Young Hearts - Part 7 by Keara
Standard disclaimers apply
Heero finished dressing and stuffed the remainder of
his belongings into a duffle that he kept in his locker. He was wearing
his usual green tank top, although his spandex shorts had been replaced
with jeans since the weather had turned quite cold. Now that his locker
was cleared, he pulled his coat on and closed the door, nodding once
in Trowa’s direction before he left the tall young man alone
with his clone.
He headed to the garage, passing by the infirmary as he walked along.
He glanced in and saw that Quatre was in there, waiting as Sally tended
to a wound on the clone of Treize’s forehead. Heero pondered
that for a moment, wondering why Quatre was there when Wufei had been
the one to volunteer to take the boy with him.
However, he didn’t stop to ask, continuing on his way to the
garage and his car. As they continued to walk, Heero’s clone
tapped him on the arm. Heero paused and looked down at the boy. “Do
you need something?” Heero asked, wondering why the child would
stop him.
The child looked up at Heero, a serious expression on his young face.
“We cannot go by the same name . . . and unlike that braided
boy, I do NOT want to be called Chibi.” He said calmly, crossing
his arms over his chest as he stared up at Heero.
Heero nodded, seeing that the child had a valid point. He pondered
over the situation briefly and could only come up with one viable
solution. “Why not go by Odin? He has been dead for years.”
The clone quirked an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side as he
looked up at Heero with curiosity. “Why Odin? I know he was
my trainer and the only paternal figure I ever had . . . but he wasn’t
that great a guy. Why should I honor him?”
Heero chuckled lightly, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened
them again and sighed in amusement. “You sound like Wufei.”
He took a breath, trying to convey his thoughts into words, a process
that was never easy for him. “You’re not doing it to honor
Odin Lowe. You are doing it to have a name. Look at it this way. You
could have asked Duo to name you, and he would have come up with something
out of Monty Python.”
“Huh?” The child asked, blinking in apparent confusion.
Heero allowed his lips to quirk into a small smirk. “An old
British series. Duo finds it quite amusing and sometimes acts out
his favorite parts when he thinks that no one is looking.”
The boy nodded, accepting the answer. He was silent for a moment,
then looked up at Heero with a serious expression once again. “Odin
will be an acceptable name . . . I can think of nothing better.”
“Good, then let us continue on our way.” Heero responded,
then once again began walking toward the garage, knowing that Odin
was walking along beside him.
As they entered the parking garage, Heero noticed Duo and his clone
standing beside Duo’s motorcycle. Heero frowned. Duo couldn’t
possibly be thinking of taking that child out on that thing. Besides,
there wouldn’t be enough room, not when Duo also had the clones
of Relena and Une accompanying him. Heero shook his head, tossing
the thoughts aside . . . it wasn’t really his business what
Duo did or did not do.
Heero walked over to his own vehicle, a small car that suited his
transportation purposes. Before he had even reached out to grasp the
handle of the car, Duo ran over and slapped him on the back. “Hey,
Heero, going shopping?” Duo asked.
Heero turned and glared at him. “Of course I am.” Heero
replied, watching as Duo’s clone ran up behind the American,
smiling almost as brightly as Duo was. The clones of Relena and Une
also followed Duo, although not quite so fast. “Where else would
I be going?”
“Need some help?” Duo asked. “Do you even know
what to buy for your clone?”
Heero frowned as he thought. To be honest he did not know what to
buy for a child. His training hadn’t included child care. “No
. . . I am unsure of what to purchase for Odin.”
“Odin?” Duo asked, his brow furrowing slightly.
“He required a name and it was an acceptable option.”
Heero responded, gesturing down at his clone.
Duo got down on his knees, looking straight at Odin. “So, your
name’s Odin, huh? Not a bad name.” Duo smiled, reaching
out and ruffling his fingers through Odin’s hair. The child
just glared at Duo for doing such a thing. Odin backed away and moved
behind Heero, using his older self as a shield to block Duo from getting
so close to him again.
Duo shrugged and rose to his feet, smirking at Heero. Heero shook
his head and turned away from the American, reaching out to open the
car door again. “Goodbye, Duo.” Heero said.
“Wait.” Duo replied, grasping Heero’s shoulder
and turning him back around. “Um . . . could we come with you?
We can help each other. You need help with what to buy and we need
a ride.” He gestured to his motorcycle. “I am not taking
the little guy on that . . . at least not without a helmet. Not enough
room for the girls anyway.”
Heero sighed, thinking it over. It would be beneficial. Duo did seem
to at least have an idea of what needed to be purchased, where Heero
had no clue. And if Heero accompanied the American, he could see to
it that Duo didn’t buy too many unnecessary items, such as toys
or something just as frivolous.
“Fine.” Heero nodded. He turned and opened the back door,
ushering his own clone inside, then waiting as Duo’s clone and
the girls followed Odin. Then Heero closed the door behind them.
He stepped around to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s
seat, noticing that Duo was already sitting and waiting in the seat
beside his. With a grunt, Heero slammed the car door closed and turned
on the ignition, noticing in the rearview mirror that the four children
in the backseat had fastened their seat belts. Heero fastened his
own seatbelt, deciding that he should set a good example for his young
clone, then sighed as he pulled out of the parking garage, Duo’s
chatter having already begun before the car had even started moving.
This was going to be a long day, Heero thought.
*****
Trowa folded his uniform shirt and placed it into a backpack, zipping
the bag closed since there was nothing else left in his locker. He
was once again dressed in his usual clothes, his jeans and turtleneck
. . . it was suitable clothing considering the cold weather outside.
His coat lay across the bench in front of him, next to his backpack.
He picked it up and quickly pulled it on.
He looked up from his task, his eyes settling on his clone. The child
was sitting on the floor across from him, his knees drawn to his chest
as he stared at the floor, his small arms wrapped around his body
as he trembled slightly. As Trowa watched him, the boy looked up,
his green eyes shimmering with both fear and unshed tears.
Memories swarmed through Trowa’s mind. He tried to block them
away . . . to hide them behind the walls he had spent most of his
life building around himself. But it was no use. It was as if that
child’s eyes had bored directly into his soul, burning a hole
through all the defenses Trowa had put up to protect himself.
Pain surrounded him, taunts and teases thrown at him over the years
by countless people . . . by his comrades, the other mercenaries .
. . the agony of bodily harm that angry and lustful men had caused
to him. Before Trowa knew what was happening, he had fallen to the
floor and curled in on himself, his body and mind aching from the
torment of his memories.
Something touched his arm and Trowa panicked, pushing himself up
and scrambling away from whatever had come into contact with him.
His back hit a wall of lockers and he sat there, panting, trying to
regain a normal breathing pattern as he clamped his eyes shut, his
body shivering severely. He curled his arms around his body, his legs
bent and knees close to his chest as he struggled to take in large
gulps of air, feeling the sweat that was soaking his skin.
Something touched his arm again, but this time Trowa didn’t
panic. Fear flittered through his mind, reminding him of past traumas,
but he opened his eyes, only to see his young clone looking at him.
The concern on the child’s face was obvious. And although he
didn’t speak, the comfort he was offering was showing in the
way that he had pressed his trembling hand to Trowa’s arm. Trowa
relaxed slightly, pushing himself into a more comfortable position
as he stretched his legs out in front of him.
Without a word, or even a sound, the clone moved forward. He hesitantly
sat across Trowa’s lap, slowly curling his small arms around
Trowa’s body as he laid his head against his older self’s
chest. He let out a shuddered breath, then slowly relaxed against
Trowa, probably a very difficult thing for him to do since he was
terrified of human contact.
Trowa let a small smile curl his lips as the boy embraced him. Carefully,
purposely moving slowly, Trowa returned the embrace with one arm,
making sure not to hold on too tightly as he held him. “You
recognize your own pain in me . . . hm, little one?” Trowa asked,
his voice barely able to be called a whisper as he raised his free
hand and softly stroked his slender fingers through the boy’s
hair.
The child nodded against his chest, making a wordless sound in his
throat that could only be called a grunt. Trowa knew it was the only
reply that he would be able to get out of him, and was satisfied with
his affirmative answer.
“I guess I’m more like you then I would care to admit
. . . even to myself.” Trowa whispered, continuing to idly stroke
the clone’s soft hair. “I guess this means you trust me
somewhat. You know I won’t hurt you, huh?”
Again, the boy just nodded, the trembling in his body slowly fading
away. At least he wasn’t afraid of Trowa . . . that was a good
thing.
“The others won’t hurt you . . . but I know it’ll
take time for you to trust them. Try your best . . . at least you
still have a chance to be happy . . . not like me.” Trowa said,
whispering the last part under his breath.
After a moment of nothing but silence, Trowa looked down and smiled.
The clone was sleeping, his face calm and serene as he rested in Trowa’s
embrace. Trowa carefully rose to his feet, cradling the child’s
body in his arms as he stood.
With only a minor amount of difficulty, Trowa managed to grab his
backpack and sling it over his shoulder without awakening his young
clone. The boy needed to relax a bit, so Trowa was in no hurry to
disturb the boy.
Taking one last glance back, Trowa left the locker room, heading
for his truck in the parking garage. He opened the door as quietly
as he could, gently setting the boy down on the seat and securing
the seatbelt around him. He closed the door and walked around, tossing
his bag in the back as he got himself into the driver’s seat.
In only minutes, he was driving along a road, on his way to where
he had left most of his belongings . . . with Catherine at the circus.
*******
TBC
*******
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