I Love You
by Sarah McLachlan

**I have a smile stretched from ear to ear to see you walking down the road
**We meet at the lights I stare for a while the world around disappears

"Duo, 7 o'clock.  Pink Leftovers."

 . . . . .

This is Heero."

Duo chuckled even as he screened rapidly through the half dozen or so other messages on the 
machine before heading for the shower.  Heero could be so well, cute at times, rattling off a time
 and location with nary a greeting than needing to identify himself at the end of the call.

It was . . . quirky.

Without needing to look at the large, imposing clock Heero had insistently bought a few months
 ago, the boy knew he was late already.  Racing for the bathroom, shedding clothes willy nilly, the
 boy nevertheless paused in front of the clock and snapped off a quick salute.  Heero, after having 
issued three warnings complete with dire consequences if Duo was late once more, decided to follow
 up on one of those consequences.  Mainly, if Duo refused to buy a clock, the Japanese boy would buy 
one for him and the long haired teen would have to use it.  After the fourth time, Duo had woken up
 early one Saturday morning to the shock of Heero in his living room, grimly installing a grotesque 
mix of brass, steel, and wood that some wanna be artist had passed off as sculpture.  

It had a large clock in the centre though, which was Heero's primary objective.  The sculpture itself was
 in the shape of a large hideous, snarling gargoyle with several cute baby chicks on top of its head while
 a nest filled with even more fluffy chicks rested cradled in its arms.  When Duo had chokingly asked 
what the other boy was thinking in buying that... thing, Heero replied in that calm, low voice, "It had the
 loudest alarm and the loudest face."  When he collapsed laughing, helplessly pointing at the baby 
chicks, the short haired boy simply stared at Duo for a while, eyes gleaming slightly in the morning
 light, before stating, "I like it."

Immediately, he had jumped up from the floor and gave the other boy a hug, ignoring the long pause
 before Heero hesitantly returned the embrace.  Duo had whispered, "Thank you."

Typically, Heero hadn't responded, at least not verbally.  Instead, giving a last final squeeze - Duo 
recalled the distinct crack, pop, and snap sounds his spine and ribs had made before Heero had let go 
- he had headed towards the door.  "Let's go."

"Eh?  Where?"

"You're buying breakfast."

"What?!  Kora, Heero!  When did I say I would??  Oi, matte!"

"Hurry up and get dressed.  I'm hungry."

"Heero!"

Duo quirked a smile as he ran for the door, snagging a light jacket and his keys on the way out.  Heero would be
 waiting for him.

**Just you and me on this island of hope. A breath between us could be miles
**Let me surround you my sea to your shore let me be the calm you seek

In the absence of war and missions, there was a vacuum.  Strange, but the events which he and his 
fellow pilots had worked for, shed countless tears and blood for, instead of leaving a sense of accomplishment,
 a sense of fulfillment - they left an emptiness.

Ninmu kanryou.

Those words didn't give him the thrill - no, thrill was the wrong word.  The near sense of being content,
 of being worth something - that phrase no longer had the same mantra like power over him.  They were
 just words after all.

There was nothing.

She couldn't understand.  

For her, peace had been accomplished.  Before her was a vision of the future she would help mold, 
that she would help create.  For her, there was a future.

She couldn't understand.

He did not have the same vision as she did.  The soldier and assassin he had been would not be shunted 
to the corners, much less banished, from his soul.  They were a piece of him.  They would not magically
 melt away to reveal the kind and noble young man she thought him to be, years ago on the shores of Earth.

For all her maturity and growth, she was a young girl with a young girl's dreams.  For all her assumptions 
about him, she knew nothing.  Yes, Dr. J told her that he had once been a kind, normal boy.  Wouldn't
 she be surprised to know that he had also been an absolute brat?

He could not live up to her ideals; he did not want to.  He had enough of being a perfect anything.  He 
had not been cruel when he told her, only matter of fact and brief, his perfunctory and detached tone 
gathering more of her understanding than his threats ever had.

I understand, she had replied, hand trembling slightly but face as perfectly composed as his own, but
 she hadn't really.  How could she?  She thought him slightly mad, throwing away a chance to be by her 
side and losing the chance to help change the world to a pacifist's vision.  How could she have known that
 accepting that role, that cast, would have been another false visage for him.  She was perfectly content, 
or perhaps willing, to live and to flourish within the intrigues and intricate web which having so much power
 would have.  While willing to sacrifice his life at several points during the war for peace, it was perhaps a 
paradox - but he was unwilling to sacrifice the rest of his life for the sake of peace.  He had his freedom from 
the role of soldier, not knowing what to do with that freedom but unwilling to part with it.

But at least she had released him from whatever bond she perceived the two of them to have. 

Perhaps she had understood though.  Turning away to walk out of her office, furnished richly with antiques
 and the weight of ages, he had caught a glimpse of wistfulness in those pale blue eyes.  Then the body
 guards had politely escorted him out of the way, a score more guarding the doors, three more within the 
office, discreetly blending into the decor of the room, as much a part of the title of Peacecraft as was the 
power the name wielded.

Then, finally, there was freedom, a dizzying almost nauseating feeling of freedom.  The world was so full of
 possibilites, endless.  Every choice he made, he would have to live with.

It was his life.

And the first decision he made was to locate his partner, not the cold metal of Wing that lay tarnished and
 crumbled in some salvage yard.  This partner was alive and forever laughing.  He would be warm and
 bright in his arms, or so he had dreamed.

And seeing the American that last time, the first time after settling things between himself and Relena, 
Heero had known.  The first choice he had made was a good one, quite possibly the best one he had
 ever made so far - but he had the rest of his life to find out.

A voice from the past had once told him to follow his emotions.  For the first time, breathing in the almost
 tangible energy and life Duo exuded as the boy hugged him in enthusiasm, Heero truly realized what that meant. 

So he closed his eyes and followed Duo's lead.