by Desidera
by mic1211
Rating: R
Genre: Bittersweet Angst
Status: (1/1) - oneshot
Warnings: yaoi, angst, het
Disclaimer: I guess I am glad I do not own them. I would feel guilty if I did and only ever made them feel sadness and pain. The little poem is mine.
The Principle of Autumn Leaves
Leaves of beaten gold... They own a splendour no treasure can compete with. Sunlit branches adorned with flames of colour. Soft green, scorching red, where does nature take those colours from? How come she is the only one to dress up for her inevitable fall?
The true beauty of autumn can be realised only through the knowledge of how fast it will be gone. The rush of colour is subject to time. What is this time, destructive and creative, either too long or too short, always slightly out of our grasp?
Autumn does not need to know about the laws of time and space, each colourful leaf exists only for the moment, for as many sunbeams as it can catch. It is aware that it is going to fall, one day or the other, but when the day comes it will be able to let go, knowing it has not missed a single day of sunshine, knowing it has danced with the winds and bathed in the mists.
Spring is a distant memory, sweet and gentle blossoming, summer is a fading sensation reflected in those last autumn sunbeams, winter is the approaching darkness, soft and calm. There is no going back in time, there is nothing to wait for, but there is the moment. It has to be enjoyed. It needs to be lived, without care for the past or the future, even if remembrance remains, and even if the outlook is bleak.
A few golden leaves are ripped from the branches by a gust of wind, there is the laughter of children on it.
The wooden park bench looks more than inviting, inviting to dwell on some of those memories, a few moments of pleasures gone and joys lost. Feelings that are now carefully stowed away may resurface, for a moment, as if captured in a photograph, an impression not entirely lost...
*
Boarding schools have uncomfortable beds and small stuffed rooms as a rule. Roommates are far too close for comfort, especially if you have been thinking about them for three weeks, ever since you last saw them, especially if they are making your blood boil because they are infuriating and handsome and so very powerful and so terribly hard to figure out. And yet you feel drawn to them. And yet you feel like you are the only one to understand them.
I have been staring at him for what seems like hours when he finally opens his eyes. Instantly I can tell he has not been sleeping after all. Instead he�s been scrutinising me, probably contemplating my reasons for watching him and apparently coming to a conclusion.
He states it without a second�s hesitation and shock freezes my breath in my lungs.
�You want to touch me.�
Yes�Now he has dared to speak those words I�m finally admitting them to myself. I�ve wanted it all this time and the realisation is so overwhelming I can only nod.
�Why?�, he demands.
By Shinigami, if only I knew!
�Let me try.� I attempt to sound convincing and give him my best smile. �Let me try then I�ll answer you.�
He turns his head away from me and stares up at the ceiling. I am desperate for a reaction, even if it is a bullet through my head. Then at least I�d know�
�What are you waiting for?�, he asks, and he almost sounds indignant.
There is nothing that holds me back anymore, not after hearing that kind of invitation coming from him. It is only a single step towards his bed, after all we are in a boarding school, but it truly is the gesture that matters. I take his hand in mine. Why it is his hand I want to touch most, ignoring all my secret fantasies urging me to do more, I don�t understand any better than the rest of my feelings.
I place our hands palm to palm as I sit down on the edge of the bed, intently focussed on aligning his fingers with mine, brushing my other hand over them. Suddenly he interlaces them with my fingers.
Following an instinct, he sits up. You are vulnerable lying on your back and the Perfect Soldier is never vulnerable. He stares at me. And suddenly my face is buried in his bare shoulder, where the loose shirt has slipped away, and I can�t seem to stop running my lips over the soft flesh there, exploring, feeling, tasting.
�Do you already know why?�, he wants to know while he is tilting his head a little to the side so I can reach more of his exposed skin.
�Because you are�.you.� I honestly cannot think of a better explanation. �Because�I knew it would feel this good.�
He nods slowly, and I notice his facial expression relaxing as his free hand is tangling into my braid. Encouraged by his soft tugging I run my mouth up his neck. Oh. There are his lips. And�it�s so very different from anything I imagined.
*
A ticklish sunbeam makes its way through the sheltering leaves. The ground is splattered with patches of sunlight, a patchwork blanket of dried leaves and grass.
Small feet follow the patterns, skipping between the light patches, touching only the dark ones. A simple song sets the rhythm for the skips, the voice is tiny but cheerful.
�Like a leaf in the breeze
On an autumn tree,
Like a sunbeam on its way,
On a golden autumn day,
I will find my way to thee.�
The wind rustles in the branches and moves the patches on the ground. The skipping stops, tiny hands reach down into the mass of brown leaves only to resurface a moment later in a burst of joy, throwing them into the air. A shower of dry leaves rains down accompanied by trickling laughter�
*
�White flowers are raining down from the sky, are sailing on cheers and laughter before they are getting caught in Relena�s hair. She laughs and picks one out of her husband�s dark strands. I stand nearby, watching everything, and I smile and cheer with them. Of course I am the best man. Of course I am going to celebrate, to join the festivities until they are going to depart for their honeymoon the next morning. Today is a beautiful day, a wonderful feast, a time to eat and drink and hail the newlyweds.
No, it is not this day that�s the worst.
�
�I am going to marry,� he says.
I don�t have to ask, I know there is only one marriage candidate he could be talking about. I know he is serious and that there is nothing that will change his decision.
�Wow,� I say, because that is the only sound that can cover up whatever slight noise of pain might have escaped my throat. But there is only one sting, before the spiteful wasp in my heart is crushed. I smile, and it�s genuine.
�Congratulations then, buddy. Of course it was about time by now.�
The evening is spent making plans and discussing the organisation of the wedding. I finally sink into my bed with the firm intention of shutting down my mind. And I succeed because I am a soldier and a terrorist who has learned too early how to quench the thoughts of darkness and loneliness during the night.
It is not the worst day either.
�
Of course there are no half-naked dancing girls. That is not the kind of joke to play on Heero Yuy. What he considers a good bachelor�s night is not drinking and bad puns about his new life about to start. We loaned out five hot babes nonetheless. We are riding them through the dark streets, artworks of metal and chrome and pure speed. Mine is a Yamaha YZF-R6, in midnight black. Heero chose a Suzuki Katana in dark blue. The five of us race each other past the street lights and out of town. Side by side we are riding beneath the stars, the roaring engines in our ears, adrenaline in our veins, the way we remember it from the war, this sensation that unites us more than anything.
We race along next to each other, so close I could reach out and touch him. The moon illuminates our path. I think this is the worst night of my life.
The preparations of the last three days were tiring but they kept my mind occupied. The wind in my braid frees my thoughts and the adrenaline brings back my desires. I never want this ride to end.
I know that tomorrow is going to be easy compared to this. Because tomorrow will be final, there will be no more going back, no second thoughts. Tonight there is still the temptation to snatch him away, promise him the stars and ride with him to a far away place where no one can find us.
Yes, tonight is painful. It is the worst night of my life.
*
There is the sound of steps behind the tree, feet are shuffling through the leaves, perhaps intentionally, simply for the intoxicating sound that is autumn�s music, a song of its own.
A slender boy appears and sits down on the wooden bench. He is not tall but there is a hidden strength to him. His hair is either a very dark blond or a very light brown, his unruly bangs are covering his forehead, but his eyes are an intense cobalt blue.
�Why aren�t you playing with the other kids?�
He raises his chin slightly. �I am not a child,� he states indignantly. He is no older than seven years and six months.
�Of course you are not. Why don�t you go over there and show them who�s the best runner here?�
�I don�t need to show off,� he says, but the fires of challenge and temptation have been awoken, are now clearly visible in his eyes.
�Sure you don�t. But there might always be a new opponent there who�d appreciate a little contest, don�t you think so?�
His eyes are already glued to the group of children playing nearby, even though his voice is still evasive. �I will consider it.�
Those final words spoken, he stands and without looking back crosses the grassland.
The breeze is in his hair�
*
�The breeze is in his hair. He is standing next to the window of the small hospital room, small gusts of wind whisking through his dark, unruly bangs. �It is hard to be kind�, he tells me.
I try to understand him. After all, he saved me. He didn�t shoot me. And when I had recovered a little he kissed me on the forehead. I still cannot figure him out. His behaviour towards me changes like April weather.
�I�m not asking you to be kind all the time, y�know�, I sigh. �Just don�t always make it so hard for me.�
�It�s not like you make it easy for me,� he replies, still staring out of the window, and the blue of his eyes is contrasting with the blue of the sky.
As usual, I am taking my chances. �Let me try�, I offer, familiar words between us.
Heero turns his head towards me and captures me with his cobalt gaze. I reach out for him with one hand and he steps closer. I no longer feel any traces of pain. As he approaches a small shiver runs down my spine. He is standing directly before me and his hand comes up to trace my cheek. A wave of sensation is surging up in my abdomen, it�s like a subdued, slow explosion and the aftershocks run lower. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans, allow them to slip inside and caress the skin of his hips. Our breaths are speeding up a little�
Something is going to happen and I cannot stop it. I don�t know what it is, this feeling. I do know I crave his touches, more than I dare admit to him. I do know I want more of it.
He is kissing me like he wants to take something from me, to carry with him to the Lunar Base. I want to give him whatever he is looking for, want him to take it as a reminder to come back from there. He is above me, our bodies are touching and I ignore the reawakening stabs of pain in my stomach as I try to force more contact�
I know I am not going to stay here in the hospital room when he leaves but that is not necessarily why I find myself asking, �When you�re gone�what am I gonna do?�
Of course he does not understand. �Why don�t you go to school instead of me?�, he suggests.
*
He is racing the leaves. As a flurry of red, gold and green they have been swiped off a cottonwood tree, spinning on a swirling gust of wind. He is the fastest runner, faster than the wind, literally so, as he outruns the dancing leaves. No older than seven years and six months he beats opponents twice his size.
He is in constant competition with the autumn leaves. They are a little too fey for him, he longs for something more continuous, although their way fascinates him. Living for the moment is an intoxicating elixir, so colourful and so intense. A lot of children live the way of the autumn leaves, they are content with each sunbeam they can catch. Adults have to relearn this art, learn it from the children.
He has always had those adult traces and this feature will aid him in life� as long as the memory of autumn leaves stays with him� as long as he allows himself to be a child as well�
*
�Alright, Heero, spill it. What is it that bothers you?� Sooner or later he will have to tell me, I know something is wrong and I won�t let it pass. And apparently, this time, he is not trying to avoid me.
�She wants to have children.�
Oh�.
I guess I should have expected it. No level of preparation could have kept my knees from weakening, though, at that moment.
But by now I have enough practice to put on my sunniest smile for him.
�Well, kids are cute. Don�t you want to?�
He glances away briefly, a certain sign that he is troubled by the thought. �I do not think I can be a good father to them.�
I take a deep breath. Instantly the images are there. Heero�s children, playing in the garden, sitting round a campfire, building a castle in the sand�.One of them has a long braid and cobalt blue eyes.
�Heero�, I say, and pride myself on my voice remaining calm and encouraging, �If you were anyone else, I would start rattling off the �lifelong responsibility�-speech. But you are the one person I would entrust any such responsibility to. You�ll be a great father.�
�Do you mean it?�, he wants to know, searching for an answer in my eyes.
The little boy with the long braid is standing on the shore of a glittering blue sea, laughing.
�I never lie�, I answer simply.
�
I arrive at the hospital together with Quatre. We don�t even hug properly before racing towards the staircase. The elevators are too slow. We are panting when we reach the sixth floor but we do not stop until we almost run into Trowa.
�Where are they?�
�How�s Relena?�
�How�s Heero?�
�What�s going on?�
Finally Trowa loses his patience and grabs the backs of our shirts as if to pry us off him. �Calm down�, he orders uncharacteristically and instantly we are quiet.
He utters a relieved sigh. �It has started only an hour ago. Sally thinks it�s going to take at least three more hours. Relena�s doing fine, she�s a strong girl. And Heero�s most likely getting his hand squeezed.�
Quarte is nervously nibbling on his lower lip and Trowa reassuringly takes his hand.
�Don�t worry. Sally says everything is fine.�
I�m unable to settle down and stop pacing the corridor. I cannot remember having been this nervous on any of my missions and I do not understand how Trowa can be so calm.
The sounds of hurried steps announce Wufei�s arrival a second before he is sprinting round the corner, white coat in disarray. �Where are they?�, he shouts, and Trowa rolls his eyes.
�
The door opens and Sally�s head appears. Instantly the four of us jump up. I think my knees are shaking again.
Sally smiles. �Don�t look so spooked, boys. Everything�s alright. Come in and say hello to Mr Peacecraft-Yuy Junior.�
I am the first to slip through the door into the room � and I freeze when I see them. Heero is sitting on Relena�s bedside, she looks exhausted but she is smiling, holding a small bundle in her arms. They both can�t take their eyes off it, and their expressions are equally proud and loving. I feel I cannot intrude on this moment, and I can sense the others stopping behind me. Then Sally gives me a small push forward.
�Go on�, she whispers, �They want you to meet Kazuki.�
�Kazuki�.�, I whisper. Suddenly Heero turns his head and looks at me. He is smiling one of the most beautiful, breathtaking smiles I have ever seen.
He doesn�t say anything but suddenly I understand he wants us there with him, sharing his luck, this special moment in his life. I take a few clumsy steps towards the bed. And then I am looking at him, Heero�s son.
He looks tiny, and generally dishevelled�.but so beautiful, because he is so wonderfully alive, because he is strong and healthy and because he can make Heero smile like this. Unconsciously I reach out, but cannot bring myself to touch his fragile skin. At that moment he opens his eyes and I am stunned beyond comprehension, beyond reason and beyond rational thought.
It is truly insane - he enthrals me just as much as his father does.
�
The day after Kazuki�s birth is a cold autumn morning and I pull my coat tightly around my body as I am walking home. I cannot remember most of the night, but the morning breeze is already clearing the mists in my head so I can�t blame this amnesia on alcohol. I can�t remember if I spent the night in someone�s arms, if I just danced it away in some club or the other, if I wandered the lonely streets for hours. It does not matter.
Whenever I close my eyes I see the blue eyes of Heero�s son. It is a terrible feeling, bittersweet of taste, like tears and dark chocolate. I don�t know how to face the future, face that look, face this new reality.
The breeze is tousling the yellow leaves of a birch as I pass it by. They are truly incredible. Such a fleeting moment of beauty�
How can they stand it, all of autumn�s beauty and pain? The golden sunlit hours, aren�t they merely a diversion from their inevitable death?
They live only for this moment�.
There is a certain philosophy in that. It is wise.
Perhaps I too can live after the principle of autumn leaves.
*
The wind is increasing, the whispers in the leaves sound like the finest breathy tones of a flute. Yellows, reds and greens are fluttering wildly in a wavy curtain of colour. Like coins of gold, copper and bronze they are raining from the sky. And yet their brothers and sisters continue to dance with the wind in the branches, without fear of following them.
Like children, the autumn leaves have no fear, because their lives do not expand further than the next sunbeam, the next dance, the next moment. A life so frail�
Two small feet are dangling lazily from the lowest branch of a linden tree, tiny fingers are running over chapped bark, wide, fascinated eyes are studying a pale green leaf. The sun is shining through it, showing the delicate leaf veins criss-crossing within the gaunt layer.
�How did you get up there again? Didn�t I tell you there would be no tree-climbing unless you called me and I was standing beneath the tree?�
Brashly, the wind is playing with her long, dark brown hair while she is stroking the edges of the leaf as if lost in thought. �But the leaf wouldn�t come down�, she answers with the undisputed logic of a five-year-old.
�Perhaps. You on the other hand might come down in a much faster way and I�d hate to see that. Here, jump, I�ll catch you.�
She tilts her head, not entirely pleased. �Will you catch the leaf first?�
�I will.� The leaf is sailing down where she dislodged it from the branch. Seconds later she follows, much more solid to catch, and yet, a life so frail�
*
I am drinking coffee with Quatre on my balcony, enjoying the spring breeze and the fantastic view of the blossoming cherry trees not too far away. He smiles at me and leans back to allow a small drought to tousle his hair. I grin into my coffee cup. It is seldom that famous Mr Winner finds time away from his business. Somewhere inside the house sounds the gentle ring of the phone.
I sigh and place my cup on the small table. �I�m sorry, Quatre, I�ll be right back�, I promise.
He smiles, nodding, and I follow the phone�s insistent call, hitting the speech button and activating the screen. �Hi, it�s me, how can I he�.Heero!�
He looks terrible, dishevelled and distressed, if only to those who have known him for a long time. His eyes are filled with an emotion I have never seen there but recognise instantly. Fear � no matter how much he is trying to hide it.
�Duo�, he says, and his voice is all forced control, �Is Quatre with you?�
I nod and his voice gains a little strength. �Drive him to our place. Drive as fast as possible � We had to leave Kazuki alone.�
I feel a terrifying wave of shock and fear surge through my body. �What�s the status, Heero?!�, I call, trying to quash those obstructive emotions by the use of war phrases.
�We�re at the hospital�, he answers. �There have been complications.� His control is slipping and there is a slight hitch to the last word.
I suck in a deep breath. Oh no��Ryoukai. You can count on us.� I hope it is going to reassure him a little, until I am there.
�Quatre!�, I call. �Grab your stuff, we need to leave this instant!�
�
I am racing through the corridors of the hospital. Where is the obstetric ward? Left, right�the large entrance�.
There he is, rigidly standing, staring at one of the white sterile doors, hands tightly clenched. Two and a half years ago, in this corridor, I did not have the courage and strength to hug him for congratulations to the birth of his son. None of this matters now. I whirl him around and both my hands grasp his shoulders.
Staring into his eyes, I see his worry and fear and it is tearing at my heart. He is struggling to remain confident that everything is going to be alright. It is not an easy task for someone who has lived for years with the possibility of being dead the next day, but it tells me that there is hope, for he would never deceive himself. �She is in surgery�, I whisper, more to myself, because I already know the answer has to be �yes�.
�Kazuki?�, he asks softly.
I squeeze his shoulders a little. �Quatre is with him.�
Then all of a sudden we are embracing, holding on tightly for comfort and strength. He has studied all sorts of books about the birth of a child, I grew up with a nun who took care of lost street rats and, sometimes, pregnant teenage girls. We both know enough about this situation to realise the danger for a child that is born too early.
I am the only one there with him this time. Quatre is with us in spirit and heart but we have only each other to cling to. Wufei is on a mission, Trowa is on L3 with the circus. No one expected this to happen.
I need him as much as he needs me during those hours we are waiting in the corridor. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise that, despite everything, they have become my family - the other pilots, Relena, Heero and his children.
�
�Mary�, Heero whispers, and his fingers are caressing the large window separating the hospital room from the neonatal intensive care unit, shielding the tiniest of creatures, the most beautiful and delicate of daughters, from the cruel and harsh world outside, allowing her to stay inside the warm cavern she has been bereft of for a little longer.
Relena, awake now, but still weak and a little drowsy from surgery, is lying on the bed. Next to her there are Kazuki and Quatre. They are smiling, Kazuki�s face is full of curiosity barely contained, but even he can feel that this moment is special.
�Yes, I like it. Let�s call her Mary�, Relena agrees. �Look�, she murmurs, putting her left arm round the shoulder of her son, �This is your new little sister.�
Kazuki jumps off the bed and clumsily runs towards the window. I abandon my place close to the door and lift him up so he can get a better look. Heero smiles at him, then at me, and his smile takes on a slightly different note. I return the smile and before my heart can make anything of the brief contact I turn towards the newborn child.
�Mary�, Kazuki muses and taps the glass softly. �Come out and play.�
I smile and ruffle his hair. �She will�, I tell him and with those words undo all the doubts there might have been about this beautiful child�s strength to take on life.
*
The wind has carried clouds of a dark violet. Even as the sky is darkening the golden sunlight seems to brighten, the entire park aureate. Desperately it is struggling to resist the looming thunderstorm, trying to restore the fairytale beauty but in its despair creating colours that are just slightly on the edge, too unnatural, too glamorous.
Autumn is so intense. This is why it cannot last for more than a month, it is too excessive, too exorbitant. The world is well balanced and therefore autumn is followed by cold winter, devoid of colour, only to start with spring again.
But to the autumn leaves, spring is only a memory. Thus they continue their struggle with all the beauty and strength they have left. It is so hard to maintain intensity in life�.
*
It is Christmas again. I am smiling for the kids. Quatre�s place is huge, and five-year-old Kazuki is on a constant conquest to explore every little corner. His sister Mary is more fascinated with the shining lights on the tree, the expression of awe on her face is just too adorable. Inside, this evening is ripping me apart. Sometimes it�s hard to keep the smile on my face. Sometimes the pain is resurfacing, the ache of an old wound, and I find myself huddled up in a chair far away from the happy family. Quatre notices, but he has always known, so he doesn�t say a word, even though he is trying to help with hot cocoa, roast apple, chocolate cookies and eggnog, until even I have to decline.
I sigh and put the cup down, waving at Trowa and Wufei who are playing chess in a corner. It�s time for a little walk outside. The cold will numb my body and help me find back to myself.
It is still snowing. The night is silent, but for the church bells chiming softly in the little town nearby. The trees are sleeping beneath their blanket of snow. The sky above is faintly lit with countless gleaming stars.
Outside here, the night is perfect. My mind drifts back to another perfect Christmas Eve�
�
I can�t believe he came over for Christmas. After all this time I haven�t seen him it is the best present anyone could have given me. Life is sweet after all.
Snowflakes are clinging to his hair, like little stars, before they fade in the warmth of my apartment. They are artificial, colony-made, but at this moment I don�t care. He takes off his scarf. I�m surprised he possesses a thing so mundane, admitting to a physical weakness instead of pretending to be immune to the cold.
We do not talk. I take him in my arms and kiss him, like I used to do during the war, when we needed each other close. It is warm in my apartment, he does not need all these clothes. When we reach the living room I have pulled off most of them. He is just as eager. There is no haste, but it would be pointless to go slow, after missing this for such a long time. Later there will be time to enjoy peace together.
Peace, this precious thing we strived to achieve for so long, and now to enjoy it with him, on Christmas Eve AC 196�I have to admit it is a dream come true.
My living room is lit only by a few candles, I do not have a Christmas tree. Nonetheless I tried to make this as enjoyable an evening as possible, making myself comfortable on the couch. I did not expect to become this comfortable on it, though.
�Heero�, I whisper, a sigh on a shaky breath. My fingers are massaging his shoulders, stroking his forehead and his ears, still cold from the low temperatures outside, running over his cheeks and lips and through his hair. I arch my body towards him, trying to pull him closer. �Duo�, he growls and stills all his movements, his body so tense it�s a marvel he is not trembling above me, �No�too...intense.�
I force myself to relax, slow my racing heartbeat and simply continue to hold him. I see his troubled expression behind the tense mask and I know I have to give him back his control. After all this time, I understand him well. I just don�t know how I can stop myself from making him lose control to this intensity we share. When he feels the fires of his passion burning low again, he heaves an almost inaudible sigh. His body eases back into a small, pleasure-inducing movement, a pace he trusts not to overwhelm him and make him fear himself, a motion that does not remind him of fighting.
And then we get the call. Peace is ruined yet again.
�
He is standing next to me all of a sudden. I push my clammy fingers into the pockets of my coat and stare up at the stars.
�Duo�, he says softly, disturbing the quiet of this perfect night. The bells have stopped. There is nothing but the snowflakes falling around us. I wait for him to continue.
�You are unhappy�, he says, his voice firm but charged with a heavy load.
I can�t lie to him. �Yes�, I answer softly, �I�m sorry. Don�t worry about it. I�ll just go for a little walk and when I�m back everything is going to be alright again.�
�No�, he answers quietly. �I�m not just talking about tonight. Tonight it shows more. But you are never completely happy with your life and it is my fault. I cannot give you what you need to make your life complete.�
I heave a small sigh. This conversation has been due for at least seven years. It was only five years ago that I found the answer I could give him, and only three years ago that I learned to live by it.
�Heero�, I begin, �You are right, my life is not perfect and I am not always happy. But, honestly, show me one living person who claims never to feel sadness. My life is rich in beautiful moments, and I can truthfully say that I am content. And that is enough for me. As long as you live for the moment only, you can enjoy it completely, with all its emotions. All my emotions, even melancholy, are part of my life. I would not trade what I have for complete but superficial happiness without the memories that make me sad at times. I live for the moment, I live like the autumn leaves.� I give him a small smile.
�The autumn leaves�.�, he is studying the bare, snow-covered trees. �And what happens when winter comes?�
I place my hand on his shoulder. �Then I wait for spring. Spring is when I look at your children, Heero. Spring is when I see them smile.�
He shakes his head. �I don�t know how we could have made it through the last five years without your help, Duo. You left Hilde and your job to live closeby��
�Well, I got tired of the scrapyard. It was bound to happen, you know? It was not exactly my life�s dream to run a scrapyard. I like working as a spaceship engineer here on Earth. �
��and you were always there when we needed a babysitter, a chauffeur or simply a friend. I cannot thank you enough, Duo, and yet the only thing you find here is a half-finished life that leaves you incomplete.�
�No�, I reply fiercely. �Do you think I could be happy in any other place? This is what I want. It is second best, but it is still what I want. I don�t want to start all over again, at least not yet. Just allow me to continue being what I am for you and your family.�
Heero looks up at the stars. I think he is trying to hide the expression on his face from me. �Let�s go inside�, he suggests after a while. But before we turn and walk back to the house, he pulls me into his arms for a moment.
*
The breeze is stirring the leaves on the ground occasionally but they settle back into the loving embrace of the earth, prepared to become one with her. Even when their glorious time is over, the autumn leaves do not resign to their fate. They always come out victorious, because they are sturdy and resistent, and all too often they survive the frost, are crowned with a rim of ice and, half a year later, with the first drops of melting snow.
Mary is curled up in my lap. Kazuki, tired from running, takes his seat next to me. The clouds are welling up behind the trees but there is time left until the heavens will be unleashed.
�Braid my hair. Like yours.�
I am startled by her request. Never before has she asked me to do this. �Uh, of course, but why do you want me to do that?�
She sits up a little, one of her tiny fists on her hip, clearly impatient with me. �Because it is beautiful. Because it makes you special. I want to be like you.�
Kazuki nods slightly. �You will look good with a braid, nee-chan.�
The dark brown strands are soft in my hand as I intertwine them. I reach into the pocket of my warm coat for another hair tie, wind it around the tip of the braid and sit back to look at the outcome of my work. She is studying my face with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and we are looking so much and so frighteningly alike that it makes my breath catch.
Then she is snuggling back into my arms. �Sing the song for me�, she murmurs.
I have never been able to deny this child anything she asks from me.
�Like a leaf in the breeze
On an autumn tree,
Like a sunbeam on its way,
On a golden autumn day,
I will find my way to thee.
Like a leaf I am lost,
In the winds of time,
Like a moonbeam�s silver glow
In a night of storms and snow,
I will aid you, dearest mine.�
Fine
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