By Avarice

Email: rrburton@powerup.com.au

Rating: PG. Industrial strength angst to spare.

Pairing: 1x2

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai, Sunrise and all associated cool persons. I'm just borrowing a few people for creative, non profit purposes. Promise.

Distribution: Shibbalicious, FF.net. If anyone else just wants, email me.

Dedication: Happy birthday, Felicity! You are a top chick, and very special to me ^^

Notes: Lyrics used are from Sukiyaki. This song was originally released by Kyu Sakamoto in the 1960's. I am using the lyrics from a more recent english version by A Taste of Honey. Thanks to Vashie and Rin for looking over it, and especially Jess, who put aside her 2D boyslash concerns for a few moments to give me her sought after opinion. I promise you I'm finishing my Angel/Spike now. I swear.

//lyrics// *emphasis*

My desk takes up most of the little room I call my study. The only reason it's not a closet is because there are three beautiful bay windows so I can look outside. I don't know what the designer was thinking, but I like it. If I'm anywhere else, my loneliness is overwhelming. Here, it's not so bad.

I like the view. I often swivel my chair around and just stare through the glass, when I'm not actually outside.

It never takes my mind of him, but at least I can pretend I have something better to do for a while.

Of course we were lovers during the war. Barely more than children, already soldiers. There wasn't much comfort to be had, but we found it in each other's arms.

After all, how could I resist him... so so breathtaking.

I would weep at the sheer beauty of the memory, but I don't cry. Not any more.

For so long I thought I could win him back. It was a hope against all hopes... but I know now -- all too late it seems -- that I was kidding myself. When I looked into his eyes, heavily lidded from passion, midnight blue the darkness of our room I thought-

I thought he felt the same way.

He's with her now, I know. I saw how much attention she paid him during the war. Who wouldn't want to be looked at like that?

Like they were the most important being to ever have existed.

He left with her after the last battle, and the Gundams were destroyed. It's not like I was left alone though, I had places to go, people to be with... I tried. I tried so hard to make it work. She loved me, I know she did.

But we were both acutely aware I wasn't happy, no matter what I said or did. Our split was hard, but amicable. I've never stopped caring for her. She's one of the only people I talk to nowadays.

She calls me from time to time and offers to buy me dinner. We eat out and talk. But I feel less and less there. A spirit, a wraith, a shell.

I don't speak of him, but I think she knows.

He used to kiss me like there was no tomorrow. It was fair enough. Sometimes we didn't know whether we would live to fight another day. The nights before a mission were particularly intense. We never spoke of fear. The only two outlets were anger or passion. By day it was anger, but by night...

My blood still hums.

I would trace my hands over the planes of his face, memorising each contour as he slept.

I would stay awake as long as I could, committing to memory exactly what it was like to fall asleep next to someone. How my sleep always seemed a little deeper, a little more fulfilling.

He always woke up before me and left. I hated it, but could never tell him. Too self-conscious. The instant he was gone, I felt it. I would roll into the dip he would leave and try to absorb the remnants of warmth.

My night's sleep is never easy any more. Sheets are dark and tangled. And cold. Always cold.

It was almost more than I could bear seeing him at any gathering. Quatre has always been the 'let's not lose touch' type. So I went, knowing I was in for pain. No stranger to that.

I wanted to talk to him so desperately, but found I had nothing to say. Nothing I could say without an accusing eye at the slender woman's hand wrapped around his elbow.

I wished he had gotten angry, at the very least. But I got something worse.

Pity.

It was not long after my break up. Everyone knew. Everyone was on eggshells. No one expected me to show up, and looked surprised and unprepared when I did. No one really minded my mood. I heard the whispers of 'it is understandable he would be upset, it was good of him to come anyway,'

I saw him for the first time in a year, and for my trouble, I got pity.

We talked a little, but my mind was too far away, even when he was sitting right next to me. I could only stare off into space. Just looking at him made me want want him.

We didn't speak all that much. It was just the act of being near each other. He said it was understandable I was upset. He told me if I ever needed anything, to contact him.

He told me I was still his friend, and then he turned around and kissed her.

He *really* didn't understand.

What cut most was the way it ended. In that it didn't really.

We just.. stopped. Towards the end of the war, our nights in each other's arms became fewer and far between. He took to sleeping in his own bed again.

I've never slept in the same room as someone and felt so far away.

It wasn't malicious. He didn't know. How could he when I couldn't bring myself to tell him?

I don't know why I invested so much hope, I should have known better.

After all, it wasn't exactly a normal, healthy relationship...

As if I'd ever had any to compare with...

The physicality dwindled to nothing. Making love became kissing, which became holding, which became an occasional touch, until it finally faded away entirely.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper...

I find it harder and harder to get out of bed in the mornings. When I do, I wander around my house, or take long, lonely walks outside. Sometimes I will just find myself staring at a wall, not knowing how long I've been standing in the one place.

It is a bitter pill to swallow when you know a war has been more fulfilling to your existence.

The emptiness gnaws at my insides a little more each day. It tears at the soul I didn't know I had until it started hurting like this.

I sit at my desk and open the second drawer down on the right. It is full of unsent letters, written with my own hand. There was just something about him that demanded more than typeface on a screen...

Angry, bitter, pleading, reminiscing. I put my heart into them. Maybe that's why I'm so devoid of emotion now. The best of me has been drained out, sealed with ink on paper.

It's just not enough; it's never enough.

Nothing ever is.

And in this precise instant, I know that I have to see him. No words on paper, no typing on a screen, no remembering conversations and I Have. To. See. Him.

Of its own volition, my hand punches a number on the black touchpad. The vidcom screen flickers to life. A black screen with neon green letters that spell 'calling' blink on and off while the modem dials. There is time...there is still time to hang up and he won't even know it was me.

I wait.

The black screen disappears. Static, then white noise, then him. He looks at me, surprised.

My lips move without noise for a moment before his name, wet with my heart's blood, is torn from my throat.

"Duo..."

I can't speak, it's been too long, and the soldier in me is unprepared for the assault to his senses that that smile delivers. There is little resistance; anything could destroy his defences.

"Heero!"

He surrenders unequivocally.

I suppose he sees the panic on my face, and instantly becomes alert, and violet eyes fill with concern. "What is it?"

"Nothing!" I am too loud, and my voice is too rough. It's the first time I've spoken aloud in four days. "Nothing's wrong," I repeat in a lower, more emotionally controlled voice. "I just called to..." say good bye. " see how you were."

"You mean the great and self sufficient pilot of Wing Zero actually *cares*?"

He meant it as a joke, but for some reason that comment makes me flinch more than setting my own broken leg. Duo immediately looks contrite.

"Sorry man, it's just you're not famous for this sort of behaviour, y'know," I nod almost dumbly. The smile is back on his face. "Well, Father Maxwell always told me never to look a gift soldier in the mouth."

I can't resist. "He did not. I thought you never lied."

"I don't," he replied indignantly. "Hypothetically speaking, I'm sure he would have said it if he knew I was going to meet you."

Hypothetically speaking, I wonder what Dr J would have told me if he knew I was going to meet *you*.

We spend the next minutes talking. Actually, he talks. I just watch and listen. I don't miss a word, a blink, a smile, a gesture. After a while, he stops talking. He leans forward, studying me through the LCD display that does nothing to diminish the beauty of his features.

"It took me a while, but I got it," he says, voice soft. "What is wrong, Heero?"

"I..." I love you, I need you, I can't be without you any more. "I miss you," I finish, the words getting stuck in my throat.

His face softens and he looks at me with a mixture of sadness, despair and... love. That's what kills me the most.

"I miss you, too,"

On impulse, I reach my hand out and press my fingers up against the screen. I am vaguely surprised when he does the same. Thousands of miles away from each other, and we are touching.

"Duo!" a woman's voice in his background calls out. My hand flinches away from the screen instinctively.

Duo turns his head away "Gimme a minute, babe!" When he turns back and finds my hand gone, he gives an understanding nod and slowly removes his own. There is the twinkle of an idea in his eyes, and he leans forward conspiratorially.

"I could get some free time next week, want I should pay you a visit?"

I don't want you to visit. I want you come here and stay. Never go back. Never leave me again. We can look out that window together.

"That," I say instead "would be nice."

He grins a little more. Amazing what my humanity does for his facial expressions.

He jerks his thumb offscreen. "I should get back to it," I nod. It's all I can do. "I'll call you later, organise some details, okay?" Nod, again. "I'll see you soon, then."

"Goodbye, Duo,"

I don't know, there is something in my voice that he picks up on. That instant, worried controlled panic is back. "Heero?"

"Yes?"

He pauses. "You're still my best friend, right?"

He's so vulnerable. So much hinges on my answer. I will never destroy that.

"For as long as I live," My lips quirk in the faintest smile.

There is a sadness in his eyes I have never seen before. Maybe he is just mirroring my own existence, I don't know.

"You're on orders to take care of yourself, Hee-chan, or I'll 'omae o korosu' your ass," he says affectionately, using the old pet name that previously grated so unbelievably on me. It is a gift to treasure now.

"Nimru kanryou," I say, and his smile grows.

"Seeya soon," he says, before flicking off the link. 'End' blinks on the blackness of the screen. My hand travels to the flat display once again.. and I can still see the imprint of his features in the blackness. I stare at the dark screen for an interminable period of time.

And he is gone again.

My gaze doesn't from the screen yet, because I know once I look away, I will have lost the impression of his face all together. My hand reaches down to the open draw, fingers moving the mounds of letters aside. They brush cold steel.

It's not his fault. It's mine for being weak, too weak without him. He can't blame himself... he didn't force me to lo-

Not his fault.

The metal is comforting, somehow underneath my chin. There's finality and purpose and the promise of an end. I want it to end so badly. Nothing left... the last important thing in my life is well taken care of.

I swivel my chair and look out the window. I will miss the view, I think.

Crystal tears blur my vision and I squeeze the trigger.

~finis

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