---------------------
     Remembrance
~ A Moment of Haven ~
---------------------
	He still wasn't completely comfortable, being in a church, but 
to do it anywhere else would have been just plain wrong.  The church was 
where they had all died; thus, the church would be where they were all 
remembered.

	It really wasn't as hard to remember them all as he had thought 
it would be.  Well, to remember the ones he cared about, anyway.  Most 
of the two hundred forty five that had died in the Maxwell Church 
Massacre were from the troop of rebels who had unwisely taken refuge in 
the house of God.  He sternly reminded himself not to be bitter towards 
them.

	Perhaps it was a mercy that he couldn't remember too many of the 
exact details from that night.  He remembered the way the soldiers had 
bullied the Father and the Sister, had shoved them aside and overridden 
their words of peace.  He remembered that one crystalline moment, when 
he was returning to the church, his home, with the stolen mobile suit, 
when he saw the light from the fires and the smoke in the air before he 
saw the actual ruins, and just absolutely, positively knew that 
everything had just changed, and quite definitely for the worse.

	He didn't remember that frantic rush back, but he did remember 
the terrible disbelief and horror he felt when he got there.  A blink of 
his memory later, he was by Sister Helen's side, listening to her last 
words, and then he was suddenly back behind the lines of the emergency 
vehicles.  They had pulled him out of there before he had really had 
time to go digging through the rubble, before each scorched beam and 
burnt corpse had managed to sear its way into his memory for all time.

	No, instead he got to remember his friends, his *family*, as 
they had been when they were alive, and he thanked no one in particular 
for what small blessings he managed to scrounge up from the ashes.  
Besides, his imagination could provide better pictures than reality ever 
could.

	He didn't know on what exact day it had happened -- life on the 
street was lived just one day at a time.  Yesterday was only important 
so you could remember what places had trouble in them and had to be 
avoided, what areas were being prowled by another, what back alleys had 
some food to offer.  And tomorrow didn't even exist.  So he just chose a 
day, a nice day, in the right part of the year.  He knew it was autumn; 
Sister Helen had spoken of the leaves turning color, only they'd never 
had a chance to see.  L2 didn't have much in the way of trees, let alone 
beauty.  And this was the first time he'd had opportunity to show the 
proper respect towards those who had died then.  Maybe next year he 
would choose a different day.  It didn't matter.  Just so long as he 
remembered them, because no one else did.

	He sat in the third row of pews, sort of towards the middle of 
the right side.  The first row was too forward.  This still wasn't his 
place, and he didn't belong here nearly enough for him to feel 
comfortable and confident there.  It would have been pretentious, and 
somehow false.  Further back wouldn't have felt close enough.  Maxwell 
Church hadn't had so many rows of pews, anyway, and Father had always 
encouraged them to come forth and out of the shadows of the back.

	Heero was there, but not.  Somehow he had managed to find a set 
of candlesticks that had needed to be polished, and so he was sitting on 
the far left front side of the room, quietly and methodically working 
away at the dark film that had settled on the silver.  Duo, in his own 
way, was polishing the cross that hung from his neck as he toyed with it 
between his fingers.

	A sound not from Heero disturbed his silent remembrance, and he 
lifted his head to identify the newcomer.  "Suzuhara-san," he exclaimed 
softly, in a somewhat puzzled tone of voice.  Her presence here had not 
been expected.

	"Duo," she greeted pleasantly, though just as softly.  "What are 
you doing here?"

	"Oh, just... visiting," he answered vaguely enough.  What was he 
visiting?  Visiting his memories?  He didn't let them see the light of 
day too often.  Or perhaps visiting the ghosts of the past, the spirits 
of those that had died.  But no, he preferred to think they were no 
longer anywhere on this mortal coil.  That way, they wouldn't have had 
to see what had happened to this world.  Imagining for them a life in 
paradise, though difficult, was more pleasing than thinking of them 
still existing surrounded by strife.

	It would also mean that they wouldn't have had to see what had 
happened to him, what he had become.

	"So what are you doing here?" he asked in turn.  "Father 
MacKenzie's in the back, if...?"

	"Oh, I'm not here to speak with him," she responded easily, 
pulling something out of her purse.  "I'm just here to light a candle."

	Ever as always, it seemed the church was not a house of God, but 
a house of Death.  "Oh?" he inquired politely.

	"Yes.  I always try to come in around this time of year for 
Jimmy."

	"Around this time?  You don't know when your husband died?"  
Something in common.  Death, bringing two people together.

	"Not exactly.  It was L2, you see.  I didn't receive the news 
until a while later, and I've never been able to dig up very much 
information on it."

	"Yeah, I remember you mentioned that some time....  You know, 
maybe you should get Heero or me to work on it or something.  We might 
be able to find a little more out for you."  It would be nice if he 
could apply some of that intimate knowledge about L2 that he'd painfully 
learned to something helpful, like putting a friend's mind at ease.  He 
worked sometimes with Relena on the L2 issue, giving her some 
street-level insight into the area.  He was going out there next month 
to take a personal look at things for her, actually, to help her gather 
information for her end-of-year evaluation, and to help pave the way for 
her colony tour early next year.

	He could visit his old home, but he couldn't make himself stay.  
He tried to convince himself that he was doing more good for the colony 
where he was than he would be if he were there, sweating and starving 
alongside the colonists.  He had position and connections that no one 
else did.  Maybe he was the only one that could help get things done on 
the large scale.  He could tell himself that, and maybe he'd even 
believe that was part of the truth.  But he also knew the other side of 
that truth, and that was, that he had worked damn hard to escape that 
place, paid his passage with blood, sweat, and tears, and he never 
wanted to go back to it.  The guilt of the sentiment nibbled at his 
conscience sometimes, but hell, sometimes a person had to be a little 
selfish, or else he'd end up like... like... like Heero.

	It certainly was an interesting exercise, trying to convince 
someone to think of himself once in a while.

	"You could do that?"

	Duo blinked himself back to the conversation at hand.  "Uh, 
yeah, sure.  Like you said, it's L2, so there might not be all that much 
to find, but if you just gave us what information you could, I'm sure it 
would be worth the effort."

	"Well, there's not too much I can tell you, I'm afraid.  He died 
before Ami was born, so that would have been autumn, AC 188...."

	The same year...  Logical connections were being made in Duo's 
head, and he went still from the implications.  This wasn't new 
information.  How could he never have seen it before?  "Your 
husband...," he whispered.  "He was a rebel against the Federation, 
wasn't he?"

	"Yes, yes he was.  They liked to fancy themselves a real 
resistance cell.  With pseudo-uniforms and dogtag-like things.  I think 
it was supposed to be good for morale.  But I'd understand if there 
weren't any records of-- Duo?"

	She left off when he stood suddenly with a muttered, "'scuse 
me," and strode quickly out of the building, his thoughts clearly 
focused inwards, evident in the deep crinkling of his brow.  "Duo?" she 
called after him, rising to follow.

	"Leave him be," Heero advised quietly from his side of the room, 
working at the last bit of tarnish on the candlesticks.

	She spun around quickly to face him, startled.  "Oh, Heero!  I 
didn't even notice you there!  What do you mean... I should leave him 
be?  Are you sure?"

	His eyes lifted briefly from his work to meet hers.  "I'm sure.  
You can only make things worse, at this point."

	"Worse?  What do you mean, Heero?  Do you know what's wrong?"

	"Aa."

	She waited a while for him to say something more before she 
finally remembered just whom it was she was talking to.  "Well?"

	A final swipe and he set the silver down, lining it up precisely 
with its partner before folding his rag neatly and setting it down 
beside them.  Only when he was done tidying things to his satisfaction 
did he stand to face her and speak.  "Don't worry about it."

	She blinked at him, then sputtered incoherently for a bit.  
"Don't worry about it?  Don't you care about him at all?"

	"Of course," he answered calmly in the face of her 
uncomprehending ire.  "But this is just something he's going to have to 
work through.  He just hasn't decided how to react to it yet, that's 
all."

	"But react to what?  What's wrong?  Was it something I said?  
Was it--?"

	The dark-haired youth shook his head slightly, the messy locks 
swaying with the movement.  "It's not my place to say.  But it's not 
something you should concern yourself with."  He corrected himself when 
he saw her about to protest again.  "I mean, it's nothing you did.  
Nothing you have to apologize for.  Don't worry about it.  Once he gets 
his head back on straight, everything will be fine."

	Suzuhara-san started to wring her hands in worry, but caught 
herself in the nervous habit and crossed her arms tightly beneath her 
breasts instead.  "Well, you know him better than I do, I suppose.... 
But I'll hold you accountable if things don't work out, you hear?" she 
warned.

	He gave her a good long look, and an understanding was reached.  
"Things will work out," he said solemnly.  There was an unspoken "I 
promise" left hanging in the silence that followed, before he excused 
himself quietly and followed in the wake of his partner.

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

	Duo didn't look up when he heard his roommate enter the room.  
He was too busy with his laptop, his fingers drumming nervously over the 
keys as he waited impatiently for his search results.

	Heero came to a halt behind him, and peered over his shoulder at 
the display, taking in the data with a swift glance.  "Duo," he started 
evenly.  "Do you know what you're doing?"

	"Of course I know what I'm doing," was the harshly muttered 
reply.  The tapping of the fingers on the keys increased in speed, as if 
their staccato dance could hasten the search process.

	"Are you sure?"  He laid his hand lightly upon his friend's 
shoulder.

	Duo shrugged it off with a jerking twitch of his shoulders, but 
at least his fingers finally ceased their restless motion.  
"Suzuhara-san... her husband... he may have been there.  He may have 
been one of them."

	"Yes.  But what--"

	"Yes?" he cried, softly incredulous as turned his head sharply 
to face the other.  "Yes?" he repeated.  He scrutinized his placid 
partner, and a look of betrayal passed over his features.  "You knew?!  
You knew he--"

	"I don't know anything, Duo.  Nothing more than you do.  Just 
suspicions and guesses."

	He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on the 
desk, and tangled his fingers into his bangs as he took a few deep 
breaths.  "Since when?  When did you guess?"

	"When I was sick.  Back in February or so, I suppose.  
Suzuhara-san mentioned L2.  I did the math."  Heero shrugged.  "Figured 
it was a possibility."

	"And you didn't--"  He cut himself off and rubbed at his temples 
with his palms, sighing tiredly.  "It wouldn't have made a difference, 
right?  If you had told me or not?  Well, that doesn't matter anymore.  
I know, now."  The computer chirped at him, signifying the completion of 
its task.  "I know, and now I'm going to find out for sure."  He raised 
his head and began analyzing the display with feverish eyes.

	"Duo.  Stop this."

	"No."  He glared briefly at his partner as he scrolled down.

	Heero stood unfazed.  "Duo.  Don't do this."

	"No!  I have a right to know.  I need to know if he was one of 
them!"

	Almost sighing, Heero tugged the office chair back away from the 
table and spun him around, then planted a hand on each of the armrests 
to stop him from swiveling back to the screen.  "No, Duo.  You don't 
need to know this."

	Duo tried twisting in his chair, but Heero's grasp held firm.  
"Yes, I do, Heero.  What if he was?  What if he was one of those 
responsible for--"

	"Yes, Duo," he cut him off firmly.  "What if he was?  Before you 
find out, take the time to ask yourself.  What if he was?  What are you 
going to do then?"  Duo stared into his piercing eyes as if the answers 
might lie within.  "Are you going to tell Suzuhara-san?  Are you going 
to hate her?"

	"No.  Of course I wouldn't hate her..."

	"Are you going to blame her husband?  If he's one of them, will 
you place all of the responsibility for the attack upon one man's 
shoulders just because you know his name?"

	"No..."

	"What are you going to do with this information, Duo?"

	"I..."  He looked away, unable to suffer his friend's intense 
gaze any longer.  "I don't know."

	"He's dead, Duo," Heero continued, proceeding more gently now 
that Duo had recognized the point.  "They're all dead.  Now, you said 
you stopped blaming them.  You can't just start again, just because 
they're not so nameless and faceless anymore."

	"I... I understand that, but..."

	"What will this change, Duo?"

	The struggle for an answer was evident in his eyes before he 
closed them and hung his head, shoulders slumping in defeat.  
"...Nothing, I guess," he finally answered.

	"Good."  Heero released his hold on the chair and turned it 
smoothly back towards the laptop.

	Duo glanced up in surprise.  "But--"

	His partner quirked the corner of his mouth up at him.  "You 
don't want to be always wondering, now do you?"

	The pain and confusion slid out of his expression, and he almost 
chuckled.  "No.  I suppose not."  With a deep breath, he placed his 
hands upon the keyboard once more and continued his search, Heero 
standing behind him the whole way.

-----
*cringe* i know i hate dropping trouble into their lives, but it was 
actually something of an accident.  it just turned out that if jimmy was 
a fed rebel, and if he had died before ami was born, which were things 
that i had decided from the beginning, the year coincided with the 
church incident, and such convergences of events are simply not to be 
ignored.

_________________________________________
This piece of fiction is the intellectual 
property of the little turnip that could.  
The basis for this fic, i.e. Gundam Wing, 
Kyuuketsuki Miyu, et al., is the property 
of someone else.  The author can be con-
tacted at jchew@myrealbox.com.  This has 
been an entirely automated message.
http://www.cs.hmc.edu/~jchew/misc/gw.html

last modified : 4/16/2002 23:03:34 PST