Happily Ever After and Much Longer:

Duo's POV

By Lady DeathAngel

Disclaimer: As much as I hate to admit it, I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the G-boys or G-girls. I'm also very broke, so don't sue me. ^_^;

A/N: This is a companion piece to the same story, only from Hilde's POV. You don't have to read it, but if you want to know what both of them are thinking at almost the same time, then go ahead and read it, read it, read it!

~*~

So I fell in love with my best friend. So shoot me. It's not like it can really be helped. I mean, come on, things like this happen all the time. They've made countless movies about it, written deep novels and cheesy romances about. Poets dwell on it and singers belt it out when it happens to them.

Falling for your best friend, it's classic. Still, that doesn't mean it's any easier when it happens. There's always that something different about falling for your best friend. When you fall for someone you thought you loathed, hey, no big deal. If she likes you back great, if she doesn't, well, it wasn't working out in the first place.

When you fall for someone you dated first then you already knew the chemistry's there. It didn't just all of a sudden hit you, like the proverbial ton of bricks.

But when you fall for your best friend, things get really complicated. We're talking the kind of complicated that makes you question your sanity. On the one hand, you feel so much better when you're with your best friend. Every smile directed at you is treasured, every laugh, every joke, it's all one great big grand experience.

On the other hand, there's this anxiety. You want to tell them. After all, you've shared everything else. But you know that if you do, things will never be the same. They can change for the better or the worse. And nine times out of ten, it's for the worse. For me, there was all of that, and then an all-consuming sense of fear.

Not for me, mind you. The minute I realized I was in love with her, I really couldn't care less about what happened to me as long as she was safe. So that's why I'm scared. I want her to stay safe. And it's already been proven that once you get involved with the God of Death, your chances for staying safe are next to none.

She once told me that I had one serious ego.

"You call yourself the God of Death." She told me when I argued. "How much more conceited can you get?"

I really didn't have an answer for that. I'd never thought about it that way. Then again, she always could make me think twice about certain things. Hell, she was one of the first people I'd met who'd made me think about anything period. At least in her presence. Sometimes we'll be talking and she'll say something really profound, and that's the only word for it, 'profound', and I'll have to stop talking and just dwell on it.

Anyway, her comment about my ego, well, that made me think. For a vast majority of my life, all nineteen years of it, I've thought of myself as Shinigami. Death personified. The darker, more sinister version of the Bearer of Bad Tidings. And for a while, I had reason to.

My parents died when I was young. I don't know how old. I don't remember anything about it, actually. I remember that I watched them die, but I've erased the details from my memory. Days, years, seasons, I don't know when or how it happened.

It was sometime before I was six though, because I met Solo when I was six. He and his brother, who belonged to an older gang, found me unconscious and took me with them. When I woke up, Solo and I immediately bonded. We were pretty much inseparable, and that was why his brother named me Duo. Solo and Duo, how terribly imaginative. I still love my name though. It's a part of Solo and his brother I'll never lose.

They became my family. For three years they were always there for me. Until one day when Solo and I, who had gone out to steal food for the gang, got back to the old warehouse we called home only to find it was gone. Well, not gone. Pieces of it were just all over the place, was all. There was this large truck there that was covered in the bodies of our friends and Solo's brother was on top. I remember the way Solo screamed when he saw his brother like that. I screamed because all of them were like that. They had been tossed onto a vehicle like bags of trash. Carelessly, ruthlessly . . . It was inhuman. I screamed for Solo's brother too. He was my brother in a sense. In every way that mattered, actually, even if we weren't related by blood.

It took us a while to calm down. Took us even longer to realize that we had been carted to some church by the officials who were cleaning up the mess at the warehouse. They didn't take us there because they cared. They just wanted to get rid of us. The Maxwell Church was just the closest place, I guess. All I know is they kicked us out of the truck, one guy ran out of the truck to knock on the big doors out front, and then hopped back into the truck and they drove away.

I still remember, to this day, the door opening and seeing an angel peering down at us. I was the only one who saw her that way. Solo was curled up into a ball, sobbing. I found out later that it wasn't an angel. It was Sister Helen. But from that day on, I always thought of her as my angel.

Solo and I recovered and a year later, had formed a little gang of our own. I became the joker of the group again, that's what I'd been with Solo and his brother, I wanted to keep that part of me.

There was another part of me I wanted to keep too. My hair. Solo's brother's girlfriend Penny had always tried to cut my hair.

"You look like a girl with it, Duo." She said, frowning. I'd just hugged my hair closer and glared at her.

"Let him keep it." Solo's brother had said with a laugh. "It's his favorite thing in the world for some reason. Let's not take it away."

Penny would sigh and stare longingly at the scissors in her hands before nodding. Sister Helen had wanted to cut it too. I wouldn't let her. She sighed.

"Fine then. But if you insist on keeping it . . ." She'd braided it then. When she was done she laid the plait over my shoulder with a pat.

"There. Now it won't get in your way when you're running around the church giving Father Maxwell a heart attack."

And I did run around the church a lot, and I was glad for my braid because a lot of times I was running from Solo because I'd teased him, and it was lot easier to get away when I could see, without my hair hitting me in the eyes. The guy was *fast*. I never did give Father Maxwell a heart attack. I'm pretty sure I came close to it once or twice though.

Those years at the church were some of the best of my life. I loved Father Maxwell, he was always really hands on with us kids and nice and funny too. I loved Sister Helen, my personal angel. I always went to her when I wanted to talk about something serious, and I was always happy when I managed to make her laugh. I loved Solo. He was my best friend. We did everything together. He could always make me laugh and the pranks we pulled . . . We were the probably the closest things to demons you'd ever find in a church.

And then, one day, it all just ended. I heard them talking and I thought I could save them if I went and got the suit. So I left and came back with it . . . And they were all dead. The first person I saw was Sister Helen. She was still alive when I got to her. I held her in my arms as she told me how much the church and the orphans had meant to Father Maxwell and how he'd died trying to protect them. She told me he died with ideals of peace in his heart and me, of all people *me*, on his mind.

She told me she loved me and then she died. She just stopped breathing. I could feel her body shudder one last shudder and she was gone. The shock had dulled my senses as I left her to look for any other survivors. None. Everyone I'd ever loved was dead. In remembrance of them, I kept my braid and my first name, and took Father Maxwell's last name.

Still, despite those sweet 'mementoes', as Hilde often refers to them, I grew hard inside, and I theorized that maybe death just followed me around. Like an over-obedient lapdog or something like that.

A few years later, when Operation Meteor began, I took the name Shinigami. Because I honestly believed that I was. I'd already started to think of myself as Death's personal assistant. When killing became, not only my goal in life (I was hellbent on revenge once I learned that OZ was responsible for the deaths of my loved ones) but my mission, my *job*, I knew I honestly was helping out death.

And then, I don't know, maybe I purposefully blurred the lines of 'reality', but I stopped calling myself Death's Apprentice and started calling myself Death itself. I took that role very seriously too, despite my fun-loving attitude and, what is that Wufei calls them? Oh yeah, my annoyingly ever-present and overly cocky grins. And people picked up on that, especially when I was in on an intense mission.

In battle, while I could still present those annoyingly ever-present and overly cocky grins, I was killing and a really sick part of me loved it while another part of me loathed it. But, then again, I forced myself to love it.

"You'll be doing this all your life my boy." I would tell myself. "You'll always be Death." And when you're going to be doing something for a long time, like, *forever*, you force yourself to love it. Or at least, to stand it. Which is what I did.

And then I met her. The naive OZ pilot. I was drawn by her passion for her cause, and, I'll admit it, her cute smile. When I saw that she really did believe she was fighting for the colonies, I knew I had to do something. And I did. I managed to convince her she was on the wrong side. And I regretted it. She could have been killed for helping me escape to the Lunar Base. For getting a little too close to Shinigami. For actually caring about me. But she wasn't, I found out, and I was relieved. And then, we got close and became good friends. Best friends. And I had to leave again. I was so pissed off to find out she had only been lying when she'd told me she'd stay put and stay safe.

When I heard her cries for help in space, I'd been so scared. I'd thought that a repeat of the Maxwell Church incident was about to take place. The one person I'd allowed myself to care for in a really long time was dying. But she made it through, despite her close relationship with Death, and I was relieved yet again. Now though, I'm scared for her. Call it a superego or a 'God' complex or whatever, but I'm still convinced that if I allow myself to love her, she'll die. Like Solo and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen did. That's why I left her.

It was stupid of me to leave, I'll admit it. But at the time it seemed like the only thing I could do. For the past few months, I've been trying and, need I say, failing to ignore the fact that I'm in love with her. I've dated countless numbers of nameless, faceless women, I've even felt the need to just get away from her for a while to try and figure myself out. What I feel for her. What she may feel for me. But all of those times I went back to her. Now though, sitting here in this spaceport terminal, I'm prepared to leave her. Forever if need be. To keep her safe.

I try to imagine life without her. We've been living together for nearly five years now. We've been best friends for most of that time. We own a business together. Things like that can create a bond, but there's much more to it then that.

She and I may not see eye to eye in most cases, we may be very different from each other, but we're the same too. We both suffered tragedies early on in life, me losing my parents and the whole thing with Solo and his brother and the church, and her losing her entire family. We both know what it's like to fight in a war. The thoughts that flitter through your mind when the only one should be kill or be killed. We can both reach each other on a deep level, I know, me with a deep level? But believe it or not, I've got one, and she's always there for me when I feel the need to make our conversations a little more . . . complex.

And then there's the fact that we both just know how to have fun together. She's one of the few who gets my jokes immediately, and she's constantly surprising me with her witty, and that's the only word for them 'witty', one-liners and unintended puns and innuendos. She's cute too, when she finally figures out she made an innuendo about something completely innocent. She'll blush and stutter something like, "I-I-I didn't mean it like that." And I'll just keep on laughing.

She does that a lot. Makes me laugh I mean. It's kind of a trade off I guess. I make her laugh, she makes me laugh and we both have a good time. The smile that appeared on my face as I thought of her bows out and a frown takes its place.

What will it be like, I wonder, not to have that anymore? I shudder when I think of it. Going just a day without seeing her cute smile or hearing her laugh sounds like torture to me. And then I wonder if, without her, the nightmares will come back.

I had had those nightmares nearly all of my life. Ever since Operation Meteor started and it was my duty to kill, I would keep seeing all of the faces of those I had loved. Only, the faces weren't smiling and I wasn't happy to see them. Because in all of those dreams I killed them or watched them die.

Those images tormented me at night and I knew that when I was having the nightmares she could hear me. I tried to be quieter, you know, so I wouldn't disturb her. But that only worked for as long as we were both willing to pretend that the nightmares didn't exist. And one night, she didn't want to pretend anymore.

I can barely remember her waking me up. I just know that she did and all of a sudden I was crying. I know, boys don't cry, but hey, cut me a break here. Those dreams were bad news. And I knew that with her, I could cry, and she would let me. And so she did.

Later, when I was done, she asked about the nightmares. A part of me didn't want to tell her. I wondered if maybe she would think less of me if she knew about my past. Don't ask me why, maybe it's that ego acting up again, but whatever, I didn't want to tell her. But on the other hand I did. Because, for one thing, it would be getting it off of my chest. Finally someone would listen to me and I wouldn't have to hide anymore. And for another thing, she's my best friend. We don't keep things from each other. I thought it was only fair to tell her what was going on.

She listened quietly and attentively, and when I was finished she was the one who was crying. I wiped her tears for her and then kissed her forehead and pulled her into my arms. She slept with me that night, and no, not like that. It was just a 'platonic' sort of thing, but it still meant so much to me. Because that night, for the first night in almost seven years, she kept my nightmares away. We didn't do that again. The whole, sleeping together, thing, but just knowing she was there if I needed her was enough to ensure that my dreams were sweet instead of terrifying.

So then, without her, will the dreams come back? Probably. And without her, will my life become a black hole again? Most definitely. I sigh and lean my head back against the wall behind me. I don't want to leave her. But if I don't, if I stay and let myself love her, then she'll die. Anyone I've ever loved has died. And I'm past the stage of denial. I love her. So much I would do anything for her. I would kill for her or die for her. Hell, as sappy as it sounds, I'd find someway to bring her the stars if she wanted them.

But I don't want her to get hurt because I love her. Is that me being egotistical again? Thinking that if I stay with her, I'll inadvertently kill her? She would probably think so. I know that she doesn't care about the 'Curse of Shinigami'. She told me so herself, when I was getting ready to leave.

"I don't care what happens to me." She said. "I just don't want to lose you."

And despite those words I'd left anyway. Because I was protecting her.

But that was hours ago. Now, I don't think I'm protecting her anymore. I just think that I'm leaving behind my best chance for a happy future. One free of nightmares and curses. I love her too much to leave. So then, that's settled. I stand up and grab my bag. Time to go home.

It's raining as I arrive at the apartment we've shared for so long. I wasn't gone long, only a few hours, but the minute I enter the living room, I feel like I did when I returned after the last Eve War and realized I actually had a home to come back to. That feeling, let me tell you, there's nothing like it. That feeling of coming home. I try to be quiet as I move around the living room, dropping my bags on the floor.

I stare out of the window at the rain making its way down the pane of glass and wonder just how I should tell her. About loving her I mean. It isn't exactly as easy as I thought it would be. I can't just walk up to her and say, 'I love you'. Somehow, I feel the need to tell her something more then that. To make it feel more natural instead of fake.

"Duo."

I hear my name on a soft breath and whirl around wide-eyed. Well, I obviously wasn't quite as quiet as I would have liked . . . Not that I care. Now would be the perfect time to tell her. If I can get my throat to start working again.

It's just that seeing her . . . She's standing in front of me with a weary, hopeful look on her face, and I'm losing myself in her intense blue eyes. Her dark hair is mussed and hangs over forehead adorably. She wipes her cheeks then, and I notice that she was crying. She takes a small step closer to me.

"What are you doing back?" She asks softly.

The answer isn't practiced or very natural either. But it's something that I can't hold in. It sort of takes a life of its own and I find myself speaking.

"Look, Hilde, when I left, I realized something."

She doesn't react right away. She just seems to be enjoying the moment. Finally she murmurs,

"What? What did you realize?"

A very strong part of me wants to just blurt out that I love her. But instead I step closer to her and rest my arms on her slender shoulders.

"Hilde, I don't want you to get hurt." I say, meaning every word. "Everyone I've ever cared about has gotten hurt or killed. But God help me, I can't leave you. You mean more to me then my own life."

The hope that springs to life in her eyes gives me the courage to push on and say what needs to be said.

"When I left and I thought about living without you, all I saw was darkness and more nights of endless nightmares. I don't want that kind of life. A life without you."

I see tears start to make tracks down her cheeks again. The uncharacteristically cynical part of my mind yells at me that she's crying because she doesn't love me and she feels sorry for me. But the logical part of my mind, the one I don't use half as often as I should since it's always right, tells me that she's crying because she's happy and she loves me too.

"What are you saying?" She breathes.

I mentally slap myself in the forehead. I forgot to tell her! Oh sure I said all the romantic crap that all those crappy romantics say in those crappy romantic movies to avoid the real issue, i.e. do you love me. In short, I hedged around the bush and told her in so many words that I loved her . . . Without actually saying that I loved her. Well, there's only one way to fix this particular problem . . .

I lean closer to her until our faces are just inches apart. "I'm saying," I whisper. "That I love you Hilde." And in case she doesn't get it there . . . "And I don't mean platonic love. I don't mean I love you like a friend. I mean that I love you unconditionally and that some day in the future I want to marry you and have a family with you and live happily ever after with you."

Okay, so it's not exactly the most impassioned and articulate 'I love you' speech in the history of 'I love you' speeches. But, despite the high sap factor, it's what I feel. What my heart feels and what my logical mind thinks. And like I said, my logical mind is hardly ever wrong. Suddenly she flings her arms around my neck and buries her head in my chest.

"I love you too!" She says, her voice slightly muffled. But to me those four words are as clear as church bells on Christmas morning.

"And," she continues. "I want to marry you and have your children and live longer then happily ever after."

Almost unconsciously I pull her into my arms. I can feel her heart beating through the flimsy t-shirt she's wearing and mine changes rhythm to match hers. The only coherent thought running through my head right now is, 'Wow, she loves me too.'

She pulls back slightly and gazes up into my eyes.

"We don't have to worry about this cruse either." She says softly. "We'll conquer it together, understand?"

I grin then, knowing that, yes, this curse is as good as gone with me and Hilde working on killing it together, but also know something else I'd rather be doing at the moment.

"Yeah. I understand." I say, my heart picking up speed as I think about what I'm about to do. "But we'll worry about conquering it a little later. There's something more important for me to do right now."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Oh yeah?" She asks.

I nod. "Yeah." I say softly.

For a split second I want to balk. Somehow what I'm going to do is much more scary then just telling her that I love her but, I've never exactly been one for caution and as much as I love the changes that have already taken place, my ability to throw caution to the wind isn't something I want to toss out right now . . . Finally, after about .23 seconds of thinking, I act and lower my lips to hers quickly. I think the kiss shocked her. If the way she stiffened slightly before melting into my arms (almost literally) is any indication.

Now I know why people like to write so much about best friends falling in love. Part of it has got to be that first kiss between them. There's nothing like it between any other two people. Her lips feel so familiar, the taste of her something I know I've had before, and yet it's all so new. I've never felt lips like hers against mine, soft like rose petals. I've never tasted anything like her before, sweet and strong and fulfilling like a glass of strawberry wine.

I thought that when I'd walked into this apartment just minutes earlier I'd been coming home, but holding her in my arms I know differently. Wherever Hilde is, is home for me.

When I can't take it anymore, and just have to tell her again, I pull back, kiss her nose lightly, and whisper "I love you."

"I love you too." She whispers back.

Well, enough with the talking. I rather liked *showing* her how much I loved her even more.

I settle my lips over hers again and her arms tighten around my neck. I feel a burden lifted off my chest and know that the curse has been broken. Without that threat, I know that Hilde's wish will come true, we will be together forever and much longer.

In a distant corner of my brain, the logical part, which bowed out and let the 'sensation' part of my brain take over, is shaking its head in a corner.

"If you two are going to be together that long," the logical part says. "And if the response you're having to her kisses is any hint at how you're going to be *together*, together, how many kids are you gonna have? And how much trouble are *they* going to cause . . . ?"

~*~

Okay, so, *now* what did you think? This version was a little more detailed, a little more serious, definitely longer, and a little less sappy, but still sweet. Sorry if the whole thing that happened with Solo's brother and the rest of the gang was a bit too graphic . . . I got a few complaints from my sister about that one. I think I may have scarred her for life . . . Oh well, maybe it'll be an improvement (JK, G ^_^). Oh, and I know that Duo's whole past isn't a thing like it's supposed to be, but I like mine better, and besides, when I wrote this, I'd never read *Episode Zero* before ^^; Anyway, please review, as always feedback is welcome, positive or negative. Just beware that any flames will be put to good use. I'll use them to burn any pictures I have of my ex-boyfriend. But since I've never even had a boyfriend it's kind of a waste. So, flames will just be made fun of and laughed at by my friends and I. Send 'em if you dare ^_~