Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Broken People ❯ A Reunion, of Sorts ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter IV—A Reunion of Sorts

Heero POV

April, A.C 197

I did not like Europe.

It was expensive, rude and crowded. I'd been stepped on so many times I'd lost count. I'd be hit, jostled, and pushed to the ground. Not used to cars traveling on the opposite side of the road, I'd be winged by mirrors, honked at and flipped off. I'd pick-pocketed out of shear necessity only to find I'd stolen my own wallet back. I never did find my gun.

Oh yeah, I'd only been there a friggin' day.

I'd been taught enough history to know that once, most of the countries in Europe were first world. The ancient buildings composing the city certainly had some impressive architecture and history behind them. That alone almost made up for everything else the countries, or at least Rome, lacked now.

But not quite.

Still, the streets were abuzz with activity and out of habit I found my self scanning the crowd; looking for any suspicious movements or people, which let me tell you, is an frustrating task in a place that seems to attract the lowlifes. Yet if I'd allowed myself to try, it's not easy to stop old habits; even after so many months of monotonous inaction. Thankfully, a signed declaration of the war being over did not overrule my training and for once my repetitive, anal behavior paid off. I'm almost ashamed to admit my heart skipped a beat or two with excitement when I spotted someone who was, as Duo would say `on the prowl'; like a complete novice with a hood pulled low down over his face, firearm bulging at his hip and not disguising the fact that he was heading straight towards me.

I reacted instinctively; either he was a complete amateur or he was under the belief that he had no need to fear me, either way I wasn't going to be lured into making the mistake of underestimating him. I darted across the street into a quiet alley which led off to a group of flats. At this point, I reasoned, he'd had a clear view of me. That meant if he was following me it would be easier to try and gain an advantage and meet him face to face, rather then try to melt into the crowd and lose him. I could still feel my heart pounding against my ribs excitedly—I was really enjoying this! This was normal! Finally, something which resembled my old life!

…Even though the person, who ever he was, wouldn't have a hope.in.hell against me.

That said I really didn't like what I saw as I surveyed my surroundings but finally settled for scaling up an old fire ladder that was still clinging precariously to the wall; the height and element of surprise the only advantage I could gain in such a short period of time. As much as I didn't think (or hope) I'd need it, I found myself fervently wishing for my gun. Quatre had given me a first-class present when he gave me that gun; he'd obviously chosen it specifically with me in mind. Compact, semi-automatic pistol complete with silencer and custom trigger identical to what I'd had made for my preceding gun... I wouldn't say it was love at first sight, but… pretty close. The way it melded into my hand; the perfect shape for my palm, light enough to wield accurately and weighted perfectly.

I missed that gun.

For several minutes I saw nothing out of the ordinary, and the nagging doubt started to set in. Was I really overreacting again? I shifted awkwardly on my perch as the frail, rusty bars started to bend in protest under my weight. My skills are good, I do not deny that, but it is perfectly logical to assume that after four months of expecting something and getting nothing that my mind would conjure up false threats.

Just as I was about to leap back down to the ground, that familiar gait jumped out at me again. A smirk crept on to my face; I mean, this is what kept me alive all these years. I shouldn't doubt my instincts even if they do flare up at the wrong time on occasion. I sighted him for a few fleeting moments, long enough to positively confirm he was following me—

--And then he vanished again. The smirk disappeared, my eyes darted around in alarm, but I could no longer pick him out of the crowd. Warning bells should have been sounding at the pure impossibility of it--

--And that was when the absolute unthinkable happened. He pulled one over on me! One minute I'm glancing to the entrance of the alley, the next the sun blacks out overhead; a shadow covers over me, and I glanced up just in time to see what could only be him jumping off a clothes line, two stories above me. I released my grip on ladder rung I had been clinging to, to avoid being hit, and dove into an awkward sideways roll to absorb some of the impact of the fall. When I sprung up, I found myself facing none other then… Trowa?

He regarded me with minor bemusement for several seconds before speaking. “You're getting sloppy.”

“That's entirely dependent on your definition of sloppy. From where I stand, you're not doing too well yourself,” I scowled. Normally Trowa and I get along just fine. But I do not like having someone surprise me after all that, and he'd done it to me on more then one occasion. “I did spot you after all, and you were so intent on hiding yourself that you stood out even more.”

“Heh, I thought you'd like that. If that's your attitude, I just won't tell you how long I was following you for…” he trailed off with a smirk.

My scowl deepened.

“If it's any consolation, you look better then the last time I saw you,” He continued on wryly, ignoring my look. “What bring you to Rome?”

“Do you really want to ask me that? Because then it gives me grounds to ask the same thing,” I countered snappily, still feeling irritated by his previous comment. I eyed him up suspiciously. “I thought you were back with the circus.”

I must have hit a nerve, because Trowa's face reacted with the slightest flinch before he swallowed and simply replied, “I am.”

“Oh?”

“Don't.”

I studied him briefly but he didn't say anymore—as if I should have expected anything different from Trowa. We were the masters of one word conversations, and had really perfected the art after doing it for an impressive three days straight to piss off Duo when we were all staying in the same safe house. If Duo's going to complain about how we talk, we were intent on showing him how little we can actually say to get by.

Or rather, not say.

I relaxed my stance and sprang back up the ladder to retrieve my backpack and jacket from the window ledge. “I need to get myself another gun.” I lamented as I rejoined him on the ground.

“I'm glad you didn't have one now.” Trowa replied, visibly relaxing. “That'd be the second time since the war's ended that I'd have a fuckin' gun to my head.” He ended with a smirk, as if letting me know that fat chance would I have actually managed to get a gun to his head. He was really getting too cocky.

I rolled my eyes slightly, but chose not to retort to that. “Oh?”

“…Quatre.” He replied after a moment's hesitation. That sparked my interest on a couple levels. The first being Quatre, of all people managing in the one thing I'd always failed—pulling one over on Trowa. Like I said earlier, Quatre's full of surprises.

“You've seen Quatre?” I asked coolly, heaving my duffel bag over my shoulder. I noticed, with disdain, that I'd managed to scrap my shoulder in the fall. Clearly I am getting sloppy; it was a child's stunt--barely a four storey drop and I had still managed to draw blood. “I thought Quatre would have returned to the colonies by now, like Duo.”

Crap. I let that one slip out. I wasn't supposed to know about the other pilots. Thankfully Trowa didn't seem to notice.

“Nope.” He replied shortly, turning his back to me and heading for the entrance of the alleyway.

Really, the more I mulled it over, the more interesting that little tidbit of information became. So Cat's chosen to remain in Saudi Arabia? That didn't make a whole lot of sense to me…his business is primarily in the colonies, his family, in fact he made it sound in his letter that I should go to the colonies with him, and that at the moment, was pretty much one of the last places I wanted to be.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked curiously as I caught up to him. “You weren't looking for me where you?”

“No, finding you was a purely a coincidence, don't worry,” he smirked at me.

“I find that had to believe. The chances of the two of us being in the same city at the same place and time are…astronomical.”

“Note the key word: `chance', which also happens to be one of the synonyms of `coincidence'.” Trowa retorted back without missing a beat. “Heero, the circus has a break every few months…that's all. No grand conspiracy, no one's following you; no one knows where you are. I'm on… vacation. You?”

On vacation? I couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at that comment but thankfully managed to restrain myself from laughing. He really could be a bad liar sometimes, especially when put on the spot. Or maybe he wasn't lying, but he definitely wasn't telling me the whole truth. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I'm sure that's what I said.”

“And what is with the attitude all of a sudden?” He asked with a fair amount of attitude of his own.

“You asked, I replied. If you didn't like my answer that's not my problem.” I shrugged.

“So you're implying we're nothing? Fucking hell Heero, you just take off and that's nothing?” Trowa whirled on me angrily almost spitting the word back in my face. His voice never raised but the tone was filled with ice; his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “How can you just leave and let us all worry, huh? You're running!”

I stopped in my tracks and regarded him intently. I admit I was a little taken aback; I can't recall any other time I've seen Trowa lose control. I managed to keep my voice sounding calm and level but that was about all because inside I was…confused!

“What do you want Trowa?” I stared him directly in the eyes, challenging him to give me a truthful answer. Trowa didn't care whether I disappeared or not, I wasn't that stupid. Something else was wrong.

“What happened to you Heero? You used to be strong! Why don't you just admit you're running?” Trowa continued, refusing to look me in the eye. His jaw trembled with the effort of keeping his voice down, not wanting to make a scene. “What the fuck are you hoping to find, Heero? Do you think if you look hard enough, you'll find another fucking mission? Another meaningless battle? Haven't you had enough?” He turned away from me, breathing heavily for several moments.

“The war is over Trowa. Looking back do you still believe our battles were all meaningless?”

“Is it over?” he whispered.

My true question remained unanswered, as did his. When he turned back to face me, his face was emotionless again—Trowa's characteristic mask was back in place. He stared at me from a moment and then with an exasperated sigh pushed past me and headed the opposite way down the street.

I debated about following him for several seconds and then with a frustrated sigh mimicking his I strolled after him, trailing him at a distance for several blocks until he resigned and stopped, leaning casually up against a wall.

“I didn't know you smoked.” I stated neutrally, accepting his unspoken offer to approach him once again. I leaned up beside him as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one up.

“I wasn't aware you did either,” he replied back, offering me his pack.

I conceded and took one from him gratefully. We stood in silence for many moments watching the throngs of people pass by, cars zipping down the road…I was waiting for him to speak up first but finally realized this was not Duo I was dealing with here; when he wanted, Trowa was just as talented at playing the silent game as I was. One of us was going to have to speak eventually, and if I didn't want to stand here all day it was going to have to be me.

For once.

“Maybe you're right,” I agreed reluctantly, attempting to play along. “If you want to put it that way, maybe I am running. But I'm not ready to stop just yet.”

“Why?”

I ran my fingers through my hair with an exasperated sigh. Did I respond to the literal question, or the underlying one. “I don't know. Because if I stop, I have to make a decision. Surely you realize that.” I was purposefully vague; hoping that he'd give me more to go on.

“How do you know if what you're doing is right?” Trowa whispered.

I glanced at him curiously while contemplating his question. I wasn't used to him being so discreet; Trowa was usually as blunt and to the point as I was, if not more so, so it was strange trying to play these theoretical word games with him. “You don't.” I replied simply with a shrug. “You act on your emotions--”

“Heero, some of us are capable of feeling more then one emotion at a time!”

“-- And simply hope it's the right one that you act on.” I finished heatedly, stressing out each word. “There's not a simple answer Trowa; especially if you're not going to tell me what's really going on.”

“Nothing. Nothing's going on.” He said quietly, looking down sadly at the ground.

I withheld from commenting on his word choice that had him jumping down my throat not five minutes ago, and again we elapsed into an uncomfortable silence while he mulled my answer over. I could see from his tense posture he wasn't happy with my reply but really, it was the best he was going to get from me right now without telling me what the hell was actually going on in his mind. I don't do mind games, I do facts. I pretended to ignore him until finally, he scuffed out his cigarette and turned, obviously intending on leaving. “Are you familiar with the Fontana di Trevi ?”

“Yes.”

“I'll see you tonight.”

I sighed as he disappeared, not moving for several minutes. It'd been things like this that made me want to get away for a while. When you get close to people, you have to care about their problems, and I had more then enough of my own to deal with right now. I couldn't make sense of what had happened, though even I could tell there was more to that conversation then the just the words spoken. For the first time in a long time I found myself wishing to talk to Quatre; he'd know exactly what was going on, and the `correct' way to fix it. But it was just me and Trowa and he was about as good as this whole `displaying your feelings' crap as I was. I know people think of me as this cold, heartless, impassive SOB and I willingly admit I come off that way. The ironic thing is all I've ever been able to do is follow my emotions.

Doesn't mean I want to talk about them though…

One thing I did know for certain. Trowa wasn't made at me for running. Like I said before, he didn't give a damn what I did with my life, s'long as I was okay. Pretty much my exact sentiments towards him. So I guess that meant he was the one running and that was a scary idea.

What on this earth could make Trowa run?

/End Chapter/