by the Black Rose
I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this.
Chapter 1
The trigger pulsed against his fingertip as Heero wrestled with that inner sting of conscience that always seemed to plague him at just the wrong moment in time. He’d heard the old adage said by men in this ‘business’ that the more they killed, the easier it became. He had noticed no similar pattern in himself.
The quiet plug of the silencer jarred him back to reality as droplets of hot liquid showered bits of exposed skin and clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Gore-streaked knuckles dripped blood onto the darkened pavement of the alley behind the small grease pit of an Italian restaurant that saw more than its fair share of violence. The now lifeless body sagged from its kneeling position into a heap of flesh and bones on the cool, bubbling concrete.
“Here,” Vinny said, tossing a small towel at his partner. Heero caught it and proceeded to wipe the blood off his pistol and silencer before he threw the weapon in his shoulder holster. He held his breath, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the carnage lying before him – the corpse leaking a trail of darkened goo over the bits of teeth and severed fingers lost courtesy of Vinny’s more persuasive nature.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the large, thick-necked Italian. “It’s good to have yous back, Yuy.”
Heero nodded and grabbed up the suit jacket he had discarded earlier atop a cardboard box, then left the remains of a nameless drug dealer amidst the garbage that he was.
They entered the too-familiar office of the Barton mansion that he hadn’t seen in months – crowded with elegance rather than scholarly materials. A few men lingered, peering over the top of the open laptop upon his entrance.
“Hey! Yuy’s back!” A dark-haired man in his mid thirties stood quickly up from his chair.
Heero nodded. “Tanner.”
“How was...what was it Bolivia?”
“Argentina.”
Tanner shrugged. “Bolivia, Argentina, who cares? You’re back!”
“Where’s Trowa?”
“Out with the latest dish,” another man with curly auburn hair and wearing suspenders over a halfway-unbuttoned shirt answered from behind Tanner.
Heero arched an eyebrow. “Figures.”
“Yeah, what did you expect him to change?” Tanner laughed.
“He’s been with this one for a while, now. Since you left, Yuy.”
That was a change. “Really?”
He turned at the sound of Vinny stepping into the room, bringing with him two large cups of coffee. The large Italian man handed one to Heero.
“Where’s ours, Vinny?” The auburn haired man called out.
“Fuck you, J.T.” Vinny’s thick voice boomed across the room. “I ain’t playin’ nursemaid to a cheesedick like you. Me and Yuy had real work to do tonight, not just spyin’ on the boss and his broad.”
J.T. rolled his eyes. “You should come see her, Yuy.”
Heero shrugged, then took a sip of his coffee. He hated those bimbos Trowa always seemed to have crowding around at the most inopportune times. He was in no hurry to meet another one. “I’ll see her soon enough.”
* * * * * *
The next morning, Heero showered and dressed, then headed over to the Barton residence for a general meeting, supposedly welcoming him back after a six-month absence while he was taking care of Barton Foundation ‘business’ in South America.
He watched the usual goons he hadn’t missed banter on about nothing from his corner of the room. Barton was sitting nearby at his desk, having a discussion with some remote underling in hushed tones over the phone.
Irritated, Heero leaned back against the wall, ducking his head and crossing his arms – waiting for the meeting to begin. But the sound of heels tapping doggedly on the marble floor outside the room caught his ear above the din of the gathering.
She burst into the room like a vision. Golden tresses long and loose flew wildly behind her as she moved. Heero stood up from his relaxed pose against the wall in the dark corner of the study; he had never seen such beauty.
A deadly chorus of clicks rose above the faint hum of conversation as several large men dressed in tailored suits suddenly came to attention at her surprise entrance. Their guns were drawn and pointed at her, but she paid them no heed.
"Relena," Trowa said, rising from behind his desk. His long bangs hid most of his face from others, but didn’t obstruct his vision of the outside world. And they could never be enough to hide from her. Her eyes saw right through him.
She had been crying, he observed. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red, and her countenance more pale than usual. He flinched and tried to steel himself for what he knew was coming.
"Tell me they're lying, please, Trowa."
Her light blue eyes wavered in the overhead light. He motioned gracefully towards the other men in the room. The guns were put away.
"Relena, I can't deceive you anymore," he said, his face set and hard despite the way his heart pounded in his chest.
The accusation in her eyes was more than he could bear and he sat back down in his chair.
"I told father he was crazy. I believed in you, Trowa….” Tears that were threatening suddenly spilled down her cheeks. “I believed in you..."
He just looked at her in silence, a knife splitting his heart into pieces, spilling its blood to the floor. Every moment he was with her, he wished he could be the man she saw in him. But he had been born into a life of crime, and adopted into 'the family'; he had a duty to his father, and his grandfather. He would live and die - violently and before his time - by the same code that they did. She deserved so much better than that, but selfishly held her to him as long as she would allow. And their time together was ending now, like this, as he always knew it would. He met her gaze, not moving or speaking, but letting his love shine for a moment in his severe emerald eyes.
She looked away.
"Do you know what trouble I’ve caused? They're investigating Father - saying he has ties with the mob because of me. I said such horrible things to him...I loved you, Trowa," she said in a soft, lyrical voice.
"Loved," he thought. "Past tense." He closed his eyes and turned his chair around to where the back now faced her
"Heero," Trowa said in a commanding voice to his most trusted associate. "Get her out of here."
"Yes, sir," Heero replied and led her out of the room. She didn't resist.
The driver held the door open and helped her into the backseat of the large black automobile situated at the front of the house - just one of many that belonged to the Barton family.
“I can’t go back to that house,” she said in voice barely above a whisper.
“It is never so bad that you can’t go home.”
Her eyes darted up, meeting his in the rearview mirror. They were such a beautiful shade of blue. She had seen them before…. A ghost of a memory surfaced in her mind:
She walked beside a young man with unruly
dark brown hair that hung rebelliously in his face. They strolled hand in hand, along the
sand-strewn beach while the sun continued its languid descent on a cold but
clear winter day.
She saw just a flash of those blue eyes in
her mind as she recalled him turning his head to look down at her, "So,
why, then, didn't you turn me in?"
"Because I saw your eyes…"
She shook her head, trying to forget. “You don’t know what I said to father.”
Heero saw her staring at him in the rearview mirror and felt his pulse quicken under her scrutiny. It’s been ten years…
He swallowed and
averted his gaze. “I’m sure I can
imagine. But he loves you, and will
forgive you.” Words uttered ten years
ago rung in his ears like it was yesterday:
“I love my daughter…”
Silence weighed between them for a long moment before she spoke again. “May I come sit up there with you?”
His eyebrows shot up at her request, but he didn’t protest. She got out and slipped into the passenger’s seat.
He drove off towards the governor’s mansion.
They rode in silence for most of the way, until a glance over at her from the corner of his eye told him she was crying. "Miss Darlian?"
Her shoulders shook as she tried to conceal her face behind a shower of golden hair. Sighing inwardly, he turned into a nearby parking lot and switched off the car. He put his hand on her shoulder, sliding across the bench seat towards her. She looked up at him, not hiding the pain she was feeling, and then buried her face into his chest, sobbing.
He held her as she cried, his calloused hands slipping through silky strands as he stroked her hair. He felt his insides twist into strangely familiar knots at the sensation of having her in his arms.
"Now what am I going to do?" he asked himself. "This is not part of the job. Comforting Darlian’s daughter…falling for Darlian’s daughter, again, will get us both killed," he thought as he looked down at the beautiful angel in his arms.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Sure took your time, Yuy," Trowa commented as Heero walked into his study later that evening; he looked down at his watch.
"She didn't want to go home. Then she was crying, what was I supposed to do? Dump her off at a bus stop?" Heero glared at his boss.
Trowa raised an eyebrow and looked at his friend. Heero's dark brown hair was arranged in its typical fashion, falling into his face, half-covering intense blue eyes set in an expressionless mask. He wondered briefly about his friend's actions; Heero Yuy never talked back, and he never seemed to care about anyone's feelings. Not even his own.
"Where did you take her?"
"Home. She finally came around."
"Did she, say anything…?"
Heero started at the question. Trowa Barton was as cold-blooded as they come; he couldn't actually love anyone. "No," Heero replied tersely. "Just that she was worried about her father."
Trowa nodded and dismissed him; his other associates had left hours before. Slowly, deliberately, he opened his top desk drawer and pulled out the picture he kept of her. He looked at the woman in the photograph; her long blond hair spilled down her shoulders in waves framing a face with delicately feminine features and a near-flawless pale complexion. She smiled for the camera – a smile that never quite reached her sapphire eyes.
A single tear escaped his lashes and silently trailed down his cheek an instant before the glass of the picture frame hit the wall, shattering into a million pieces.
Heero opened the door, gun drawn – alert eyes shifting from side to side, searching the room. "Are you all right?"
"Get out."
Heero stiffened, his eyes taking in the photograph on the floor, covered in glass shards. He nodded and closed the door behind him.
"I finally found his weakness." Heero smirked and tucked his gun into its holster. He walked soundlessly down the hall.