Warnings: AU? Angst. Heero-POV. OOC?
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to Becka; characters are used without permission for a non-profit purpose. No infringement is intended.
I know what they call me. Behind my back, off to the side, right in front of my face. I'm not deaf - I can hear the whispers, the condescending chitchat, the cruel laughter.
Emotionless bastard. Lifeless zombie. Perfect soldier.
Maybe they think I can't hear them. Perhaps it doesn't even cross their minds that I might care what they say. Maybe _they_ don't care either way.
I can't help but hear them. Halfway across the room, halfway across the building, it doesn't matter. If they think they know me well enough to call me "perfect soldier," they might stop and realize that advanced hearing comes part and parcel with that particular package.
Lady Une asked me to work for the Preventers after the war was said and done. I accepted for two reasons. The first was to keep what I went through from happening again. The second was that I'd have no clue where to start living. Duo accepted as well. We work as a team, just like we did.
I know what they call him. Loud and clear, I can hear them plainly, and each time they speak I suppress the urge to brutally beat them until they can say no more.
Joker. Goof-off. Screw-up. Clown.
The two of us have done more for this organization than anyone else. We've evaluated more crimes, caught more terrorists, prevented more deaths, than anyone. But that doesn't seem to matter to them. No matter what we do, it doesn't seem like it will ever be enough.
We won't ever be able to pay for our sins. We were Gundam Pilots. We were terrorists. We were killers.
I know what they call us. No matter how they might try to mute their voices behind cupped hands and folded newspapers, I can hear them.
Homos. Queers. Sickos. Fags.
For all that Relena attempts to teach pacifism and acceptance, nothing ever seems to change.
I open the door to the bedroom, tread softly inside. Duo is already in bed, luxurious hair spread across the pillow. At the creak of the door he opens his eyes to meet mine. His smile is gentle, his eyes pained but understanding.
"Rough day, Hee-chan?"
My throat tightens and I nod. He opens his arms to me and, shrugging off my shirt and shoes, I go to him. The words whisper wicked in my mind.
/ Emotionless bastard. Joker. Fags. /
In the end, here and now with him, it doesn't matter. They'll never know how wrong they are.
Duo holds me tightly as I cry.