Title: Lost and Found

Author: Omnicat

Rating: PG-13 (old system) or T (new system)

Genre: General, Angst. But there's a bit of Humor and Romance at the end, too.

Spoilers: The Gundam Wing anime, the Endless Waltz OVA, and the Episode Zero manga.

Warnings: Uhm... this is Heero's life I'm writing about... the guy's been through a lot. Very much pro-Relena (why yes, I am biased in her favour), so a bunch of you (you know who you are) had better hit the back button now. You know, the one in the top left corner of the screen? I will not appreciate Relena bashing in reaction to this fic.

Pairings: Heero Yuy x Relena Peacecraft by the end.

Soundtrack: 'It's My Life' by Bon Jovi. And for some reason 'Somebody's Baby', by Pat Benatar, always makes me think of a younger Heero.

Disclaimer: Gundam wing is mine only when the current owner decides to give it to me. I haven't received any word of this happening any time soon, though, and I sure don't have the money to buy the rights to Gundam Wing, as I do not receive any profit from writing this.

Summary: Heero reflects on his life, which has been a constant struggle to find himself and break free from the restraints others put on him. Contains positive 1xR, but you can ignore the ending if it really bothers you.

Author's Note: :falls into the room as the door opens, panting heavily and looking thoroughly exhausted: Okay, here it is. :drops fic within reach of the reader: This thing literally cost me a full seven days do write. Heero's mind has more twists and kinks than... than... I'm sorry, but my brain is too worn out to provide me with a sufficient comparison. I've had to take some liberties, as next to nothing is known about our dear, friggin' complicated little Heero, but I've kept as close to the known canon as I could. Now, enjoy your reading. :collapses and passes out:

Dedication: To and for everyone I've ever discussed Heero with or read an analysis of Heero's character from. If Blue Eyed Canadian Author happens to read this: you might recognize a certain line dedicated just to you. ;) Also, special thanks to Bushido Brown1236 for contributing via review. :)

Last updated: Januari 29, 2008

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Lost and Found

My life... how should I describe it? I'm not very good with words, as knowing how to handle them has never been a priority. I have developed a habit of thinking in metaphors and writing little snippets based on my feelings, though, because I've found it to be a good way to describe the more elusive aspects of my life. Putting thoughts into words has a purifying effect, takes the edge off of pain and takes away confusion, almost as if you transport the past from your heart to the paper.

The best way to start is from the beginning, I suppose.

I do not remember my parents or my real name. Both were lost to me at a very young age, and it is likely that I've been an orphan for most of my life. Maybe I've never even had parents at all, but though that might make a lot of things easier for me, I've never truly been able to see myself as a clone or test-tube baby.

The earliest parental figure I can recall was a man called Odin Lowe, a man who killed for money. It was always clear, though, that he was not a father to me; he was a mentor. While under a contract to call each other 'Dad' and 'Son' in public situations, he took care of me and taught me how to survive and how to kill. Young, vulnerable, lonely, and impressionable as I was, I adopted his life as my own. The only thing I remember about my life before meeting Odin was a feeling of emptiness and aimlessness, like something was missing. It's what makes me believe that I did have parents at some point in my life, even if I cannot remember them.

I did not find what I lacked with Odin, but what he did give me was enough, at the time. I was only Boy, but while I was with Odin, I was his Boy. Odin's mannerisms, habits, teachings and moral standards were the ones I used to shape my own small life. It was a parent-child relationship in that respect, at least. The last thing Odin told me, to always follow my heart, is something I've kept with me all my life, though it often went against the things I was taught later on.

When Odin died - I was seven at the time - I fell into a void. Everything that had made up my existence was gone all at once, because Odin had been everything to me. My entire life had revolved around him, he had been all I had. Sometimes, I still wonder what I was to him... but such thoughts are useless. Odin is dead, and I will never know.

J gave me a purpose again after Odin's death. I became his Boy before I could stray too far from the track I had followed as Odin's 'son'. I had no idea who I really was, and there was no path for me to take. Yes, there was Odin's plan: to abandon me on the colony where he was eventually killed and force me to find myself an orphanage or foster family in order to gain a normal life. But I did not understand why he wanted such a life for me. It didn't make any sense, given his usual behaviour. He had prepared me for the life of an assassin, so why would I suddenly have to turn into an ordinary civilian?

In all truth, I had decided not to let him leave me before we had even left the shuttle, stubborn as I was. Stubborn, and scared. I didn't want him to die. Instead, I wanted him to come with me, to take the escape route I'd secured and go on with our life together. Yet die he did, and I became aimless, empty. Again. I was older then, and wiser than I had been when we first met - wiser than a child my age should have been. The thought of having to continue my life without a map to guide me scared me more by that time than any insecurities or childish scares my toddler's heart had had. I was still too young for the kind of self-reflection and mental self-reliance Odin's death forced upon me.

I was left roaming the streets of the L3-X18999 colony, the daze and adrenaline from the fight in which Odin was killed slowly being washed away by the 'rain', and that's where J found me.

Another thing I sometimes wonder about is how many kids J scared off with his... creepiness is the only way to put it - before I came along. You see, Doctor J (he and I never shared our mutual 'real names' with each other) was effectively a cyborg. He had a cybernetic, claw-like arm with which he liked to make strange sounds and motions, and had a set of goggles covering his eyes, which looked like there was probably nothing underneath. Though I wasn't easily scared even at that age, as I had taken to mimicking Odin's stoicism (though I failed miserably in adding his suaveness), I have to admit that I stared at J quite a lot in the beginning.

But despite all that, J's sudden appearance came like a gift from a benevolent higher power, and, with Odin's last piece of advice in mind, I pushed the thought of 'What in the heck?!' aside and accepted the offer to become a Gundam pilot. That small, childish fright did not outweigh the appeal of becoming a pilot - with the lack of perspective of the very young, I thought that Odin would have been proud of me if I could do that.

Wufei once said that if there is anything that indicates that the ethnic descent printed in my passport (Japanese, because J took me to L1; Japanese 'territory') is the right one, it is how completely and fiercely devoted I am to my goals. 'Kamikaze Yuy' has become a nickname of mine. I am not sure if I'm supposed to be pleased with it, but that is beside the point now. I gave becoming a Gundam pilot my all. Well, all I could give, anyway. Part of me was untraceable when the metaphorical call to arms came; Odin had not been able to provide me with that whatever-it-was, no matter what I made myself believe at that age.

I subconsciously tried to fill the empty hole Odin left with my devotion to J, just as I had used to identify almost completely with Odin to make up for my lack of... origins? I have no doubt J noticed this; it was Odin's look in my eyes that he liked so much, in the beginning, but after only a short while, his attitude toward me changed. He loved to play mind tricks and I quickly became his favourite subject. Unlike Odin, who had neither had any experience in, nor the time to, learn how to raise children any other way than he trained his partners, J took plenty of time for my mental development, next to my physical and tactical training and regular schooling. He couldn't have all his efforts go to waste because the student went nuts halfway through, after all.

Even in this age of space inhabitation and mobile suit engineering, using a cybernetic prothesis to any useful effect requires extensive psychophysiological training. Successful transmission between the body's natural tissues (the nerves in particular) and the artificial replacements (the wires connected to those nerves) is problematic, if not impossible, unless the person actively encourages his or her body to make the connection. J, upon receiving his claw, had learned how to consciously control his bodily functions and guide his biomechanical body parts. What that meant was that he could, by altering his state of consciousness (by meditation and biofeedback techniques, among other things), alter his brainwaves in order to slow his breathing, lower his blood pressure, ignore pain or make his body perform seemingly inhuman feats - in his case, using a metal claw with as much ease and efficiency as another would the arm they were born with.

It shaped his thinking and the way he went about training me immensely. The first thing J taught me was these techniques, and my personal track record to date includes setting my own broken bones, bending steel bars, and surviving near-fatal injuries followed by an extended period of questionable medical care in a trailer home, by putting my body into hybernation. (Though I must admit that that last one surprised even myself and was in no way intentional.)

Having gained almost complete control over my body, the rest of my physical and intellectual training promised to yield extraordinary results, and I made sure not to disappoint. I was a quick study, and willing to follow orders at any cost. I was completely selfless in my dedication. Too selfless. My greatest flaw was that I lacked in personal initiative and my self-confidence relied too heavily on my ability to follow instructions to the letter, which compromised the flexibility I would need as a Gundam pilot. So that's what J went to work on. He once told me that I was an excellent terrorist, but not yet a fighter for freedom and peace.

If he would have succeeded will forever remain an unanswered question, because he hadn't counted on the girl that was walking Mary. The day I killed her and her dog was the day the person I'd become - Odin's son, J's Gundam pilot - met face to face with the part of me that had been 'lost since the day I was born'.

Now, J had never made it a secret that he wanted me to be perfect. I knew that what I was supposed to learn from him was not limited to combat strategy and battle tactics, ways of incapacitating armed men and piloting Wing Gundam, producing computer-virusses and decoding highly sophisticated security programming, extensive mechanical and basic economical knowledge. Not even the numerous crash cources in skills that would allow me to blend in with any social group, such as various recreational sports, upper-class etiquette, some knowledge of literature and art, contemporary music and commercial gaming systems, were enough to satisfy J.

"What's your favourite colour? You don't know? Well, you'd better figure that out, then. We can't have it used against you without you even noticing it. There's no need to look at me like that, everything can be used against you if you don't know how to defend yourself. You have to know yourself, my boy, and you have to know yourself better than your enemy ever will. You must know your weaknesses, learn to acknowledge and mask them when necessary, and learn to overcome them if need be. You must know your strengths, and the reasons you are strong, so you'll know what to do when your strength fails you. Make no mistake, boy, you are merely human, as we all are. I can't make you untouchable. But when I'm through with you, you'll be damn close to unbreakable all the same."

That was J's idea of perfection: a complete human being with impeccable balance. He believed an enemy could never defeat you without your own consent. Whether failure or defeat, it was always your own doing. What it took, in his opinion, was a strong sense of self, the knowledge and ability to use yourself, boost yourself, or destroy yourself, and enough willpower to use that knowledge and skill. I had the latter in spades and was, with J's help, slowly starting to learn the former.

I had the potential to become perfect. But I failed at the crucial stage, the guilt and grief broke me, and I was ruined. I can still hear him say it, through the haze of shock that followed the death of that girl and her puppy. I think he tried to distance himself from me.

When Dekim Barton heard of my 'malfunction', he demanded I'd be retrained. J complied. But just like when Odin wanted to abandon me, I had already decided I wanted it to be otherwise. I was still young, but I was no longer a scared child. J's efforts to make me self-conscious and take my own initiatives had started paying off. However, I was again unable to make the decision for myself.

The little girl and her dog had struck a chord in me none of my other victims ever had before. As a small child, it never entirely registered what I was doing when I helped Odin in his assassinations. I grew up in a world where it was perfectly normal to do such things. As I got older, this of course changed, but I never developed the reluctance to kill one of my own species which seems so come so natural to other humans until much later. And that was just it... the girl and her puppy were almost alien. They were so innocent, so content in their ignorance - everything I had never been, all I had always been looking for. And I destroyed them the very same night I met them. That day was one of realisation, of epiphany. That night was one of growing up.

The boy Odin had wanted to set free took from the moment the first mobile suit fell to the moment I arrived back at the base, Mary's corps cradled in my arms, to meet and merge with the boy J had been trying to lure out. Of course, this is not true: the only thing I learned about myself that night was that I never wanted innocent people to get hurt unnecessarily again, that I could never allow myself to fail again. Most of the things I write down tonight I only came to understand years after the establishment of peace.

Many cultures have some form of coming-of-age ritual a boy must perform to become a man. Mine consisted of committing the greatest atrocity in my own books. Without initially realising it was the worst thing I could have done, I must add. If there's one thing I cannot take, it's not realising I'm making a mistake, and then coming face to face with the results.

Maybe I could have 'gotten over it'. Maybe J could have fitted the shattered pieces of my being back together, if only he had had the time and opportunity. But he did not; my retraining according to Dekim's methods was to commence at once. The period that followed was... sheer torture. It's hard to think back to. The memories are, though partly repressed and faded with time, painful. The only good thing that happened in this chapter of my life was my meeting with Relena, near the end of it. But I'm running ahead of things.

J had never treated me badly. When he wasn't busy with his plans of revolution and revenge, he could actually be quite pleasant and entertaining company. Otherwise, he was strict and demanding, but fair. He was ruthless, yes, but not cruel. Before the death of the puppy-girl I did not know there was a difference, but I learned quickly.

When I did something wrong under J, my punishment was meant to teach and improve. He constantly pushed me to my limits, but never asked anything from me if there was more than a 75 percent chance that I couldn't do it. (The way he calculated that percentage was actually pretty funny.) Innocence and soft skin were useless, he once told me, but wounds only left scars: flaws in a structure that must be perfect. Dekim had left him to his own devices as long as things went smoothly, but after I accidentally destroyed that residential area full of citizens, he labelled J's methods as faulty.

My reprogramming reflected Dekim's personality; I was to have no weaknesses, no personality. There were no ethical objections when it came to fulfilling my missions. Civilian casualties and other collateral damage of any magnitude were acceptable as long as it did not negatively affect the mission. All that mattered was that the enemy was destroyed or discredited. I was expected to operate according to these guidelines without question, and without fail. Failure or disobedience was unacceptable, punishment severe and meant as a means of oppression. I was to feel no doubt, no guilt, no fear, no anger, no hatred or affection.

Ironically enough, discovering my own personality became much easier when I wasn't allowed to have one anymore. They started brainwashing me. I tried to run away. More than once, when their torturous practices hadn't gotten to me yet. No amount of insecurity or need to please could have made Dekim's regime tolerable. If I had had any say in it, I would have used all those lessons to get as far away from the L1 colony cluster as possible and work my way into an orphanage or foster family under a false name. Giving up everything I had achieved and gained by the age of fourteen to start over as an ordinary civilian was far preferable to having it taken away by force and be turned into what Dekim had in mind for me.

But if there's one thing I could always count on with J, it was that he was devoted to his mission. One way or another, he would get his revenge for the murder of his friend, the legendary politician Heero Yuy, after whom I was named. The mission was more important than me. If he had to break me, his most prized accomplishment, destroy everything he had worked so hard on and redo it according to standards he did not agree with, to be able to send his Gundam and his pilot to Earth, he would do it. He did it, in the same ruthless way he'd trained me before.

I never had to wonder about what I was from then on; I was the most precious tool J had, his weapon that he had to forge to the best of his means. If he felt any of this things he didn't allow me to feel anymore about what he did to my wellbeing, my humanity, he did not show it. I was no longer his boy. I was his weapon.

For several reasons, though, I like to think that he cared about me in some way, even if just a little bit; he knew me. He had moulded me and monitored every move I made and every word I said during my previous training. He knew how much I could take. I was completely at his mercy, without even the slightest chance to defend myself, because I never got the opportunity to recover from the shock of my horrible mistake. He could have - he should have - destroyed my humanity completely, and built me from scratch. But all he did was take advantage of my dazed, defenceless state to bury my objections. He forced me into the role of what would later be referred to as 'the Perfect Soldier'. He closed the armour around me, and though I fought it just as hard as I had once worked to embrace the part assigned to me, I eventually had to give in, or else I would have mentally suffocated. But, as Trowa once phrased it: if J had really wanted me to be a perfect soldier, he'd have shaved me bald.

When the time to launch Operation Meteor finally came and J was, as I prefer to see it, able to secretly carry out the plan the way he'd wanted to all along, he gave me the choice between Dekim's way, his way, or no way at all. I chose the way I had been prepared for before my retraining. I was teetering on the edge of insanity at that time, going as far as putting a gun to my head to make the mental torture stop, and to this day I still consider myself lucky for the loyalty to the man who made it possible for me to find my own way, that made me decide thus. My loyalty was blind.

On one side, there was my own, fragile self-consciousness, smothered in the bud but still trying to break through. On the other, the agonizing shell of Dekim's retraining that kept my newfound identity locked where I could not get to it. My sanity was being crushed in the middle of that, kept intact only by 'the mission'. My assignments as a Gundam pilot, the sole reason for my existence. Duo, who saw me on the battlefield in those days, can tell you how close my focus on the mission bordered on constant hysteria, how warped my self-image was. When I descended to Earth, a third source of pressure was added: Relena.

Relena stumbled on my unconscious body, went after Dekim's soldier, looked past the ruins left by J and Odin, and somehow found me. She saw beyond the Perfect Soldier facade, focussed her attention on the person inside of me, and within days managed to penetrate every shield I had raised and reach the me I had lost. She grabbed my hand and pulled me from my confines, and by the time I noticed, I'd saved her life.

It freaked me out. There's no prettier way to put it; I fled.

But unlike after Odin's death, I wasn't able to crawl back into the dubious comfort of my conditioning. Hell, that was the last thing I wanted! However, Relena kept believing in me no matter what, and drew strength from her faith in me, thus keeping the both of us steady in those tumultuous times. She always has faith in everyone, and never judges. She believes that every person is equal, and that everyone has the potential to become strong and do what they think is right, if only they have a purpose. All because of the purity of her own heart. She believes we helped each other cope, but I know better; she had the confidence to pull the both of us through. To simply be able help me was all she needed to gain the strength to go on herself. It just couldn't have been me she drew her strength from. I was a wreck of a man.

And to think she had the nerve to call me amazing. But again, I'm running ahead of things.

I could not comprehend what Relena was trying to accomplish until Duo started talking about what he wanted to do after the end of the war. That one simple, off-handed comment led to an avalanche of epiphanies and eye-openers, the first being that I had had no concept of 'life after the war' before he mentioned it. Because of everything that happened after that, I never really managed to find a peaceful interlude long and peaceful enough to think of anything. But if it wasn't for that one comment, all Relena's efforts at building a peaceful 'world after the war' in which I could find out, might have been in vain; feeling as disposable as I did, I would have let myself die before I could reach any such place. I suppose I have to hand Duo that, even though his insistence on making me act more sociable (which persists to this day) gets a little tiresome at times. But again, I digress.

As much as it frightened me and weirded me out, Relena's unwavering trust in me inspired me to act on my emotions after the New Edwards disaster and offer my life to the Noventa family. New Edwards was like the little girl and her puppy in that it made everything horribly clear, all at once. It showed me how I was being used - not so much by Treize, who had set the trap, but by Dekim Barton and J. And it was enough of a shock to remind me of who I really wanted to be and make all the conflicting conditioning fall off like ill-fitting pieces of equipment. It was a numbing kind of clarity that allowed me to look at all that had happened with the objectivity of an outsider.

When I awoke from my coma at Trowa's circus, after my self-destruction in Siberia, I had a lot of time to think. The guilt I felt - about Mary and her young mistress, about everything I'd done and had been willing to do on Dekim's and J's orders, about New Edwards - consumed me. I felt that everything had been my own fault, because I was the one that had let it all happen. I had done worse than screw up my mission: I'd been tricked into causing the thing I had been trained half my life to prevent.

So my first successful act of rebellion was also one of repentance. I travelled through Europe to offer my life to the relatives of the man I had killed. They had more right to decide about my fate than I, who had let others use me over and over again, with such disgusting consequences. None of the Noventas accepted my offer. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a very bright move to ask a family of pacifists to execute me.

I am grateful to Trowa for standing by me during that time, regardless of the results we garnered. I was reluctant to seek out Relena, the one person I should have known would always be ready to help me. Self loathing does that to you; we hardly knew each other, but she had already made such an impression during the short time we had spent together that the thought that she would see me the way I saw myself at that time, and hate me for it, was unbearable. It was only after all the relatives of those I had killed had refused my offer of revenge that I allowed myself to hope for Relena's continued support, and even then only tentatively. But I'm running ahead of things: I'll be getting back to Relena later.

With Trowa, I had no such concerns: he was as much a soldier as I was. His presence was strangely comforting. I felt a kinship with him I had never felt with anyone before. Not with Odin or J, who had always held a firm authority status in my mind's eye, but also not with Relena or Duo. They were initially as alien as the puppy-girl, which was both what appealed to me and what scared me about them. Trowa was an equal. Companionship was a novelty to me back then, but he had known the brotherhood of soldiers all his life, and he eased me into a pattern of silent acceptance and co-dependance with seemingly no effort at all. What he did kept me thinking long after we parted. I couldn't understand how he'd done it, but it awakened things I me I would never have expected to find. My time with him had been both inexplicably soothing and upsetting.

Plus, emotional aspects aside, even I would never have been physically capable of making my 'suicidal road trip', as it has since become known, without his help. (Heed Italian roads. They kill.)

Later, much later, Relena finally got the chance to give me a letter from Noventa's widow. She had originally meant to give it to me in Antarctica, but due to a series of developments, she didn't get the opportunity to do so until years after the war had ended. I don't know what I would have done, had I gotten it in Antarctica... But speculating about that is useless now. It didn't happen. Dwelling on 'what ifs' does a warrior like myself more harm than good.

After my interrupted battle with Zechs, I was once more left without a purpose. It was a rather frustrating pattern in my life. The colonies had turned on their 'saviours', the Gundams, and J had stopped handing out instructions, believing I was dead. I went to space, in hopes of finding a trail through the maze of the war and make myself useful again.

And that's where I became completely free. I got myself caught in the Lunar Base, where J also was, having been taken captive and held there after my self-destruction. My loyalty to him was still intact when I came there. It was gone when I left. The way I perceived it, he sold me out in order to save himself, and that made me realise he wasn't worth my blind trust. Probably because of my upbringing, I have never been able to think in the conventional terms of 'wrong' and 'right', or 'better' and 'less'. But when he handed Quatre and me over to be used as guinea pigs for the ZERO System, I lost my respect for him. It seems such a trivial thing now, but as I looked down on him while he handed us over to Une to use as test-subjects, the realisation made me feel freer than ever before, cuffs around my wrists, rifles pressed into my back and all.

At present, I am not so sure anymore as to his intentions. Though I am wary of wishful thinking, there is no denying the possibility that he might have seen it as an opportunity to undo some of the damage he had inflicted by retraining me. Maybe that was his act of repentance. I do not know, and will never have certainty. I avoid dwelling on it.

The truth is that ZERO showed me, in no uncertain terms, that the ones who messed with my life, took advantage of me and used me for their own purposes, were the cause of my problems. I've never in my life hated so strongly or been as angry as during my first time using ZERO. When Quatre and I came back to Earth, I was free. I no longer fought for J, but for myself. And yet, I was still caught. I'd been empty enough for Odin's son, J's pilot and Dekim's soldier to have seeped into the gaps and settle there. Fighting was all I knew, and so, fighting was what I did.

Learning that Relena, who had once pledged to be on my side, who had set me on the track to freedom in the first place, had devoted herself to total pacifism, hurt. My mistake at New Edwards was still a tender subject, and perhaps my secret hope that Relena would forgive me for it was the reason I felt so betrayed, so... abandoned, when I found out she had chosen a different path. The greatest shock was probably to find how much I cared. Seeing Trowa in the uniform of OZ was nothing, in comparison. Initially, my response to this was the same as towards J's actions; fuck you, I'm outta here. (I hope you're old enough to read this, but if not, I did not teach you those words.) I refused to accept the fact that Relena, once again, held the solution. I refused to follow another human being again, I wanted to find my own way. I still got roped up into coming to Sank, however, because Noin had stored my mobile suit there. And, though I was loath to admit it at first, because Relena and her kingdom were in danger from Romefeller invasion. Despite my anger and confusion, I owed her for salvaging my humanity and reviving my will to live.

During my stay in Sank I came to realise that she was still 'on my side'. And I realised that, despite my wish to do things my own way, I couldn't. All I knew was how to fight, and that was a dead end. The world was dangerously close to losing itself in all the fighting, just as I once broke down under the pressure of my programming. I couldn't believe in Relena's idealistic peace, but I believed in Relena, and her ideas of peace were necessary to bring the world back up from the pit of meaningless, pointless battles it had fallen into. Relena was trying to find a way to end all that, just as I wanted the fighting to stop.

I feel I must mention Quatre. Quatre Raberba Winner, a sheltered rich boy who had devoted himself to ending the war, much like Relena had. But while Relena revived and embraced her family's ideals of pacifism, Quatre had discarded them, taken up arms as a Gundam pilot. After supposedly killing Trowa in his rampage with Wing ZERO Quatre had doubts about everything, from his right to live, to whether or not he was suited to be a Gundam pilot, to his mental stability and the ethics of war and pacifism. I happened to be the only one he could voice these doubts to, and fate would have it that I shared some of them.

For the sake of Trowa's memory, if nothing else, I managed to dredge up some advice for Quatre, and it helped me sort out a conflict of my own. There was no place for kindness on the battlefield, but outside... I had had no idea of 'life after the war' when Duo first brought it up, but if he hadn't, I might never have figured out what to do with the part of me, no matter how small, that wanted to break free from battle. Quatre, with his greater understanding of the military side of the story, was of great help in connecting that vague desire for peace and quiet to Relena's words about pacifism. Despite being named after a famed pacifist, I had never truly understood the connection between pacifism and peace, and it would take until my last conversation with Zechs for it to sink in fully. My entire life had consisted of nothing but war for as long as I could remember: I had no concept of life in peacetime, and up until that point, had not been able to imagine a world without battle. Quatre was ultimately the reason that I regained faith in Relena and the new road she had taken. Between him and Relena, I began to see what a world at peace might look like. In retrospect, it was a major turning point: I had finally found something worth going into battle for. Fighting myself to death was no longer the only thing I had to look forward to. There was hope.

I believe Relena and I could have found our middle ground if the Sank Kingdom hadn't collapsed. She was already on her way to realising that she wouldn't be able to achieve her goals if Sank didn't even have a way to defend itself. Contrary to popular belief, I am not hard-headed beyond the point of reason (neither of us are, for that matter); I was trying to protect her and help her achieve her goal by using Wing. That's why, when she was made the figurehead of Romefeller, I let her live to lead the way out of the war. The thought of what would have happened had she not managed to turn the situation to her own advantage, haunts me to this very day. But, just like all the other 'what ifs' in my life, it is of no use to dwell on it unnecessarily.

Things turned out... alright. We fought with the intent of achieving Relena's peace, and once we had succeeded, she took over to keep the world at peace. I had half a heart to stay with her even then, to aid her in settling the dust and rebuild what had been destroyed in the war - and to protect her. But I knew that I would have only been a burden to her. I was a soldier, a terrorist, an assassin... and a lost little boy. I left to find myself, find my own way in life. With no more war to fight, and J dead, I finally had the opportunity to do that.

Or so I thought.

Dekim Barton resurfaced exactly a year later in an attempt to carry out Operation Meteor in its true form; by dropping a colony on Earth and send his forces to seize control while the government and military forces were in a state of chaos. We - the Gundam pilots, Zechs and Noin and the Preventors - prevented this, and finally, finally, I was free. Finally I wouldn't have to kill anymore. The world had finally found its right course, and now, it was my turn.

I disappeared again. I lead a normal life, learned the ways of everyday, let the stress and adrenaline of battle flow from my system. But I soon realised that I should go back. I got over the stage of not wanting to be anybody's anything; estranging from the other former Gundam pilots, or Sally, or Catherine, Hilde, Une or Dorothy, was something I couldn't do without estranging from myself as well, which went against the entire purpose of my departure. They were all a part of me. The past shapes us, makes us, and while it should not define us, it is our guide into the future. At age sixteen, Odin's son, J's pilot and Dekim's soldier, but also the Heero Yuy Duo, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, Relena and all the others knew and the nameless young man that had roamed the world in search of new perspectives, were all part of the true me. I couldn't discard all of that and start over. It meant too much to me.

So I came back.

Not just the world had changed during the time Relena and I had been apart. She and I had changed too. Maybe it was because of those changes that we found each other so effortlessly that time. We'd had the same goal all along, but we'd followed different routes. Now, we met up on the same road, going in the same direction.

I haven't left her side since.

Relena and I have had our rough patches, both between us and individually, but nothing the two of us couldn't handle together. I'm Relena's Heero now, and I am completely content with who that is. The past still haunts my dreams and frays the edges of my mind, and I doubt that will ever change. But I've chosen who I want to be, and that will never be taken away from me again.

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Now, I am aware that all this must be confusing for you. You weren't there, you have no idea what I'm talking about half of the time, correct? If anything is unclear, you can ask for an explanation from any of the people mentioned in this document. Tell them I sent you, and they won't think of refusal.

Also, you might be wondering why I, who has repeatedly claimed to be expendable in the past and generally not worth the life I'm living up until this day, have spent the last few hours sitting at the kitchen table in my nightclothes, writing this life-history down, while I should actually be getting all the sleep I can while I still can. Well, that is because my Relena is due to have our first child within two days, and the medical staff of our hospital has signified that I will not be welcome in the delivery room. (Something to do with scaring the nurses. Completely justified and appropriate, but that's beside the point.)I have put this down because I want what I've been through to be of some use to future generations, should I not survive the charge I plan to carry out on the delivery room when you come.

The world is at peace now, thanks in part to the efforts of the people mentioned in this document, myself included: the Gundam pilots, Relena, Hilde, Sally, Lady Une, Lucrezia Noin, even Zechs Marquise - Relena's brother Milliardo, that is -, in his own way. (Do me a favour and don't get too friendly with him until he's decided on a single, permanent name.) We changed the world we used to live in, created a better future. I have learned, however, that perfection is unattainable, and the good always comes at a price. When I first payed it, the only thing I had to give was my life, which was worthless. The circumstances have changed for me since then; I have a lot more to lose now. And that's an understatement even to my standards. But should there ever come a time when I am again called upon to fight, I would do it without hesitation if that meant your future will be brighter than my past.

Should the worst ever happen, I hope this letter reaches you. One way or another, I will be there to help you find your way in life.

Signed,

Heero Yuy, your father

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PSAN: If you were to search my unconscious body, you'd find a little card saying: "Please Read and Review! All comments that are not flames or Relena-bashing are welcome!" in the left front pocket of my jeans.