Summary: Heero's dog is the cause for many problems in Duo's life. Or so Duo thinks.
Rating: NC-17 for lemon.
Pairings: 2x1, mentions of 3x4.
Warnings: swearing, angsty introspectiveness, minor religious/supernatural undertones.
Challenge: Quarantine, first time.
Author's Note: I basically wrote this to get over some nasty writers block. I've never attempted a one-shot before, so my apologies if the pacing is off, I am learning. ^_^. I was inspired by my own dog, and somehow, the story morphed into.... this. Nothing like what I planned. But when I couldn't finish my other story in time for the contest, I decided to submit this one. The story was written entirely to the song Sumiregusa, by Enya.

Letting Go
by Dime's Wish

He'd rescued it from god-knows-where about six months back. The sewer would have been my first guess, if the smell offered any indication, followed closely by a garbage dump. He'd insisted on calling me the moment he brought the thing home; after the first ten minutes, I was positive that only strewing gasoline about the place and lighting a match would ever get rid of the stench completely. It was atrocious and yet, somehow, the dog managed to stay.

My rather limited experiences with dogs hadn't been good ones -- mainly, I fought with them for food and shelter during my years on the streets, and did my best to avoid them on missions. Nothing like a few dog bites on the rear end to make you a little leery around them. But Heero was smitten with the damn thing, and that softened him up a bit; made him smile in ways I never could and maybe that was part of my problem with it too. See, I'd had this thing for Heero for years, and in waltzed Fido, who in the first five minutes managed to round first and second base after he licked out the inside of Heero's mouth, and maybe even passed shortstop if you consider the fact that his little doggie paws were....well, pawing Heero's crotch during the whole disgusting display.

So, I didn't like him. And I fully blame that flea ridden, sop-eyed thing for everything that happened next.

Maybe Heero'd caught my staring matches with the 'It', or maybe he'd heard my muttered threats to stuff it in the toilet for a bath every time the dog so much as looked at me with his muddy paws, but in the months he'd had it, Heero'd never asked me to take care of it for him while he went away. So, needless to say I was shocked when I got the phone call asking my to puppy-sit for a few days. But as Wufei was his partner and therefore automatically ruled out, and Trowa, Quatre, and Relena were all off planet, I guess he'd finally broke down and had to ask me.

And because I'm completely stupid, and thought that somehow doing Heero a favor would translate into... something more, I said yes.

Oh god....the dog. It's this black thing, about fifty pounds of pure muscle, short haired, and no distinguishable dominant breed whatsoever. It has a head that looks about three sizes too big for its body, which only gave it the impression that it was about to topple over on its nose at any given moment, as well these damn pathetic doe eyes that it stared at me with every time I even thought about going near the kitchen.

"I'll just be gone a couple of days," Heero said, as he dropped the thing off at the door with its suitcase. Yes, the dog had its own suitcase. I'd been fully prepared to let it drink to its heart's content out of the toilet and use an old pizza box to put its food in.

Obviously, Heero knew me too well.

So along came the suitcase. Bleeding dog owned more things than I did. Heero had packed its own food bowls, leashes (note the plural), a doggie bed and collapsible kennel. I'm sure in some countries that now meant we were legally married or something. Oh, nearly forgot the two extra bags of food, in case Heero was gone more than the few days the mission had called for.

I told him if that was the case, he'd be picking the dog up from the pound.

Heero gave me this smile to let me know he knew I was kidding... apparently he doesn't know me as well as he thought.

And that's how I ended up with 'Monty'. Monty, the dog who shed fur even though it was the middle of winter, and didn't have a whole lot to spare in the first place. Monty, who had this insatiable fascination with licking his feet on my couch, leaving these big wet slobbery patches that I'd unwittingly sit in, and then go out to work looking like I had an incontinence problem. Monty, the dog that was better at breaking into places than I'd ever been. For being a creature that lacked opposable thumbs, he demonstrated great skill at getting into the garbage can under the sink, and into my bedroom at night after I'd closed the door. Apparently he was afraid of thunder too -- would have been nice if Heero'd told me that little fact before the dog chewed through a forty-nine, ninety-nine dollar kennel, went through my screen door, and peed in my hundred dollar shoes, wrecking my three dollar pair of socks. Damn dog was lucky that night, if it'd had longer fur, I would have used him to replace my socks.

See, as bad as all that sounds though, I survived. And had the nerve to think that finally, finally, things could go back to normal. How wrong I was, see, the worst part came after Heero picked to damn thing up.

And I got a phone call in the middle of that night.

"Duo?"

I only knew a handful of people that would fall into both lists; of calling me by my first name, and daring to call me at that unearthly hour in the morning. I knew it wasn't good.

"Who else would it be, Heero, it's three o'clock in the freaking morning," I growled into the phone, as soon as I recognized his voice.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, sounding slightly frazzled and breathless and all-in-all, completely un-Heero like. "It's just, we have a problem."

"We don't have a problem. He's your problem now. The dog got three meals a day, the vet said the hair bands would come out on their own, and yes, I gave him his damn ear drops," I gritted out, fighting with the blankets to sit up better in the bed.

"No, it's --"

What 'it' was, I didn't catch, because all of a sudden there was a loud banging on my front door. I froze, my grip on the receiver threatening to snap the phone in two. In my experience, loud noises in the middle of the night did not bring good news.

I knew answering the damn phone would be a bad idea.

"Please tell me the idiots trying to break down my front door have nothing to do with you," I demanded, giving the phone another squeeze and sorely wishing it was a certain appendage of Heero's I was twisting to shreds.

There was a long pause, and then, sounding slightly sheepish, "Well actually, that's what I've been trying to tell you."

"You have five seconds," I growled, really not having a good feeling about what he was going to say.

And so he told me. Which it how I ended up getting escorted from my apartment at three in the morning by some lovely gentlemen from the Center for Disease Control.

I was going to wring his neck, I knew that much. I just hadn't decided whether it was going to be Heero's, or his damn mutt's.

"Let me get this straight," I repeated moodily. "I get hauled out of bed, at three o'clock in the freaking morning, by guys in haz-mat suits -- which I might add, is really not going to earn me any brownie points with neighbors that still somewhat tolerate a former Gundam pilot in their building -- because you skip your inoculations for a mission so your freakin' dog can get his rabies shot!"

He had the decency to look reprimanded, at least. Not a whole lot of good that did us, we were still stuck in our 'cell' -- a hospital room big enough for two beds, a bathroom mascarading as a closet, a fridge that didn't have any beer, and a table that I couldn't even squish my knees under. Oh yeah, and a door that only opened from the outside.

"And because you missed your inoculations -- note, that translates into you fucked up royally -- you somehow accidentally get exposed and therefore contaminate me, when you come to pick up the aforementioned mutt."

Heero nodded, opening his mouth to say something I didn't know, and didn't care about, because I wasn't finished with him yet.

"And so now, while your hell hound is frolicking around Wufei's place, happy in his little dog life because he's got a new set of shoes to pee in while being guaranteed to be rabies free for another year, we are in fact, stuck here!" I slammed my fist into my palm theatrically, gaining little pleasure from his startled reaction because I was just too pissed at how the night had progressed.

"Duo, I can explain --" he began.

"You can, can you?" I glared at him, challenging him to finish that statement. "Explain then, how you could be such an idiot, Heero? Have you not heard of the L2 plague?" I demanded, pacing in front of him waving my hands in frustration while he sat calmly on his bed. "Did you some how think, that because you used to be a Gundam pilot, that somehow that translated into 'you're immune'? Or is it just because you're a complete moron?"

"I thought we'd had a vaccination for that," he explained again, sounding almost meek. "I remember you saying you were immune..."

"And you didn't think to check on that?" I cried out incredulously, throwing myself face down onto my cot. "You could pick up the phone to ask me to look after your freakin' dog, but not to ask a potentially life saving question? Not to mention the fact that this is my first weekend I've had off in months, and now I have to spend it locked up in here with you because I can't prove that I'm immune!"

"I'm sorry," he tried again.

"You damn will be," I sighed, my voice muffled as I buried my face into the sheets, trying to hid the anguish that was attempting to force its way into my expression. The sheets felt like tissue paper. Were going to be about at warm as tissue paper as well. Fucking brilliant. "If you get sick, Heero, you'll be very sorry. Do you have any idea, really --"

He slipped over to my cot quietly. I didn't even notice he'd moved until the edge of the thin mattress sagged under his weight. His hand ghosted across my back, coming to rest lightly between my shoulder blades. That touch alone was enough to shut me up. But then his fingers began tracing an intricate pattern through my shirt, circles and whorls that tickled my neck and sunk as low as the waistband of my jeans. It about broke my heart. I'd longed for years to have something like this happen, for him to touch me like this, and why did it have to be now? Why like this?

"You're going to die," I whispered, unsure if he could even hear me with my face buried the way it was. Wasn't this just brilliant. Because I'd volunteered to look after his stupid dog, I was now going to be forced to watch the man I'd been pining after for years die.

"I'm not going to die," he chuckled, running a finger nail gently up my side. I shuddered at the goosebumps it left in its wake.

I pulled away from him, though it about killed me to do so, because although all I wanted was to feel his hands trail over me like they had been and more, I couldn't do this, not knowing what I knew, and what he refused to accept. "You. Will. Die! Everyone who's ever come in contact with the L2 plague has died, don't you get that?" I cried, sitting up and getting off the bed again to pace the floor. "I lost everyone I cared about, everyone! And now I'm going to lose you too."

He sat there, looking slightly stunned. Good for him, maybe I'd finally gotten through to him before he went and croaked.

"You didn't die," he said quietly, standing up and grabbing my shoulders, holding me tight, forcing me to stand still and face him. "You said it yourself, you were immune."

"I wasn't immune!" I yelled angrily, before slapping a hand across my mouth in horror. I had never admitted that to anyone before, namely because those that did believe me would hate me for surviving, or want to study me, and those that didn't, really wouldn't care.

"I thought you said..." he trailed off quizzically, expecting an answer.

"I know what I said," I echoed mutely through my fingers. "I am immune.... now. But I wasn't. I got sick, just like everyone else."

"And yet you survived," he told me, with a little smile threatening to upturn the corner of his lips. I wanted to hit him; he was just so frustratingly adamant at downplaying this whole thing; like it was something history had just blown out of proportion -- like I was blowing it out of proportion. He didn't get how serious this was.

"I got sick and...I made a bargain," I admitted to him softly, looking down at the ground, ashamed. "I was afraid to die like that, like he did. So I made a bargain."

"I don't understand," he replied, in a low, confused voice. "Made a bargain with who? Who died"

I threw a hand up and let it drop, not having the energy to do more; to keep fighting with him. "Does it matter?" I asked him quietly. "I prayed, someone answered. I was sick, then got better. I paid for my weakness by watching the only other person I cared about die. Like I should have."

"Duo, you can't think like that," he told me fiercely, shaking my shoulders as if to emphasize his point.

"I know what I saw, Heero!" I snapped, struggling to get free from his grasp, but he refused to let me go.

"You could only be about six years old when that plague broke out," he replied incredulously. "No... God... would punish a six year old for being afraid to die, do you hear me? You're a damn tenacious bastard, always have been. That's why you didn't die. It's not because you made a deal, it's because you refused to give up! Just like I won't."

I gave him a slow, sad smile, still not willing to get my hopes up, and finally pried his fingers from my arms. Arguing between us never did any good, neither of us were ever willing to back down. "Time to take your vitals," I said gruffly, walking over to the table. Until one of us was sick enough to call in the doctors, we were on our own. There was nothing they could do, unless life support was needed, so we were left to fend for ourselves until that time came, or the quarantine was over, three days from now. Heero sat at the table complacently while I stuck the thermometer probe under his tongue, counted his pulse, checked his pupils and blood pressure.

The thermometer read thirty-nine. A full degree and a half higher than it had been an hour ago. I reset it, trying not to show my alarm and stuck it back in his mouth to check again. "Didn't do it properly," I lied in explanation when he gave me a questioning look. At least my voice sounded convincing.

"Thirty-nine," I read again, giving him a worried look. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," he frowned, taking the thermometer from me to see the display with his own eyes. "Maybe a little cold, but I thought it was just drafty in here."

"Lift your shirt," I commanded him, earning a surprised look in return. "I want to see if you've gotten the rash yet."

He did so, both of us nervously peering at his chest. I was preparing for the worst, but other than a few bruises and the shiny white echoes of old wounds, his chest was free of the classic red petechial rash. I slumped back into the other chair, exhaling, not realizing how scared I'd been. It was a good sign, I hoped. At least the disease it wasn't progressing rapidly. Something in his body was fighting it, usually the rash preceded the fever. Heero dropped his shirt, and picked the thermometer back up, loading it with another disposable probe.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, grudgingly letting him slip it in my mouth. "We both know I'm not going to get sick."

"You don't follow the rules, you're not going to get out of here," he chided, though his voice betrayed him. He'd been shaken by his results. Hard to deny that you're not going to get sick when all evidence says otherwise.

Everything with me was normal like I'd expected. I documented both our results on the computer, giving myself a moment to think. I wish I could remember how the plague had progressed with me, but it had been so long ago. I couldn't remember if I'd gotten the rash or not. The fever had hit me so suddenly I'd been delirious within the hour, and Solo was cold and stiff beside me when I'd come out of it.

"Bed," I commanded him, getting up from the chair. "Now."

Heero looked at me in surprise. "But I feel fine," he protested, trying to give me one of his famous glares that, although they could freeze flames within a five mile radius, I had long ago grown immune to.

"You won't be," I promised him darkly, pulling back his blankets and pointing sternly at the bed. He climbed in with a growl, and I delayed long enough to grab the blanket off my own bed, throwing it over him as well before crawling in beside him and snuggling up so I could see his face.

"You know," he began softly after a minute, "I kind of imagined dinner and a movie before we did this. Maybe a bottle of wine?"

I scowled at him. "Delirious already?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Quite lucid," he muttered finally, refusing to meet my gaze. His cheeks were red...I actually made him blush. "I'm sorry, but if you're so convinced I'm going to die, I thought I should say something."

"Say what?" I pressed when he didn't continue.

"That I've wanted to do this with you for years," he burst out, finally looking my straight in the face, challenging me to shoot him down. "That I've been searching for a reason to touch you, to talk to you, to see if you feel the same way."

"Well... why didn't you just ask me?" I argued weakly, knowing full well the irony of my question because I'd been doing the same thing as him. I even knew his answer, because it would have mimicked mine.

"I was afraid," he whispered, still searching my face for a reaction with those intense blue eyes of his. "If I said something, I was afraid I'd lose you completely. And I couldn't handle that. Having your friendship, and wanting more...."

"Was better than risking it all and having nothing.... I know," I finished forlornly, tentatively reaching out to him with my arm and draping it over his waist. "I know. Trust me, I feel so stupid now. We've missed out on so much..."

He regarded me calmly, though it chilled me to see his skin was still flushed, but brighter. He hadn't been blushing before, I should have known, he never blushed. It was the fever coloring his cheeks, and now his eyes were starting to look feverish too, brighter than normal, slightly glazed. Miniature hemorrhages were present in the whites; I hadn't been close enough to see them before now -- I knew then, he wasn't going to make it. I could feel it in my bones. Solo had looked that way in death -- he had the doll's eyes, the glassy look that let me, a six year old, know he'd never being seeing out those eyes again, because there was nothing left in his body. It was just an empty shell. His whites had turned completely red by the time he'd died, as though in his last moments, he'd been preparing to cry blood.

He shivered suddenly, and I pulled him closer to me, trying to forcefully will my body warmer so it'd heat him too.

"You're a fool, Duo Maxwell, if you still think I'm going to die." Heero whispered emphatically, pulling his arm out from under the blanket and brushing away at a stray lock of hair that had come out of my hastily constructed 'three o'clock in the morning' braid. I closed my eyes, savoring soft touch.

"Why does me being practical get me called a fool?" I complained, unable to sound too upset because he'd taken a lock of my hair, and was using it to tickle the side of my nose in distraction.

"You are not being practical," he countered, with a hoarseness present in his voice that I hadn't heard before. I looked up at him; his head was resting on the pillow like he didn't have the energy left to move it, his eyes were sluggish in tracking my voice. And yet he still found the energy to argue with me. "A practical person is only practical if he can weigh both the optimist and pessimist perspectives and come to an adequate compromise."

"Quit lecturing philosophy and semantics to me and say what you really mean," I sighed.

"Well, the optimist would think --" he cut off abruptly as he lost his train of thought. He blinked rapidly, moistening his lips with his tongue. "The optimist...damn it, Duo, I can't --"

"I know," I soothed, taking the edge of the sheet and wiping it across his sweaty forehead. "I know, it's okay. Just rest."

"No..." he protested, shivering violently again. "I need to say... I'm a damn tenacious b-b-b-bastard too, and... I'm not letting you g-g-get away from me...that easily."

"Promise me?" I dared to whisper, shivering lightly as his calloused fingers traced the outlines of my cheeks bones and trailed down to my lips.

"I promise....the God of Death," he breathed, his hand falling limply between us. I wiped another trickle of sweat away from his face before it got in his eyes. He didn't stir. He'd used his last reserves of energy to make me a promise, to make me feel better... when I should have been the one reassuring him. I really was a fool.

It unnerved me, what he'd said. I wondered if he'd said it that way because I'd been known to call myself the God of Death when we went into battle, or if he'd guessed that was who I'd made my bargain with, all those years ago. I hoped I'd have a chance to ask him.

He didn't wake again. Not even when I got out of bed after an hour to dim the lights, check his vitals and log them into the computer. I had a message with instructions waiting from the Preventer doctors, who'd obviously noticed the dramatic rise in Heero's last temperature. I skimmed them, and deleted it. It was nothing I didn't know anyway. Monitor him, watch his breathing, sound the alarm if he got any worse. Sally sent a private message of her own, wanting personal confirmation of his status as she had been his mission commander. Lady Une did the same. And Wufei, Trowa and Quatre. I rattled off a quick note to Wufei as he was Heero's permanent partner, counting on him to update everyone else and then slipped back into bed. Heero was sweating, his skin looked bright red, and yet his skin felt frighteningly cold to my touch. I didn't dare leave him again, but I was also afraid to touch him, everywhere I had, my fingers left large purple bruises in their wake.

I dozed lightly, still getting up on the hour, every hour to check his vitals. I'd long ago given up on taking my own, if anyone gave me grief about that, I'd throw up stink later. I was fifteen minutes into a doze when his shivering abruptly stopped and I shot awake, suddenly panicked that he'd quit breathing all together. He hadn't, but I didn't even dare close my eyes after that.

His temperature crept up steadily. Six hours after he'd quit talking to me, it was hovering around the forty-one Celsius mark. I lost both blankets and distanced myself from his body as much as possible, cursing myself for my foolishness. I should have been cooling him off, not helping the fever along, regardless of how cool his skin felt. At least when the febrile seizures began, I'd preparing myself for them.

I hauled him down onto the floor, swearing and cursing bitterly that no one had thought to give us ice when they'd confined us in here, and hoped that the cool tile of the floor would be enough to cool him down to stop the seizures. I soaked one of the blankets in a sink of cold water and draped it over him, I held his head as his muscles spasmed, tried to keep him from doing any more damaged to his already broken body. I'm sorry to say I cried, feeling so helpless and frustrated as my new partner convulsed on the floor, that the tears began to drip on his face before I even realized what they were. It gave him the appearance that he was crying too.

It was nearing midnight, at my best guess when the hallucinations started. He scared the shit out of me when he suddenly wrestled out of my arms, crying my name, calling out for help. I soothed him the best I could, wiping his sweaty hair out of his face, fighting to keep him settled in my arms so he wouldn't hurt himself. He yelled, screamed, fought me with all he had until his voice was gone, and all I was left holding was his trembling body, eyes wide, blood-red and glassy as they saw things that weren't there and flinched at invisible nightmares.

That was when I began to pray.

I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination. After what happened with my dealings all those years ago, and Solo's death, I had vowed never to ask for Anyone's help again. The cost was just too high. But I had nothing left now. Nothing that they could take from me would be worse than losing Heero, and so that night I called on every god I'd ever heard of, begging someone to take pity on me, for someone to hear me and to spare him. I held him tightly against my chest, not noticing when my own legs went cold, and lost all feeling; not aware of the muscles in my back spasming until I was contorted on my side.

And when Heero finally fell silent in my arms, I whispered to him, begged him not to leave me, and to hold on, to not break his damn promise. For awhile I forgot where I was, and it became Solo I was talking to. As if I was being giving a second chance. I'd never been there for him, not towards the end. I should have died before him, instead, when I came back to reason, it was him comforting me. Even in death, he'd wrapped his body around mine to protect me, to try and keep me warm. He'd never stopped trying to comfort me.

When Heero spoke again, I shushed him absently, not breaking the litany of my pleadings for more than an instant. It was his eyes that finally got my attention, for they were staring right at me, still feverish-looking, but cognizant.

"Hey," he croaked out, raising a hand up to my cheek.

I closed my eyes as his finger brushed it lightly, trailing down to my chin and then falling back to the floor. That one movement had him spent, and he was asleep again, easier than he had been in awhile. I hated myself for it, but I carefully shifted him out of my lap, and ran for the thermometer. I'd heard of too many instances in the L2 plague where people regained lucidity for a moment, only to die shortly after. The damn thermometer took its sweet time spitting out a reading, but when it finally did, I wept.

"Thirty-eight, Heero," I whispered to him, leaving the ghost of a kiss on his forehead between teardrops. "You did it. You beat death."

I left him again, easier this time, to type the new temp into the logs, sent a cautious, but hopeful message off to Wufei, and finally went to the bathroom. It was three o'clock in the morning. A full day we'd been locked in here. Only twenty-four hours... I felt like I'd just been forced to relive the last seventeen years of my life.

It was another four days before they let us out of that blasted isolation room, and you wanna know why? Because I hadn't been a good little boy and taken my own vitals while I'd watched my boyfriend fight for his life.

Yes, boyfriend.

After I'd ranted and raved at the stupid door that only open from the outside, and sent off pissy messages to everyone I could think of with an iota of power, we'd sat down and had a proper talk. Not that there was really much to say after going through an experience like that together. We knew the important stuff already, the rest was just pleasantries and confessions.

I got the Preventer doctor, who checked us out before releasing us, to up my time off work an additional week, saying it was the least he could do for spoiling my weekend after he didn't believe me when I said I had immunity to the disease. Sally may have helped influence his decision, I didn't really care, all I know was my persistence brought a smile to Heero's face and we both walked out of that hospital with two weeks of holidays.

I saw him back to my apartment and tucked him up in my bed before I left. He wouldn't admit it, but the last few of days had taken a lot out of him, and I knew he didn't have it in him for what I had planned that afternoon. Hell, I wasn't sure I even was. And I didn't want him to witness that.

My first stop was in walking distance, a Catholic church that was only a five minute jog from my place. Although I'd been preparing myself for this ever since Heero had woken, it was still with great trepidation that I finally made myself enter that church. I hadn't gone into a church since the Maxwell church had been destroyed. I'd been so certain it had been destroyed because of me -- that somehow, because of my desperate deal to save my life, my bargain with the devil, no real God wanted me in their place of worship and would do anything to keep me away.

Now, maybe, I knew better.

I paused in the entryway, long enough to dip my hands in the basin of holy water and cross myself, and to let my eyes adjust to the light. And perhaps, to see if I was welcome.

"Can I help you?" A figure approached me. For a moment, I was transported back; I'd transposed Father Maxwell's face onto the man's body. But although his clothes were the same -- the clerical uniform that I'd taken to wearing during the war to remember my reason for fighting against OZ -- the face was younger, and he had less gray hair than how I remembered Father Maxwell.

"I... just..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. I came to ask for forgiveness? To offer thanks? To see if the church would get stuck by lightning the moment I stepped foot in it? None seemed completely accurate at describing why I was there.

He smiled at me; a peaceful, yet slightly wistful smile of a man that has seen a lot, and knows a lot, and could see the turmoil in my soul. "Candles are at the front," he offered quietly, gesturing in the direction. "I'll be in the office up the stairs if you need anything else."

"I -- thank you," I whispered, ducking my head in shame. Maybe he was surprised by the reverence in my tone, maybe he missed it. But I felt like that had been the sign I was looking for. I'd been forgiven. I was welcome. Maybe now I could offer my thanks.

When I finally could bring myself to look up, he was gone. He moved as quietly as the dead. I wondered if he'd really been there at all, but I didn't dwell on it for too long. It didn't matter.

I walked slowly down the aisle, taking in the stained glass images, the religious icons that had once meant so much to me, however short a time they'd been present in my youth. Each one had a theme present; hope, sacrifice, betrayal, healing, love. I used to sit in front of them for hours, trying to pick out the every little detail, as if somehow they'd give me some meaning for my life. Now, I realized I'd been looking at them too literally. The stained glass could have being telling the story of my life for the past few days. Years even. The key was to not look at them as individual pieces, just as your life wasn't defined by one single time, but as a whole. I turned carefully in a circle in the aisle, again and again to test my revelation, until the windows were flashing by in a colorful blur. Life was not something that was static. It evolved, and progressed and looped, but only if you didn't allow yourself to get hung up on one particular event. Was that what I'd been doing?

The alter at the front was shadowed beneath the simple cross erected there. The son of Christ was crucified on it. I fell to my knees before it, closing my eyes in awe. I used to believe he was judging me for my weakness. But now, seeing him again, did I realize something else. Just as before I'd been looking at the figure too literally. Out of every sacrifice, every dark moment, there comes a second chance. Mine was Heero.

Only a few candles were lit beneath it, the small flames doing little to cast light. I bowed my head to murmur my thanks, lit a candle of my own, and wept quietly again.

Damn sentimental fool I was.

I had to catch the bus for my next destination, and went to another church, a Protestant one. And then another bus, to a synagogue, and then a mosque, and I went all over that damn city to every church, temple and place of worship I could think of, offering my thanks to any god willing to listen.

It was late when I returned, I could see even as I approached my building that my apartment was dark. I increased my pace, worried about if Heero was okay -- he shouldn't still have been sleeping. I dropped my damn keys because I was rushing to get the door open, until someone opened it for me.

"Damn it, Heero, you scared me," I gasped, nearly collapsing into his arms with relief. "I didn't see any lights on, I thought -- oh god, I thought..."

"It's okay," he soothed, stroking my hair. "It's all okay, I just woke up, I hadn't had the chance to turn the lights on, and then I heard you at the door." He hugged me tighter, and even though it was an effort to keep breathing, I let him. I felt if he eased up even in the slightest, I'd fall apart in his hands. I was drained, I had nothing left in me anymore. I'd had to relieve the L2 plague, and watch my boyfriend fight for his life in front of me, I'd not slept in days and today, I'd bared my soul before the Gods in thanks for sparing him.

"It's okay, love," he crooned, seeming to pick up that I was coming apart before his eyes. "It's all going to be okay. God, what have you been doing today, to do this to you?"

I shook my head, and buried my face deeper in his arms. I couldn't tell him, not yet. I couldn't go through the whole ordeal again, it was just too painful. Maybe someday. "Asking forgiveness," I whispered. "That's all I can tell you, Heero. I was asking forgiveness."

"Did you get it?" he murmured in question, not sounding at all taken aback by my vague answer. Maybe he knew, or, suspected.

I huffed in his ear, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed up so closely to mine. "I think, maybe...I did."

"Then that's all I need to know," he stated firmly, gently easing my fingers from their death grip on his shirt and wrapping an arm firmly around my waist, escorting me to the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I protested weakly.

"You are going to sleep," he told me in a tone that left no room for arguments. "And after I visit the bathroom, I'm going to join you."

He was gone a lot longer than a bathroom visit should have warranted, I guess he needed to eat too. I was dozing by the time he climbed back into bed with me. He curled up tightly against my back, offering comfort and safety in his arms. I could feel he wanted more, his hardness evident through his thin boxers but he didn't mention anything. He knew that that wasn't the kind of love I needed from him right now, and I was thankful. I wasn't sure I would be strong enough to turn him away, but I didn't want our first time to be like this, when I felt like I'd been turned inside out, scrapped raw and left empty.

Instead we slept, and his arms and soft murmurings kept any of my old nightmares at bay. Or maybe, in my penance, I'd been relieved of those too...

I woke easily, humming my appreciation as Heero trailed one finger down the length of my spine.

"Are you awake this time?" he murmured softly, not pausing as the finger traveled back up to trace small circles at the nape of my neck. Strands of my hair tickled my back with the movement, I shivered.

"Have I been awake before?" I questioned, not daring to move lest he stop what he was doing. The finger made another pass, dipping lower this time, teasing the elastic of my boxers before retreating to safety.

"Only a few dozen times," he teased lightly, "can I go get a drink now?"

"I'm not stopping you," I drawled, finally turning my head so I could face him.

"This time," he chuckled, slipping out of bed and into the bathroom. I heard the tap running, and lay there, feeling content. In fact, I don't think I'd felt this peacefully in a very long time. Perhaps I had gotten something out of this whole ordeal, something just as good, though completely different, as my relationship with Heero. I felt as though I'd had a poison bled away from me, one I'd lived with for so long, I'd no longer noticed its presence.

"You look... better," Heero noted, pausing briefly in the doorway when he returned, his comment strangely echoing my thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this before."

"I feel better," I told him sincerely, shifting over in the bed to allow him to climb back in. And then, because I was feeling completely honest, I added, "I think, maybe... I've only just gotten rid of the plague, you know? Like it's been with me all this time. And now I'm cured."

"I don't think that's it," he disagreed, fidgeting to get comfortable. He'd not come out of this completely unscathed; large bruises covered the entire right side of his chest, and I knew they caused him pain, though he'd never admitted it. "I think..." he hesitated, struggling to find the words.

"Just say it," I reassured him, poking him gently in the ribs. "Speak honestly, remember? We've caused ourselves enough grief over the past few years because we haven't."

He sighed. "I don't think the L2 plague was ever your problem, love," he began slowly, carefully gaging my reaction. "You were very sick, and delusional..." he trailed off darkly, for a moment lost in memories of his own. I wondered briefly what'd he'd seen in his own hallucinations, but didn't ask. Somethings were too personal; needed to be volunteered rather then coaxed out, even between us. "You were only six, love, feverish and alone," he spoke up again, his voice sounding thick. "And you didn't know what was happening to you, or why, and so you created a reason. And why you thought you deserved to be punished like that, I'll never know, but that's... what I think."

I felt my throat tighten with each word, the corner of my eyes prickled with tears, but I refused to let them fall. I'd cried enough over the last few days, now wasn't the time. Now was a time for healing. "Thank-you," I whispered, hugging him tightly. I didn't agree with him, not yet, but maybe one day I could. Now was too soon.

"Can I ask..." he hesitated again, and I grew nervous, wondering what he was going to say. "Why is Monty's kennel duct-taped to your balcony with a hole in the side of it?"

I bust out laughing, burying my face in his chest. "Your dog is poorly named," I choked out between laughs. His confused, but bemused look did nothing to help the explanation out. "He should be called Houdini, the way he gets in and out of places no dog should be physically capable of." "That's what Wufei tells me," he chuckled. "He keeps insisting that Monty chewed through drywall when he got locked in the bathroom."

"It wouldn't surprise me," I crowed, just picturing the look on Wufei's face when he'd discovered that. "Damn beast ate two pounds of peanuts when he was here, I'm sure a little dry wall wouldn't phase him."

He looked shocked, and regarded me seriously. "Don't you like him, Duo?"

I chose my words carefully, "I'm sure he's... great, love. He's just not on his best behavior when he's away from you."

He looked mollified by that, so I added slyly, "besides, how am I supposed to like something that has slept with you longer than I have? He's competition!"

"You're feeling threatened... by my dog?" Heero snorted, glancing at me sideways. "Don't you think that being a little..."

"A little what, Heero?" I smirked, raising myself up on one elbow to see him better.

'Petty?" he offered, a little less sure of himself.

I pursed my lips in apparent thought. "Well that depends..." I said in mock seriousness, letting my eyes tell him what I really meant.

"On?" he breathed, catching my suggestive look. He put a hand up, carefully brushing a lock of hair off my face before letting it trail down the front of my chest lightly.

"On what you do to convince me otherwise," I groaned, as his hand retreated back from my waist teasingly, and settled on drawing light circles around my nipples. I rolled onto my back at his urging, tensing only slightly as he swung a leg over, straddling me, effectively pinning me to the bed.

For all our teasing, he hesitated then, seeming as surprise as me to find himself straddling my chest. During our five days in lock-up, I discovered he was a virgin, as was I. Neither of us had been the type for casual sex, and so I'd never been with anyone in my year alone, after the Eve war and neither had he. I, however, had been smart enough to get the mechanics of it from Quatre, who, far from being embarrassed about the question like I thought he would be, had relished explaining the basics along with several crude but effective hand gestures, and a few 'must never do's'.

All that escaped me now, and we were left staring at each other, feeling foolish. I snaked an arm around the back of his head, pulling his face towards me gently. "You think too much, love," I whispered, staring at him intently. "Quit thinking, and listen to what your body's telling you."

"Don't let me hurt you," he pleaded, meeting my gaze. His face was flushed, but in desire, so very different from the redness of the fever.

"I won't," I soothed, stroking his hair back from his face. "We will go slow, and stop if we need to, and none of it will hurt because we care about each other. I promise."

"I..." he still seemed at a loss.

"Quit thinking, love, and kiss me," I commanded him softly, guiding his lips down to meet mine. We were careful, at first, tentative, not unlike the kisses we'd exchanged in the two days following his recovery in that hospital room. But slowly they deepened, lasting longer, and unable to hold back, I parted my lips to flick my tongue over his lips -- asking permission, without interrupting the mood. He granted permission, opening his mouth slightly, and I slipped the tip of my tongue cautiously into his mouth.

"You brushed your teeth?" I pulled away abruptly, feigning a glare. "You get to taste all nice and minty, and I have morning breath. How is that fair?"

"I didn't notice," he replied, kissing me again to demonstrate.

I snorted, and couldn't resist adding, "I guess kissing your dog has some benefits. After kissing garbage and dog poop, you're immune to morning breath."

He pulled back, and flicked the tip of my nose with his finger in reprimand. "I'm immune to your breath."

"Wonder --" the remark was cut off as his mouth covered mine, and this time it was him asking for permission, copying the motion I'd made with my tongue to gain access to my mouth. As he went to pull back, I followed his kiss, using the opportunity to keep him there by sucking on his bottom lip. The move elicited a groan from him, and I did it again, harder then softer, until he stopped me by turning it into another deep kiss.

This time when he pulled back I was the one groaning, as his weight shifted, accidentally rubbing my groin. He liked that, and did it again, angling his hips forward. The only thing between us was two pairs of boxers, the thought gave me a rush and scared my slightly at the same time. But he stopped there, he seemed at a loss again, and I used his hesitation to push him off me onto his side, and turned to face him.

"Want to stop?" I hedged, unsure of what his hesitation was about. He shook his head. "Then you're still thinking too much," I guessed, feeling relieved as his eyes confirmed it.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed, kissing the fingertip I was using to outline his mouth with.

"Touch me," I pleaded, rolling onto my back and placing my hands behind my head. His hesitation was an incredible turn on, whether he knew it or not, and baring myself to him like this only intensified it. I close my eyes in anticipation, and I wasn't disappointed, his first touch sent heat radiating from his hand down to my groin.

"Yes," I hissed, encouraging him on. He shifted closer, so he was pressed right up against my side, and I could feel his erection on the side of my thigh; he was already hard, given, he had been the night before, where as I wasn't, not quite yet. He continued tracing patterns on my chest, dipping down tentatively to the elastic waist of my boxers and then back up to safety. I put my hand over his, and guided it to my nipple. I kept my eyes closed, and moaned again as he rubbed circles over the nub, and squeezed it gently between a thumb and a finger. And then his hand disappeared. Before I could open my eyes, it was replaced with something warm and moist, and I cried out as his tongue teased the tip. My hands were running through his hair before I'd even realized they'd moved, and I pressed his head against my chest as he continued to suck and worry the nipple with his mouth.

I ran my hands down his back, letting my mind fill in what my eyes couldn't see. An old cut here, a burn there, I felt every one with the tips of my fingers. I knew where they all were, having stitched up a lot of them myself during the war. And then I went lower, going where he hadn't yet dared, and slipped my hands beneath his boxers, cupping his cheeks, but no more, not yet.

He left my nipple alone, and kissed the hollow in my neck, pushing himself up slowly on his hands so he could continue the path unbroken from my neck to my hips. My breath caught again as he hesitated, and I opened my eyes to see him waiting patiently for permission to get rid of my boxers.

"God, yes," I sighed, lifting my hips slightly so he could slip them off. I tugged on the leg of his, and with a small smile he disposed of his on the floor too. Before either of us could feel nervous or self conscious about being naked like that, I pushed him onto his back, and lay beside him, entwining my legs with his. "Can I touch you?" I ventured finally, sliding a hand over his hip but not yet touching his cock.

He hummed an affirmative, and so I carefully ran a finger from the tip to the base, before cupping his balls gently in my hand. He hadn't been expecting that, evident by the sudden thrusting upward of his hips, so I did it again. He groaned deeply, I could feel the vibrations against my cheek.

That was all it took, that little gesture. The awkwardness was broken, and soon he was touching me too, until we fell in to a pattern of show and do, mimicking each other's caresses and delighting in the responses they caused. Soon, when all the sheets had been kicked of the beds and we were both near crying from need, for some release from the pressure building in our groins and deeper. I was straddling over him, lost as his tongue teased the head of my cock, and whimpered as he pulled away.

"Take me," he pleaded, eyes glazed over with lust, his hair completely chaotic in the way it fell over his face. "God, love, I can't take much more of this, take me, now."

"I..." I hesitated then, suddenly realizing that we had none of the necessary equipment, no lube, and I didn't dare do what he asked, knowing it'd hurt him. Quatre had been clear on that, about the preparation needed. "I can't," I breathed, running my nails gently down the front of his chest. 'Not now, not without hurting you."

"You won't hurt me," he whispered, still not really hearing what I was saying.

"No, Heero, you don't understand," I pressed more urgently. "We need lube, or it will hurt. I don't exactly keep stock of the stuff."

He groaned, thrusting up against me again. "I don't care," he ground out, squeezing my cock with his hands, trying his best to get me to comply. "Please," he begged again, "I need you inside me...need to feel you....ahh god!"

I had wet a finger in my mouth while he was talking, not able to deny him. If he wanted to stop later, I would, in an instant. But I couldn't say no when he was pleading with me like this, and so I'd sucked my finger, and then teased it between his legs, rounding the rim of his entrance which was what caused him to cry out.

"Please," he choked out again, eyes scrunched up. So I pressed in slightly, watching his face, and then buried my finger inside him when his brow unfurrowed. "Oh god...that.... oh god..."

"I don't think the gods have anything to do with this," I chuckled hoarsely, feeling his finger clench around me. He only moaned in reply, and I couldn't help but close my eyes, imagining that I was my cock buried inside him and not just my finger. My other hand flitted down to my penis, and I wrapped it around, stroking slowly, trying to mimic the pressure my finger was feeling.

"More," he gasped, bucking his hips instinctively. "God, love, quit teasing!"

I started to slide another finger in, stopping immediately when his face spasmed in pain. "Heero, we can't --"

"Just...gimme a sec," he gritted, breathing in shallow pants. I leaned forward, kissing his forehead, down the side of his face until I reached his mouth. Keeping him occupied with my tongue, I slowly advanced my second finger and then began scissoring them, keeping a carefully eye on his face.

But my pace was too slow for him, and he pushed me off, flipping me deftly onto my back until he was the one straddling me. His mouth went down on my erection, his hands pinning my hips so I couldn't thrust to meet him. He took me as deep as he could, coating my length with saliva, and just a quickly his mouth was gone. I complained with a whimper, opening my eyes to see what he was doing. And then he was on me. I groaned as I felt the head of my cock brush his entrance, stopping just in time to meet him, remembering that I didn't want to hurt him. I braced his hips with my hands, ready to stop him if he suddenly decided to impale himself on me, but he didn't. His breath hitched as he pushed down on to me slowly, for several seconds there was only the sounds of heavy panting. And then the head of my cock was past the ring of muscle and he pushed himself down hard the rest of the way.

"Oh....g-god," I stuttered, as suddenly everything went white and I was only aware of how warm, and tight and amazing he felt clenched around me.

We didn't last long after that. Both of us were too new, too inexperienced, and the feelings and sensations were just too much to endure for long. He came first, arching his back with a stifled cry as I bucked my hips, trying to hit that spot as best I could in the awkward position I was in, to prolong his orgasm. I was right behind him, not long after he'd come back to his senses. I grabbed at his shoulders, trying to bury myself deeper and deeper even as the throws of the orgasm began to fade.

We were left sweaty, hot, and panting breathlessly on my bed. Heero was drooped over, still straddling me, looking as if he could fall asleep right there. I didn't blame him; the whole experience had left me feeling content and drowsy. That was until I finally slid out of him, and I realized how sticky and wet we both were.

"Yuck." I crinkled my nose, pulling a face at him. He began to chuckle, and with tremendous effort rolled off to lay beside me.

"Yuck," he agreed. "Though, maybe not the first thing you should have said after our first time."

He laughed again as my face went through a full range of expressions, finally ending on sheepish. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It was..."

"Nice?" he offered.

"I was going to say amazing, but if you think it was only nice, maybe we'd better try again." I teased lightly, tweaking the end of his nose. "See if we can bring that rating up to a 'great'."

"I think," he began, feigning seriousness, but what he thought I never did find out because the phone rang.

"Duo Maxwell's residence," Heero answered humorously, pushing me back with a devious smile as I scrambled to grab the phone from him. "Oh, hi Wufei."

I let him have the phone then, knowing that it hadn't been me Wufei was calling for.

"Yes, I feeling much better," he replied cordially, then, smirking, "yes, Duo is taking excellent care of me."

I snorted then, burying my face into the pillow trying to cover my strangled laughter. I was amazed that he'd managed to say that at all, never mind with a straight face.

"He did... what!" Heero exclaimed into the receiver, putting an end to my laughter immediately. "Yeah, yeah...I'll be right over. Bye."

"What's the matter?" I pounced the moment he hung up the phone. "Is it Quatre? No, wait, it's the doctor, isn't it. He's said something --"

"It's Monty," Heero interrupted before I got too far off on my tangent.

"Oh yeah....what about him?"

"He ate Wufei's couch."

"He did... what?"

"Yeah," Heero snorted wryly. "That's what I said."

Three Months Later...

Despite what he promised Wufei, we didn't go over right away. I'm sure Wufei would have appreciated that, if he had known the reason for our delay. Sex, while fun, was very messy. Heero took a shower first, while I tossed all the bedding in the garbage. Despite how careful we'd been, the lack of proper lube had still made him bleed slightly, though he'd never complained. I vowed that we'd get some before we made love again...

...and in the circumstances, I figured we'd best take care of that errand before going to Wufei's as well.

While Heero was showering, I packed most of my things into a couple duffel bags. Yeah, it was sudden, but after what we'd been through, the thought of going back to live separately, and just dating like normal people wasn't appealing. I didn't own much. The furniture wasn't mine, nor the appliances. We'd have to make one more trip before all my stuff was out, but I hadn't given up my lease so it would work out one way of the other.

Turns out the damn dog didn't eat the whole couch like Wufei had insinuated, only gnawed on a couple of cushions. Still, Monty'd ingested enough that it was a couple of days before he stopped having bits of white fluff in his...doggie business.

It took some adjustment to get used to living with a dog. Heero was right, the damn thing did behave better when he was around, so I guess we're stuck with him. It was a little unnerving the first time we made love. Two beady little eyes peering over the end of the bed while Heero went down on me; I felt like our love making was being judged or something. At least he didn't jump on the bed with us and start licking Heero's face, I would have had to draw a line there.

That's how we got to where we are now. We got back from a movie double date with Trowa and Quatre a few hours ago. I'm in the bathroom cleaning up after another night of loving making. We're getting better all the time, more adventurous too. Even from this distance, I can hear Heero's steady breathing in our bedroom, and beyond that, rain pelting on the window. Just need a crackling fireplace and the story book ending would be complete. Of course, Heero's building manager draws the line at knocking holes in walls. Or maybe just the two homosexual seventeen year olds doing the renovating is what makes him leery.

It's not always easy. We both are stubborn people -- tenacious, I'll even use Heero's word. We are both so use to arguing with each other that it's been hard to break the habit. Heero insists on washing the dog in the tub, and then blaming me for the clogged drain. I always blast music and get the neighbors complaining. Not my fault they have poor taste. But tenacious is the reason we're together too. Heero told me once, about a month after everything happened, that his promise to me was the only thing that kept him from letting go that night. So yeah.... tenacious is a good thing.

Really, the step to living together wasn't a big one. We had, after all, lived through two wars with each other for company and we hadn't exactly been strangers in the year after. It was the whole couple thing which was a little bit harder, at least in the beginning. But there are books for that, and -- don't tell Heero -- but I still go to Quatre for advice. Him and Trowa have been together for so long, they've got plenty of experience to draw from.

When I leave the bathroom, I see Monty sprawled out, taking up every square inch of bed Heero isn't occupying. I hazard a look -- yes, the door is still closed. I think tomorrow I'll be checking under the bed to see if there's any new holes in the wall. Hell, if there is, maybe I'll be able to convince Heero that nows the ideal time to put in that fireplace. It's not like we made the hole, and the bed's easy enough to move.

As I near the bed, Monty looks up forlornly. We get on all right. I know enough now to check the couch for wet spots before I sit down. I feed him scraps under the table when Heero isn't looking. Those hungry puppy dog eyes always get to me, even though I know for a fact how much he eats in a day. There is still one thing we don't agree on -- he refuses to forgive me for taking up his side of the bed next to Heero. And he's determined to make me feel guilty about it every single night.

"You know, Monty," I whisper, getting a hesitant wag of the tail in response. "You're not that bad really. After all, the whole reason Heero and I are together is all your fault, ya know?"

Monty wags his tail again, but the ears go down as I pull back the comforter. He slips of the bed with a sigh and flops pathetically on the floor, like he's lost all his will to keep living.

I crawl under the blanket. Heero rolls over onto his side, still sleeping soundly, but inviting me to spoon with him. I accept, being careful not to wake him as I slip an arm tightly around his waist, burying my face in his hair. I don't think I'll ever take moments like this for granted. This is my second chance, I'm going to live every damn second of it.

I'm just starting to drift when I feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my head. That's a sense I'm sure will never go away, not matter how long I live in safety. My life has depended on that ability way too much. I look over my shoulder, still being careful not to disturb Heero.

Monty's staring back, two little brown eyes are all that's visible over the edge of the bed. They shift minutely, from my face, to the empty space beside me, then back to my face. Curled up the way we are, there's enough room for another whole person in the bed.

I sigh.

Monty, sensing my weakness, jumps onto the bed beside me and lays down, still as a statue before I can change my mind.

"Just tonight," I whisper to him firmly. "After all, this is all your fault."

Monty gives me a content look, one all too similar to Heero's.

The one that says, he knows me better than that.