Whatever you want, I'll do. And whatever you want, you are free to do. You can be as involved as you are ready for." He paused lengthily, then added: "I do want you to be part of this, but I know you need time. This situation puts a lot on your plate."
Done with the emotional turmoil that the conversation was awakening in me, I reminded him flatly: "You promised Hilde you would call back."
He took a deep breath, I could feel him staring at me. "Yeah. You're right." He stood up and grabbed his phone. "Do you want me to stay here or do you want me to go outside?"
Since he was already in his nightwear, I couldn't very well demand him to stand outside in the cold. "Stay inside. I'm going to brush my teeth anyway." I took my toiletries into the bathroom with me and closed the door. But even the shut door and the sound of me furiously scrubbing my teeth could not drown out Duo's hushed voice. More often than not, I found my toothbrush hanging limp between my lips, listening to his words.
"No, we just had a little situation. We had to pull over.-... I'm glad to hear you and the baby are fine.-... And those false contractions don't mean that you might go into labor soon?-... Good. Okay.-... Yes, of course I'm being sincere. Of course I want to be there for the birth.-... Yes, I am considering your feelings in all of this, but this is really hard on Heero and I have to be sensitive to that. You must understand how difficult this is for him.-... I've hurt him enough, I won't hurt him again. He is my priority.-... I'm sorry, Hilde, I'm sorry. That's just the way it is. You and I are having a baby but Heero and I are married.-... I already love this baby and in a way, I love you too, but Heero is... Heero and," Duo's voice noticeably changed as he swore. "Fuck."
It sounded like he was crying and that wrenched my heart.
"I'm never going to love anybody more than him, Hilde. The thought that I have made him question that is killing me and I can't have that happen again. If I lose him... I am nothing. I wouldn't even be able to be a father, I would just be broken and lost. So please, respect that I am devoted to him."
By then I had abandoned my toothbrush and had my ear pressed up against the door. Hilde must have been talking, because I didn't hear anything for a while until I heard Duo say:
"I'm sorry, Hilde. I'm sorry about all of it."
Then I heard the sharp beep of the line being disconnected. I leaned my forehead against the door, overwhelmed by the rawness and sincerity of Duo's voice. Of course I knew that he still loved me, I could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at me. But it was a different thing to have him spell it out to his ex, who was currently pregnant with his much anticipated child. I knew his words must have felt like stabs to Hilde - I had figured she still had feelings for him - but to me they were a kindness that I had been longing for.
Duo's words offered me little reassurance. I didn't know what would happen once we would get to DC and Duo would witness the birth of his child and watch as he or she slept in the arms of his or her mother - a woman who Duo had loved once and one no one could blame him for loving once more. But at least, in that secluded moment, I got to feel like I was still the most important person in Duo's life, the one worth everything to him and I happily got drunk on that feeling.
I quietly opened the bathroom door. My eyes landed on his slumped form, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze cast at the trampled carpet. I crossed the room barefoot, barely audible and kneeled in front of him, searching for his gaze. We exchanged heavily burdened looks, but for one night I agreed to let hope spark between us. Not enough to start a fire to warm our hearts and expel every frigid trace of grief and torment, but enough for me to just love him and for one night have his warm hands cradle those frostbitten parts of me so they wouldn't sting so much with bitter cold.
Caught up in the moment I pressed our mouths together with evident desperation. I could taste the salt of his spilt tears on his lips. He kissed me back, tentatively at first, then fervently, recognizing that the moment had to be savored. After tonight it might leave and never come back.
His hands cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. With his tongue he eased my lips apart and engaged my own in battle.
It was hot and reminiscent of a time long ago. We both welcomed the memory as a new, albeit brief present reality.
My hands ran up his thighs and slipped underneath his long-sleeved shirt to stroke his abdomen and chest.
Duo urged me up off the floor. He lay back on the bed and pulled me down on top of him. His hands abandoned my face to trail down my sides and then strongly grip my behind, crushing our pelvises together. We were both aroused, more because it had been so long than the actual stimulation; we were all over the place, first kissing each other's mouth, then necks and our hands constantly wandering with no sense of purpose or direction.
Duo scooted further up the bed and pulled me along. We lay on our sides, facing each other, haphazardly kissing and caressing while we rocked our hips together, our bodies desperately searching some kind of completion. It had been too long for either of us to be able to last to a stage that involved lube. Our sweatpants were easily pushed down to our thighs and we emitted pleasant moans when our erections touched.
I feared that any moment feelings would flood me, that I would become aware of all past pains and present concerns and self-doubt and I would pull away scorned. But that never happened. I continued to accept his kisses, momentarily blissfully ignorant as all cerebral processes were overwritten with pure, physical desire.
We rubbed our dicks together, more like teenagers experimenting for the first time than the experienced lovers that we were, but that alien sense of novelty only fuelled the heat.
"I love you so much," he said, his lips brushing mine as he talked.
I recognized his tone of voice; in a past life I had heard it often enough. He was close to orgasm. "I love you too," I replied, the same kind of urgency in my tone.
We came in complete unison, arching our backs and thrusting towards each other one final time. We soiled our hands, the mattress and our shirts but with shaky breaths we chuckled.
Duo wrapped his hand around both our dicks - as much as he could - and stroked them together leisurely as the wave of climax slowly subsided. With a lopsided smile he breathed: "I love coming with you."
I groaned, not with pleasure, but with pain. A sudden pain in my chest. As soon as he said that, the moment was broken, the shards of it laying scattered on the floor. As soon as he said that, I wondered bitterly: as much as you love coming with Hilde?
Duo kissed my forehead. For a moment longer I let him be oblivious, because I knew how painful it was to have that blissful ignorance come to an end and I didn't want to subject him to that just yet.
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the cracked ceiling. I wondered if we were ever again going to have more than just fleeting moments, when in DC he will have a relationship that lasts a lifetime. One that I had nothing to do with, but Hilde everything.
Really, I don't hate Heero, I love him.
I don't know why I'm doing this to him.
I'm really a nice person. Just... not to fictitious people apparently...