It didn't occur to Heero at first that the abstract sequence of happenings in his dreams were actual events of Duo's life -- at one point in time, these events had taken place on L2, had involved people with the same faces speaking the same words, and could with some work be proven to exist. The dreams were set in a liquid amber haze, like yellowed photographs come to life. He moved through the scenery like a ghost. Sometimes it seemed that a select few could see him but chose to pay no attention to him. It did not strike him to interact with them, either. The dreams came as a mild surprise but were welcomed by the weary soldier.

It was healing to follow the childhood -- a period missing in his life -- of his partner and trusted friend. He watched the young Duo, long-limbed, agile and faster than his companions, carry himself to seem older than his years. He saw the other children grow strong under his leadership, and how Duo managed to unite even the untrusting little rebels. But he also witnessed what no one else would ever notice.

One night he dreamt of the young boy screaming hoarsely as he was outnumbered and attacked by a group of boys -- boys from wealthy, influential families who could not bear the fact that a scruffy orphan was clearly more charismatic and well-liked than they were. They were boys twice his size whom he proceeded to take out, one by one. He left them crying wimpishly on the ground, hands pressed to their noses, all dignity abandoned. Heero felt himself smiling in his sleep. It didn't surprise him that the pilot of Deathscythe's skills in hand-to-hand combat surpassed even his own. There were no competitive feelings; instead, he felt strangely proud.

He saw Duo cry after the fight even though the boy had emerged victorious. His eyes were scrunched up, his mouth open as he sobbed, his face very red. He was a child, after all. Heero's heart twisted as he looked on, identifying the freshly shed tears as tears of anger. The expression in those gritty, brimming indigo eyes fit perfectly with the title "Shinigami", which would be associated with the boy in the years to come.

He followed the sniffling boy back to the church, remaining just a few steps behind him like an guardian angel. He saw the boy wipe the blood away from his knuckles, wipe the dirt off his face, and finally throw the torn piece of clothing he had been using as a towel, reluctantly, into a dumpster to conceal the evidence of his fight. Upon his return, he was surrounded by the younger children who crowded around him, curious about the bruises on his face and the fact that he was shirtless. Sister Helen, too, was very concerned. The boy brushed off their concern in good humor, coming up with an extremely credible story that he had fallen out of a tree and his shirt, which had been caught in the branches, had ripped and released him in a noisy howling mess onto the grass. The shirt, of course, still remained in the branches. They all believed in his story, except Sister Helen. She might have seen through his tale, but pretended to be fooled. For all Heero knew about Duo as a child, falling out of a tree and ending up half-naked was an extremely credible situation that might have actually happened in the past.

Heero's dreams had neither a beginning nor an end. They came without warning, without any particular regard for chronological sequence, and most of them dissipated when he opened his eyes. He couldn't tell if his experience was due to the painkillers or if he had actually gone insane. Only when his physical condition had improved, managing to stay awake for hours at a time, did he have the energy to gather his scattered wits together and make some sense of all this. When Duo came to visit him in the day he brought it up inconspicuously.

"Have you ever lied before?"

Heero, in the presence of Duo alone, tried to create conversation like a normal teenager. Without vocalizing it, they both knew that they had been 'approved' by each other from their first meeting. The chatter, the dissing, the mocking comments thrown in on top of their relationship was just distraction, an attempt to cover up the unfair fact that the two best pilots had been assigned to watch each others' back. In addition, they even managed to get along.

Duo was sitting by the window, playing with the bowl of soup he would be feeding Heero. Heero's broken arm was still healing, and although it embarrassed him to have to rely on others, he accepted that minimizing any unnecessary movements from the waist up would assist in the recovery of his broken bones.

"Nope. None that I can remember, anyway," Duo replied as he dragged a chair closer to the bed, opened up the makeshift table and settled down by Heero's side. He had been unusually quiet lately, Heero noticed. The only logical explanation for Duo's behavior was, of course, Heero's injury. He guessed that part of the reason Duo cut down on the chatter was out of concern for his condition. Now, more than ever, he needed time and to be free from distractions to sort through his thoughts. He thanked Duo for intuitively reading his needs.

The other part of the reason, which he guessed from the brooding frowns and lines of severity that had crept into Duo's features, was that Duo was restraining himself from lashing out and reprimanding Heero for the stupidity of his actions. He could tell that his failed attempt at self-destruction had impacted his partner. Duo had not said a word about it, which was disturbing enough, but he knew that once he gets better, Duo would make sure to drill some sense into his head.

"Why do you ask?"

"I dreamt that when you were younger, you got into a fight once but told everyone that the bruises came from falling out of a tree."

Duo laughed, stirred the soup lazily, and brought the bowl closer to Heero's lips. Suddenly he stopped. He seemed to be remembering something.

Heero waited silently as Duo sorted through his memories. Seeing that the soup was about to spill from one side of the bowl, he reached out his good arm to get the bowl. Duo noticed and instantly set the bowl down.

He rubbed his palms on the legs of his jeans and brought his gaze to meet Heero's.

"You know ... I might have done that before."

No more was said about the topic. Duo was silent for the rest of the day, and Heero knew that not only was there something extraordinary about his dreams, he had also ventured into a forbidden area.

When the next dream came, he paid more attention to details, the people involved and the words that were said. It was hard to do, for in these dreams he was often so relaxed. Time flowed around him, past him, in a slow oozing tide. Children ran by him, laughing. The colonists talked through his physical presence, and he absorbed their conversation. It was a different time, a different place, and he had learned to let the shift in perspective heal his tired soul.

This time, a younger, shorter Duo was having a fight with another orphan. This one was much stronger than the rich kids he took on in Heero's last dream, and stronger than Duo by far. Within minutes the taller boy had Duo pinned to the ground. Duo raised both elbows to shield his head in anticipation of the blow. It was bound to get very ugly.

Heero watched the event with a frown. The boy raised his fist but did not bring it down.

The boy's expression grabbed his attention. Instead of the gloating sneer of one who would soon be victorious, one about to utterly destroy the weaker opponent, the boy's face held a fraction of pain beneath the anger and toughness. In the next second, his anger deflated and left him. He dropped his arm to his side and got up from his kneeling position where his knees dug precisely into Duo's ribcage and pinned him to the ground. He spitted a mouthful of blood, cursing as he left.

"Solo ..."

Heero realized with shock that this was the boy who had so much influence on Duo's childhood. Enough influence to create a name, a personality, the Duo Maxwell who would one day pilot a Gundam and change the fate of the colonies.

He had not paid much attention to Solo, for it was the young Duo whom he liked to watch. If he had the chance, he would like to get another look at the older boy.

Duo's elbows were no longer raised toward the skies. He was sobbing openly, a rather curious sound. Several times, he pounded his fist into the ground, hard. Without being consciously aware of taking action, Heero spoke his name.

"Duo ..."

The boy paused. The interim lasted for perhaps a few seconds before he resumed howling with greater intensity than before.

Heero was a little confused. He did not expect himself to speak up, but what surprised him more was that the boy might have heard him.

Finally, Duo decided he had enough crying and sat up. He wiped the tears from his eyes, dried his nose on his already grimey shirt, and looked in the direction Solo had left. He sat there for a long time, contemplating. In his eyes were the beginning seeds of respect.

"So what did you see in your dreams?" Duo asked as he placed the dishes in the sink, his back to Heero.

It took little adjusting to reconcile this grown-up version with the former howling, boisterous boy. Outwardly, he hadn't changed much. The hurt the eventual destruction of his childhood brought were hidden blows to Duo's spirit.

Heero summarized briefly what he remembered from the dream. He never excelled at description, so he left most details out. However, from Duo's reaction, he judged that his dream had matched closely with reality.

"Any idea why you're dreaming about my childhood and not your own?"

Duo wiped his hands on the kitchen towel and came to sit by Heero's bed.

"No."

He had only a vague idea, but didn't want to say it.

Duo grinned widely. "It must be disturbing, then, for you to have to sit through someone else's life. I would be bored out of my mind."

"It's not bad. I learn more about your past."

His answer obviously surprised Duo. He twiddled with his fingers, looked out the window, readjusted his position in his chair, before he finally looked at Heero again.

"Thanks."

It wasn't entirely clear what Duo had thanked him for. But Heero accepted it, feeling slightly embarrassed himself, and spent the rest of the day feeling strangely self-conscious.

For several weeks up until Heero was back on missions again, his sleep was free from dreams. Even if he did dream, he couldn't recall them. He had come to pass off the period of dreaming about Duo's childhood as an anomaly, the aftermath of a near-death experience. It was something he accepted without trying to dig too deeply into the causes for the happening. What about the accuracy of his dreams, and what relevance did it have to his own life? He didn't ask questions like these, because he knew he wouldn't have the answers.

Then one night, without warning, he found himself back on L2, running through hazey, dust-covered streets. Things had changed since his last dream. More time seemed to have elapsed here than in real life. He could taste the war and fear in the air, and the scent of blood was thick in the atmosphere. He ran on with a feeling of dread. He knew how Duo's childhood, the briefest period of happiness in his life, had ended. It had been painful enough for him to hear it during the one late night conversation that marked the beginning of their friendship, even with Duo omitting most details. To live through it must be unbearable.

In the place where Maxwell Church used to stand, he found only rubble, while remnants of the structure's foundation were smoking. It was too quiet, a silence more disturbing than any noise could be. He was a step late, it was obviously to late to help.

He panicked when he couldn't find Duo, before he came up with the most logical place for the boy to be.

// I didn't understand why He let them die, but I was left to live. //

As he had suspected, he found Duo huddled at the base of where the cross used to be, a still, unmoving form. He raised his head slowly from his knees as Heero approached, even though his boots made no sound as he made his way over the rubble. It seemed like the boy could see him.

"What the hell do you want?"

He was a raging, defensive creature, obviously in shock but far from being stupefied. His words were cutting, his tone held obvious threat. This was the boy who wanted to die, but not at anyone's hands, not the helpless victim of military powers. He wanted revenge, but all he could do was strike a deal using his own life because he had nothing else to fight with.

Heero did not know how to explain himself. Soon, however, it seemed as if his presence was forgotten by the boy. Maybe he could no longer see him, or perhaps he couldn't see him in the first place. Heero guessed he had melded with the surrounding debris and suddenly became unnoticed.

The child Duo sniffled, wiped his nose on his forearm, then stood and dusted himself off. He started breaking into a run when Heero, surprised by his own action, reached out and grabbed him by the arm. The contact was solid and real; he felt the sticky, clammy skin on Duo's arm. In that moment of contact, he felt a brief revelation, an elusive flash of understanding that disappeared the very next instant.

Duo was equally surprised. He looked at Heero as if seeing him for the first time.

"You don't have to go after them..."

The boy just stared, disbelieving and untrusting. His features were twisted in anger and pain at Heero's words, and right when it seemed like he would break out in either spiteful laughter or tears, he spoke in a dangerously low voice, "You don't understand, do you? There's nothing left."

He swallowed audibly, eyes shaken and abnormally bright.

"I have nowhere else to go."

He pushed Heero's hand away but Heero, acting quickly, held him lightly by the shoulders and kneeled down to the boy's height. Looking directly into Duo's eyes, he spoke as softly as he could.

"Come away with me."

To the young and devastated, he offered the impossible. It was more an expression of his desire, not a true possibility, to save Duo from the impending years of loneliness, hunger and pain, all part of the package that comes with revenge. If there was any way he could have interfered with Duo's past, he might have done it.

He feared the provoked child might jump at him, but then, surprisingly, the boy yielded. The thin face melted into longing and relief. Instantly, Heero was awake. He felt a hand clutching his tightly, the palm covered with sweat. The Duo he knew, grown up and strong and fiercely beautiful, was lying next to him on his bed. His partner, a feared killer, pilot of a Gundam, was crying. He made very little sound as he struggled to breathe through the tears, no longer the ballistic child that swept through L2 like a storm. But it was obvious that something out of the ordinary had just happened between the two of them.

Without a second thought, Heero took him into his arms, damp with sweat and quivering. Duo acknowledged the touch, hanging on to him tightly, his grip unyielding and desperate.

"I felt your presence ... I don't know how." Words came out in a scramble, his thoughts were confused but he felt the need to express himself immediately.

"It was something I couldn't pin down. At one point, you were there. How you could possibly have been there, I don't understand."

The material at the front of Heero's chest was starting to soak through with Duo's tears. Heero stroked his back lightly, ran his fingers through Duo's unbraided hair. He hoped his gestures helped to calm him down.

"When I was at my wit's end, you offered something."

Duo swallowed, his throat dry all of a sudden. Heero hmmed softly, still stroking his back, encouraging him to continue when he wanted to. His capacity to comfort and listen surprised himself. There was no need to rush.

"I don't even remember what it was. But I think I had to turn it down."

Seeking some point on his face, Heero brushed his lips past Duo's temple, then realized that there was nothing more to it than that: wanting contact, wanting to feel Duo's temperature, carry the force of his agitation and share his emotions. Duo breathed out in one long exhalation, letting go of some tension.

"I guess, during that time in my life, I wasn't entirely alone." He must have had more to say, but could not stay awake to say it. Duo fell asleep within seconds of speaking. Heero felt the hand relax its grip on his own. He turned onto his side and lifted himself up on his one good elbow. He was shaky. Looking down on Duo's sleeping face, lips parted and breathing shallowly, fatigue revealed all at once on his face, Heero could see both the child that had fought to survive, and the breathtaking character he was now.

He was aware of his sudden desire to kiss the sleeping boy, to kiss away the salty tears and all his anguish along with it. Duo was vulnerable but defiant of life's adversities at the same time; he was trusting, but deep and heavy were the things he did not share. Even in his sleep, he was remarkably beautiful.

Heero knew he had fallen for him. It was no surprise.

They were, after all, very similar in spirit.

Why was it Duo's childhood he dreamt of, and not his own, during the feverish nights of recovery after his near-death experience?

// Because you shared it with me, Duo. You knew it was ugly, but it was better than nothing. When I had nothing else to hang on to, to pull myself up with, it was you who held onto my hand through the darkness and did not let me slip away, not the other way round. //

"Thank you," he intoned, settling back into the bed. He did not fall back to sleep for some time, watching over the sleeping boy. One day, he vowed, he would take him away from the hurt. Not now -- they still had a war to fight, and as tired and wounded as both of them are, they would remain standing -- but the day would come.

~ Come away with me. ~