Gundam Wing, Christmas Fic, Heero & Duo

[the_goldenpath]

Title: The missing Piece
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairings: forthcoming Heero x Duo
Genre: action, romance
Warnings: shounen ai, foul language, a little violence (guns)
Summary: When an important part on the Mars' terraforming project breaks down, Heero has to find a replacement fast. He contacts his fellow former Gundam pilot, Duo Maxwell, who runs a scrap yard on L2 together with his friend Hilde. Heero travels to L2 to pick up the part himself and meets up with Duo again after a long time...
Author's notes: I'm labeling it as a Christmas fic, but the holiday in itself doesn't play that much of a part.

Key: ----- = scene change



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I turn around in bed and pull the blankets tighter around me. At nighttime, the generators work at half capacity to save on fuel; I thought I knew ‘cold’, but this is really, really cold. Like, freezing-your-ass-off-cold. Usually, I’m too tired to care and I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. I don’t know why I’m still awake, though. Today hasn’t been different than any other day, ever since I started working here. I close my eyes again. I know a couple of calming breathing techniques and so I focus on my breathing. Inhale… exhale…inhale… and my thoughts flutter around, going on and on about all the work that needs to be done. Heh, to think I would end up as a grease monkey on the Mars terraforming project. I piloted a Gundam, for crying out loud. Wing Zero. I saved the world from death and destruction. What else are you going to do after that?

I’m still amazed at how quickly and easily the others picked up where they had ‘left off’. Quatre runs his own company. Wufei set up the Preventers project, along with Sally Po and Lady Une. Trowa is god-knows-where with that traveling circus of his, the closest of a family he has. Duo is on L2 and currently runs a scrap yard with a girl named Hilde, or so I’ve heard. It’s not like we’re exchanging information every week… or every year. We were forced to work together under the pressure of war, with the fate of the entire world at stake. Maybe Duo and Quatre would call us ‘friends’, but I wouldn’t. We were soldiers. We were Gundam pilots. I didn’t feel the need for friends. The only people I wanted around me, the only people I needed, were the ones I could count on to win the war. We won. I survived, the others survived. Then what? With the Gundams no longer necessary, I started to feel obsolete. Don’t get me wrong, I was at peace with myself: no more war, no more fighting. The world was wide open, with so many options and possibilities. Everyone wanted or demanded something of me. Earth and the colonies were littered with the remnants of OZ, the Alliance, rebel factions…not to mention entire cities and countries in ruins. I could fill more than three lifetimes with everything that needed to be done, and still I’d be short on time. The actual truth was… I just didn’t know where to start.

And, after a lot of traveling and trying out several jobs, I ended up on Mars. Yeah, I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to work for Zechs Merquise, of all people, either. Milliardo, or whatever name of the week he goes by, has started up a terraforming project on Mars together with Lucrezia Noin. He’s taking great risks, but if he can manage to make this work, well, it’s going to change outer space indefinitely. I keep thinking of him as Zechs, not as Milliardo, Relena’s brother. It doesn’t matter. He’s the big boss around here, overseeing the project to change the planet’s atmosphere and make the air breathable. I take care of the equipment and fix things whenever necessary. I learn a lot about terraforming in itself though, as Zechs involves me in almost everything. He allows me to attend every meeting and he asks my advice quite often. I don’t have interest in a job at management level; I like working with my hands and fixing a complicating machine or device is enough satisfaction for me at the moment.

Or at least, I thought it was. It seems that my unrest has grown in the last few months. I know the insides and outsides of the planet and I know the machines by now. I still don’t know what I should do. I pull the blankets over my head. Sleep would be nice. Maybe I could set up a terraforming project on my own? It would keep me busy for years, at least… inhale… exhale… and the next moment, a shrill alarm noise goes off, startling me. I roll out of bed and put on my coveralls. Yawning, I activate my laptop which is connected to every system in the building. I wrote the software myself and it enables me to see immediately what’s going on: the filter system is malfunctioning. Frowning, I type a couple of commands, but I don’t get a clear picture. The cooling fans and the exhaust pipes all seem to be working, so what’s wrong with the filter? Sucks to be me, I’m on emergency call this evening and a defective filter system is pretty much an emergency. I pick up my headset and pager before I leave my room.

I yawn again, stretch and break out in a brisk jog. The majority of my coworkers use all kinds of transportation devices, but I like to use my legs. I’ve been cooped up in cramped Gundam cockpits for far too long, thank you very much. The building is huge of course, housing all the climate controls and atmosphere processors the size of a skyscraper. Zechs and his girlfriend, Lucrezia Noin, have their private quarters in what you could call a penthouse; they offered me similar accommodation, but I refused. I’m at work almost 24/7, why would I need a penthouse for? I only use my room to sleep; I eat and take a shower in the communal rooms, just like the rest of the guys. I take the elevator down to the lower levels.

The heat of the exhaust pipes blows straight into my face and I check the cooling fans as I go. One of them has stopped working but its malfunctioning strangely hasn’t set off my alarm program. I make a mental note of it; apparently my software needs some more fine-tuning. I reach the filter system, a machine the size of a small football field. Yeah, try to locate the problem within five minutes, I dare you.

“What’s the matter?” A voice blares into my ear. I want to curse; I never forget to bring the headset, but I always forget that it is on. Zechs imposed this rule from the start: communication, communication, communication. Blah blah blah.

“Zechs,” I mutter irritably, “I just arrived at the filter system. Give me some time to check it out.”

“Your program,” he demands, “doesn’t it show you what’s going on?”

“No, only where,” I answer him curtly, as I have explained it to him before. “I can expand my software to map every device and machine on this planet, but that takes time.”

“Maybe we should hire someone to help you out,” he suggests, but he already knows the answer. Nobody, but nobody, touches my software to ‘help me out’.

“No,” I say. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I was going over our budget.” I can hear him shrug. The man puts in more hours than anyone else.

“And Lucrezia?”

“Asleep. Did you find the problem yet?”

“Yeah,” I answer as I crouch down. “On the northeast side, it looks like a panel has come off.”

“A panel?”

I try to move it. “It budged under the pressure of the exchangers,” I say. “It’ll continue to lose capacity and strain the other clusters in the system.”

Zechs is quick to reach the obvious conclusion. “It’ll cause a snowball effect,” he says.
“Cluster after cluster will lose capacity, overloading the processing units and eventually overloading the entire system.”

I grit my teeth. “Exactly.”

“I can’t afford to replace the entire filter system. I’m working on a tight budget here,” Zechs says. His voice sounds crisp and clear through the headset. “Is there any way you can fix it?”

“Temporary, yes. I can attach a lead sheet to it and patch it up,” I answer. “However, that won’t resolve anything in the long term. If we can’t contain the pressure of the exchangers, panel after panel will rip and the entire filter system will be damaged, or explode in the worst case scenario.”

“We got no choice, then.” Zechs heaves a sigh. “I’ll have to stretch the budget in a creative manner.”

“Ask Relena for more allowance,” I say.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Zechs doesn’t sound angry, but not amused either. The Queen of the World supports our project wholeheartedly, but even she doesn’t have unlimited finances.
“Find a new panel as cheap as possible, Yuy.”

Muttering under my breath, I remove the defective panel. Through the headset, I communicate with another coworker to find me a sheet of lead. He has one in stock and offers to bring it to me. I can sure use his help; these things aren’t exactly light-weighted. It takes me at least two hours to move the sheet of lead in place and affix it so that the system won’t overheat. Tired, I stumble back to my room and flop onto my bed. My last thought is that I have to figure out how to get a new panel as quick and as cheap as possible, and then there’s nothing but deep sleep.

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“Good morning, Heero.”

“Lucrezia, good morning.” I’d tip my hat to her if I was wearing one, so I lift up my large mug of coffee. The mess hall is quite crowded at breakfast time; I don’t mind sitting alone, I’m not that much of a morning person anyway, especially not after a night of broken sleep.

“I heard the filter system broke down?”

“No, not the entire system. A panel came loose and needs to be replaced, otherwise the exchangers and clusters will overload, yadda yadda yadda. It’s a very specific kind of material.”

“We don’t have it on site here?” As always, she’s quick on the uptake. Lucrezia pulls out her mini laptop and browses the inventory.

“Unfortunately not, I already checked.”

“Is it something I can pick up somewhere?” Lucrezia makes frequent supply runs, taking the only cargo ship we have with her. I explain to her the technical specification of the panel. “Oh, it’s not something I can put into my shopping purse,” she quips before turning serious. “Heero, where are we going to find such a thing?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “We have to shop around. The colonies might have spare parts for the filter system, but their technology is outdated compared to ours.”

Lucrezia frowns. “Ordering a new panel would take months for delivery, right? Especially at this time of the year.”

“At least six months. What do you mean, ‘at this time of the year’?”

She looks at me incredulously. “It’s going to be Christmas in a few days, Heero.”

“Oh.” I shrug. “Check the colonies’ network, see what they have.”

“You didn’t realize it was December?” she asks.

“Why should I? Every month looks the same on Mars.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but decides against it at the last moment. “Look! L2! Maxwell’s scrap yard, for all your secondhand equipment!”

I don’t share the enthusiasm in her voice. She shows me the website on her screen and I just stare at it. There are probably hundreds of thousands of Maxwells around… but only one of them has a scrap yard on L2.

“Wait… didn’t one of your fellow Gundam pilots have Maxwell as a last name?”

“Correct,” I answer. I don’t elaborate and ignore the questioning look on her face. I take the laptop from her and click on the link. The website offers full listing of all spare parts and materials and I scroll through the database. I can’t find the exact panel I need. Lucrezia points at the link for the e-mail.

“It’s worth giving a try,” she says. “As far as I can see, he’s the best option; he has more spare parts than anyone else.”

“I’ll send him an e-mail,” I answer. She looks at me, eyes wide. “What?”

“There’s not much contact between you or any of the other pilots, is there?” She sounds sad. I shrug again.

“We each went into a different direction.”

“Don’t you miss them?”

“No, not really.” I sound indifferent, but an uncomfortable feeling travels through my body. Weird. Almost as if I feel… guilty. “It wasn’t like we were best friends to begin with.”

“You all worked together in wartime. That has to have created some kind of bond.”

“If there was a bond, it was with Trowa,” I say.

“Trowa Barton?”

“He nursed me back to health after my self-destruction,” I explain. “That is all.”

Lucrezia smiles softly. “You were so young.”

“I’ll send him an e-mail.” I’m not really in the mood to talk about this, so I compose a message. Quite simple: Duo, I’m looking for a panel for a filter system. I’ve enclosed the specifications. Get back to me as soon as possible. Heero.

Lucrezia mumbles something like “Classy”, but she leaves before I can ask what she’s all about.

----------------------------------------

The next morning, I’m pleased to see a reply to my e-mail. Dear Heero, Duo isn’t at the scrap yard for a few days, so I’ve looked it up for you. We do have a panel according to your specifications and I’ve set it aside for you. However, there’s a dent in the upper left corner. I included pictures so you can assess the damage and see if it’s worth repairing. If you’re still interested, let me know so we can make arrangements for transport and invoicing. Regards, Hilde.

Hilde? Oh yes, Duo’s friend. Or is she his girlfriend? I didn’t bother to ask when Quatre told me. He looked a little disappointed when I remained silent, come to think of it. What kind of reaction did he expect? Speaking of Quatre, it’s been quite a while since I spoke to him. To any one of the pilots, actually. I download the pictures and study them. The dent in the left corner isn’t worth mentioning, I can fix that myself. What luck! I print the e-mail and the pictures and make my way over to Zechs’ office. I knock on his door and walk in without awaiting his response.

“Yes, Heero?” He looks up from his laptop, a slight impatience to his voice. He has a lot on his mind and he’s always short on time.

“I got a positive reaction to my e-mail,” I say. I assume Lucrezia tells him everything, so he has to know what I’m talking about. I’m not disappointed.

“That’s good to hear! I like it when things run so smoothly.”

“The left side of the panel has a dent,” I say, not to ruin his mood, but to be as honest as possible. “She sent me pictures so I could assess the damage.”

“She?” Zechs archs an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that Maxwell was a woman.”
For whatever reason, I turn red in the face. “No! His girlfriend got back to me. Apparently, he’s not on L2 right now.”

A grin. “All right, all right. So, what’s next? They ship it to us?”

“I guess so,” I answer. “Hilde mentioned ‘arrangements for transport’. I’m sure they have some kind of shuttle or spacecraft.”

Zechs looked pensive. “This is quite the expensive piece of equipment we’re talking about, Heero. I don’t like the idea of the panel being shipped on a commercial courier shuttle without any kind of supervision.”

“Then have it shipped by private courier?” I suggested.

“The cost for a private courier would be extremely high, especially on such long routes to Mars.” Zechs thinks for a moment. “Lucrezia just made another supply run. You can use our cargo ship.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why don’t you go to L2 and pick up the panel? You know everything about it and you can keep control over the entire procedure of shipping and handling.”

“I can’t go to L2!” I exclaim.

“Why not?”

“There’s a lot of work to do! I have to…”

“We need that panel for the filter system,” Zechs reminds me. “I can’t think of any other system or part that’s so important that you can’t leave, Heero. I don’t have to tell you that we need the filter system to goddamn breathe. Get your ass on the cargo ship to L2, got it?”

“I get it,” I say sullenly.

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I throw clothes and toiletries into a duffle bag. I’m angry. Why should I be the one to go to L2? I don’t have the time! I hate to interrupt my work. Grumbling, I send Hilde another e-mail to announce my arrival: Hilde, I’m picking up the panel myself. The dent isn’t a problem. Heero. I can’t believe I have to go to L2, prep the panel for the return flight to Mars and, oh yeah, I have to negotiate the price. I rehash my own thoughts. Why am I angry? I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself. It’s just a flight to L2. So what if I see Duo? It’s not about him, it’s about that panel. It’s as simple as that.

The cargo ship is fully fueled and prepped. I secure my duffle bag into a chest before strapping myself into the pilot seat. The nice part is that I’ve missed piloting and I’m looking forward to be at the levers again. The less nice part is that not much piloting is required; it’s a fourteen hours trip to L2, so all I have to do when in orbit, is to engage the autopilot and get bored. Wonderful.

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I fill out the registration forms and I receive stamps in my passport. After I leave the spaceport terminal, I call for a cab. “Maxwell” and “scrap yard” is apparently more than sufficient and the driver tells me to get in. I comply and look out the window. I’m not interested in chit chat. I don’t know why my stomach is tying itself into knots. It’s not like I’m actually going to see Duo. He is away for a few days. No big deal. The cab arrives at the scrap yard; it looks massive from the outside, surrounded by a tall fence. I get out and pay my fare; as soon as the car drives off, a young woman with short-cropped, dark hair approaches me. She’s dressed in an overall, sporting a heavy tool belt.

“Heero, right?” She extends her hand to me, and I take it; a firm shake. I can hear my knuckles crack under the pressure. “Duo’s pretty miffed that he can’t be here! He told me that he’d try to get back as soon as possible.”

“It’s all right,” I say. “I’m here for the panel.”

“Blunt as ever.” She laughs, not maliciously. “Don’t you want to rest up first? At least have something to drink or to eat? Come on, don’t just stand there!”

I follow her into the tall building. The ground floor holds offices; the administrative personnel stare at me as I walk by, obviously curious. Christmas wreaths and garlands are all over the place. Hilde opens the door to a large cafeteria. I’m impressed. Duo has made a big place for himself here, and judging from all the personnel, he’s doing very well in this business.

“Would you like to order something?” She says, walking in front of me. “We have hamburgers, grilled cheese, ham and eggs…”

“I’m fine, thank you. I would like to see the panel.”

“Coffee or tea? No?” When she sees me shake my head, she gives up. “All right. This way.”

We leave the cafeteria and pass a huge workshop area. I almost salivate at all the tools and workbenches I see, and the materials the men - and a couple of women - are working with.

“We repair everything ourselves,” Hilde raises her voice. “We recycle a lot too!”

She opens a door for me and we end up at the actual scrap yard. I see so much equipment and spare parts that it wouldn’t surprise me if half a Gundam is buried somewhere underneath. A dozen men walk around, hauling materials, carrying stuff while music blares around the lot.

“All this belongs to Duo,” Hilde says and I can hear the pride in her voice. “He really turned a lousy, rusty scrap yard into a healthy, well-run company.”

I have to acknowledge that Duo is smarter than I thought. His excellent piloting skills were a good indication of his intelligence, but I’ve never known he also has business instinct. Maybe Quatre helped him out?

“Keith!” Hilde calls out. “The panel for Yuy?”

“Still in the back lot,” a tall guy with dirty blonde hair hollers back.

“I asked you to move it onto the truck!”

“Sorry boss-lady,” the man says, waving his arm. “Truck’s out for today!”

She frowns. “Oh right, we had to bring a shipment of construction sand over to the quarry. I’m sorry Heero, but your panel is too heavy to be transported by a regular vehicle. Our wide truck is out for today…” She looks annoyed and flustered at the same time, trying to solve the situation. “I can have the truck back at the end of the day, but then no one will be around to help you hoisting the panel onto the flatbed. Wait, I’m going to call around and ask if they return the truck sooner. I don’t care if they have to drive extra miles.”

“Thank you, Hilde.”

“Sure. Just go out into the back lot, you’ll see your panel right there.” Hilde pulls out a cell phone and wanders away. I saunter into the direction she indicated and sure enough, there’s my panel, too large to overlook. I check the dent in the upper left corner; yeah, that’s not going to be a problem. Just as I straighten myself, I see Hilde all but stomping towards me, the look on her face not very promising.

“I can’t believe it! The truck has two flat tires. I can’t promise you that they’ll make it back in time.” She doesn’t flinch from the obvious scowl on my face. She has dealt with far more urgent matters and angrier customers before, I can tell.

“Do you have a place to stay?” she asks. “Somewhere you can wait?”

“No,” I answer coolly. “I expected to get the panel and leave right away.”

She looks a little quizzically at me and hesitates before speaking again. “I’ll give you a discount for the inconvenience,” she says. “We’ll also pick up the bill for your expenses on L2.”

“What about a rental truck?” I already know the answer. A wide load truck isn’t standard in a rental fleet. If anyone on L2 would have such a truck, it would be Duo. Hilde shakes her head.

“I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, Heero,” she apologizes again and I believe her. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to lie or to be insincere. “I know a good hotel where you can stay. I’ll take you there.”

“Fine.” I sound gruffer than I intended. Thank you,” I add. Maybe it’s a good idea after all to get some rest and a hot meal. Space travel never bothered me that much, but after fourteen hours in the cargo ship, I have to say that I could use a shower and a nap.

Hilde doesn’t say much when we drive to the hotel. She asks if I’ve been to L2 before and I deny. I haven’t visited any of the colonies since the end of the war.

“Duo immediately went back into space,” she says as she keeps an eye on traffic. “He loves it out here so much.”

I don’t want to talk about Duo. “What about you?” I ask, curtly.

“I was hospitalized for a while,” she says. I nod. She stole the layouts of the Vayaete and Mercurius, a bold move. “I had a lot of time to think while lying on my back and trying to recover. I figured that I wasn’t made out to be a war hero, like you and Duo. I could pilot a mobile suit and I had served the Alliance for a few terms because I believed in their doctrines, until Duo helped me change my mind.” The upcoming intersection is particularly busy and Hilde chooses her way carefully through heavy traffic before she continues. “I thought I would feel much more at home in a stable environment, but I didn’t know what. Become a housewife? Teacher? Right on time, Duo came back to L2. The war was over and before I knew it, I was his right hand. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t contribute much to the success of the scrap yard, that’s Duo’s hard work, not mine. I just made sure that the paperwork was in order and that he ate on time.”

After a few more turns, Hilde stops in front of a decent-looking hotel and she turns to me in her seat.

“I’m really sorry for the delay, Heero,” she apologizes once more. “I’m sure Duo won’t be happy about it either. Like I said, we’ll take care of the bill, so feel free to book the presidential suite or gorge on room service, whatever makes you comfortable. Give me your cell phone number, please?”

I give her my phone number. Hilde enters it into her phone’s memory. “I’ll send a car over to pick you up. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” I say, a bit too sour. I’m not looking forward to spend a night at a hotel. It doesn’t matter who picks up the bill, it’s a waste of time and Zechs won’t appreciate it. Me neither - I want to go on with my work, I hate delays. Well, right now there’s nothing I can do about it.

I order a meal at the hotel’s restaurant and it tastes much better than I expected. In my mind, L2 is still that dilapidated colony that was a war zone, torn apart by the instable government and the numerous rebellious factions. In the past years, they sure have cleaned up their act, both the government and the colonists. People are hardworking, cheerful and fairly polite, utilities like electricity and hot water are up and running everywhere and even though the standard of living isn’t that high as in the other colonies, everyone has made a serious effort to push back the dilapidation and neglect. It feels good to take a shower with a fed stomach and I change into something more relaxing. Fourteen hours of space travel has fatigued me and I decide to go to bed early.

---------------------------------

I have breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant: scrambled eggs, a few slices of toast and a pat of butter. I skip coffee and drink milk instead; caffeine gets me all hyped up. It dawns to me that I haven’t agreed on a time at which Hilde’s going to pick me up. I check my phone; no messages. It’s early in the morning and I decide to take a walk around the block to stretch my legs. Hopefully that stupid truck is fixed, so I can go about my business. I leave the restaurant and inhale the artificial air. A colony doesn’t differ that much from a planet like Mars. When was the last time I breathed ‘real ‘air? I haven’t been to Earth in… years, I guess. I haven’t spoken to Relena in a long time. There’s that little pang of… guilt again. I don’t understand. Is it because of those fake, commercial feelings around Christmas time? L2 seems to adore the holiday; I see wreaths everywhere, the stores are bulking with Christmas merchandise and I can even hear Christmas carols in the background.

Slightly annoyed, I return to the hotel. If Hilde hasn’t arrived yet, I’ll call a cab to get to the scrap yard. I turn around the corner and my eyes go wide. In front of the hotel is the wide load truck and… Duo is standing right next to it, talking frantically to the receptionist of the hotel. Duo. He hasn’t changed one bit. He gesticulates with his arms and with every movement, that long, heavy braid of his dangles along. Dressed in dark grey slacks, a red zippered-up vest and a black jacket, it looks like no time has passed since the last moment I saw him.

“He was here a moment ago, I swear!” The receptionist whines. He suddenly looks into my direction and yells: “There he is!”

Duo snaps his head into the same direction, anger crossing his face, but it immediately melts away when he spots me. “Heero! I thought you had checked out!”

I walk up to him, past the impressive rig of the truck. It completely dwarfs me, casting a shadow the size of an eight-story apartment building. “I went for a walk. I didn’t know when Hilde would come to pick me up.”

“I know you’re an early riser.” He closes the distance between us and takes me into a bear hug.
My arms dangle next to my sides, refusing to return the gesture - not that I don’t want to, but… I don’t know. It’s too intimate, I guess? I’ve never been the hugging type. If it bothers him, Duo doesn’t show it. He takes a step back, his hands sliding to my shoulders, keeping me in a firm grip. I’m reminding myself that it’s a huge mistake to underestimate his strength. He’s still smaller than me, not particular buff or muscular, but he’s a survivor and a former Gundam pilot. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Heero!”

“The same,” I reply honestly. His smile is exuberant, exactly like I remember it. His heart-shaped face has lost its boyishness, his jaw line is slightly more pronounced than before. His eyes are still too old for someone his age; he’s seen a lot of death and destruction and not even the last years of relative peace and happiness have brought a shift in his gaze. I wonder why I notice.

“Get in, get in,” Duo says and he turns towards the receptionist. I hoist myself up in the cabin of the truck and settle in the passenger’s seat. Looking through the window, I see Duo exchange a wad of bills with the receptionist. The next moment, Duo throws open the other door and climbs into the cabin, parking himself on the driver’s seat.

“Let’s get this baby back to the yard, shall we?” He starts up the engine and sets the truck into motion. He maneuvers through streets and alleys as if it’s a small car instead of a few thousand tons of metal and steel, but then again, Duo can drive or pilot anything. “Sorry about the whole delay,” he says. “I was on L4 and couldn’t get an earlier flight. It was so frustrating, I was gnashing my teeth! We’ve had flat tires before and it’s always a hassle, but now it was particularly inconvenient. I hope you had a good night of sleep, though! You want to return as soon as possible, I presume?”

“Yes.” I turn my head to look at him, precisely at the same moment he glances over at me. I see the disappointment in his eyes, but he covers it up quickly.

“Too bad,” Duo mutters. “Then again,” voice louder, “it’s not like you to pay a visit for pleasure, is it? It’s always business.” It comes out bitter, probably bitterer than he intended. It confuses me a little.

“We’ve all gone our separate ways,” I say. “I work on Mars.”

“I know. I don’t expect a Christmas card from you.” Duo turns to the right and I can see the scrap yard from here. I remain silent. If he doesn’t expect much from me, why was he so disappointed?

The truck comes to a standstill and Duo hops out of the cabin. He greets his employees and starts giving out orders to prepare the panel for transport. I leave the cabin as well and I catch Hilde looking at me, with a disapproving frown. I frown in return. What’s the matter with her? She hands a clipboard to Duo, and he jokes about something which brings a smile to her face. When she looks at me again, the frown is back in place. I don’t understand why she’s acting like this, and it gives me the creeps.

The panel is secured with cables and hoisted upon the flatbed of the wide load truck. I’m very pleased with the perseverance and professionalism of Duo’s personnel. I leave everything to Duo; he knows his personnel and materials best. He gives directions and commands; it takes an hour before the heavy equipment is safely stored on the flatbed.

“Time for coffee,” Duo says when it’s done. “Let’s go to my office to fix the paperwork.”

“You’ve got quite the competent personnel,” I say as we make our way over to the building.

“Yeah, business is booming.” He holds the door open for me, and I enter his office. Duo smiles at me as he sits down behind his desk. “So, working for Zechs, eh? How’s that like?”

“Nothing much. I mean, nothing different from any other boss, I guess. Besides, he doesn’t act like a boss-boss. We discuss a lot and he involves me in everything, concerning the terraforming project.”

“Awesome. So you’re into terraforming?”

Suddenly, I feel a bit silly that I’m ‘just’ a grease monkey. The eastern wall of his office is plastered with plaques and framed news articles, lauding his entrepreneurship and contribution to the L2 colony. I can read the headlines from where I’m sitting, all hailing Duo for his trailblazing projects on recycling and effectively pushing back L2’s growing clutter and debris. With Duo shining so dominantly like this, I feel very small, so I just grunt a non-committal sound as to avoid the answer.

“Hilde didn’t quote you a price, did she?” Duo looks at the screen of his laptop.

“You don’t have to give me a discount,” I tell him. He looks at me funnily. “Hilde said yesterday that she wanted to give me a discount because of the delay. It’s all right. Zechs has funds to pay for the panel. You already picked up the hotel bill.”

“I wasn’t going to charge you full price anyway,” Duo says. “The panel has a dent, as you saw for yourself. I need a few minutes to fill out the customs declaration forms and the freight bills. You want some coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

Duo leaves to get the hot drink and I look around his office some more. No pictures on his desk, no personal touch except for a novelty clock and some Christmas decorations: a mug with Santa Claus on it, a miniature Christmas tree with lights and a weird candleholder that has to be made by a small child. Hilde sticks her head around the door.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” I answer.

“You’re really going to leave so soon?”

“Yes.”

“Heero…” She looks over her shoulder, a bit nervous. I have no idea what she wants from me. “When you emailed us about the panel, I immediately told Duo, of course. He was ecstatic to hear from you. He came back from L4 especially to see you.”

“Oh?”

A heavy sigh. “He was looking forward to talk to you,” she says. “You share a unique past. Don’t leave so soon, Heero.”

“I have a schedule to keep,” I say, wondering why she’s telling me all of this. The following silence is totally uncomfortable. She might as well have punched me in the face, the way she glares at me.

“Keep yourself to your precious schedule, then.” Hilde leaves, the tool belt around her waist rattling. A minute later, Duo re-enters the office with tea for me and coffee for himself.

“Here you are,” he says and hands me the tea. I watch him prepare all the forms necessary for the transport. It’s an obvious routine for him, ticking the right boxes and putting an autograph here and there. He doesn’t mind being stared at, obviously - he just continues to work. I don’t know what to say or to do, so I remain silent. The printer spews out more paperwork and Duo grabs them to sign and stamp.

“We love to stamp here,” he says with a cheeky grin. He shows the papers to me. “Do you want to check them?”

“No, it’s all right.” I have no reason to doubt Duo’s work. “Invoice enclosed?”

“Invoice enclosed,” he says, his voice going down a few tones. Another moment of silence.

“Thank you for the tea.” I get up from my chair. Duo picks up the keys to the truck and swings the keychain around his fingers. It’s obvious he’s stalling. Does he want to ask me something? Why is he hesitating? But he doesn’t speak and silently, we leave the building. Hilde pops up before we can get into the cabin of the truck.

“Is there anything you need, Heero?” she asks. “Supplies for your return trip, perhaps?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.” I answer and then it suddenly hits me. “Where’s my duffel bag?”

“Don’t worry, I had one of the guys pick it up at the hotel,” Duo says. “He brings it straight to the space harbor.”

“Great. Thank you for everything, Hilde.”

“You’re welcome.” Her facial expression is carefully neutral. I don’t pay much attention to it. I’m not for subtle hints or veiled emotions. Just tell me what’s going on, so I can deal with it. Duo climbs into the cabin and I follow him. He hangs out of the window to yell something at a coworker. I can’t hear it because of the deep, loud rumble of the engine, drowning out any other sound. The way is cleared and Duo shifts into another gear. The truck moves forward and we leave the scrap yard.

-----------------------------------------------------

Duo tells me about L2 as we drive to the space harbor. He handles the large wheel easily, his hands constantly busy. I shift around in my seat when I hear police sirens. Curiously, I look out the window. Police cars pass us by, sirens and lights on.

“Something must’ve happened,” I say. It sounds absolutely stupid to my ears.

“Yeah, criminality is still common here, unfortunately.” Duo concentrates on the road and takes the exit marked with “convoi exceptionnel”. It doesn’t take long before we’re stopped at a check-up point. Duo rolls the window down and shows his usual joviality as he exchanges paperwork with the security officers. I’m not surprised that he knows them by name. One of the men walks around the truck and checks the cables, while another one meticulously studies the paperwork to make sure we’re really transporting the panel as described in the freight bill. I refrain from sighing or complaining. Earth, Mars, colonies - there’s always the same bureaucracy.

“Clear,” the guy finally says.

“Thanks, and my regards to the wife,” Duo grins and we drive off again. After another five minutes and two more check-up points, he steers the truck towards a huge terrain, occupied by a lot of other trucks and heavy machinery. This is the cargo area of the space harbor; I can see my ship from here. Now it’s just a matter of loading the panel from the truck into the back of my ship.

“What’s going on here?” Duo halts the truck.

A very familiar feeling washes over me. The police cars we saw earlier are blocking our way. Cops are swarming around, some of them looking panicked. There’s no order or control in their lines, and my body tenses up. I don’t have to look at Duo to know that he feels the same: the build-up of adrenaline. We feel the danger, but we don’t know where or who it’s coming from. Duo leans a little into me to reach a compartment stuck under the dashboard. He slides with his fingers over the surface, revealing a keypad. I’m not surprised at all.

“Sig Sauer or Heckler & Koch?” he asks as the compartment opens.

“Heckler & Koch,” I answer as I know Duo favors the Sig Sauer. He hands me the gun and I stick it into my waistband, covering it up with my jacket. Duo does the same, takes a deep breath and then we both exit the cabin of the truck.

“Go back!” The police officer waves frantically at us as soon as he notices us.

“What’s going on?” Duo asks, ignoring the man’s gestures.

“Go back,” the officer repeats, “this area is locked down. You have to leave, now!”

“Your colleagues are in panic,” I assert calmly. “There’s no structure and no command present, yet there’s an obvious threat.”

“I don’t know!” He’s too young, too inexperienced. “An unregistered ship docked and not five minutes ago, the crew has opened fire. Now it seems…”

A spray of gunfire interrupts him and he goes down with a loud yelp. I grab him at the collar and drag him along with me, immediately ducking for cover. I know that Duo is right beside me - we move in the same direction and we hide behind a cargo truck. He has his Sig Sauer out.

“Fuck!” Duo grits his teeth. “Fucking smugglers!”

The young officer gasps and wheezes. I check up on him; he’s losing blood, but as far as I can see, it’s a flesh wound. I tear off the sleeve of his uniform and tie it firmly around his shoulder to stabilize him. “Keep the pressure on it,” I tell him as I put his other hand on the discoloring piece of fabric.

“Did you see where the gunfire came from?” Duo keeps his voice low.

“Bay 7. I couldn’t see how many people, though.” I pull out my Heckler & Koch and cock it. The officer’s eyes go wide.

“Who are you guys?”

“We’re Gundam pilots,” I say curtly. He’s not too young to not remember the wars, and I see the look in his eyes change from fear and insecurity to faith and confidence. Then he tilts his head to the side, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” Duo says. “These assholes started firing, not you. How many of your colleagues are around?”

“Three cars… six, maybe seven. They just called for back-up. Look, we were tipped off that smugglers would arrive today. We just got here! We didn’t know they had so much firepower!”

“Leave it to us,” Duo says as he looks at me. He shows me one of his famous grins and I recognize this one immediately. That shit-eating ‘we’re in trouble and I love it’ grin, that I haven’t seen in such a long time. Why does it all of the sudden excites me?

“Bay 7,” I repeat.

“I got your back.” Duo shifts into position. I brace myself and sprint away from behind the truck. Rapid wild-fire follows me, but whoever’s firing, he has lousy aim. I hear the distinctive sound of the Sig Sauer behind me, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Leave it to Duo to take out the shooter, even from this distance. I reach the gate of Bay 7 and take cover between a stack of boxes. The entrance is flanked by two large warehouses. The smugglers have taken up residence in the bay; they’ve trapped themselves into disadvantageous terrain. The only way out is to either leave with their ship or come through the gate, where the police is waiting for them.

“Hey fuckers!” A male voice calls out. “Stop shooting or else innocent people are going to die!”

Fuck, but of course - the smugglers have taken hostages.

“Come out and surrender to the police!” I holler back. No response. Why aren’t they leaving with their ship? Why take hostages? As I’m pondering this, Duo pops up next to me. It still amazes me how silent he can be; I know of course, he’s a master of stealth.

“One down,” he whispers and he points up. The shooter on the roof. I look past Duo, at the powerhouse of his truck. We could use it to ram the gate and overwhelm the smugglers. It’s a bad idea; they’ll kill the hostages as soon as we come crashing in. I share his grin. We’ve both worked with less.

“Divide and conquer?” I ask.

“Magno cum gaudio,” Duo answers. My heart beats against my chest. It’s amazing how fast and how familiar I fall back into sync with Duo. This is a mission, this is a war zone. I watch how Duo disappears between the warehouses, the shadows all but swallowing him. I feel sorry for the ones who run into him. They won’t know what’s happening to them until it’s too late; Shinigami hasn’t been slacking off all these years. He takes the low field, I’ll go up high.

There’s a drainpipe I can use to climb on. It carries my weight and soundlessly, I make my way up to the roof. I hoist myself up after I have scouted the area; there’s no one else on the roof but the shooter taken out by Duo. I make myself as small as possible and hunched over, I approach the man. No sign of life; the dark pool of blood under his body tells me everything I need to know. Duo has hit him in the chest and he simply bled out. Nonetheless, I turn the man over to verify; indeed, his shirt is soaked with blood and I can see the entry wound of the Sig Sauer’s bullet. The man himself is non-descript, literally. He wears common clothes, has a scruffy beard and average features. He could be anyone, from an accountant to a criminal, and unfortunately for him, he chose the latter.

I take the submachine gun he’s dropped. You can never have too little weapons. The roofing of the warehouse is extremely sturdy and my feet make no sound as I move along. From this height, I’m starting to see the bigger picture. At the end of bay 7, a dark grey cargo ship is on its side. It’s such a weird position that I have to look twice to make sure that I’m seeing things right. The ship is on its side- it has crashed into a smaller ship that was docked next to it. I refrain from snorting. What kind of pilot do you have to be to crash into a small ship? If this is the smugglers’ ship though, that explains why they haven’t left yet. I creep closer to the edge of the warehouse. There’s activity down below; a handful of the same non-descript guys, carrying weapons. Submachine guns, rifles, even a shotgun.

The men circle around a tall, fairly buff guy in a brown, woolly coat, smoking a cigarette. He’s fairly calm, eyes darting everywhere; I peg him as the leader. One of the other men comes up to him and they start talking. I’m up too high to overhear their conversation. I have more than enough experience to see what’s going on and who’s who. The brown woolly coat is the boss. The guy talking to him, with the shotgun carelessly over his shoulder, is his impatient second-in-command. The rest is cannon fodder; armed with cheap, knock-off machine guns and rifles, tripping on their temporary position of power because they hold a bunch of hostages at gunpoint. They have forced the hostages into a corner, between a metal fence and a pile of wooden crates.

“Fucking amateurs,” I can’t help but comment. It’s something that Duo would say, that’s for sure. I check, but I can’t see him, not even from my position. Why do I bother? I know he can take care of himself.

“…. money, man!”

“Fuck you, the…”

Snippets of a conversation, carried over by the wind. I wait. Patience. I trust Duo, and for the opportunity to come at the right moment. The smugglers are getting bored with pestering the hostages; one by one, they walk off, wandering around aimlessly, leaving only one of them to guard the innocent bay personnel who had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The smuggler toys around with his gun, occasionally pointing it at the hostages. I notice a woman with a young child amongst them; what the hell is she doing at a cargo bay? Oh, but this is going to piss Duo off. Shinigami doesn’t take kindly to violence towards children. One of the male hostages steps up, trying to shield the woman and child.

The smuggler barks at him and lifts up his arm to hit the man with the butt of his gun. The opportunity at the right moment. I can see the bullet from the Sig Sauer slicing the air even before the sound of the shot fired is heard; the smuggler doesn’t know what hits him and only a grunt escapes him as he collapses, landing with a thud on the ground. This is my cue. Unlike the shooter on the roof, I have excellent aim. The leader goes down first, the guy next to him is second. I aim and pull the trigger, aim and pull the trigger. I don’t shoot to kill; I incapacitate the smugglers, who roll over the ground, grabbing their injured limbs. Before anyone of them can return fire in blind panic, they’re all down. I see Duo coming from the left, emerging from the shadows. He immediately gestures the hostages to escape, pointing them into a safe direction. I scan the area. The smugglers are on the ground, moaning. The leader doesn’t move; was my shot fatal after all?

I have to get down. On this side of the building is a fire escape; I discard the submarine gun as it’s nearly empty and I keep my Heckler & Koch ready as I descend. Duo kicks the guns and rifles out of the criminals’ reach while the hostages run into the other direction, to safety. When they reach the gate, the police will take it from there. The tension’s not over yet. I walk towards Duo as everything happens at the same time. The woman with the child leaves the group of hostages and approaches Duo, with the intention to thank him for the rescue.

“No! Go away!” I yell, as the situation isn’t safe yet. The woolly jacket, the leader, leans on his elbow, grunting as he pulls out a small Beretta handgun. Time doesn’t slow down, it speeds up. Duo is distracted by the woman, yet he hears the sound of the gun being cocked. I throw myself forward, stretching my arm and aiming. It comes down to the millisecond. The leader fires, Duo jumps in front of the woman and child and I shoot while running. This time, my shot is fatal and I hear the sickening cracks of splintering bone. I run towards Duo, who tumbles to the ground, taking the woman and child with him. I see blood and I let out some kind of… scream, or roar, or whatever it is as I grab him and turn him towards me.

“Duo! Duo!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the woman cries, pressing her child against her chest. “I’m sorry!”

“Man down! Man down!” I realize that I’m yelling on top of my lungs. I ignore the obviously shocked woman and cradle Duo, my hands searching for a pulse. I can’t find any, I can’t even see where he’s hit. My previous calmness is completely shattered and when a paramedic kneels down next to me, my first instinct is to push him away. Another paramedic takes care of the crying woman and her child and I stare at her, blaming her for the entire situation.

“Sir. Sir? Please sir, I have to take a look.”

I snarl at the paramedic, but he calmly retorts: “Sir? Your friend. I want to take a look at him. He’s losing blood. Let me help him.” He shows me a friendly, disarming smile and nods at my hands. I look at them - fisted tightly in Duo’s shirt. My knuckles have turned white.

“Sorry,” I mumble and force myself to relax my fingers and let go of my grip. The paramedic leans into Duo and unbuttons his shirt. I stare at Duo’s pale face, such a ghostly pale…

“I’m not dying, Heero, don’t look so panicked.” His voice is raspy and his eyes are unfocused, but he has the guts to sound amused. “I’m fine.”

“You have been shot,” I correct him while the paramedic shines a light into his eyes. A colleague joins us. “You need medical attention, Duo.”

“Is that why there are so many handsome men crawling around me?” He chuckles and dissolves into a cough. “You got the bad guy?”

“His smuggling days are over,” I confirm.

“Good, good…” His voice trails off.

“Stay with me, Duo.”

“I’d love to,” he says. “Your place or mine?”

“What?”

“Stay with you,” he says. “I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to.” Then he dramatically sighs and loses consciousness.

---------------------------------------

“Hilde, he’s going to be all right.” I’ve said it a million times before, but she refuses to listen to me. I keep my voice down; Duo is asleep in the hospital bed, his face sporting a rosy color again. A blood transfusion wasn’t necessary, fortunately; the bullet had missed all vital organs and after surgery, the doctors declared that he would make a full recovery.

“Fucking smugglers,” she says crudely. “The government has managed to bring the crime rate down, but it continues to be a problem. As long as it’s lucrative to smuggle stuff to L2, they will take the risk to come here. The black market is flourishing.”

She rearranges a few wayward strands along Duo’s face and mutters something inaudible to him. I feel like a fifth wheel and I leave the room. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and now that the adrenaline has worn off, my body is craving food.

I find myself at the hospital cafeteria and I buy a bowl of soup and at least four sandwiches; the hunger is ravenous. I sit down and start to eat. My mind is pretty much empty at this point; I have to work off the adrenalin first. I continue to wolf down the sandwiches; not bad for hospital food.

“Mind if I join you?” Hilde stands in front of me, holding a cup of coffee.

“Not at all.”

She takes the chair across of me and sips her coffee. “The police officer who got shot, is going to make it,” she says. “Thanks to your quick reaction to get him out of the line of fire.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “It was such a chaos.”

“Yeah. Well, the smugglers’ gang, safe for their leader, is going to make it as well. Too bad for them, the government is really cracking down on smuggling activities. I’m sure they won’t be out in the open for a long time to come.”

“Bunch of amateur idiots,” I snort. “Crashing into a ship, opening fire randomly, taking innocent people hostage and their ‘leader’ not doing a thing to keep his men under control…”

“It was a mess,” she admits. “The police still has a lot to learn about communication and hostage negotiations.”

I finish the last sandwich, not offering more comments. Hilde’s searching for words and I doubt that whatever she’s going to say has to do with the smugglers.

“Why are you so afraid, Heero?”

That’s not what I expected. She takes me by such surprise that I stop eating my soup.

“What do you mean?”

“I always thought that Duo was the one to run and hide,” she says, referring to his usual introduction. I had figured that Duo left that particular expression behind him as time went by.

“I don’t run and hide,” I answer. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you before that when you contacted me, Duo was ecstatic,” she says. “He was so upset at the thought that he might not be able to see you that he took fastest space flight he could find.”

“Yes, I know, you told me that indeed,” I answer impatiently.

The frustration drips from her voice. “I told you twice now; why do you want to leave so fast? Is nothing registering in that soldier brain of yours, Heero? You haven’t seen each other in at least five years, for crying out loud! You waltz in and you give a fucking piece of filter system equipment more attention and care than your friend!”

“I’m here, am I not?” I growl back. “I never leave the side of a fallen comrade.”

“Comrade,” she repeats, “so that’s all that he is? You went through two wars together. You fought side by side! Duo is nothing more but the convenient seller of your beloved panel?”

“I…” I’m not sure what to say. “It was convenient that Duo had the panel for sale, yes.”

She gets up so quickly that she knocks over her chair. “I’ve listened to Duo talking about you for countless evenings,” she says. “The same stories over and over again and I never minded, because Duo is my friend and when a friend talks to you, you listen. But you… you don’t deserve to be his friend. Duo deserves much better. I don’t ever want to talk to you again!”

She storms out of the cafeteria before I can say something in return. Other visitors turn their heads towards us as the volume of her voice increases with every sentence. I don’t feel embarrassed - a lot has to happen should I ever feel like that - but something Hilde said, sticks in my mind. I get up and discard the wrappers of the sandwich into the trashcan. I leave the cafeteria and the prying eyes behind me, and I make my way up to the third floor, to Duo’s room.

He’s asleep; rolled up in a ball, blankets and sheets enveloping him. His arm is tucked under the pillow and I notice that he’s lying on top of his IV. I know better than to wake a sleeping soldier, so I keep my distance as I call his name.

“Duo. Duo, are you awake?”

He opens his eyes, immediately alert. Another habit hard to break. When he sees me, he looks puzzled.

“Heero? I thought you already left?”

“The space harbor is closed for the rest of the day due to the police investigation,” I tell him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” Duo shifts a little and notices the IV. “Ah, crap.” He puts it back into its original position. “I hate these things.”

“Yeah.”

He smiles; not his usual shit-eating grin, but a warm, kind smile. “Don’t be a stranger, Heero.”
I don’t know why, but I’m reaching for his hand. His fingers are calloused and his skin feels warm to the touch. “I want to ask you something.”

“Ask away,” he says, his puzzled look increases.

“Why were you so upset at the thought you wouldn’t see me when I came over to pick up the panel?”

He heaves a sigh and withdraws his hand from mine. Stubbornly, I grab it again. “Never mind, Heero. It’s not worth mentioning.”

“It is,” I insist. “Shinigami doesn’t get upset easily.”

“Shinigami doesn’t live here anymore,” Duo says and turns his head away. I wish I could read minds. What am I supposed to say?

“You saved the lives of that woman and her child,” I say. “You haven’t changed, Duo. You’re a soldier, and you’re strong.”

“You haven’t changed either.” His voice is small and soft. I have to lean into him to understand the words. “I had hoped that you… I had hoped that you had changed just a little.”

“How come?” I’m baffled. Again that smile, albeit watery.

“You’re so dedicated,” Duo says. “To your mission, to your goal. You don’t have much eye for what happens around you. It’s okay, Heero. I wasn’t brave enough.”

“Not brave enough? You…” Your place or mine? “…are the bravest…” Comrade. So that’s all that he is? “…man I’ve ever known…” You don’t have much eye for what happens around you. My hand on his. He rests his hand on top of the messy sheets, palm up, fingers open.

“Piloting a Gundam is a thousand times fucking easier than to admit that you have fallen in love with someone,” Duo says. “Especially when that someone is a Perfect Soldier, likes to self-detonate and saves the world twice. What was I supposed to do? I was happy to be your friend, no matter if it was ‘just friends’ only. I wanted to be with you and I waited for any sign, any indication, any shred of interest that you would show me, so I could act upon it. But you never did.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s all right. Hilde said I was a fucking moron. Not for falling in love with you, but for not taking my chances. She gave me her patented ‘what are you afraid of’ speech.”

“So you and Hilde…”

“Oh no, oh no. Partners in business, not partners as in a relationship… she’s single at the moment. We’ve always been friends.”

“I know. I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Duo says. “Whatever happens, I’ll always regard you as a friend, as a good friend. Back at the bay 7… man, it felt like no time had passed at all. We barely needed any words to decide our strategy.”

I nod. “We are a good team.” I mean it. I think I’m starting to understand what’s going on.

“Duo.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ve always admired your brutal honesty.” He grins. “Ow.”

“Maybe…” I resist the urge to brush away the wayward strands just like Hilde did. I’m not a horny teenager, I’m an adult man, damnit. “Why don’t you come to Mars with me?”

“To Mars?”

“Yeah. Zechs would love to see you.”

“Oh Heero, you’re so funny.”

I turn serious. “The terraforming project has a lot of scrap material and spare parts too. I’m sure Zechs would love to get rid of it and you can use it for recycling, and the scrap yard.”

“That’s business,” he says.

“It is. In the meantime, we can talk. It’s a fourteen hour trip.”

“Talk about what?” He almost sounds suspicious.

“About the war. About Trowa, Quatre, Wufei. About you. About me.”

Duo tilts his head. “Do you really mean it? Wouldn’t that be overkill?”

“The cargo ship has more than enough room, should we need a little distance. The terraforming project is huge… lots of people, lots of room, and I have to work. A certain panel needs to be replaced.”

“I can’t help you with that,” he points to the bandages on his torso.

“I don’t want you to. You can rest up and recover.”

“So basically, you’re asking me to celebrate Christmas with you on Mars,” Duo says.

“Basically, yes.” The more I think about it, the more I like it. “Can you get away from the scrap yard? Does Hilde know how to run it?”

“Yes, yes she does. Especially when I pay her 200% overtime,” he quips. “It sounds really nice, Heero. I would love to spend Christmas with you, on Mars, while you work.”

“I can’t promise you mistletoe,” I say, in an attempt to crack a joke. I’m rewarded with another, tired grin. “You need to rest. I’ll contact Zechs that you’ll be coming along with me as soon as you’re discharged and I’ll ask Hilde to pack you a duffle bag.”

“All right.” Duo sounds content and sleepy. “This is much better than a Christmas card.” He looks at me, though, questioning. “Heero… don’t feel obliged. I mean… I’m not expecting you to break out roses and champagne. Or…”

“We’re friends,” I say. I’m still holding his hand. “I can see us becoming more than friends.”
He finally returns the gesture, squeezing my fingers. I can’t blame him for being hesitant. He showed his vulnerability to me, now it’s time to show mine. I put my other hand on his. “Let’s start with Christmas.”

“Buy me a drink first,” he says before his eyes slid close. I make a mental note to have Hilde bring some supplies after all. I know what he likes to drink and he gets often cold… I have a stupid smile on my face, I just know it. My whole life has been turned upside down and I just… smile about it. I’m glad that he accepted my invitation. I have never told a lie, and I haven’t lied to him either when I said that I can see us becoming more than friends. He’s… he's a missing piece that I wasn’t aware of, until I saw him again. Hilde has been right all along; I was doing the running and hiding, not him. What would’ve happened if the filter system never had broken down and I never had to travel to L2 to look for a replacement? I think I would’ve ended up bitter or alone. I don’t know for sure, of course. The future is always unknown and ever changing. I feel more at peace with Duo at my side, I realize. I watch him sleep, his breathing is steady and even, his cheeks slightly colored. Now I touch the wayward chestnut strands of his hair and tuck them behind his ear. I can’t wait what the future holds.

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