Chapter Text
"For heaven’s sake..." Wufei Chang muttered, lifting his irritated gaze from the computer screen toward his office door. Someone had knocked but hadn’t waited for permission to enter. He took his hands off the keyboard and leaned back into his padded chair, his eyes fixed on the young man standing in the doorway. "I'll be damned… Heero Yuy…"
Heero held his gaze for a moment before stepping further inside and shutting the door behind him. "Chang," he greeted.
"How did you get in?"
"I still have my badge," Heero replied flatly.
Wufei raised an eyebrow. "After more than five years? I’m surprised it still works."
"I set up the security system myself," Heero reminded him.
Wufei scoffed, glancing away briefly. "So, what the hell are you doing here, Yuy?"
A faint smile flickered across Heero’s lips. Wufei had never been one for small talk—he always cut straight to the point. Heero decided to do the same. It would save them both time.
"I'm looking for Duo."
A long silence followed as Wufei studied him. "You won’t find him here," he finally said.
"I know," Heero replied. "He left the Preventers years ago—I’m aware of that. What I haven’t been able to figure out is where he is now."
"Not even with all your hacking skills?"
Heero frowned. "No, not even then… Can you help me or not?"
Wufei didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, idly swiveling his chair from side to side, elbows resting on the armrests as he scrutinized the man before him. Heero had changed. Of course, five years was a long time—especially when going from nineteen to twenty-four. Wufei himself had changed, grown.
Heero was taller now, more muscular. His features had sharpened, and his hair was shorter than it had been back then. If Wufei had passed him on the street, he might have struggled to recognize him. But standing here in his office, there was no doubt. Heero still had that same intense, determined gaze—just as he had during every mission, whether in the war or later with the Preventers.
"And why are you looking for him?" Wufei asked.
Heero didn’t answer. His eyes shifted away for an instant before settling back on Wufei.
"Do you know where he is?" he simply repeated.
Wufei shook his head. "No." His response was too quick, too firm, and Heero immediately suspected a lie.
The former Wing Zero pilot clenched his jaw. "Can you at least… at least tell me if he’s still alive?" His voice had lost its earlier certainty, carrying a trace of hesitation. And in his gaze, Wufei caught something else—a flicker of anxiety. For a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for his old comrade.
"Listen," Wufei said, leaning forward slightly. "I need to finish this report. Wait for me downstairs in the lobby, alright?"
Heero hesitated only for a moment before giving a firm nod. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the office. Wufei watched through the glass partition as Heero stepped into the corridor, casting a glance toward the elevator.
But he didn’t head there immediately. Instead, he took a few steps forward, crossing the hall, and stopped in front of the office directly opposite Wufei’s.
Letting out a slow breath, Wufei turned back to his report, leaving Heero to face his demons alone.
The office was empty at this hour. Two desks—one facing the entrance and the other positioned at the back, to the right, perpendicular to both the first desk and the window. Their arrangement hadn’t changed.
"Hey, buddy, how about calling it a day?" Duo’s voice rang clearly in his ears.
He reappeared, just as Heero remembered—lean, lounging at the desk on the right, feet crossed on the wooden surface, back pressed against the chair. A blue pencil twirled effortlessly between his fingers in a fluid, unconscious motion, the same way Heero had seen him handle a screwdriver or a wrench when repairing his Gundam.
Heero kept his gaze locked on the desk, holding onto the memory, willing Duo’s image to stay.
"Pizza or Thai?" The voice came again. Duo tossed the pencil into the air, caught it seamlessly, never even glancing at it.
"Thai."
Heero turned abruptly toward the desk near the door—his old desk. But nothing appeared, no memory reawakened. When he looked back to the right, Duo was gone too. His chest tightened. Suppressing a sigh, he resumed walking toward the elevator.
*
Wufei entered the hall, nodding briefly to a few colleagues before making his way toward the couches near the entrance. Heero sat there—motionless, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. Waiting. His eyelids lifted the moment Wufei reached him.
"Let’s go," was all Wufei said, and Heero followed him out of the Preventers’ headquarters without a word.
They walked in silence, side by side. It quickly became clear that Wufei had no real destination in mind—and Heero even less.
As they neared the Brussels canal, Wufei finally spoke. "So," he said, glancing at the sky, now streaked with red and orange, the sun slipping lower in the warm European summer. "What have you been doing these past five years?"
For a long moment, Wufei wondered if Heero would answer at all—if he was still that same soldier from before, the one who never fit into civilian life. Too reserved, too distant, too focused on missions, too efficient, too fundamentally broken.
But then, to his surprise, Heero spoke. "I needed time… for myself," he admitted.
Wufei scoffed, dry and unimpressed. "You could’ve taken all the time you wanted without pretending to be dead."
Heero exhaled, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. "Don’t judge me, Wufei. I wasn’t… thinking clearly. Leaving like that wasn’t planned, but I… I wasn’t exactly stable back then."
"Yeah, no kidding. We all saw it—and we were ready to help. Duo, especially..."
"I know." Heero cut him off, eyes following a slow-moving tourist boat gliding along the canal.
As it passed, he turned his head, watching.
At the stern, Duo stood against the railing, elbows resting on the metal, bathed in golden sunlight. His braid swayed gently in the warm breeze. And just behind him, sitting on the wooden bench—Heero himself.
Heero blinked. And the memory vanished.
He had spent more than a year in that city, with the Preventers.
After two wars. After the Epyon de Telos attack on the Sanq Kingdom palace. After a year of aimless wandering. After accepting Wufei’s offer. After writing to Duo—the only person he had stayed in touch with via email—asking if he wanted to join the organization too, because Heero simply couldn’t picture himself settling anywhere without someone he trusted by his side.
At the time, Duo was living on L2, working with Hilde at the salvage company. He replied to Heero’s message in less than fifteen minutes.
Ok.
That was all he wrote. And less than a week later, he landed on Earth.
Commander Une had done everything to welcome them properly. She assigned them each an official apartment, suggested they enroll in school to earn a real diploma, and gave them significant freedom in choosing their missions and work partners. Duo had suggested they team up, and Heero had never even considered another option.
Wufei worked with Sally. Trowa and Quatre only acted as consultants on select missions. And Heero—Heero couldn’t imagine working with anyone but his former comrades. Or rather, with anyone but Duo. Because Duo was the only person he trusted completely.
At first, it had seemed like the perfect solution, something that could finally bring him stability.
But Heero hadn’t accounted for his past—for an entire life spent being molded into the Perfect Soldier. Efficient, lethal, focused… flawless.
For years, they had twisted his mind and body, stripping him of any semblance of a normal life. He had been conditioned to exist outside of ordinary society, incapable of adapting to a world without war.
He had tried to find his own way—truly. He spent a year wandering before joining the Preventers, but it had only made things worse. It heightened his unease, his sense of inadequacy, his inability to form social connections. Joining the organization had felt like bridging two worlds: a normal life on one side, missions on the other.
But reality was far messier. The job let him slip back into old habits—the life he knew best, the one he was perfectly suited for. And yet, it frustrated him. Because for a while now, a part of him had grown sick of it all. Sick of fighting. Sick of struggling. Sick of killing.
Deep down, he was at war with himself—desperate to leave that life behind, yet clinging to it with everything he had. Because a part of his mind couldn’t conceive of anything else.
At work, he was in a constant battle—with himself and with those who threatened the fragile peace they had fought so hard to achieve. And the only thing keeping him from slipping into madness was Duo.
Duo was his anchor. Every time they left on a mission, he was Heero’s connection to reality—to what was right and what was wrong. Sometimes, it felt like Duo was his only real link to the world. He was the only one who never judged him, who accepted every behavior, every reaction, without question.
The only one who didn’t look at him with fear or confusion when he did things no ordinary person could do—when he hacked a security system in under five minutes, when he bent a metal bar as easily as snapping a twig, when he fell from a second-story window and got back up without a scratch.
The only one who never hesitated to train with him—running three mornings a week, spending at least an hour on the other days in the Preventers' gym, where they inevitably ended up sparring on the tatami in the center of the room. Because Heero needed to burn off all that pent-up energy—energy mixed with frustration that he couldn’t control, couldn’t contain. And Duo was more than capable of keeping up.
Just like at work, Heero struggled to find balance in his personal life. He tolerated Wufei’s company, enjoyed seeing Relena from time to time, and appreciated Quatre and Trowa’s presence when they visited Earth. But aside from Duo, no one ever truly got past his walls.
Forming new bonds was too complicated—too dangerous to a mind still bound by old training. Even reaching that level of camaraderie with Duo had been a battle. A slow, painful process that had started during the war—one Duo had thrown himself into with everything he had. Without him, Heero probably never would have lowered his defenses. But Duo had done it. With time, with persistence, he had earned Heero’s deep respect, his absolute trust, and—above all—his genuine friendship. For years, Duo had been his best friend. Especially during that year in Brussels with the Preventers.
No.
Duo had been more than that. He had been Heero’s entire world—at work, in private, on vacations, on nights that would have otherwise been empty and silent. Duo had been there when they blew up a secret mobile suit factory. When they saved the Minister of Economy from an attempted kidnapping. When they struggled to make their furnished apartments feel like home. He had been at his side when they tried—and mostly failed—to cook anything more complicated than a fried egg. When they sat at school through courses on subjects they already knew inside and out.
Together, they had earned their diplomas in just a year—a piece of paper that only confirmed what they had already mastered. Heero was a computer genius. Duo, a mechanical engineer unlike any other. That document was supposed to make them feel like they belonged in the real world.
But for Heero, it only made things harder. He still felt like he was fighting himself—for something he wasn’t sure he even wanted. Something he didn’t know what to do with. The soldier inside him—the one that still lurked beneath the surface—kept telling him to let go. To abandon all these pointless things. These distractions. These weaknesses. These things that made him human.
The more time passed, the more restless Heero became. He didn’t know how to live a normal life. So he hid behind Duo—used him as a shield, as a buffer between himself and a world he neither understood nor wanted. And the more time passed, the deeper his feelings for him grew. Too deep. Too conflicting for him to make sense of.
He cared about Duo. Deeply. He was his best friend. But at the same time, he felt like he was using him—clinging to him, keeping him too close, tying him to a life that wasn’t really his. A life where even Duo seemed unable to break free and live something… normal.
And deep down, the soldier in him—the part of his mind still shaped by years of conditioning—told him to resent it. To see Duo as a weakness, as a liability, a constant risk. Because with every mission, the objective became less about what Une had assigned them—and more about keeping Duo safe. Making sure nothing happened to him and he always came home.
He wanted Duo by his side so badly it kept him up at night. And at the same time—he didn’t want him at all. He wanted to push him away. To keep his distance. To get him out of his head.
And yet, he wanted to protect him. To keep him hidden away. To have him to himself. To be protected by him. To be shielded from a world he couldn’t fit into. And then—he wanted him gone. To leave him alone. To stop worrying about him. To go live his own life, free, unburdened. Instead of dragging Heero to another pointless sports match, he should’ve been out there—finding his own path, his own place in the world where he could be happy.
It was impossible to sort through his emotions. Impossible to name what he felt. Because no one had ever taught him how to listen to his own feelings. Only how to control them. Suppress them. Ignore them. But to listen? To understand them? To let them guide him? That was incomprehensible and infuriating beyond words.
The frustration had only built—feeding off the war inside him, off the job he hated but needed—until it finally broke him. Until he became unstable, confused, fractured.
"Duo was already doing too much for me," Heero muttered, his gaze drifting forward again. The tourist boat was now just a distant speck on the water, carrying away its cargo of memories. "But I had become… too… too unstable."
Wufei came to an abrupt stop, turning toward him with a deep scowl.
"Damn it, Heero! You disappeared in the middle of a mission. Do you even remember that? Do you remember how it happened?"
Heero leaned back against the metal railing overlooking the canal.
"Of course I remember… of course I do."
"You made everyone think you were dead!"
"I… I didn’t mean to…" he whispered, shaking his head.
Then, his gaze locked onto the pub across the street. At one of the outdoor tables, Duo sat, laughing—gesturing animatedly with one hand, a pale yellow cocktail in the other. And sitting right next to him—himself. A bottle of dark beer in front of him, a faint smile on his lips. Listening, completely absorbed, in whatever nonsense Duo was saying.
He wanted to hold onto that memory—keep it vivid before his eyes just a little longer. But in the blink of an eye, Duo was gone again, and the chair at the pub was once more inexorably empty. Heero lowered his gaze, shaking his head as other memories crowded in, relentless.
No, he had never meant for them to think he was dead.
The thought pulled him back—five and a half years back—to the shadowed corridors of a decrepit building on the outskirts of Brussels. For weeks, suspicious movements had been reported there. Trucks and unmarked cars coming and going, their patterns captured by the Preventers’ satellites. A surge of activity that had started suddenly—only to stop just as abruptly four days later.
Heero and Duo had been sent to investigate. They infiltrated the abandoned structure as dusk settled over the city, moving like ghosts through its darkened halls. They had encountered no resistance. No guards. Not a single soul to stand in their way.
They pressed forward effortlessly, weaving through the ruins until they reached what had once been the administrative offices—or what little remained of them.
For the first time on a mission, they weren’t fully focused. Both were distracted. Their carefully honed synchronicity—years in the making—was fractured, dulled by the events of the last few days, leaving them confused, hesitant—Even reckless.
They realized too late that the place was rigged to blow. Heero spotted the first bomb and shouted. "Run!"
He shoved Duo toward the door, just as the first explosion detonated somewhere deep in the building, rattling walls and shattering glass. The second hit closer, right in the offices, throwing them both to the ground, despite the distance they had managed to put between themselves and the blast.
Above them, the ceiling trembled. Chunks of plaster and concrete rained down like a grim warning of what awaited them if they didn’t move. So they ran. A race against time. A race against the blasts, each louder, closer, deadlier. The building was seconds from collapsing like a house of cards.
Then came the sixth explosion and the floor between them vanished. Heero plummeted into the darkness, hitting the basement level hard as Duo’s voice tore through the dust-clogged air, shouting his name.
Heero looked up just in time to see debris crashing down—missing Duo by inches. "Go!" he shouted. "Don’t worry about me!"
And he wasn’t lying. The collapse had exposed an underground parking garage and ten meters away, the exit stood wide open. He screamed at Duo again, told him to get out because he had a way out.
Then he moved, got back on his feet, bolted toward the door. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, and sprinted through the exit just as the building above threatened to cave in. He sprinted up the ramp, rounded the corner, racing for the entrance they had slipped through barely half an hour earlier just as another bomb went off. This one right there. At ground level.
Heero saw Duo break past the threshold just as the shockwave hit him full force. He watched as Duo's body was hurled forward, slamming into the ground, rolling through the dust—limbs slack, helpless against the momentum—until he finally came to a stop.
Heero’s heart skipped a beat, his chest tightening along with his lungs until breathing became impossible. He rushed to his unconscious friend, ignoring the deafening roar of destruction behind him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Duo by the collar of his jacket, lifting him—first to a sitting position, then to his feet—until he could haul him over his shoulder. As he hurried away, massive chunks of concrete and twisted metal rained down around them, shrouding them in dust and debris.
Fifty meters from the collapsing building, another explosion detonated. Heero’s instincts took over—he dropped to the ground, shielding Duo’s body with his own as he covered his head with his hands. The blast wave crashed over them, yet somehow, they remained unscathed despite the rubble cascading around them.
For a long moment, Heero didn’t move, bracing for another explosion. His eardrums throbbed from the deafening noise, a piercing ring echoing in his skull. When it became clear the destruction had ceased, he slowly lifted his head, his eyes falling on Duo under the dim, flickering glow of a streetlamp nearby.
Duo was still unconscious, but his heartbeat was strong, his breathing steady. He had only been stunned by the blast.
And for a moment—a moment that stretched into eternity—Heero just stared at him, frustration boiling over inside him. The past few days had thrown him into absolute turmoil, exposing just how unstable, socially inept, and emotionally paralyzed he was. He had no idea who he was, what he was capable of, or what he even wanted. And the one suffering the most for his shortcomings was, inevitably, Duo.
The dark bruise on Duo’s left cheekbone was only the surface wound—just the tip of the iceberg, hiding a deeper, far more dangerous reality beneath.
Heero’s heart pounded, his breathing grew ragged. Panic clawed at his chest. He was spiraling—losing control, suffocating under the crushing certainty that he was hurting the only person who had ever truly been his friend.
And in that moment, he made a decision. No more pretending things would get better. No more hoping for a future he wasn’t capable of having. He was too lost, too broken to ever live a normal life.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead firmly against Duo’s in a final, silent goodbye. Then he stood, turned, and ran—disappearing into the night just moments before police cars appeared on the horizon, their lights flashing, sirens screaming.
As he fled from a life that had never felt like his, it never occurred to him that he was staging his own death. But hours later, back in his apartment, he saw the news report: Preventer Special Agent missing, presumed dead in the building collapse.
And he took his chance. With only a handful of belongings, he left the city behind.
“It wasn’t planned, Wufei. I swear,” Heero said, his gaze still fixed on the ground.
Wufei folded his arms across his chest. “But you didn’t deny it, either.”
“No,” Heero admitted, shaking his head. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be… normal enough. Sane enough. Capable of coming back. I thought letting everyone believe I was dead would be the best thing.”
“For who? For us, or for you?!”
“For Duo.”
Wufei fell silent, his expression hardening, old resentment flashing in his eyes. “He thought he lost you on a mission, Heero. How the hell could you think that was better for him?”
“You’re not listening,” Heero said, finally meeting his gaze. “I’m not exaggerating when I say I wasn’t in my right mind. I couldn’t tell right from wrong anymore—I was completely lost.”
“Fine,” Wufei said with a sharp nod. “Then let me tell you what you were too blind to see. We were all shaken, but Duo—he was destroyed. The last time he saw you, you were in the basement of a collapsing building. And he left. He turned his back and ran because you told him you had a way out. I was with him when he woke up. Two Preventers and three police cars had arrived at the explosion site, and we found Duo unconscious on the ground. When he came to and didn’t see you—when he realized you were nowhere to be found—he knew. You had to be trapped in that basement. And it shattered him. Because he had left. He had saved himself without even trying to help you.”
“I—I didn’t want him to feel guilty…”
“There’s a lot you didn’t want, Heero,” Wufei cut in sharply. “But that doesn’t change what happened. Duo was in shock for days. It would have taken months to dig through that wreckage to reach the basement. Without a body, we couldn’t declare you dead—so you were listed as missing. But Duo… he knew the truth. In his mind, there was no other explanation. You were buried under that rubble. And little by little, in silence, without telling anyone, he fell apart.”
Wufei’s voice grew distant, his mind trapped in a memory that still burned like an open wound. He remembered their last mission together, two months after Heero’s supposed death. That day had left a scar he would never forget.
He and Duo had been caught under enemy fire, taking cover behind a car.
“Go. I’ll cover you,” Duo had told him.
They were only twenty steps from a building that would offer better protection. Wufei had nodded and sprinted as Duo opened fire, forcing the guards of the illegal mobile suit factory to retreat. But as soon as Wufei reached the building, more gunfire erupted—he realized their enemies weren’t all clustered in one place as they had assumed.
Then he turned back—and what he saw made his blood run cold. Duo wasn’t moving. He was standing there, completely exposed. Not even trying to take cover.
Wufei yelled his name, but Duo didn’t react. He just stood there, frozen in place. And in that moment, it hit him. Duo wasn’t paralyzed by fear. He was waiting for it. Waiting for the bullet that would finally put an end to the pain that was slowly killing him.
Under enemy fire, Wufei didn’t hesitate—he went back, sprinting toward Duo and tackling him to the ground, dragging them both back behind the car again.
Duo let out a raw, frustrated cry—and then, before Wufei could react, he raised his gun to his temple.
Wufei lunged, grabbing his wrist and yanking it away an instant before he could pull the trigger. “You idiot!” he roared, ripping the gun from Duo’s hands and turning back to fire at the approaching guards.
But even as he fought, the image burned into his mind—Duo collapsing forward onto his knees, his bloodied hands clutching his face, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs.
Terror knotted in Wufei’s throat. They were under attack, outnumbered, and Duo was completely out of it—useless in a fight, but still armed. Wufei had no doubt that if Duo got the chance, he would try again to kill himself. And this time, Wufei wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Reinforcements arrived just as Wufei fired his last bullet. Preventers swarmed in, taking down the remaining guards. Wufei let himself slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through his hair before reaching out, resting it on Duo’s back. His whole body was trembling, shoulders shaking violently with each ragged sob.
“Damn it, Maxwell…” Wufei muttered, looking up as Quatre and Trowa ran toward them.
Quatre dropped to his knees beside Duo, gently prying his hands away from his face. The bullet hadn’t gone through his skull, but it had left a deep, bloody gash just below his hairline.
“What the hell happened?” Trowa asked.
Wufei opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just motioned toward Duo with a heavy, exhausted wave of his arm.
And then, in silence, they listened.
Through violent sobs, Duo kept repeating the same agonized words—again and again. He had left him, abandoned him. He had let him die without even trying to save him. No one needed to ask who he meant.
“He tried to shoot himself during a mission,” Wufei said, his voice flat, detached.
Heero’s face drained of color. He swallowed hard. “He… he pulled the trigger?” His voice was barely there, shaking.
“Oh, he absolutely did,” Wufei snapped, his teeth clenched, eyes blazing. “I yanked his hand away at the last second. The bullet just grazed his forehead. And then he collapsed—left me to handle the whole damn fight alone.” His voice was edged with fury, resentment boiling over.
“You’re angry with him.”
Wufei’s arms fell to his sides. “Of course I am!” he shouted. “That day, we got lucky. Reinforcements showed up just before I ran out of ammo. But he never should’ve been there in the first place! He shouldn’t have been on the field at all! He should’ve said he wasn’t fit to fight, but instead, he let himself spiral so far down that he couldn’t even see what he was doing. Couldn’t see the risks. Not just for himself, but for everyone else.”
Then his gaze snapped to Heero. And his fury burned even hotter. “And I’m furious with you. Because you ran like a coward. He was your best friend. And you didn’t even send a single damn message.”
Heero looked away again. He already knew he had been wrong. At the time, maybe he hadn’t realized it—but now, there was no denying it. He had admitted as much to Wufei already; there was no point in saying it again.
Instead, he said, “There’s nothing in his file about a suicide attempt.”
“Of course not,” Wufei snapped, unsurprised that Heero had access to their classified records. “Putting that on paper would’ve ended his career, and I couldn’t do that to him. Maybe I still believed he’d pull through. I did tell Une, unofficially. She had him hospitalized for recovery. But what they didn’t write in his file was that it was a psychiatric ward.”
Heero frowned. He had read about Duo’s hospital stay. “He wasn’t there for long…”
“Four months,” Wufei confirmed, starting to walk again. Heero followed, falling into step beside him. “But it didn’t help,” Wufei continued. “He refused to engage in therapy. Spent his days sitting under a tree in the hospital garden—when he wasn’t drugged senseless.”
“Then why was he discharged?”
Wufei let out a quiet sigh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Because that was when we finally cleared out the basement of the building we thought had buried you. And there was nothing. No trace of you at all.”
He remembered that day well—walking into the hospital, not knowing if what he had to say was good news or bad. The nurse had told him where to find Duo. So Wufei had stepped out into the warm, late-spring sunlight, heading toward the same damn tree where Duo always sat alone.
“Hey,” he greeted, lowering himself onto the grass in front of him.
Duo barely moved. Chin resting on his knees, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, face half-hidden. His eyes were vacant—empty except for the raw grief that had consumed him ever since Heero was presumed dead.
Wufei hesitated, unsure how to begin. But dragging it out would only make it worse. “They finished searching the basement,” he said at last. Duo said nothing, but his gaze sharpened. Wufei was sure he had stopped breathing. “They didn’t find anything.”
“H-How?” Duo’s voice cracked, hoarse from months of silence. He hadn’t spoken—to his friends, to his doctors, to anyone.
“Because he wasn’t there.” Wufei’s voice was steady. “Heero wasn’t in the building when it collapsed.”
Duo’s head lifted slightly. His whole body trembled.
“I went to his Preventer apartment,” Wufei continued. No one had thought to check where Heero lived—back then, it had seemed pointless. “His badge was there. His uniform—covered in dust and debris. His closet—half-empty. His bank account—drained months ago.”
Duo didn’t respond. He just stared.
So Wufei said what he knew Duo was realizing. “He’s not dead. He just left.”
Duo didn’t break down. He didn’t lash out. Instead, he did something Wufei never expected.
He let go.
His arms loosened. His legs uncurled. He leaned back against the tree, face tilting upward. And as the sunlight filtered through the leaves, he closed his eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across his lips. And then—after nearly six months—he exhaled.
A long, deep sigh. Like he was finally releasing something that had been crushing him. Like, for the first time in months, he could breathe again.
“I thought he’d be furious with you,” Wufei said as they walked along the Brussels canal. “Like I was. When I told him you’d been a complete idiot, he just shook his head, stopped smiling, and told me not to be mad at you. Said it was his fault you left, not yours.”
Wufei halted, turning to face Heero.
“I know you two fought that morning—the day of that last mission. I remember how you went at each other on the tatami. How you fought. That wasn’t just training. It wasn’t like usual.” His voice dropped slightly. “Because normally, I know you can control yourself.”
Heero didn’t answer. Didn’t meet his gaze. His jaw tightened as another tourist boat glided by, though he barely saw it.
That day, he had been a mess.
Since New Year’s Eve—just four days earlier—he hadn’t been able to get a grip. Everything had been too much. Too intense, too conflicting. And he hadn't known how to deal with it.
"You sure everything’s okay?" Duo asked as they got ready to spar.
Heero gave a sharp nod. But after just a few blows, it was obvious—he was not okay. He tried to control himself because he didn’t want to hurt Duo. But something inside him wanted to strike. To hit and to hit hard.
And then the soldier in him took over.
One brutal punch—straight to the face. So hard that Duo spun in place. He didn’t fall, though.
Without even thinking, Heero surged forward to finish it. His friend was off-balance, and Heero swept his legs out from under him with a kick. Then, he slammed a palm against Duo’s chest—too hard—driving him into the floor.
The impact echoed through the gym.
Suddenly, Heero snapped back to reality. They were off the tatami, and Duo had hit the wooden floor. His head had slammed against the ground with such force that it knocked him out.
"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Wufei shouted, dropping beside Duo.
Duo came to almost instantly but sat there, dazed, swaying. Wufei had to help him up.
Heero stood frozen—his breath ragged, eyes wide, fists clenched and trembling. He had wanted to hurt Duo. He hadn’t been able to stop. And he had no idea why.
Duo slowly lifted his gaze, a small, lopsided smile appearing on his lips. "Guess everything’s not okay after all…" he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady. "Sorry, Heero. I’m so sorry."
Wufei’s voice dragged Heero back to the present. “You nearly cracked his skull and his spine,” he said, his tone edged with disbelief. “And he was the one apologizing to you.”
Heero forced himself to focus on the now, yet the nausea lingered. He had hurt Duo—truly, deliberately. Worse, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. And in the end, it was Duo who had apologized.
Did Wufei even realize how insane that was? How far gone Heero had been? How dangerous he was?
“What happened between you two to put you in that state?” Wufei pressed.
Heero finally glanced at him but didn’t respond. “I had to leave,” He simply repeated. “So that’s why he was discharged? Because he found out I wasn’t dead?”
Wufei didn’t respond right away. It annoyed him how Heero never explained anything. Holding back a sigh, he resumed walking, fully aware that his former colleague would only share as much as he wanted to.
"Yes. Once he started talking again, acting somewhat normal, the doctors released him. But what happened changed him. He became distant, withdrawn. Quatre said he was just a shadow of his former self. But at least he wasn’t drowning in that suffocating, suicidal depression anymore. When he returned to the office and saw that we’d started searching for you, he refused to take part. He was convinced we’d never find you unless you wanted to be found.
"I don’t know why he stuck around for another couple of months. Maybe he wasn’t sure what he wanted yet. Maybe, deep down, he was still hoping we’d find you. I can’t say…" Wufei shook his head slightly. "All I know is that one day, without warning, he quit. Resigned from Preventer and disappeared." He shot Heero a knowing look. “But you know where he went.”
Heero nodded. “L2. To Hilde.”
“If you knew he went there after leaving Preventer, why didn’t you go straight to Hilde? Why come here?”
“I did go to L2,” Heero admitted, his brow furrowing.
Wufei turned to him, a smirk forming on his lips. “She kicked your ass, didn’t she?”
Heero’s scowl deepened, and Wufei burst into laughter.
Metaphorically speaking, Hilde had kicked his ass.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” she had said, arms crossed, as she studied him in the scrapyard’s open lot.
For a moment, she had hesitated, uncertain. The man standing before her looked older, different, but there was something about him—something unmistakable. And the closer he got, the more certain she became. Those eyes. That impossible, intense blue. Heero.
“Hello, Hilde.”
“Spare me the pleasantries. He’s not here.”
Heero glanced around the yard, scanning every corner.
“Don’t bother looking,” she snapped. “I told you—he’s not here. He left years ago. Three and a half, to be exact.”
“Where?”
Hilde’s expression hardened. A flicker of pain crossed her face before she masked it with anger.
“I have no idea.” Her voice was sharp, unforgiving. “He didn’t tell me. And I sure as hell didn’t ask.”
“I need to talk to him,” Heero murmured, lowering his gaze slightly.
Hilde let out a bitter laugh. “Now? After all these years? After vanishing without a single word?” Her voice rose with fury. “And why the hell should I help you? You were a goddamn curse to him! A disaster—from the very beginning! Since the war!” Her face flushed red with anger. “I never understood why he insisted on being your friend. Why he kept giving when he got so little in return! We were fine after the war! We were building something here! And all it took was one stupid message from you for him to drop everything and run off to Earth.
“He didn’t want to fight anymore, but the second you asked, he joined Preventer. Just to get to Brussels. Just to be near you.” She clenched her fists. “And how did you repay him, huh?” Her voice shook. “You vanished. You left him. Some friendship!”
Heero held her gaze, steady. “That’s why I’m looking for him now.”
Hilde let out a sharp breath, her frustration boiling over. “As always! Only when you want to! Only when you decide!”
“I had my reasons,” Heero shot back, his tone flat. He didn’t need Hilde’s accusations to know he had made mistakes. And he certainly didn’t owe her an explanation about what had happened in his life—or in his mind.
“Oh, Heero Yuy always has his reasons! But you know what? That doesn’t work on me! I don’t give a damn who you are or what you did during the war! I don’t look at you with some kind of blind admiration! Duo was my friend. I cared about him more than you could ever imagine. He was an amazing person. And you broke him.”
“I would have hurt him even more if I had stayed.”
“More than this!?” Hilde’s voice rose in disbelief. “Do you even know what kind of childhood Duo had? It was horrific! And yet, somehow, he grew up to be this bright, hopeful, strong person. But when he came back to L2 after you disappeared, he was just… a shell of who he used to be. He showed up here looking like a kicked dog, asking if he could have his old job back—just for a while, just until he got back on his feet. And me? I would have done anything for him. I loved him. I thought if I just stayed by his side, I could help. That maybe, maybe I could bring him back. But nothing was ever enough. That sadness in his eyes? It never really went away. And worse, he became distant. Duo—who never thought twice about hugging someone—flinched whenever I got too close.”
“Hilde…” Heero tried, his voice quieter now. “I need to find him.”
But she wasn’t letting it go. “I knew he saw me as a friend—maybe even a sister. But I was stupid. I kept hoping. I believed that if he just gave me a chance, we could be happy. It took a year. But in the end, he let me in.”
“You dated?” Heero asked, the surprise and irritation in his voice so obvious that Hilde stopped short, staring at him for a long moment. Her gaze was intense, piercing, until Heero found himself looking away. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably calmer. Slower. “We were together for almost a year. It was a disaster. Maybe, for a while, he even thought it could work. But the truth was, he didn’t have the strength to try. He was kind. Considerate. He always was. But he couldn’t fake a passion that wasn’t there. Or an interest he didn’t feel. The last night we spent together, I told him I loved him.” Her voice wavered slightly. “He closed his eyes. And he said, ‘I miss you.’”
Heero’s brows furrowed.
Hilde gave a small, trembling smile. “He wasn’t talking to me, Heero. He wasn’t thinking about me when we were together.” She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “In two years, we took a few pictures together. But none of them ever replaced that one. The picture of you two that he kept in his wallet. He never could let you go. So tell me, Heero—are you really sure you want to find him now?”
A lump formed in Heero’s throat. His chest felt impossibly tight.
Slowly, he swallowed, then gave a small nod. “…I miss him too.”