Tears on My Heart 1 (HY+HS)

[Jannbond]

Tears on My Heart 1

Disclaimer: GW belongs to Sotsu and gang, I just abuse their lovely characters. Naturally, I make no moolah off this, so no suing! I lay no claims to the title of this fic either. I stole it from an Enya song because it's just a beautiful turn of phrase and I spent two days trying to find a title to no avail. So this it is.

Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reason why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
you may travel far,
for pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are...
~Enya 'Pilgrim'

The slap-pat of bare feet on the tile behind her was all the warning she had before small arms flung themselves around her middle and a face, sticky with peanut butter and jelly, pressed into the small of her back. Fighting to keep her balance, she drew the back of her wrist across her forehead and placed the brush, wet with brilliant, blue paint on the drip pan next to her. If the one attached to her waist had his way, they would both be covered in the paint that was meant for the dresser she intended to put in his room.

"Mama! I made somethin'! Wanna see?"

Because her legs were beginning to ache from kneeling for so long, she reached behind her and tumbled her son into her lap, falling onto her backside with a slight gasp as she did so. He looked up at her with impish blue eyes, as dark as the summer skies and constantly filled with mischief and light. The center of her being; every gooey inch of him.

"What have you got then?" She asked, answering his radiant, sunny smile with one of her own. Like his father, he could charm the moons.

Looking exceedingly pleased with himself, he snuggled closer and opened his hands.

It was a smooth, rounded pebble, colored with a marker to resemble what she thought was some sort of insect.

"Wow. You did a great job, Seth. What's his name?"

Pushing his bottom lip out in a near perfect imitation of a pout, he corrected, "It's a she. A lady bug. Like your pin, mama. You have to name her, 'cause she's yours."

Thoroughly delighted and as touched as if he had given her diamonds, she scooted them across the patio so that her back rested against the house. Fashioning her expression into one of intense concentration, she tried, "How about Brumhilda?"

As if he had been tickled, her son giggled, scrunching his nose up in disgust. "Ew, no mama. That's not right. It has to be a pretty name."

She feigned shock. "But Brumhilda is a pretty name."

"Nuh uh. Relena's a pretty name." It came out as 'Ree-wee-nah".

Wise to her son's crush, she teased, "You're just saying that because she brought you that shiny, red fire truck last time she visited us."

"No, mama," he amended, with all the solemn wisdom of his five years, "she's pretty. She smells like flowers too. I smelled'em when she hugged me."

With a faint sigh, hardly audible to a boy caught up in his own child-like dreams, she knew that, in her cut-off shorts, sweat-soaked tank-top, and shaggy hair that needed cut so badly it kept falling in her eyes, she looked like a street urchin compared to Relena. And, despite being grateful for both the Vice Foreign Minister's friendship and confidence over the years, had Relena shown up right now in one of her lovely, pressed suits, looking as cool as a spring flower despite the intense summer heat, she might have been tempted to throw the paint-brush at her to mar the perfection.

"So, you want me to name the ladybug Relena?"

"You gotta pick." He fumbled with the snaps on his short overalls, which, much like his face, was covered in the lunch he had been eating in the kitchen while she painted.

"Relena it is. Now, after we wash your face, we'll go upstairs and put it on my dresser, okay?"

Bounding up, his attention having been secured elsewhere now that his surprise was over, he pointed to the half-painted furniture resting on old newspapers. "Is that my new dresser, mama?"

"Yes," she answered, grimacing when she pressed her fingers to her aching back and they came away as sticky as her son's face.

"Blue's a good color. It's a boy's color."

Amused, she stood. "Oh? Who told you that?"

"Gavin Kelsey." He had a habit of calling his kindergarten classmates by their first and last names.

"I see. Well, big boy, there are a lot more colors than blue." She reached for his hand, walking him into the kitchen.

His earnest, cherub face, framed by evenly cut brown hair that always caught blonde highlights in the sun, peered up at her as she wet a washcloth. "I know. I like green. Do you think green is a boy's color?"

Working at washing his face and hands while he squirmed, she replied, "I think it's a good color. It's the color of grass, and trees."

"And some bugs!" He hollered, as she wiped the cloth under his nose.

"And some bugs," she agreed.

Rinsing the cloth out, she had to smile. He was a handful, but he was her handful. The boundless energy he possessed always seemed just out of her reach, and there were some days when she wanted to shut herself in her room and scream. This was their learning experience. She was a first time mother, he was a first time kid. As far as most of her mistakes went, he was very forgiving and tolerant. Her days of loving him always outweighed her days of wishing her life was her own.

"Mama," he was examining his overalls. "Do I gotta change?"

This bore some consideration. He was dirty, but if she changed him, he was only likely to get dirty again and create more laundry. Sometimes, wanting to keep him neat didn't beat out the hassle it created to do so. It only served to make them both irritated, and in need of a nap. There were battles she was learning were better to lose.

"No. We've cleaned your hands and face up, so that's good enough. You want to play outside some more anyway, don't you?"

"In the Sprinkler!"

"You'll need your swimming trunks for those."

"Okay! I'll go get them on and you put the Sprinkler on the hose."

She set the rock ladybug next to the sink while he scrambled up the stairs. He was good with delegating tasks, but if he had his way, she would be the one cleaning his room.

"No running in the house," she called after him absently.

The pounding slowed until he reached his room, where the sharp slam of a door echoed. Modesty and autonomy were becoming important for him now. He still needed help with his bathing, but he refused to let her pick out his clothing or aid him while he dressed.

She sighed a little. He was growing up too quickly. Something which, she knew, was the common complaint of most all parents. Maybe in the future, it would actually be something she appreciated...

The Sprinkler was in the garage off the kitchen, so she went through the door and rooted through the boxes. One fell from the shelf, landing on the cement, and pictures scattered. She picked one up, smiling. It was Duo, dressed as the Grim Reaper for Halloween. He had always been so into that holiday...

"Mama! Where's the Sprinkler?"

Jerking out of her thoughts, she bent at the waist and gathered the pictures. Seth was so quick about everything, but she strongly suspected he had thrown his clothing on the floor.

"Seth Davis, is your clothing on the floor?" She asked, finally locating the Sprinkler behind a box of maternity clothing.

"Umm... just a sec!"

"Just as I thought," she murmured to herself, tracing her route through the kitchen.

The backyard was small, but it was fenced in, and unlike many places in the colonies, it had terra. She wanted Seth to grow up as normally as possible. Normally, happily, and loved. It helped that she could run the salvage yard from here. The house was directly behind the main office, and while they certainly weren't well off, they got along fine with her managing the business and managing the money.

Panting, along with the thump of heels alerted her to her son's arrival.

"I told you not to run in the house," she admonished, turning the hose on so that the Sprinkler made a small, cold arch.

"Sorry, mama," he tried, looking sheepish.

Her heart sighed, and the stern expression fled from her face. Even at five, he was simply too adorable. By the time he reached the dating age, she was going to have to fend him from the girls. Or, possibly, put up with all the girls he brought home.

"Whoa," she reminded herself, as panic set in, "don't get so far ahead."

As he laughed, screamed, and hurled himself through the water ("Look, mama! Watch me, mama! I can jump high, huh, mama?"), she went back to her painting, enjoying her son make a spectacle of himself. Shyness was one trait he didn't possess. He held long conversations with perfect strangers, and often gave impromptu singing performances in the grocery store. His teacher told her that it was difficult to get him to sit still. He even bounced up and down in his seat at his desk...

"If I only had half that energy..." she lamented, casting a glance at the dresser drawers drying in the yard on various pieces of their own paper. So far, they were safe from Seth.

He slid into the doorway soundlessly, taking in the scene with one, quick sweep. It was difficult to associate the child playing on the lawn with the woman crouched at his feet. Childbirth hadn't altered her small, almost boyish figure, nor had it seemed to add years to her face. She could have been 15. She could have been 20.

The house suited her. Passing through the living room, he had noticed various pictures of her and the boy, but none of the person he had come here seeking. But the boy... His eyes narrowed on the child as he paused in his play to push wet hair from his face. He had the look of Duo, about the face and eyes. The hair as well. Genetics hadn't favored the mother.

She painted another stretch, and rocked back on her heels, considering. He noticed she was out of paint.

"You're out of paint," he intoned, in that precise, soft way he had.

She raised her paintbrush as a weapon and fell into a crouching position even as she spun; an instinctive reaction. Some training never let you be. He still slept with a gun next to him, and had lost track of the nights he awoke to some sound, the cold metal in his hand and his eyes fastened sharply on the darkness.

"Heero! Shit! You scared the hell out of me!" She scolded, flopping onto her backside and bringing one hand up to her chest to still her pounding heart.

Rather than apologize, he nodded, acknowledging, "Hilde."

Thinking that was just like him, she grinned, pushing sweaty hair out of her eyes. The action made her aware of how grubby and second-hand she must look.

"I wasn't expecting company," she said, picking at her frayed shorts. They had once been jeans until she wore holes in them from working under the old truck that sometimes ran. It was as 'temperamental as a bitch in heat', as Willy, one of the salvage yard employees, liked to note.

Heero didn't answer. She hadn't expected him to. He was much as she remembered him, with impassive, yet arresting features, and eyes that seemed to burn into places they weren't invited. He had gotten taller and put on weight, but he hadn't lost the leanness that made her think of a panther living constantly on the move.

"Well..." Hilde began to struggle to her feet, and swallowed surprise when he unwound himself, bending to extend a hand. She hesitated, knowing her hands were dirty, calloused, and likely spotted with wet paint. It was rude to ignore the gesture, however, so she accepted, feeling marginally better when his hands proved to be as work-worn as her own.

He followed her into the kitchen, resting his hip against the counter when she would have offered him a chair. Seth hadn't noticed the visitor yet. He hadn't finished being enamored with the Sprinkler. When the novelty wore away, however, he would be in the house, dripping water onto the tile.

"Can I get you something to drink?" She offered, taking a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge.

"Please."

"Lemonade okay?"

He nodded, folding his arms.

Hilde opened the cupboard, huffing when she remembered the glasses she wanted were out of her reach. She would have to climb onto the counter. She rarely paid attention to her lack of stature, but certain elements of it annoyed her.

Heero was behind her and taking out two glasses before she could even brace herself on the edge. He moved so quickly, and so silently, it leaned toward unnerving her. She had often teased Duo of being a cat, the way he went around the house without making a sound, but Heero was like a ghost.

"Thanks," she offered, as he settled away from her again. "You know, I can remember a time when we were the same height..."

"I grew. You didn't," he pointed out, matter-of-fact.

She snorted. "Out, maybe."

At her statement, his eyes slid lower. She had rounded some, but it wasn't noticeable until she drew attention to it.

"It suits you," he dismissed.

She laughed, and handed him his lemonade. "I think that's the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me."

He could stand if he wanted, but she intended to sit. And she did, curling herself up in a kitchen chair.

"What brings you here, Heero?"

"I came to see Duo," he answered bluntly.

He didn't miss the way her eyes slid to Seth before she schooled her features, sipped her lemonade, and finally met his gaze.

"He's not here. He hasn't been for about the last six years."

His eyes grasped hers and held. He searched for bitterness or anger in the admission, but could find none. She could have been discussing anything.

"I don't know where he is," she added lowly, gently rotating her glass.

There were things he could ask. Not about finding Duo, because while tracking him down would take effort, he knew he could. It was what Duo had left behind, had run from, that concerned him.

"We're doing fine, Heero." It sounded like a warning, a caution not to pry where he wasn't welcome. He could understand her need to protect her son.

She heard him before he reached the kitchen.

"Stop. I'll get you a towel before you even step in my kitchen."

It wasn't her words that stopped him short of the sliding door, however. He had noticed the stranger.

"I'll be right back," Hilde reminded them both.

Heero stared at the boy. The child stared back, unblinking. A faint smile touched his lips, softening his features. The child had courage, and was unashamedly curious. He appeared happy, healthy, and disciplined.

"What's your name?"

"Seth. What's yours?" He returned without hesitation, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He couldn't keep still. Duo hadn't possessed that capability either. "Heero Yuy."

Seth tried it out. "He-row Yoo-ee."

"No, Seth. Heero Yuy," Hilde corrected, brushing past the man whose name they were volleying to briskly rub Seth down with a towel.

"I'm tryin', mama."

She smiled at him, and gave his hair a quick pat. "I know."

Grasping her by the shoulders, Seth leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Should I get dressed?"

"Go ahead."

He straightened. "Okay! Don't go anywhere, Heero. I gotta get dressed!"

When Heero didn't answer, Seth skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and turned. "You're gonna stay, right?"

Heero nodded. "Yeah."

Seth flashed him a grin, all charisma and Duo.

If it hadn't been obvious before, it was now. He looked to Hilde. She was watching her son with an expression only another mother could decipher.

"I can't get him to stop running in the house."

He shrugged. "Kids are going to get hurt."

She sighed, folding her arms. "I know."

"He looks like his father."

Her eyes cut to him sharply. "Seth doesn't know. He's only five."

Hilde knew what he was doing. She didn't appreciate it, so when she noticed he had drained his glass, she snatched it from his hand and whirled away from him.

Carriage stiff, she set it in the sink, running water into it in a gesture he thought automatic. When she turned back to him, her expression was set and her eyes shuttered, holding none of the welcome he had seen when she invited him into her kitchen. She all but bared her teeth at him.

"I don't want you talking to him about Duo, Heero. If you do, so help me, I'll kick your ass. He's my son. I'll tell him what needs to be told when I'm ready."

The cool cast to her eyes could have bitten him and drawn blood if it were possible. He had known what it was to be on the outside before, but he all at once felt like an intruder into the careful world she had created for the boy she was raising. Short of killing him, it was clear she would do whatever it took to shelter Seth. He respected her for it, because he knew the boy would grow up well-adjusted and safe. If someone had done that for him, the memories he carried now might not be the same.

"It's not my place to tell him."

Mouth turning down unhappily at the corners, her eyes flattened into irritated slits. "That's not the answer I'm looking for."

Feeling vaguely like a kid who had been scolded for misbehaving, he dropped his gaze to the tile, noting the smear of jelly at his feet before lifting his head to meet her furious stare.

"Well?" She demanded impatiently, transferring her weight to the opposite hip, both hands fisted at her waist.

He smiled then. Not simply stretching his lips, but with his teeth and his eyes. It drove the shadows and edges from his face, making him seem boyish and, Lord help her, dangerous.

"Do you want me to sign it in blood too?"

After living with Duo for six years, she had gotten to where she thought she could read him. Heero, however, was a blank to her and nearly as much a stranger as someone who walked into her house off the street. She wasn't sure of her moves around him, or his with regard to Seth. She didn't want her son hurt. When the time came, when he was old enough to understand, she would tell him about the man who had fathered him. In her own time, and her own way.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that Heero was having fun at her expense.

"Yeah, just let me get a knife," she quipped tightly, refusing to relent.

The humor left his face, and looking at him, she wouldn't have been able to tell that he smiled at all.

"I won't tell him. You have my word."

Not quite willing to relinquish her suspicion, she dropped her arms, and said, "I guess that'll have to do. But I meant what I said."

"I believe you." And he did.

A hurricane of energy and excitement burst in between them, pausing upon almost reaching Heero to cast an apologetic glance at his mother. Heero watched the way her face smoothed out, the way she shook her head and made a small motion with her shoulder, as if to say 'I can't win'.

"Mr. Heero, are you mama's friend?"

Heero lifted his eyes to Hilde's.

"Yes he is, Seth," Hilde answered for him, noticing that her son had put on his favorite shorts and T-shirt set. He was looking to impress Heero. Something turned over and settled in her stomach like a stone. Seth needed some kind of male influence... And she just wasn't willing to do the dating it required to find one.

Seth beamed at both of them. It set off warning bells in Hilde. He was up to something.

"Then, can he stay for dinner? Can you, Mr. Heero?" Seth turned his eyes on Heero, pleading.

"Dinner isn't for another few hours, Seth."

"But he could stay 'till then. I can show him my car collection."

A part of her, a strong part, wanted to grab Heero by the shoulders and shove him out the door. She didn't need the unease of his knowledge or the sharp pain that stabbed at her every time Seth looked at him with such trust, such adoration. Her son didn't even know the man. Why couldn't the two of them alone be enough? She thought she was doing a damn good job of raising him for having never known how.

Seth was so small. He could have crushed the boy in his hands with little effort. It made him indistinctly uneasy, in the way Relena always had when she smiled at him, or paid excessive attention to him. He didn't know what to do with this boy any more than he had Relena. Looking into that eager, almost desperate face, he wondered if anyone ever refused him.

He saw the battle Hilde waged with herself. She didn't want him here, but she didn't want to disappoint her son. He was vaguely annoyed. He hadn't lied to her, and didn't expect to have his trust tested like this. Lying was a waste of effort, and he couldn't see why anyone would when it made more sense to be direct and honest.

"Can he mama?" Seth begged.

Sighing, Hilde pressed a palm to her forehead. "If Heero wants to stay, it's fine with me."

When Seth focused on him again, Heero wasn't prepared for the child to grasp his fingers. Staring down at their joined hands, it struck him again just how little the boy was. He didn't know anything about children. But something warmed in him, a feeling he couldn't have put a name to, or said to have experienced before.

"I got a lot of neat cars," Seth informed him shyly. "Wanna come see them?"

"All right," he found himself agreeing.

"Mama, we'll be upstairs, okay?"

Hilde watched her son lead Heero away, and fought to quell the rising panic that stirred.

"He's just a man, Hilde. And he promised," she whispered to herself, even as she crossed the tile and lowered herself weakly into a chair.

But maybe that wasn't what she was afraid of.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I started this a while back, but decided to quit writing GW fanfiction for a while. It was for a bunch of reasons (probably mostly dumb ones, but hey... ^^), but I enjoyed writing this first chapter so I'm going to finish this story. It's not going to be too exciting, just an easy going story...


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Jannbond on 2002-08-23 16:46 ]</font>

[kmf]

Interesting start, although I have to admit that whilst I like to read stories about Relena and partners other than Heero, I have difficulty with Heero playing the field Still, this was moving at a nice relaxed gentle pace and left me wanting to find out more - just where is Duo, is Relena a frequent visitor and why does Heero want Duo? It was interesting to see that Heero compared the childs attitude with that of Relena - trusting and almost hero worshiping (sorry for the pun).

I would be very interested in reading more of this series, so I do hope you continue to write

[Zeros Lost Soul]

I like this fic, Keep writing it plz!