Chapter 1

His finger pulsed against the trigger keeping time with the rapid beating of his heart. 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 lifeless body sagged from its kneeling position into a heap of flesh and bones. 

“Here.” The deep voice of his partner Vinny Graziano cut through the evening air still tinged with a hint of sea water despite the fact they were only a few blocks from the heart of the nation’s capitol. The large, thick-necked Italian tossed a small towel in Heero’s direction.

“Thanks.” He caught it and proceeded to wipe the blood off his pistol and silencer before he shoved the weapon in his shoulder holster.  Heero held his breath, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the carnage lying before him; the recent corpse leaked a trail of darkened goo over 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 deep set brown eyes sparked with a hint of warmth.  “It’s good to have yous back, Yuy.”

Heero nodded and grabbed up the suit jacket he had discarded earlier atop a cardboard box. The two men stepped out of the alley and into the greenish neon glow provided by Napoli’s gaudy street sign, leaving behind the remains of a nameless drug dealer amidst the garbage that he was.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour later, Heero entered the office of the Barton mansion that he hadn’t seen in months.  Two men lingered at Trowa Barton’s desk, peering over the top of the open laptop upon his entrance.

“Hey! Yuy’s back!” The dark-haired man in his mid-thirties stood quickly up from his chair. His black suit marked a deep contrast with his pale complexion.

Heero nodded.  “Tanner.”

“How was...what was it Bolivia?”

“Argentina.”

Tanner shrugged.  “Ehn, you can have all those piece of shit Latin American countries. Bolivia, Argentina, who cares? You’re back!”

“Where’s Barton?”

“Out with the latest dish,” the other man Heero recognized as J.T. answered from his chair. His curly, auburn hair was mussed above red-tinged eyes.

Yuy 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.”

Heero’s other eyebrow shot up into his hairline. “That is a change.”

J.T. opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped when the door slammed back against the wall, admitting, courtesy of his foot, Vinny and two delicately balanced cups of coffee. 

“You trying to tear the place up, Vinny or what?” Tanner glared across the room at the new arrival.

The large Italian man extended a steaming, Styrofoam cup 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 and went back to the video on his laptop. He smirked and looked up at Heero. “You should come see her, Yuy.”

Heero shrugged, then took a sip of his coffee.  The acrid fluid held the same distaste he had for those bimbos Trowa always seemed to have crowding around at the most inopportune times.  “I’ll see her soon enough.” 

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Heero headed directly over to the Barton residence for a general meeting, supposedly welcoming him back after a six-month long absence while he was taking care of Barton Foundation ‘business’ in South America. He arrived and was instantly ushered in by the household staff. The butler took his jacket and offered the cryptic information that the assembly had already gathered. Heero quickly made his way down the marble-tiled hallway to his boss’s office. Indeed, the whole assembly had gathered.

The heads of the entire crowd jolted up at his entrance, tight, guarded expressions mirrored on face after face before they relaxed back into their more comfortable positions. Several men met his eyes and nodded their silent message of “Welcome back” to their missing second-in-command, restraining their voices in the wake of the knowledge the ‘big boss’ was on the phone.

Trowa looked up from his desk, green eyes glittering above a mysterious half-smile on his lips. He glanced away as he responded to the person on the phone in a hushed voice.

Knowing his place, Heero moved without a word to the far corner of the room and took up a position near the large bay window behind and to the right of Barton’s desk. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He watched the usual goons banter on about nothing, their fairly mindless interactions gradually increasing in volume and grating heavily on Heero’s nerves. His lip curled into a snarl as he waited for the meeting to begin.

The sound of heels tapping doggedly on the marble floor outside the room caught his ear above the din of the gathering. His right hand instinctively sought the handle of his weapon, hovering over his left flank where it rested securely in its holster. His whole body tensed and coiled like a spring.

She burst into the room like a vision.  Golden tresses long and loose flew wildly behind her as she moved. A deadly chorus of clicks rose above the faint hum of conversation. The assembly of suit-clad men sprang to attention at her surprise entrance - their guns drawn and aimed, ready to gun her down in an instant. But she paid them no heed.

"Relena." Trowa rose from behind his desk. 

She had been crying, Yuy observed.  Her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks streaked red and pale. The way she always-

"Tell me they're lying, please, Trowa."

Her light blue eyes wavered in the overhead light. Barton motioned towards the other men in the room.  The guns were put away.

     "Relena, I can't deceive you," he said, his face set and hard. Heero’s heart rate seemed to double. She was the ‘latest dish’? No…

Gravity seemed to pull Trowa back into his chair.

"I told father he was crazy.” Her quiet voice shook despite her obvious efforts at composure. “I believed in you, Trowa….” She bowed her head; long waves of gold hid her face from his scrutiny. “I believed in you..."

Pain seared through the ice of his long-frozen heart for this girl. And she was still a girl – too innocent to be involved with trash like him. He saw Trowa close his eyes, and lower his head towards the floor; his brow clenched. Silence stretched for a long moment before his employer finally stood, moving around to the front of his desk to stand beside her. His hand tilted her chin to look at him.

She flinched 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.

His hand dropped back to his side, balling into a fist an instant before he turned and stalked back to his chair, turning it to face the window. Heero could see the flesh around Barton’s green eyes twitch. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Relena was getting to him. But then again, she had-

"Heero." Trowa’s voice was low and even, but Heero didn’t miss the way his employer’s chest heaved with every breath.  Blazing emeralds flashed up to meet his gaze. "Get her out of here."

His heart dropped like a lead balloon to the floor. "Yes, sir," Heero managed to grit out, though the idea of being alone with her for any length of time set his blood on fire in his veins. He crossed the room, and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

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 sprawling mansion - just one of many that belonged to the Barton family. 

“I can’t go back to that house,” Relena said in voice barely above a whisper. Her whole body felt drained after her confrontation with Trowa. It was the second one she had experienced in the matter of a few hours. The one earlier that day had been with her father. His voice still echoed in her ears: “I didn’t pay all that money to send you to law school so you could become some mobster’s harlot!”

“It’s never so bad that you can’t go home.”

She started; her eyes darted up at the intrusion into her thoughts. It was the driver who had spoken. Trowa had called him by name, but she couldn’t remember it now. She met his piercing gaze in the rearview mirror.  His eyes were such a beautiful shade of blue.  She could swear she had seen them before. 

A ghost of a memory peeled away cobwebs and tried the handle on a locked door 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 push aside the image that still managed to tear at her heart. “You don’t know what I said to father.” She glanced up again, a question poised on her lips, but he quickly looked away.

“I’m sure I can imagine.  But he loves you, and will forgive you.”

Relena blinked. This man worked for Trowa, and he was trying to comfort her. His eyes were kind, familiar, but the gun he wore was an obvious statement of who and what he was. A killer, a thief… So why, then, didn’t she fear him? Why did she feel so safe?

“Your affinity for worthless young men, Relena, has cost me dearly.”

“Father!”

It was a nice thought, forgiveness. But her father’s term of office was in jeopardy due to her ‘ill association’, and even if he survived the media frenzy that was about to commence, things couldn’t go back to the way they were. Too many hurtful words had been spoken – by both of them.

His words grabbed her shoulders and jerked back violently, halting her in her step. Relena’s fists clenched at her sides and she tried to take in a deep, calming breath, to rein in her anger as she had always been taught. But it was to no avail.

“What does it matter? You don’t care about me.” She whirled around to face the aging features of the only father she had ever known. “I’ve always been something to use to gain votes or attention. Never someone you took the time to get to know.”

“How dare you! I took you in. Adopted you, gave you a home, raised you, paid for your school…”

“You used me. And Milliardo. You used us both for your career. A soldier in the family and the perfect daughter. Vote for me…”

Without her father, without Trowa, she had only her cold, estranged brother Milliardo Zechs Merquise, who would not approve of her relationship with a mafia leader, either. It was an association the Richmond Chief of Police could not afford.

Silence weighed heavily in the car 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. When she was securely inside, he started the car and drove off towards the Virginia governor’s mansion.

They rode in silence for most of the way. Heero submerged himself in his own swirling thoughts and remembrances. Back in Barton’s office, he had been ready for the intruder, ready to spring, ready to kill. He had been prepared for just about anything, but not for her.

He could still hear her gentle voice whispering, “I believe in you…” The hum of the car engine was playing tricks on his ears, he thought, and tried to keep his eyes focused on the road. The passing scenery flew by in a strange, desolate blur of bare countryside plucked by winter’s chill. It was a good two hour drive to Richmond.

A few miles down the road, he glanced over at her from the corner of his eye.  Her shoulders shook as she tried to conceal her face behind a shower of golden hair.  An iron band snapped around his lungs. He had seen her do that before. "Miss Darlian?"

She didn’t respond.

His eyes traced over her profile, remembering…things best left forgotten. His hands tightened against the steering wheel and he shoved aside the swell of emotion that had found its way into his chest. It splashed down into his stomach, forming a simmering pond too deep to move.

Sighing inwardly, he turned into a nearby parking lot and switched off the car.  He put his hand on her shoulder, sliding across the leather bench seat.  She looked up at him, no longer hiding her tears, and then buried her face into his chest, sobbing.

He held her as she cried, his calloused hands slipping through blond silk as he stroked her hair.  He felt his insides twist into strangely familiar knots at the sensation of having her in his arms. He stared out the passenger’s side window, while her hands fisted in his shirt.

"Now what am I going to do?" He scowled at the question, trying to quell the dizzying feeling she had cast over him. "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 woman in his arms. He lost the battle with himself and his forehead came to rest on her shoulder.

“It’s been ten years…”

* * * * * *

Early evening crept swiftly upon him as Heero headed back towards the Barton mansion. After she had finished drenching his shirt with tears for a mostly worthless man, he had skillfully, if quietly, directed the conversation to her life. They had eaten at a small, out of the way diner she had spotted along the way – or rather they had drunk coffee since neither of them was really hungry. It was awkward - wanting to look at her, but not daring to meet her eyes.

"Sure took your time, Yuy," Trowa commented when Heero walked into his study. The graceful, high brow features that could be so misleading furrowed as he looked down at his watch.

Heero glared across the room at his boss. "She didn't want to go home.  Then she was crying, what was I supposed to do?” His lip curled up into a snarl.  “Dump her off at a bus stop?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow at his friend.  "Where did you take her?" Barton tilted his head as he asked the question.

"Home.” Heero ducked his head. “She finally came around."

Trowa turned away. He stared out the window for a long moment. Heero shifted from one foot to the other. The two were on all but equal ground in the organization, but he still couldn’t leave until he was dismissed.

"Did she, say anything…?"

Heero started at the question.  His friend’s back was still turned towards him, but he could see the uncommon rigidity in the man’s posture, and hear the strain in his usually unaffected voice. "No. Just that she was worried about her father."

Trowa nodded, and held up his left hand in a gesture of dismissal without turning around; his other associates had left hours before, the meeting apparently forgotten. He turned and exited, shutting the door behind him. He started down the hallway.

CRASH! The sound from Barton’s study arrested his retreat. He whirled around, drawing his gun in a smooth motion and kicked in the door.

His friend sat in the darkened stillness, slumped over his desk, hands pressed to either side of his head. “Are you all right?” Yuy’s alert eyes swept the room, searching for any sign of an intruder or threat.

"Get out."

Heero stiffened, a frown forming on his face at his friend’s tone of voice. He tucked his gun back in his holster and started to leave, his gaze finally settling on the twisted and shattered remains of a picture frame; the photographic image beneath the wreckage somehow uninjured despite the litter of glass sprinkled across the floor. She was smiling at the camera with down-turned eyes. Long, blond hair spilled down her shoulders in honeyed waves, framing a face with delicate, feminine features and a pale complexion. He threw a glance at Trowa’s back and closed the door behind him once again.

Heero stared at the door for a moment, his mouth twitching up into a crooked line. He turned and made his way silently back down the hall.

“I’ve finally found his weakness."