Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ True Calling ❯ A Five Dollar Meal ( Chapter 2 )

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TRUE CALLING

CHAPTER TWO:

A FIVE DOLLAR MEAL

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The boy walked down the street, a burning cigarette in his hand. He made a total of fifty credits last night. Thirty-five for the shoes, ten for the smokes and the rest he will keep for a decent meal. He had three cigarette boxes stashed in his trench coat pocket. He didn't know when he will have money again, so he bought them in advance. On some days, they were even more important than food. Especially when the green flashes started and his head began to ache. The trashy outfit he'd worn last night was shoved in there too, folded in a bundle of fabric, sweat and semen.

It was the first time he'd worn that outfit. He never dared to put it on before. It wasn't even his. The clothes belonged to a young girl named Wanda. She was a junky and a whore, but she took care of him in his first year on the colony. He arrived to L2-V08744 as a stowaway on a cargo shuttle. He was eleven years old. She was a sixteen-year-old hooker who ran away from home after years of being sexually abused by her father. She took him under her wing and helped him whenever she was lucid enough to do so.

He was twelve when she taught him a few secrets of her trade. It was his first and only sexual experience until last night. She gave him the jeans shorts and the shirt, and two useful advices for life- never agree to go all the way ("'Specially cuz yer a boy," she said), and "stay the Hell away from drugs!"

She died two months later from an overdose. He'd been alone ever since.

Taking a long drag, he tried to erase the sound of her laughter from his head. He'd nearly forgotten how pretty she was. She had the face of a sweet country girl, though her nose was a little crooked after years of beating.

The sounds of the marketplace drifted from across the street. He took one last drag and threw the finished cigarette away. Crossing the snowy road, he looked up to see the crowded market. Scents of bread, fish, vegetables and spices engulfed him. The food supplies must have arrived to the colony. Large swarms of people raided the food stands; policemen tried to keep things in order but failed. Chaos ruled the busy street, shouting and fighting all around.

He walked in silence, watching the commotion with indifferent blue eyes. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets; clutching the money he'd earned last night. He was invisible in the crowd, but he felt as if they were scolding him. He avoided looking at anyone in the eye, feeling dirtier than ever.

The shoe seller was surprised to see him. The look in his eyes suggested that he didn't expect him to return. The boy offered him a weak smile as a greeting.

"Ya still got them shoes?" He asked hoarsely, wincing at the pain in his raw throat. He reached a hand to rub it, trying to soothe the throbbing.

The old man watched him carefully, his gaze thoughtful. After a moment or so he replied: "Sure."

He reached underneath the counter and pulled out the shoebox. "Would you like to try them on first?"

The boy nodded, avoiding the use of his vocal cords. The man gestured at a small stool behind the counter, and the boy complied. He sat down and untied his shoes. The man was looking at him, his gaze unnerving. The boy avoided looking into his eyes, staring hard at his shoes while he untied the laces.

The man kneeled before him and reached to take off one of his shoes.

"I ca--" the boy started, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and winced at the pain. He looked up at the man. "I can do it." His voice was rough like sandpaper, but still determined. The man backed away and watched the boy try on his new shoes.

"How many did you take?" The man asked, crossing his hands over his chest.

The boy's head jerked up, eyes wide. He was about to deny everything, but the look in the man's eyes told him that he didn't have to. There was sympathy there.

"Five." he rasped, looking down at his feet again. "I wasn't any good."

The man nodded in understanding. "Clara!" he suddenly called towards his van, "Bring daddy a cup of tea, will you sweetheart?"

"No, 's okay, I--" the boy began, but the man hushed him with a kind smile.

"You're my first costumer in weeks. It's the least I can do." He explained, kneeling down again. He reached for the other shoe, and this time the boy didn't stop him. The man removed the shoe, wincing at the sight of his torn and dirty socks. The boy grimaced as well, having to stop himself from flinching. There were frostbites underneath the fabric. They hurt, but he was used to pain. He sat silently as the man placed the second shoe on his right foot.

"Take a few steps, see how you like them." He offered softly, rising to his feet. The boy got up, taking a few steps forward. The shoes were damn ugly, but they were very comfortable. And warm. He liked them. He took a few more steps, testing them further.

"They're kinda big." He said, lifting a foot up to examine the sole.

The man smiled. "So? You'll have some room to grow into." He answered just as his daughter came with a steaming cup of tea. He handed it to the boy.

"Herbal tea. It will help to soothe your throat."

The boy stared at the mug for a moment, considering whether or not he deserved such kindness, before finally taking it. Sitting down again, he mumbled a small "Thank you."

The man smiled and so did the little girl.

x.x.x.x.x.x

It was eleven AM, and the Star Cup Diner was rather empty. Madeline was working behind the counter. Duo wasn't due to work until four o'clock. She sighed longingly and rubbed a cloth over the shiny countertop. He was probably sitting in class now, listening to Mrs. Herbert's babble about modern history and war. It was boring as Hell, but she missed it dearly. Life in high school were normal. She missed normal.

Sighing, she gazed out at the street through the large wall-to-wall window at the front of the restaurant. There was mostly snow out there and a few cars rolling carefully down the street. People were walking up and down the pavements, wrapped in thick winter clothing and concerned only about themselves. There used to be times when children played ball in the streets. Back when Mr. Brant's ice cream stand stood in the corner of Colonial Ave. and Bravery St. She remembered how the kids from her neighborhood used to open the street's fire hydrant and play in the water that gushed out of it. It used to be warm. It used to be fun. There used to be innocence. Now most of those kids were begging for money on the streets. Summertime seemed so far away.

The front door opened with a silent chime. With a sigh, Madeline drew herself away from her musings and looked up. Her pretty green eyes widened as she watched Duo stumble out of the cold and into the café. He was wearing his waiter uniforms, but carrying a heavy-looking backpack. Stunned, she watched him approach the counter.

"Hey." He greeted tiredly, acting like noting was out of the ordinary.

"What are you doing here?" Madeline asked, gawking at him.

"They're cutting down on classes cuz there's no money to pay the teachers," Duo explained as he headed to the kitchen, "So I talked to the boss and booked a morning shift."

"And what about Marissa? She's supposed to be working mornings." She called through the service window.

Duo walked back from the kitchen, tying his apron around his waist. He shrugged. "I talked to her, and she'll be working evenings instead of me."

Madeline frowned. Something just didn't add up. "And you'll be going to evening school?"

Duo didn't answer, taking his post behind the pasty counter.

Madeline sighed and shook her head. When Duo didn't want to talk, there was no use trying to make him speak. Sometimes he would just close off and there was no reaching him.

The bell over the door chimed as a customer entered the small diner. Both Madeline and Duo looked up. It was a boy wearing a dirty trench coat, fingerless gloves and a tattered ski hat. His face was streaked with dirt, and his shoulder length hair was messy, sticking out in all directions. A homeless boy.

Duo frowned, his eyes narrowing.

The boy stood by the door for a while, no doubt appreciating the warmth. He looked left and right, his slow movements hinting at his hesitation. When he turned to face the counter, Duo's frown deepened even more.

He knew those eyes. He's seen them before. They were the most intensive blue, their gaze cutting mercilessly through the air. He watched the boy stand quietly, as if he hadn't decided if it was safe to enter.

"Hello," Madeline greeted with a friendly voice, smiling widely at the boy. "Can I help you?"

The boy looked up, silently shifting his gaze between the two. Duo decided it would be better to look away and began cleaning the counter, keeping his head bowed to avoid eye contact.

It was a moment more before the boy moved. Slowly, he approached the counter, watching Duo like a hawk. His shoes squeaked against the shiny floor, drawing Duo's attention. He didn't look up, knowing without looking that they were brand new. His mind did a small amount of calculating before reaching a conclusion. Last night the boy's feet were bear, and today he had a new pair of shoes. This was indeed the boy he'd seen on the street last night.

The boy finally stopped in front of Madeline. The red headed girl smiled warmly at him. She saw him cast a short glance at Duo - who was ignoring him on purpose for some reason - before he turned to look at her again. His features were blank, but the look in his eyes seemed a bit lost. It made her heart ache.

"Can I help you?" She repeated her previous question, cocking her head aside in a friendly gesture.

The boy blinked, as if coming awake. He looked surprised that she spoke to him. She saw him swallow, hesitation flickering through his eyes.

"I, uh..." he began, never looking at her in the eye, "Wha'dya got for five credits?"

His voice was quiet, and somewhat hoarse. Her eyes narrowed in sympathy as she looked thoughtfully at his face. He was very thin and pale. He looked famished.

She thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I can give you one of our sandwiches with some orange juice."

"A sandwich?" he echoed, disappointed. "Duntya have somtin' else? How much for one of them burgers?"

A few feet from them, Duo began scrubbing the counter furiously. He tried to shut out the sound of despair in the boy's voice, but it was painfully obvious. The boy had just managed to make a few bucks, after selling his body no less, and all he could eat was a lousy sandwich. It wasn't fair, that's all.

Madeline's green eyes shone sorrowfully as she shook her head. "No... sorry... that's ten credits..."

"Oh." The boy mumbled, lowering his gaze. He sighed before looking up again. "Is it big?"

Madeline frowned in confusion. The boy wasn't very good at expressing himself. She wondered if he was even used to speaking with people. She didn't let her thoughts show, and patiently asked: "What is?"

"The sandwich."

She smiled, her curly hair jumping up and down a little. "Yeah, pretty big. It's actually a roll. And I'll let you chose whatever you want in it."

There was silent disappointment in the boy's blue eyes. "...'kay."

Madeline smiled and nodded. "Just wait a minute and I'll get it ready for you."

The boy nodded and watched her walk into the kitchen. He looked aside and saw the other waiter looking at him. His gaze was firm and intense. It made him nervous. He slowly looked away, tucking a few hairs behind his ears.

The waiter was familiar. He recognized that braid. It was the same boy who approached him last night. Embarrassment flooded him like liquid acid. That waiter knew what he did to get the money.

Duo sighed silently, forcing himself to look at anything but the boy standing just a few feet away. He could see the shame shining in his blue eyes. He didn't want to make him feel any more discomfort.

"So," Madeline said as she returned, holding a large roll. She made sure to pick the biggest one they had in stock. "What would you like in it?"

The boy looked up at her, his features hesitant. "Just... whatever." He mumbled before returning to stare at his shoes. He could feel the other waiter try not to look at him.

"Will you be eating here?" The girl asked.

The boy looked up. The braided waiter was watching him again. There was something in his eyes, something too intense for him to recognize. He stared at him blankly for a second, before turning back to the redhead. "No." He said, bowing his head again.

Madeline nodded, her smile never wavering, even though she wanted to beg him to stay in the diner, where it was warm.

"All right. I'll just pack it for you." She said before walking back into the kitchen.

The boy stood silently and waited.

Duo stood and stared at his hand holding the cloth over the shiny counter surface. There was an awkward silence. He wanted to say something, but he knew he shouldn't.

"There you go!" Madeline's cheerful voice called, drawing both boys attention. Duo looked up and watched the blue eyed boy reach a hand over the counter. He stared at his dirty hand, clad in a filthy fingerless glove, handing Madeline a ragged bill. She thanked him for the money. The boy took his roll - Duo could see that Madeline stuffed as much as she could into it - and a small bottle of orange juice.

The boy looked at him one last time before mumbling a small 'thank you' and leaving the diner.

Duo watched him leave, feeling awful. This was the second chance he had to help the boy, and he messed it up.

"I wonder why he didn't stay," Madeline wondered out loud, shaking her head sorrowfully, "It's warmer here."

Duo sighed and returned to cleaning the counter. His movements were slower now.

It was because of him. He should have said something; he shouldn't have scared the boy away. He shouldn't have let him feel like he was judging him. Some help he was. That's twice already that he'd failed to help him.

x.x.x.x.x.x

A morning that had started chaotically, with the arrival of food supplies to the colony, faded into a slow and quiet day. Snow continued to fall silently to the ground, adding another soft layer of whiteness to the colony. The air was calm, coating everything with silence. By the early afternoon hours, the streets were almost empty. A few people walked here and there, making their way through the snow. Shops were closed due to lack of buyers. Buildings were locked, their entrances closed to keep the homeless from squatting in the lobby.

There was something different about the streets. There was a certain sense of order. False tranquility. The calm before the storm. The alleyways were empty, not even a rat running around. Even the Shadows didn't move. The Children of the night were gone, perhaps in hiding.

Duo walked silently down the colony's main avenue, his school bag bouncing over his back in silent thuds. He was looking restlessly from one side of the street to another, his eyes wary. He couldn't feel the shadows watching from the alleys. Something's changed.

He pulled his heavy backpack closer and moved onwards in firm strides. Something was cooking on the streets. There was a part of him that still needed to know what.

He'd listened to the radio while working at the diner. There was no news about a raid on the supply shuttles. The market trades for the day went by smoothly. It didn't make sense. Where were the Children? Where were the desperate homeless men who fought for a slice of bread for their family?

He walked past what once was the main park in the colony, now a makeshift tent city, full of homeless families. Crossing the park, he entered the colony's main district, passing by the Municipality Hall and small office buildings. He was headed to the L2 Colonial Library. His bag was packed with thick textbooks, bouncing against his body as he walked.

His eyes shifted restlessly from side to side, watching the streets. A few businessmen walked hurriedly past him, ignoring anything around them. One collided with him and pushed him aside. He didn't even apologize and kept walking.

Duo sighed and shook his head. People were losing their compassion. Or perhaps they did a long time ago. He continued walking, turning away from the main avenue and into a side street.

Now that he was off the main avenue, something dawned on him. Watching the narrow streets around him, he noticed that there were no beggars. He didn't see one shabby-clothed man since he left the diner. There were no homeless old ladies sitting curled in their rags inside a dark alley, a numb look in their ancient eyes. No street punks running up and down busy pavements, stealing and running faster. The streets were 'clean', not an outcast around.

Duo frowned and halted. He looked around, trying to confirm his observation. Only snowy streets stared back at him, screaming with emptiness. There was no sign of the Children watching him hungrily from the shadows. For the first time in months, he felt alone on the street, with only the snow to keep him company.

Something was wrong.

He kept walking slowly down the streets. When he arrived to what used to be the colony's main entertainment center, came another shock.

The area was packed with people. Shops that had been closed for a long time were now open, offering their service once again. Cafés and bars, game arenas and theaters. A few were still closed, but most of them glittered with colorful neon lights like they did in the good old days. It was unreal. The neon glow twinkled in the snow, reds, greens and orange winking merrily at the crowd.

Duo watched with wide eyes, completely dazed. Young people walked among the shops and restaurants, laughing and speaking among themselves. Soldiers. OZ soldiers, of every rank, age and gender. They walked in their uniforms, their shiny black boots sinking softly into the snow. A young couple, an Officer and his girlfriend - a sergeant - walked hand in hand past a café. Two female officers were giggling happily as they stood in front of a cotton-candy stand. A group of soldiers - shuttle pilots by what the symbol on their uniforms showed - sat by the window in a small bar, having a drink.

Most of them were young, not much older than him. They looked happy, unlike anyone else on the colony.

What were they doing here?!

Realization hit him hard and painful as he remembered the large gathering Madeline and he saw in front of a building last night. Without a second wasted, he turned on his heels and ran, through an alley, into a narrow street, over the bridge overlooking the main avenue, past three blocks and further on. He ran until he got to that building, panting frantically from both shock and extortion.

When the building came to sight, he stopped, nearly stumbling on his own two feet.

The crowd was still there, but now they stood in neat rows in front of the entrance, waiting silently. Soldiers were keeping order. The homeless stood obediently in the cold.

Duo whirled his head to watch the building. It was a rather small, maybe six or seven floor, old and shabby. OZ flags hung limply from the roof for there were no wind to flap them. A decorative OZ symbol, about a head big, hung over the entrance. Above it was a sign:

'Organization of Zodiac - L2-V02744 Command Post'

All around the building, there were posters screaming:

'Join OZ Today! Recruitment Project AC 195!'

Duo frowned, confused for a moment. OZ were recruiting people from the colonies? From L2? But... why? Weren't they from Earth? What was going on?

"Hey there!" A friendly voice, a girl's voice, greeted him. "Would you like a brochure?"

Duo blinked, looking away from the building and straight into a young girl's eyes. She was wearing OZ uniforms, a Private rank, her eyes shining bright. Her cheeky face was rosy and her full lips were curved into a kind smile. By the looks of her, she wasn't from L2; she was too well fed. She handed him a small booklet, her hand brushing warmly against his.

"OZ needs young men like you to stand up for the colonies' rights. Read this over, you might find it interesting."

He looked down at the colorful brochure in his hand. It was heavy for some reason, or maybe the weight was just in his mind.

'Join OZ today and get up to 2500 Credits a month! Your colony needs you! Join now!'

The covered screamed at him with colorful writing. There was a picture of a Mobile Suit - he wasn't sure how it was called - against a starry sky. An OZ flag was flaping in the background. Cheap propaganda.

He looked up at the girl, puzzled. "You're even letting us be pilots?" He wasn't really interested, he just wanted to make sure that they weren't offering people to be stockkeepres, mechanics and secretaries. As suitable for most "uneducated" colonists.

The girl smiled warmly. "Of course! OZ does not discriminate colonist. We offer a large variety of flight courses, from Earth aircrafts to space shuttles and even Mobile Suits."

Duo made a face, finding it hard to believe. "Mobile Suit pilots... like the ones who fight?"

"Why sure! Someone has to protect the colonies!"

Now he was frowning. "Protect from what?"

Apparently he had asked too many questions, because the girl's smile disappeared. He supposed she wasn't "programmed" to answer such questions.

"Listen, just read this over, okay?" she muttered in annoyance, her fake visage fading. She turned and walked away to find the next person to brainwash.

Duo sighed and looked down at the booklet in his hand. Finally, he shook his head and shoved the brochure into his backpack. He cast a final glance towards the long line in front of the Recruiting Station, and with a heavy feeling in his chest, he walked away.

2500 credits were a lot of money. There was no wonder why such a large crowd of homeless people were waiting in front of that building. OZ sure knew what they were doing coming to L2.

x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why Duo! Hello! It's great to see you again!" An elderly librarian called excitedly the minute she looked up from her work and saw Duo standing in front of her. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It sure has, Mrs. Perkins." Duo replied with a smile, sliding his heavy backpack off his shoulders. He was standing before Mrs. Perkins station - a counter packed with papers, books and an old computer terminal.

L2-V08744's Colonial Library was a small and old building, not up-to-date with technology. It used to reside in the University Campus, but the university was shut down. People could barely afford to go to high school nowadays. A university was out of the question. Father Maxwell was expecting him to leave the colony as soon as he graduated from high school so he could go to a university. He wanted Duo to get proper education in one of the neighboring colonies. Duo, on the other hand, had different plans.

"How is Father Maxwell?" The elderly woman asked, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Duo pulled his books out of the bag and placed them on the counter one by one. "He's fine."

The woman smiled sweetly, in a manner only old ladies know how. "That's wonderful to hear."

There was a tall pile of books lying on the desk now. Duo closed his bag and turned to the woman.

"I think they're long overdue."

Mrs. Perkins chuckled and waved her hand in a dismissing motion. "Oh, Duo! Don't be silly!" She laughed, leaning closer to Duo. Looking around to make sure no one was listening, she whispered to him: "You know I let Father Maxwell borrow them for the year. You don't have to return them until the school year is over."

Duo smiled sadly. "I know, Mrs. Perkins. But I don't need them anymore."

The old woman frowned, backing away from him. "And why not?"

When the young man sighed, lowering his gaze, Mrs. Perkins' heart sank. She placed a hand over her heart and breathed: "Oh, no! You didn't!"

With his head still bowed, hiding from shame, Duo nodded. "Yeah, well, there are bigger things happening now. I don't have time for school."

"What else is there to do but gain knowledge?!" The old woman exclaimed breathlessly.

"Earn money, what else?" Duo snapped, looking up at her with a sharp gaze. "Father Maxwell doesn't let it show, but the church is out of money. The bank is already threatening to take possession of the orphanage. Where would the children be then? On the streets?!"

The old lady's face paled at his words. Sighing, she bowed her head and shook it sorrowfully. "I had no idea..."

"Well, now you do." Duo mumbled with a sigh, looking down sadly.

Without another word, Mrs. Perkins took the textbooks one by one and fed them back to the computer. She worked in silence, giving Duo time to calm down. She knew him since he was a little boy of eight, just starting school. He was two years behind everyone in his class. He was eight and didn't know how to read and do simple sums yet. Times were hard for him at school. He was picked on by other children, who mocked him for being an orphan and a bit 'slow'. In fact, Duo was not 'slow' at all. He was only behind on the curriculum.

She remembered the first time he walked into the library, holding Sister Helen's hand and looking very unsure of himself. He was such a sweet boy, a cheeky face with bright violet eyes. He had the most adorable pout and a smile that could melt anyone's heart.

Sister Helen introduced the little boy to her and asked if she could take care of him while he was in the library. The younger children in the orphanage needed her there. Mrs. Perkins took the task on gladly. It wasn't easy at first, Duo was a stubborn little boy, but it was only because he had been teased so badly about his intellect that he refused to try and learn. After a few visits, she managed to get to him somehow by reading him stories. She asked him if he wanted to know how to read them by himself, knowing how much his independence was important to him. The little boy agreed.

Two month later, he was reading and writing perfectly, better than anyone in his class. He was a bright boy, very witty and smart. He had an incredible capacity to learn quickly and efficiently. There was no other boy like him on L2.

Mrs. Perkins looked up at Duo, and saw him looking at a particular person sitting in the library. She smiled.

There was no other boy like him, except one.

The old lady smiled secretly to herself, typing away in the computer.

While Mrs. Perkins was working, Duo turned around and swept his gaze across the library out of boredom. His gaze stopped on a particular figure sitting in an old armchair in the Private Reading Section.

"He comes by here quite often." Mrs. Perkins commented casually, placing one book aside and taking another. "Especially since it began snowing."

Duo swallowed, his eyes glued to the figure on the armchair. It was a boy, with brown, shoulder length hair peeking out of a blue ski hat, shabby clothing, and a large trench coat lying on the armrest next to him. He was reading a book, turning the pages slowly with hands clad in dirty fingerless gloves.

It was him. It was the same boy from the diner, the boy from the street. The one he failed twice already. He was here.

"He's a bright boy, more than he lets people believe." Mrs. Perkins continued matter-of-factly, "The first time I saw him he was no more than eleven. He walked in and asked me if he could read something without paying. He asked if I had Assimov!" she exclaimed with a chuckle, "Assimov! How can I refuse a little boy who asks me about Assimov?" She laughed, shaking her head.

Duo listened to her with wide, stunned, eyes. "Seriously? He's been coming here all these years?"

The old lady nodded. "Hm hmm. He must be your age by now, I think. I never asked. He's not much of a talker." She said in that I'm-not-a-nosy-old-lady tone, looking at him above her glasses, which slid down her nose.

Duo smiled, nearly chuckling. Mrs. Perkins always made him laugh with her little performances.

"Are you done with the books?" He asked, changing the subject. He was eager to go talk to the boy.

Mrs. Perkins smiled knowingly. "Yes, dear. You can go."

Duo nodded in thanks, picked his bag, and walked towards the armchairs at the end of the library. Mrs. Perkins watched him with proud eyes.

x.x.x.x.x.x

The boy must have been absorbed into the book, for he didn't look up when Duo approached. There were five more armchairs in the Private Reading section and they were empty. Duo carefully sat down in an armchair opposite to the boy's. He waited for the boy to notice him.

He took the time to examine the boy's features. His expression was concentrated, obviously absorbed deeply into the book. It made Duo wonder what he was reading. The book was pretty thick and seemed like heavy reading. He hated to come off as prejudice, but it was a bit strange to see a homeless boy read such a book.

Duo leaned into his chair, watching him carefully. He ran his eyes up and down his figure. The boy's posture was relaxed. Underneath a dirty red sweater, he was wearing at least two other shirts that peeked under the collar line. He smelled of cigarettes and filth, his face streaked with dirt. The edges of his lips were cracked and wounded, no doubt from his little 'job' on the street.

When he saw that the boy did not register his presence yet, he cleared his throat and offered a silent "Hi."

The boy's reaction was immediate. His head jerked up and his eyes widened impossibly before narrowing into a glare. Without a word, he closed his book and got up.

"Wait!" Duo called, jumping up to his feet. "I just want to talk!"

The boy ignored him. He picked up his coat and hurried to leave, throwing the book into the 'Return' trolley on his way.

Duo stood and gaped, completely shocked. There was fear in the boy's eyes. It was just for no more than a second before it disappeared into an icy glare, but it was still there. The boy was in some sort of trouble, he was sure of it. He will help him. This time, he won't let him walk away just like that.

x.x.x.x.x.x

He waited in the library for a few more minutes before following the boy outside. Stepping into the street, he looked left and right, searching. He spotted the boy sitting on a small staircase in front of a building. He was leaning casually on his knees, smoking a cigarette.

Taking a deep breath, Duo approached him.

The boy took a lungful of smoke and slowly released it into the air. When he saw Duo come closer, he got up and threw the cigarette away.

"What do ya want from me?!" He demanded, his eyes burning with anger and distrust.

"Nothing." Duo replied simply, shrugging.

"Then quit following me!" The boy growled, his fists clenched. His glare was harsher than before. He didn't wait for Duo to answer. Pushing him aside, he stomped down the stairs and into the street.

Without even thinking, Duo followed him.

The boy noticed that and quickened his pace.

"Just hear me out for one minute! Please!" Duo called after him, knowing he was doing everything wrong. Father Maxwell taught him to never push and pester the Children. It only made them push back. He knew that, but he was so desperate to help that he didn't care.

"Leave me alone, you fuck!" The boy shouted, walking quickly into an alley, into the shadows.

Duo stopped for a second, hesitating, before following him into the darkness.

After taking a few steps into the alley, he stopped, frowning. It was empty. Or at least, it looked empty. There was no way the boy could have made it out already. He looked carefully, narrowing his eyes to see in the shadows. There was a wobbly fire escape, a lot of snow and a dumpster.

No sign of the boy.

He waited a few seconds, watching. Nothing happened.

With a heavy sigh, he turned on his heels to leave.

Then something did happen.

From nowhere, someone grabbed him, wrapping a hand around his neck. He was shoved against the wall, his face hitting it roughly. The arm around his neck tightened into a crushing hold, and someone pressed his body against him, pushing him into the wall.

All this happened in less than a second, giving him no time to react. He gasped; the air knocked out of him, and tried to blink the haze out of his mind.

A gun was cocked.

Duo's eyes widened.

He could feel the cold barrel press against his right temple. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the shot that will end his life.

Instead, came the boy's dangerous growl.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" He threatened, shoving him hard against the wall. "Talk or die!"

"No one sent me!" He hurried to shout, wincing in pain as the gun dug into his skull. He was raised to be a pacifist, how come someone was pointing a gun at him?

"Bullshit! Tell me who sent you? Why were you following me!? Talk!"

"No one sent me! I swear to God!" He screamed back, talking about the God he'd never even believed in. Anything to get that gun away from him. "Please, I was just trying to help... I'll leave you alone if you want... just... just... I was just trying to help..."

There was a long moment in which nothing happened. Duo counted his wild heartbeats, trying his best not to panic. It was hard to do when a gun was aimed to his head and all he could do was think about how he was lying to Father Maxwell about going to school, and how he will never have the chance to make it up to him by earning money for the orphanage.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the boy released him.

He stumbled down, nearly collapsing to his knees, before catching himself and getting up. He didn't turn to face the boy yet, keeping his face in the direction of the wall. He could hear the boy pant silently behind him, also unmoving.

"I'm sorry." The boy finally said, and walked away. Duo could feel the slight wind his trench coat caused when it flapped behind him.

He waited until he felt it was safe, and then slowly turned away from the wall. He turned just in time to see the boy disappear behind a building, into another alley. Taking a shuddering breath, he ran a hand through his hair, tidying it a bit, before returning to the street.

x.x.x.x.x.x

Sister Helen placed a steaming casserole in the middle of the dinner table, before heading to her seat. She walked by Duo's chair, petting his head gently as she did. He turned around to offer her a weak smile, and she smiled back. Father Maxwell waited until she was seated before tucking a napkin under his collar.

The three were sitting in Father Maxwell's study, having what has become their weekly dinner routine. Usually they ate along with the other children, in the main dining hall, but ever since Duo left the church they made it into a habit to have a private dinner with him at least once a week. It gave them a chance to catch up on things. It gave them the feeling of a family.

The den was a modest office with a small library of thick old books, a heavy wooden desk, a small armchair and a television set. A decorative floor lamp stood by the armchair, casting dim light and shadows. The green office lamp on Father Maxwell's desk was also on, casting a soft glow on the shiny wooden table. Sister Helen had placed two candles in the middle of the table, letting them burn silently. The dim illumination gave the room a shadowy, yet intimate feeling. It was quiet and pleasant. The television was also on, soft mumbling drifting into the air.

In the middle of the room stood a small folding table and three folding chairs, where the three sat to have their dinner. The room was silent and warm, though there was something heavy floating in the peaceful atmosphere.

The serving spoon clacked as Sister Helen dipped it into the casserole pot and served the Priest his dinner. The old man thanked her silently and took the plate, waiting patiently for her to finish serving. When the plates were full, the old Priest bowed his head humbly. Helen did the same.

"Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

"Amen." Sister Helen whispered.

Duo remained silent, looking at the two. He didn't bow his head either. They didn't expect him to. In all his years in the church Duo hadn't prayed once. He did not believe in God. Father Maxwell had given up on asking him why. The boy refused to believe in an entity that did so many things wrong, as he claimed. The Priest once asked him if bringing him to the church was also a mistake God made. Duo, then a little boy, said that it was not God who rescued him from the streets. It was Father Maxwell. He will not give his thanks to God. He was thankful for Father Maxwell and the Sisters. Since then, the Priest had more or less given up trying. He couldn't force belief onto the young boy. He just wished that Duo would be able to find faith in something one day, if not in God than in something just as important, like the love and care for another human being.

The opening tune of the evening newscast came from the television. A female anchor smiled to the camera before speaking.

"Good evening. I'm Sharon McLain with the evening news. On Earth, OZ forces have managed to defeat one of the terrorizing Gundams."

Duo looked up at the screen. Father Maxwell purposely ignored it.

"The Gundam known as Zero-One was brought down in a battle taking place in Siberia. A new type OZ Mobile Suit has defeated the Gundam, killing the pilot." the broadcaster continued dramatically, "The terrorist pilot was a young teenage boy, a colony born, who went by the name of Heero Yuy. The name, says an OZ official, is supposed to be a codename of some sort."

Father Maxwell snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for his drink. "A codename of some sort! Please!" He called angrily, slamming his glass on the table. Duo looked at him silently, knowing that Father Maxwell was perhaps one of the few people living in this colony who still remembered Heero Yuy. OZ had made sure to erase all data about the deceased president who once united the colonies and strove for peace. He was assassinated before peace was ever achieved.

"...The true identity of the pilot remains a mystery, as OZ officials took both the body, and the Gundam, for further examination..."

Sister Helen sighed and shook her head sorrowfully. "Such a shame. He was so young."

"He brought it onto himself," the Preist muttered, "Kids shouldn't play war. They know nothing about it."

The Priest's tone clearly informed that there will be no further discussion on the subject.

Silence returned to the dinner table. Duo lost his appetite and picked at his food silently. There was no use talking about it with the old Priest. Father Maxwell was an extreme pacifist. He didn't believe in any form of fighting. A few years back, a group of colony rebels asked for sanctuary in the church. The were hunted by the military and their lives were in danger. When they asked for their religious right for sanctuary, Father Maxwell refused. It was the first and only time Duo saw him refuses to aid someone.

As a child, he didn't understand it. But now he knew that Father Maxwell had been thinking about the benefit of the children above his commitment to God. The rebels were hunted down and killed, as were the people who helped them. By refusing to give them sanctuary, Father Maxwell saved the church and the children. In a way, he prevented a massacre of children in exchange for the death of a 'group of killers', as he called the rebels. It still didn't seem fair and righteous to Duo, but he could understand why the Priest did what he had. The children were always his first priority.

From the television, the newscast continued:

"On other news, Governor Radcliff announced in a Press Conference today that a deal was made with OZ officials to repair the weather system on the colony. The Governor said that the deal is just another proof that cooperation with OZ will only benefit the colony."

Duo looked up to see the Priest's reaction to the announcement, but there was only a hard and angry look on his face. He ate silently, purposefully ignoring the words drifting from the television. Sister Helen was more or less curled into herself, trying to be as small as possible, something she did often in such grave and heavy situations.

The silence annoyed Duo. It made his blood boil. There was a war raging out there, people were suffering, and the people in this room were behaving as if it didn't matter. How could they just ignore it? Just for the sake of pacifism? It didn't make sense to him!

Sighing heavily, Duo looked up at the old man. He could understand why Father Maxwell opposed war so passionately, but on the other hand, he couldn't understand how the old Priest could just ignore so much suffering! He didn't see how taking a stand could be wrong! Someone had to fight.

But... fight who? Who was the real enemy? Who was right and who was wrong?

On one hand, there were OZ - a conquering army - and then there were the Gundams - a terrorist group of colony rebels. They both killed and caused chaos. Every little thing the Gundams did brought only more pain and suffering to the colonies. But who was to blame? The Gundams who started it or OZ for delivering the punishment? It was all so confusing. There was no clear line between right and wrong. His head hurt just from thinking about it.

The newscast continued to babble on and on about OZ's benefit to the colonies. The news anchor was speaking excitedly about how more than two hundred people have already enlisted when Father Maxwell turned the TV off. Still glaring at the silent TV set, he whirled around to face the table. His movements were angrier as he ate.

"I went by the recruiting station today." Duo's timid voice broke the solid silence. His head was bowed as he spoke, staring at his half-eaten meal.

"Don't you dare go by there again." Father Maxwell hissed, hushing the teen immediately.

Sister Helen looked up with her shimmering green eyes. Her shoulders tensed and she seemed to draw a bit more into herself. She never responded well to violence, whether physical or verbal. The tension in the air made her visibly nervous.

Duo looked lengthily at the Priest, his eyes hard and accusing. "I was just on my way to the library." He explained slowly, emphasizing every word.

"I don't like repeating myself, Duo. Don't go near that building again." The old man's voice was harder and colder this time.

"Father, please," Helen whispered softly, reaching a gentle hand to soothe him. "Not now."

"Then when?" Duo asked, turning his burning eyes to her. "We have to take a stand sometime!"

Father Maxwell slammed his fist on the table. The plates rattled loudly, some casserole spilling onto the white table map. Sister Helen jumped up in fright, placing a hand over her heart. The sound of the punch echoed in the small room.

"You, young man, are to concentrate on your studying!" the Priest hissed angrily, his eyes cutting intensely through the air, "An education is worth more than any military training. I will hear no more of this. Eat your dinner."

With that said, the old man returned to eating his meal, a heavy, acid, silence hovering over the dinner table. Duo wanted to slam his plate on the table and leave, but he remained seated out of his respect to the old man. Sister Helen sighed and looked at the two sadly before returning to pick at her own meal.

x.x.x.x.x.x

Small and chilly drops of rain fell silently from above, soaking the cardboard surface he placed above him as shelter. He was lying in an alley, behind a smelly dumpster and a damp brick wall, sleeping in the rain. His slender body was folded into a fetal position, curled into himself to shield his limbs from the cold. His tattered trench coat was his only blanket, and despite the fact that he was wearing a sweater, two sweat shirts and a tank top under it, he was still shivering. His feet were like ice, frozen inside his new pair of shoes. He could barely feel them anymore. One pair of torn socks was just not enough against the cold.

His hideout for the night was not much of a shelter either. Usually he tried to find an indoor shelter, a lobby of a building, a public restroom, the underground mono-rail station, but they were all closed, locked and guarded. Everywhere he looked there were soldiers guarding the streets and public places. They didn't let him into the mall today. It was the first time it was open in months, since The Winter started. He heard people talking on the streets, saying that the mall was open for business again. It was a homeless paradise, warm, dry and full of things to steal or salvage from the garbage. He made his way through a blizzard to get there, his teeth chattering as he walked up to the main entrance. Two burly OZ soldiers stopped him and kicked him out. The homeless were not allowed into public areas. Those were the new orders.

With no other choice left, he found himself a narrow alley and a cardboard box. He unfolded the box into a flat surface and placed it above him as a roof. At nightfall, it began raining and snowing, frozen water soaking the cardboard until it threatened to collapse. It was too cold to sleep, the sound of his own chattering teeth disturbed him, but eventually exhaustion won over discomfort.

Sleep did not offer escape from the harsh reality. The green flashes began as soon as he closed his eyes. His head had been aching all day long, so he had been expecting the flashes. When he closed his eyes and saw them dance across the black void of his mind, he accepted them resignedly and allowed them to pull him under into a horrid state of sleep.

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There were images accompanying the flashes. He rarely saw the pictures running through his head, but when he did it only made the pain worse. It was a sharp and focused pain, centered in a certain area in his brain that always throbbed in pain one way or another. It usually got worse when he was troubled, or when he thought too hard about something. It was the worst when he tried to remember things, like his dreams for example. That painful part of his brain kept secrets from him, he was sure of it. Since it was too excruciating to find out what those secrets were, he simply didn't.

The images flickered through his mind. Black, white and blue. He thought he saw something gleam metallically, but he wasn't sure. When he tried to summon the image again it just hurt more. He allowed them to flash and whirl in his head as they wished, the green letters dancing around them in blinding speed.

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There was an image he recognized! It was there for no more than a second, but it was enough. He knew that image. He knew that smiling man with shining turquoise eyes and short blond hair. Of course he knew him! Why was he with the other pictures?

More green letters. He tried to push them aside, shoving them violently like opening a vile. He wanted to see that picture again! He wanted to see the man smile again. He knew him.

There was worry on his face now. The smile was gone. He looked so sad and sorrowful. He thought he knew why, but he wasn't sure. He tried to remember, but then the pain got worse.

'No! You're not allowed to remember! You're not allowed to remember!' The pain screamed in a screechy metal voice.

'But I want to!' He shouted back desperately. 'Please!'

More images flickered with lightning speed. More imaged of the man, smiling at him, playing with him, caressing him, telling him stories, holding his hand.

He smiled. He was happy as a child. He was warm. He was safe. The man gave him a gun so he could protect himself. He taught him how to use it. It was fun, putting holes into things. The man didn't find it funny though. He tried to remember why, when the flashing green pushed the images viciously away.

'LeAvENoW!LeAvENoW! LeAvENoW! LeAvENOW!'

The letters screamed at him to look away before they'll hurt him even more. The pain got worse.

He whimpered; the pain overwhelming.

'Odin!' He called, reaching his hand out for him. 'Odin!'

'001111‰ⁿ0011101₫⌂≡╘║!!!!!'

The letters screeched, like fingernails scraping a chalkboard. They began racing faster through his head, drilling one hole in his brain, passing through it like a derailed train and drilling another hole and another and another. Soon his brain was a network of tunnels, all bleeding and painful. His mind felt like Swiss Cheese, oozing with blood and pain.

"ARGHHHH!!!!!!!!!" He shrieked, his voice echoing in the dark alleyway.

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He whimpered and moaned, shrinking into himself in a pitiful attempt to escape the pain. He just wanted to forget... he just wanted to forget... he just wanted to FORGET!!!!!

In the cold night, lying in a lonely alley, the boy shrieked and hollered in pain, his body quaking with a seizure. His trembling hand reached up, fingers twitching as they reached for a helping hand that wasn't even there. Tears streamed down his pale face, mingling with the dirt. His cries continued well into the night as his body trembled and shook with pain.

No one heard him, no one saw him. His anguish was a forgotten footnote in the tales of time.