Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Reason For Me ❯ Part One: Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Title: A Reason For Me

Author: Prynesque

Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, angst

Pairing: 1x2

Rated: R

Warnings: Potential (though unintended) OOC, some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV, possible Australian-isms.

Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me - just so long as I get to hear from you.

Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).

Notes: This story is AU. It's set in modern-day Chicago and I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste!

Author's Notes: I meant to put this chapter up yesterday but then I went to this awesome Hill Top Hoods gig at the Uni Bar and completely forgot about everything else (mind-numbingly loud music will do that to a gal). So, sorry about that. But never mind because I'm putting it up now and all is right and rosy with the world. Be warned that there is a teeny tiny bit of 1x1 lime, so if you don't like that sort of stuff… well, then why are you reading this fic?

Anyway, enjoy and don't forget to review. I am prepared to worship you forever if you do.

Part One - Chapter Three

Heero:

I'm cold and stiff. Those are the first thoughts that register in my sleep-addled brain. I stretch my legs out and it's only then that I realise I'm actually in the bed. The previous two nights I've spent awkwardly on the couch, having fallen asleep whilst working. So why was last night any different?

Instantly I remember and I wonder how I could have ever forgotten, even for just that one moment… Duo.

I sit up, my muscles screaming in protest as I force them to work. The hotel suite is empty. I know it instinctively, but I still search the living room, the bathroom and the balcony. He's gone. Really, I shouldn't be surprised. When I asked Duo that question last night and he said 'no', I knew this is how it would end. But I still feel an unbearable sense of disappointment and loss.

I stand on the balcony for several minutes. My feet are cold on the hard concrete and the light morning breeze chills my bare arms but I stand there anyway. I can't go inside to the emptiness just yet.

The sun has risen and the streets below are just beginning to fill with people as they bustle to and fro. I search the cityscape as though by some divine miracle I'll spot that braid of hair or those incredible eyes. But I don't. All I see is the seemingly endless stream of tiny figures scurrying about their business… greeting friends with big smiles and hugs; leaving a café, coffee clutched in their hands and surreptitiously trying to hide that double chocolate caramel pastry which is most certainly not on their diet sheet; buying a paper from the stand on the corner; arguing good-naturedly as they wait for the bus…

My shoulders slump in defeat and I turn back and re-enter my room. It suddenly feels so very dull and lifeless without Duo in it.

I can almost imagine him sitting there on the couch, his face lit up by the biggest grin I've ever seen. I can almost hear his voice, his laugh, the way he says my name.

All of a sudden, my chest feels tights and I'm having trouble breathing. I don't know what's wrong with me, I've never felt like this before and I don't know how to fix it.

I stumble backwards, and my hip jars against the bench. And that's when I spot the clothes neatly folded next to my laptop. My eyes flicker sideways to my wallet. I don't remember leaving it there last night and I immediately know why it's been removed from my jacket pocket. My heart sinks.

Reflexively, I check how much has been stolen, silently counting through the remaining notes. I'm surprised to find that I've only been relieved of $100. I stare at the amount that's been left behind and wonder why he didn't take it all.

I let my wallet drop back to the table and that's when I realise that he's taken my watch as well. I never really liked that watch. It was a present from my father when I graduated from high school and I've always thought it was as ostentatious as the giver, but in that moment, I miss it.

I feel like I should angry, that I should feel betrayed. But I don't. I'm sad and disappointed… not disappointed in Duo so much as disappointed in life for having to be this way. And suddenly I'm feeling inexplicably lonely.

My gaze rests on a scrap of paper, lying forgotten on the bench. My fingers reach out and pick it up. The neat blue print on one side informs me that breakfast will be served from 6:00am-10:00am in the downstairs dining room. It's been torn off the menu, my brain registers as I turn it over.

The writing is scrawled and messy, only barely decipherable, but I decide that this fits Duo to a tee.

Heero - I was born nothing and I'll die nothing. You can't change that no matter how hard you try. You can't save me, but thanks for trying anyway. You'll never know how much last night meant to me… Duo.

I can hear his voice in my head as I read. It's the same words he spoke last night. I feel sick in my stomach and I can feel a slight throbbing in my temples, indicating an impending headache.

I'm sad and confused. Duo says that he's nothing and that that will never change. He takes my money and my watch. It should be enough for me to write him off as a lost soul, to forget about him and my pathetic attempt to play the hero. But I can't. I read the note again and again and it's like I can almost see, hear, feel him calling out to me. Thanks for trying. You'll never know how much last night meant to me. He's not a lost soul and I could never ever forget about him.

Something is wrong with my eyes. Everything is blurry and there is a persistent niggling itch. It's only when I feel the wetness on my cheeks that I realise that I'm crying. I have never cried before, that I can remember. This is not a familiar feeling. This is a feeling that leaves me confused and unsure and desperately miserable. I can't bear it but I don't know how to make it stop.

A single tear drips from my chin down onto Duo's note, marring the clean white paper with a damp splodge. I cradle it protectively in one hand as I lift the other and angrily brush away my tears.

I resist the urge to sniff despondently. I try, instinctively, to quash my feelings, to bury them deep within me like I have every other time they've raised their unwelcome heads. But this time it's different. This time I can't. Even using every ounce of my will power, I can't ignore the sensations Duo has aroused in me.

Less than 12 hours in Duo's company and suddenly I'm capable of human emotion. It's strange. It feels like he's broken some invisible dam within me and now I can never go back to the way I was.

And as I stand by the balcony door, the white lace curtains brushing against my legs in the light breeze, I realise that perhaps this isn't such a bad thing.

I read the note again even though I've already committed it to memory. You'll never know how much last night meant to me. He's wrong. I do know.

I remember the curve of his smile and the way his mouth seems slightly too big for his face. I remember the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs and the little creases that appear around the corners of his grin. I remember his voice, a voice that sends shivers down my spine. I remember how he trusted me with his past. I remember how he managed to drag a conversation out of me; how he listened and interrupted and drove me crazy and made me feel inexplicably exhilarated. I remember the weight of the disappointment that lodged in my chest when he answered 'no' to my question, and the rush of anger I felt when he was so self-deprecating. I remember the way his warm, lithe body moulded against mine as we sat on the couch. I remember the smell of my shampoo in his hair. I remember feeling so comfortable with him, more comfortable than I've ever felt with anyone, Quatre and Wufei included. I remember the way the juice from his burger dribbled down his chin and how it had taken all my self-control not to run my tongue up that tempting trickle. I remember bandaging his chest and having to restrain myself every time my arms encircled him. I remember the feeling of his breath on my fingers as I reached out to brush them across his adorable smile. I remember standing by the bed and offering to sleep on the couch when all I wanted to do was throw myself at him and kiss him and touch him. I remember the sensation of warmth and relief that clenched my heart when he patted the mattress. I remember watching him after he fell asleep and how every fibre of my being had been screaming to hold him. I remember feeling inexplicable arousal just from looking at him and I remember the numerous times I had to use all my considerable self-control just to get my erection to go away. I remember every single little detail.

Like I said, observant to the point of being obsessive. But I'm glad that I can remember every line on his face, every expression, and every shade of colour in his incredible eyes, every word he spoke, every smile, laugh and blush. I file everything away in my memory so that I can relieve that night again and again.

I realise that in my distraction I'm crumpling his note and I immediately and painstakingly smooth away every crease. I will keep this little scrap of paper forever. Until yesterday, I had always considered my laptop to be the most important object in my possession but now I'm not so sure.

I stop suddenly and laugh out aloud. What am I doing? This is absurd. How can I be feeling like this about Duo? I've barely known him a few hours. How is it that he can be affecting me like this? How is it that in such a short amount of time he managed to break through every single one of my well-constructed defences? How is it that he can make me lose all my precious self-control?

So many questions. They just keep building, one on top of the other… and yet no answers. I simply don't know. And for once this uncertainty is not maddening or frustrating, it's simply accepted. Unexpected certainly, but still accepted and even… enjoyed?

Everything I do is mechanical, clinical. There is no spontaneity in my life, mainly because I hate not being in control. But when I think about the few impulsive, unexpected moments in my life (going to NYU, befriending Quatre and Wufei and especially spending the night with Duo) I realise that those are my most treasured memories. Those will be the times that I will never forget.

However much I crave and need order and control, there is a small part of me that is screaming out for something new and different, something to keep me on my toes, something to keep my life from becoming stagnant.

No, not something but someone. Yes, someone… someone like Duo. Someone who can completely overwhelm my senses, someone who can make black seem white, someone who can drag me out of my reclusive shell. Someone… that I'll never have.

And I realise that disappointment and longing are right up there with all the other new-found emotions I discovered last night and this morning.

I sigh. My headache is getting stronger. All these thoughts… they're just going round and round in my head, confusing me, depressing me. I hate it when my thoughts become so scattered. I close my eyes and run free hand through my messy hair, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself.

Suddenly there is a sharp rap at the door. I'm jolted out of my reverie and Duo's precious note slips from my hand, floating gently down to the carpet. I scoop it up before it lands, clutching it firmly in my hand, determined never to let it go.

I cross the room and rest my hand on the doorknob. A tiny part of me is hoping that when I open it, I'll find Duo standing on the other side. But I know I'm being irrational. It won't be him. It won't ever be him again.

I twist the handle and the door swings inwards. Quatre and Wufei are standing in the hallway. Wufei is tapping his foot impatiently.

Quatre opens his mouth to speak as soon as the door opens, but whatever he was going to say seems to get caught in his throat as he runs his gaze over me.

He blinks twice and then exchanges a significant look with Wufei. "Heero?" he asks gently. "Have you just gotten out of bed?"

I look down at my sleep-rumbled clothes and then back up to Quatre. "Hai."

Quatre looks anxious while Wufei just looks perplexed. "It's 9:30am!" Wufei exclaims. "Are you telling us that you, Heero Yuy, who obsessively gets up at 6am every single morning regardless of when he went to sleep, has only just woken up?" Wufei's voice is incredulous and his eyes are wide.

"Hn," I say. I'm not entirely sure I can be bothered explaining.

Quatre frowns, pushing me backwards into the room. His hand comes up to my forehead, apparently checking for a fever.

"Are you feeling alright, Heero?" he asks. Stupid question really. I never get sick.

"I'm fine," I say shortly.

Wufei follows Quatre into the room and the door closes with a click behind them. Quatre's eyes are darting about the room. They take in the clothes Duo left beside my laptop, the empty plate on the coffee table, the cushion on the floor by the couch, the dishevelled covers on the bed.

His gaze returns to me. He raises one eyebrow and I immediately know that I'm not going to be able to leave this room without giving him an explanation. There are times I wish Quatre didn't know me so well.

"Sit down," I tell him, motioning to Wufei as well.

"Heero…" Quatre begins, but I cut him off.

"Sit down," I repeat. Quatre sighs and seats himself on the couch. He's sitting exactly where Duo sat last night and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from asking him to move. Wufei sits down beside Quatre and although there is enough room on that couch for me, I choose to sit in the armchair instead.

I spend a good minute or two getting myself comfortable. Really, I'm just stalling for time and Quatre seems to realise this because he clears his throat and casts me a pointed look.

I roll my eyes but I start talking anyway. "Do you remember last night when we arrived back at the hotel and we saw those two guys on the fourth floor?" I wait for their nod of confirmation and when I receive it, I continue. "Well, after you both went in to bed, I went back downstairs and waited for the young guy to come back out." I don't look at either of them, but I'm pretty sure both of their mouths are hanging open.

"When he did, I asked him to come back up here with me. He said no at first but when I offered to pay him, he agreed." There is more silence. And then finally, "Heero, are you saying…? I mean, did you…?" Quatre isn't quite sure how to finish that question, so he doesn't.

"No," I say hastily. "I didn't… we didn't..." I curse myself internally for stuttering. "I just wanted him to be safe for one night. To give him a place to stay, food, a shower. I just wanted to help him." I look up. Quatre's eyes are telling me that he understands but I don't think he really does.

Wufei, on the other hand, is gaping at me in disbelief. "You paid a hooker to spend the night with you?" he asks. Is that disgust I hear in his voice?

"I already told you it wasn't like that," I defend myself and Duo; I can feel a tinge of anger creeping into my voice. "I wanted to help him."

"But why? He's just a common hustler. It's dishonourable that anyone would sell their body to strangers! You shouldn't…"

My fists clench. I can feel the anger rising, and once again I'm feeling the urge to resort to physical force in order to shut Wufei up. A low grow escapes my throat.

"How dare you judge him!?! You don't know him! Did you ever stop to think that the only reason he would ever do that was because he had no choice? If you're going to be a judgemental bigot at least get your facts straight!" I'm yelling now. It's a shock. I never yell. I don't think I had the depth of emotion for yelling before, but I certainly do now.

Wufei looks stunned and then ashamed. I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing myself to calm down.

"Heero's right," Quatre says softly but firmly, and when I look up I realise that Wufei is blushing. He looks guilty and uncomfortable and I'm glad.

"I apologise, Heero. You are right. I shouldn't have said that. If anyone can be accused of being dishonourable, it is me," Wufei bows his head seriously.

I exhale. The tension in the room evaporates with Wufei's apology. That's probably the one thing I treasure most about my relationship with Wufei. We have regular spats about stupid and inane things but as soon as one of us swallows our pride long enough to apologise, everything is forgiven and forgotten.

I'm eternally grateful that this time he backed down so quickly, but even so, I'm suddenly feeling exhausted. I clutch the note tighter in my hand, trying to draw whatever strength I can from it.

"So, what happened last night?" Quatre asks tentatively.

"Nothing. We just talked and watched TV and then we went to bed and we talked some more. When I woke up he was gone." Suddenly the urge to cry is back again. But this time, in the presence of my two friends, I control it.

"Gone?" Quatre presses.

"Hai, Quatre, gone!" I snap. Quatre looks hurt by my attack and I immediately regret it. "He took my money and my watch and left." Wufei looks vindicated but wisely remains silent. "He left me this note." I hold it up and then pass it to Quatre.

His blonde head bends over it as he deciphers the writing. If he notices the stains where my tears soaked into the paper, he doesn't mention it.

When he looks up, he's smiling sadly. He passes the note to Wufei who reads it and once again looks vaguely guilty.

"I'm sorry, Heero," Quatre says quietly.

"It's fine. I'm fine," I say, even though I'm not.

Wufei passes the note back to me, another apology in his eyes. I fold the note gently with clear straight lines, treasuring my one tangible link to Duo.

For several minutes a strange cloak of silence envelopes the room. Neither Quatre nor Wufei seems to know what to say and I think I've used up my vocabulary quotient for the year.

Eventually Quatre looks up; he instinctively senses that I'm done talking about last night and so tactfully changes the subject. "Wufei and I had come to ask if you wanted to come to the Chicago Cultural Centre with us." His eyes are hopeful, but I'm tired and miserable and in no mood for indulging him.

"I'm sorry, Quatre. I think I'll just stay here. Pack. Get some work done." I hope the unusually gentle tone of my voice will be enough to placate him.

For one brief moment it looks like he's going to argue but surprisingly, it's Wufei who nudges him and then says, "That's fine, Heero. I hope you have a nice day."

I cast him silent thanks, forgiving him for his slurs against Duo. He smiles tightly at me and then rises from the couch, nudging Quatre again with his knee.

"Alright, Heero." Quatre sighs. "Look after yourself. We'll see you tonight. In the lobby?"

I nod and then Wufei is steering Quatre away. The door shuts with a click and I'm alone in the room with the bright sunlight shining in from outside, playing across my defeated form.

I slide Duo's note into my wallet. I've never been the type to carry photos. Quatre has various snaps of his many sisters and Wufei stoically carries around an old, worn, treasured photo of his dead parents, but I've never had anyone in my life that I've ever considered close enough to warrant keeping their picture with me at all times.

Until now. I will keep Duo's note forever in lieu of a picture. That sounds sad and pathetic even to my ears, but really, if you had experienced what I did last night, you'd do exactly the same thing.

I take a shower. I'm one of those people who have to have a shower every single morning and wash their hair. It's part of the terribly anal routine that I have to follow because it feels like the world would implode on me if I ever deviated.

The water beats steadily down on my body, massaging my stiff muscles. It's is hot; hotter than I would normal have. Large blotches of pink mar my skin where the water has made contact.

I let my head fall forwards so the heavy torrent of water drums down on my neck and then over my shoulders.

I reach for the shampoo. I've never really paid any attention to this shampoo; I barely even registered the scent, but now as I squeeze some into my hand I remember the cool, fresh smell that it left in Duo's ophidian hair. I massage the soap into my scalp and as I close my eyes I can almost picture Duo standing in this very spot, doing the very same. I wonder what he looks like with his hair down?

I remember the sight of his bare chest while I bandaged it. Slim and lithe but with definite muscle. The sort of body that possesses far more strength and agility than you would ever think to look at him.

I'm getting hard. I can't help it. All I can see in my mind is the curve of Duo's shoulder, his lips, and those eyes… eyes I could drown in.

The hot water hits my chest, sliding down my torso in a steady stream. The water trickles down over my erection and I hiss as jolts of pleasure tingle up and down my spine.

I duck my head under the water and as the soap suds are rinsed from my soggy hair and glide down my wet form, I wrap my hand around my arousal.

I stroke myself closer and closer to completion; it's far more overwhelming than any other time I've touched myself. It's like all my senses are heightened. I picture Duo in my mind's eye. I can almost feel him writhing beneath me. The water caresses my chest, trickling over my responsive nipples, and I pretend that it's Duo's hot mouth causing those sensations

My hand moves faster as I thrust into my firm grip. I know I won't last much longer. I can't. Duo's eyes are pulling me onwards. I can almost hear his voice echoing around the steam-filled bathroom.

My heart is pounding in my chest so fast it feels like I'm flying. A long, low groan escapes my lips as I find my release.

I stumble forwards. My hands leave my body as I slump forwards, bracing myself with my palms flat against the cool white tiles. My head bows and the water beats down my back.

That was probably the most explosive, overwhelming release I've ever felt and yet now all I want to do is cry. I feel so very alone. The sound of the beating water mingles with my harsh breathing and echoes around the room. Everything else is still and silent and it feels like I'm being mocked by the absence of the one thing I really want.

And guilty... I feel guilty, like I've cheapened the memory of last night. Like I've reduced Duo to the one thing I don't think of him as. Like I'm nothing but another drooling pervert using him for my own pleasure.

But I also feel more liberated and alive that I ever have because for once my emotions are allowed to roam free around inside me. Beneath the water I shake my head. Too many conflicting emotions… loneliness, guilt, pleasure, freedom… I'm so fucking confused.

I don't cry, but my shoulders slump. I stand beneath the steady stream and wait for the water to go cold, but it doesn't. This hotel prides itself on its amenities but I find myself cursing them. I want to feel the water cold on my bare skin… punishing, cleansing.

I move to turn the tap to cold but I change my mind halfway through the action and turn the shower off instead. The rushing water stops immediately and silence descends on the bathroom; it's amazing how the sound of nothing can be so deafening.

I step out of the stall onto the bathmat. The lingering steam kisses my damp skin as I shake my bedraggled hair out of my eyes.

I wipe the condensation off the mirror, leaving smudgy wet trails in my wake. Drops of water trickle down my face from my unruly bangs before dripping down onto my shoulders and mingling with the beads that still linger around my collarbone.

I stare at my reflection critically. All my life I've heard girls swooning over my looks; of course their twittered "Oooh, he's so gorgeous" is usually followed by "It's such a pity about his personality." But really I can't understand what they see in me. I don't think I'm good looking. I'm too hard and cold and stern. From the hard line of my jaw to the steely glint in my eyes, that's all I am and how can that possibly be gorgeous?

No, I'm nothing like Duo who is warm and uplifting; his aura is infectious. From the twinkle in those impossibly large violet eyes to the curve of his smile, he is completely and utterly beautiful. Gorgeous in every sense of the word. And sexy… sexy like you wouldn't believe.

I cut my train of thought off right there. This isn't getting me anywhere except possibly hard again.

I grab my towel off the back of the bathroom door. It's not one of the white plush hotel towels. I never use the ones provided. I have to bring my own. Obsessively neat… I think we've already covered that.

I dry myself roughly. The harsh cotton scratches against my sensitised skin but it's an oddly welcome sensation.

When I finish drying myself I straighten up and meet the steady blue gaze of my reflection. And suddenly I know what I have to do. It probably won't make any difference but I know that I won't be able to leave Chicago without at least trying.

The doorman waves to me as I hurry across the lobby towards him. "You've missed your friends by a good hour, I'd wager," he says with a smile.

I don't answer him. Even if I wasn't in a hurry, I probably wouldn't have made the effort to return his casual greeting. I can almost feel his penetrating frown on my back as I hurry away down the street.

My sneakers scuff on the rough concrete. I'm running now as though those few precious seconds I'll save will make all the difference.

The back street is empty when I arrive. I'm not surprised. It's nearly 11am and the hookers have all gone home to rest and nurse their battle wounds until night falls again.

I race down the street anyway, pausing before the doorway that Duo had appeared from last night. I grasp the door handle in my hand. It's encrusted with rust and grime, and steadfastly locked.

"Hey, whadda ya doin'?" A rough voice drawls behind me.

I swing around. A guy the size of Canada is bearing down on me. His muscles bulge inside his tight black t-shirt and he has a very unappealing sneer on his face. I look past him to the door of Club X which is banging slightly in the light breeze.

I make a quick assessment of the situation. This guy is a bouncer at the club so he's probably well-versed in various forms of self-defence, and although I'm unusually strong for my size I estimate that taking this guy on probably isn't a good idea.

"I'm looking for someone," I shrug slightly and try for a smile, although I think it's more of a grimace than anything else.

"Ya won't find no one in there." He folds his arms across his expansive chest. "That door ain't opened for years," he says, nodding towards the door behind me. "Abandoned. Rusted shut."

"I'm looking for a guy I saw here last night." I'm fairly sure I'm blushing. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. I rarely blush, but then I rarely approached random bouncers about prostitutes. I refuse to let my embarrassment get the better of me so I plough on. "He's a couple of inches shorter than me with really long hair tied back in a braid," I say, hoping the description rings a bell.

"Look, kid, we get all kinds around here. I can't be expected to remember the face of every single bloody whore that crosses my path."

I bristle at the word 'whore'. Judging from the suddenly wary look on the bouncer's face I'm wearing my "Death Glare". He shuffles from one foot to the other. It's testament to the power of my expression that I can make a guy twice my size look nervous.

He shrugs. "Hey, man, don't shoot the messenger!" He holds his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. "Come back tonight, yeah? They come out at sundown." He turns away and strides back to the open door. Just before he disappears into the dark, smoky club beyond, he glances back at me. I think he's both confused and unnerved by my presence.

I wander up and down the full length of the backstreet several times. My feet follow the well-worn sidewalk back and forth restlessly. I don't honestly expect Duo to come back here at this time but I have nothing else to do and I'd rather go mad pacing endlessly here than in my hotel room.

12pm comes and goes and I'm still tracing my now familiar path. My stomach is beginning to complain and I'm reminded of how Duo's stomach had insistently grumbled the night before.

Just as I make up my mind to leave, the door to Club X opens again. The bouncer from earlier steps out onto the street and approaches me. Behind him, I can just make out two other similarly-built figures lingering in the doorway. Back-up.

"Look, kid, I'm gonna to have to ask you to leave. You're makin' the boss nervous with your pacing, OK? You ain't gonna find your friend here anyway. Come back later, yeah?"
Part of me wants to stay purely because I refuse to be intimidated by anyone, but in the end I simply shrug and mutter my patented noncommittal "Hn".

I follow the length of the street one more time and when I reach the other end I emerge out into the sunlight and make my way back to the hotel to sit and wait for my final hours in Chicago to pass.

And so here I am, once again standing on the balcony of my hotel suite. It's not dark enough for the street lamps to be lit, but the ever-present halo of smog that cloaks this city is streaked with pink and orange as the sun sinks rapidly below the skyline.

Nearly 24 hours later and I'm in the exact position I stood in last night. I'll spend my last few minutes in Chicago in this very spot and it's almost as though the night and day in-between those moments didn't even exist.

No, that's not true. More than ever I am reminded of everything that happened. How can one's life change so drastically in the space of just a few hours? It's almost inconceivable. And yet, it's true. The Heero that stood here last night is significantly different to the Heero that stands here right now.

I stare down at the street below me; I can just make out the tiny figures in the gathering gloom. They clutch their briefcases to their power-suit-clad bodies as their run to catch the bus home to their warm houses and their welcoming families. By now I've stopped looking for Duo amongst them.

It's strange. When I looked out across the Chicago cityscape yesterday all I wanted to do was leave. But now, I feel a strange bond with this foreign place and the thought of leaving is farthest from my mind. Though, of course, my desire to remain here has very little to do with the city itself and everything to do with a certain somebody.

I sigh. This brief 24-hour chapter of my life is coming to an end, perhaps never to be reopened again. Part of me, that new part that was awoken inside me that first moment I laid eyes on Duo, is desperately miserable, longing for that which I've lost, or perhaps that which I never really had in the first place.

But I also feel strangely calm. I've spent these last few hours in quiet reflection and have managed to regain some semblance of balance. The determined, controlled, stoic Heero of old still exists within me, though perhaps with a new sense of purpose, a new view of the series of events that they call life.

And that's Duo. Pure and simple. He's uncovered a new side of me, a side that not even I knew existed.

And yes, it hurts… it hurts like nothing I've ever felt before. It hurts that I found something so new and exhilarating and alive in Duo, only to lose it.

But it's bearable because whatever I discovered in Duo now exists within me as well. I'll carry Duo around with me forever and that's a comforting and liberating thought.

Far below me, a woman is waiting on the sidewalk. Her fiery red hair sways in the breeze as she looks up and down the busy street, her gaze weaving through the traffic. A taxi glides erratically across two lanes and pulls up to the curb, stopping abruptly beside her. As a second woman exits the cab, she is swept up into a welcoming hug by the first. Their faces are lit up as they embrace for the first time in years. Their reason for being is suddenly made so much clearer, so much more meaningful just for seeing each other, just for being with each other.

And for the first time in my life, I actually have an inkling of what it might be like to feel that.

And I smile.

TBC…

Author's Notes: OK, now I know what you're thinking… where's the frigging slash?!? And that's a very valid and understandable question. So, I'll be kind and answer it for you. The slash is coming (no pun intended) in Part Two which starts with the next chapter. So, if you have a little patience and a little faith in me, I promise I will deliver.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter; it was the hardest to write so far. And regardless of whether you liked it or hated, please drop me a line and let me know.