I don't really know why Heero had me along on his quest for redemption. He'd never call it that, but I know deep down that's what he's searching for, even if he doesn't realize it. The only reason I know this is because that's what we're all searching for.

He showed me her picture, Silvia Noventa, the girl who could either free him or damn him to a self made prison. Ever since he had slain the Alliance leaders, he had blamed no one but himself. Now he was doggedly searching for something within his grasp in order to redeem himself. Heero was always his own worst critic.

It was somewhere in Europe when we finally found her. Heero really found her; I just watched and for some reason he never ordered me away. We tracked her for a week before establishing that it really was who we were searching for and that approaching her wouldn't jeopardize any of our other plans.

We shared a room in a half decent hotel somewhere deep in the city with one window not far from where Silvia Noventa lived alone. I had long ago gotten to know Heero's habits, and sometimes I suspected he kept me around principally because he was wounded. Or maybe he was paying me gratitude for patching him up in his own way by letting me come with him. I mean, why would someone like Heero Yuy need anyone?

So I stood back and watched as he approached her for the first time. Ironically, it was at the senior Noventa's freshly dug grave that he told her who her grandfather's murderer was. I knew from the look in her pale blue eyes, the same eyes as her dead relative, that she would not kill him. And much as he'd like to deny it, Heero knew it too. Silvia's conscience and human nature would always prevent her from taking her revenge even if she had wanted it. Heero's true redemption was blocked by her humanity. He, and I, would always be left wondering if things would have been different had Silvia Noventa been like either of us.

He was quiet as we drove back to the hotel. He was quiet, even for Heero, as he got changed into this T-shirt and boxers and climbed into his side of the bed, not looking at me, lost in his own world and with his own demons.

The bed. At first, I thought he was going to be more hesitant about human companionship than he actually was. Not even thinking about it, he told me to take half of the mattress and he'd take the other half. I would have placed Heero to be more solitary, but that was one thing I was wrong about.

We've slept this way for eight nights, and I've gotten used to the arrangement surprisingly fast. He keeps to his side of the bed and I keep to mine. It works out well for both of us.

Tonight though, he burrows under the blankets and keeps his head down. Something is eating away at him silently; he never sleeps with that many blankets.

Without a word, I flick out the light and settle into my side of the mattress. Sleep evades me, regardless of how tired I feel. I find myself staring out over the lump that I think it Heero's shoulder and onto the city. We're relatively high up, and I can see all the lights and almost hear the noises of the night.

Suddenly, there's no place I'd rather be than here, and I realize, looking away from the window and at the mound of blankets next to me, there's no one I'd rather be with.

I pull the sheets up around me, and ignoring the slight tremor in my mind warning me to be cautious, delve underneath as Heero had done. Beneath the masses of fabric, it's so hot that it's bordering on humid, and all I can see in the midst of stifling heat and darkness is the back of Heero's head as he lays on his side. I can hear him breathing steadily though and I know he's not asleep.

Staring blankly at his shoulders, I let my mind wander and I envision him without the clothing, all wiry strength and lean muscle with those surprisingly strong shoulders. Realizing what I'm doing suddenly, I can feel the blood rush to my face and abruptly shut my thoughts out like turning off a tap.

What seems like a long time later, he's still not asleep and hasn't even moved. I put my rampant, strange thoughts down to fatigue and shut my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep. And unsuccessfully, I might add.

Stretching, my legs extend to their full length and in the process brush against Heero's bare foot. Normally, I wouldn't even notice, but somehow this suddenly seems very important.

He doesn't respond, and for a moment I think I'm going insane. But then his breathing hitches slightly and he stirs, probably assuming that I'm asleep.

Acting on impulse, ignoring the little voice in my head screaming at me to stop, I tenuously wrap an arm around Heero from behind and curl up next to him.

He stiffens momentarily and for a horrible moment I think he's going to pull away, but he doesn't, allowing my arm around him. He feels good against me.

I let my foot brush against his again, this time obviously deliberate, and then run it up his leg. He still doesn't respond.

I suddenly wonder wildly if he's asleep, and then the suggestion seems much more realistic than Heero letting me touch him.

"Heero?" my voice is quiet and full of dread as fear coldly grips my gut.

He's breathless when he responds, "What?" and then silences a gulp, his body stiffening again.

My heart skips a beat.

"Nothing," I whisper, suddenly feeling an intense sense of inexplicable fear.

We stay like that and eventually Heero relaxes again in my embrace, but my heart is still thumping like a kettle drum. I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe what I'm doing, or what I've done. But I don't regret it.

Slowly, I let my hand skim down his side to rest at his hip and his body arches slightly against my own.

I respond, arching my back and pressing my hips against him from behind. He sighs heavily, and his hand is on mine where it's been innocently resting. Clasping my hand in his own, he slowly guides it to his groin, making me press against the hardness there.

He takes his own hand away and lets me touch him there by myself; my pulse is pounding in my ears. Not knowing what to do, self awareness crashing down all around me at what is happening, I close my eyes tightly and experimentally move my fingers.

Heero practically chokes, exhaling my name hard, "Trowa."

I squeeze again gently, and get virtually the same reaction as he muffles a sound in the back of his throat. His hips drive up against my hand more urgently, and I know what he wants me to do.

Summoning the courage and feeling as if the world could end at any given moment, I slip my hand down the front of his boxers and encircle his arousal with my hand tightly, stroking slowly. He thrusts convulsively in earnest now, not being able to contain the sounds spilling from his throat.

I realize my own hips are thrusting against his in time and I'm moaning, the sound alien coming from me. I don't believe it's me making any of these noises as one part of me stands back calmly, detached, looking at myself in what could be amusement or surprise.

Finally he comes, gasping my name as if he's sobbing. Our hips continue to thrust weakly together, until I take my hand away and return it to my side. He turns around and faces me, his eyes wide and blue in the darkness, dark with emotion.

Wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him quickly as if afraid I'll suddenly dissipate into thin air, I groan inaudibly as his fingers rove up my back, under my shirt and trace my shoulder blades. He's staring at me, and the part of me that is with him crumbles under the onslaught of his crippling eyes while the ghost-like figure that is still safe just looks at us, studies me in interest. Is this myself I'm seeing, sweaty, breathing hard with my eyes closed?

"Why is this happening?" I whisper, drained from all that has occurred.

"I don't know," he replies honestly, his expression intense but thoughtful, "but I want..."

He falters for a moment, not used to speaking so liberally about his emotions, but he says quietly, as if afraid that anyone but me would hear, "I want it to."

We lay together quietly, his hand moving absentmindedly against my back now, tracing random patterns. What is he thinking about?

Eventually, his hands find my lower back and I let myself sigh loudly as his leg comes around to drape over my own.

Pushing me onto my back, he is on top of me, his weight solid against my own and I suddenly feel small and weak. He balances himself above me and kisses my face, favoring his left arm since it's injured.

Suddenly, everything is more intimate and personal and I find myself afraid as the detached ghost dissolves in a fizzle of mental energy, leaving me alone with Heero. I thought all this time it was me scrutinizing him, me studying when he let me tag along, but now I realize something entirely different has been going on for a long time as he looks at me; the way he stares at me is a look of familiarity.

His lips are soft against my forehead, and it amazes me that he's capable of...tenderness, something I've never been on the receiving end of. He kisses down my face, along the bridge of my nose and stops to look at me. But I can tell he's not just looking, that he's also seeing. He's seeing me and anything I've tried to hide.

After just gazing at me for a long time, he kisses me on the mouth. His touch is soft against my lips and I know this isn't some unexpected incident with just anyone.

Or so I hope, deep down and pathetically, as I realize how important this is to me, how important he is to me, how much I want him to touch me, how long I've wanted to touch him. The feelings roll through my body like white capped waves, uncontrollable yet steady, and I suddenly know how it feels to look down into the ocean and not be able to see the bottom.

I let him undress me, depositing my clothes in a pile on the floor. He looks me over impassively, but then slowly traces my body, his hands light and exploratory against my currently hyper sensitive skin.

"Trowa," he says softly in a tone I don't recognize. He finally just sighs "Oh God" as my hand divest him of his clothes.

His head rests against my chest as we breathe together, and I can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest. After a while, I finally speak.

"You knew she wouldn't kill you," I say quietly.

He just nods.

I hesitate, but finally spit out what I've been avoiding.

"I was afraid she'd kill you," my voice is even but I feel dizzy.

I clamp my mouth shut like a vice, hating my emotional words, disgusted at my own weakness. I cover my face with two hands, ashamed, and take a deep breath.

I can tell Heero wasn't expecting that.

I take another deep breath, the oxygen burning my lungs. Not only was I afraid she'd actually shoot him, but the worst part is that in order to find his redemption, she'd have to have the capacity to kill him. If she did, she would have shot, but since she didn't, she didn't shoot. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

But what erases any nobility in this is my frenzied fear, the need of Heero that I've buried deeper than anything else.

"Trowa," he's saying, "Trowa."

I open my eyes and look at him.

"I didn't need her to kill me," he says calmly, but there's a rare edge to his voice that comes out when he's trying to say something that he wouldn't usually say.

He looks down, speaking softly but forcefully now, "I needed to face her. And I wanted you there."

My fingers brush against his shoulder lightly, stroking in whispery touches. I suddenly feel something well up in me that I don't recognize, something that tells me Heero is uniquely with me.

For the first time, I feel possessive as he lays on top of me, breathing steadily, letting me explore his skin. Turning my head, my view of the city comes back and the lights twinkle tantalizingly at me. I wonder what Silvia Noventa is doing after today, alone in her own apartment. Making a late dinner for one, going to bed alone, turning her lost chance at revenge over and over in her head?

Heero arches into me as my hands find his lower back, the moment becoming intense again. Nothing else feels like he does against me, and I am suddenly aware of my own loneliness for the first time. There is no more ghost to run to, no more detached mask to find safety within. I am a quivering mass of uncertainty, but I am in one piece and for the first time, I feel the real world all around me. It's as if all the colorful tendrils of what makes reality real are floating past, up towards the ceiling of our hotel room and painting the picture around me slowly, the grays and numbness fading until I can feel. "Feel" is the only word to describe something that I can now do, something that was not an available ability before. It is not coming back from a dark side, but discovering a light that simply didn't exist before, filling a void I didn't realize I had.

He nibbles at my throat, down my neck and runs a hesitant hand through my hair. When I speak, my voice is quiet and I don't even know why I'm asking the question, "What was your childhood like?"

Not stopping, severely relaxed, he runs his tongue along my collar bone, then bites my shoulder lightly, saying in between, "Training."

My breath catches in my throat as he brings his head up to kiss me on the mouth, as if reassuring me that he's listening. Positioning his hands on either side of my head, he lifts his upper body to bring his hips down hard against my own. Looking at me closely, he judges my reaction and does it again, bending his head down to bite my earlobe.

Heat surges through me, and my thoughts are forgotten momentarily. Moaning quietly, my eyes close, dream like as I meet his hips.

"Can you...," he doesn't know how to phrase the question, stopping in mid-sentence. I just nod at him, opening my legs to accommodate him.

He looks surprised for a moment, and then understands what I'm telling him. Something in his eyes flashes, and he rolls to the side and off of me. I look at him in question through the darkness, and he just motions for me to climb on top of him.

I do, setting my weight precariously over his and look at him curiously. Then I understand what he was trying to ask as he parts his legs slightly and runs a finger along my collar bone almost as an after thought.

Wetting my hand with my own saliva, I slowly trail my fingers down to touch his hardness and he jumps slightly, then closes his eyes. Surpassing it, suddenly feeling afraid that I'll do something wrong, I slide a finger slowly into the tight opening that I find.

He makes a small sound and bites his lip, his entire body stiffening until he can force himself to relax. Letting me invade him, he just groans as a second finger joins the first and his breath hitches at the pain. He won't say anything, but I know I'm hurting him.

Trying to hurry, I replace my fingers with my own hardness and position myself, hooking Heero's legs around my body.

Looking at him closely, he's breathing hard and controlling his urges to thrust his hips at me out of sheer will.

Quietly, I ask, "Have you ever done this before?"

He opens his eyes, surprised that I'm speaking and just shakes his head, saying "No," his voice uneven and shaky.

Slowly, avoiding more questions, I ease myself into him and he forces his body to relax, his hands fisting tightly as he ignores the pain.

I kiss him, and a wild sound gurgles out of his mouth; he's trying to stay quiet. I don't know why, but I want to hear him.

I begin to thrust in earnest and he throws his head back, crying out for the first time as his hips force themselves mindlessly in time with my own. He feels amazing as I move inside of him, his slender frame belying the strength I can feel behind each thrust he gives in counterpart to my own.

"Heero," I hear myself gasping out raggedly as I feel myself nearing completion.

He just struggles to increase our pace, and like a snapshot, the image and sounds I am seeing and hearing right now meld into my memories.

We come at the same time, and he growls as the intense sensation wracks both our bodies. Falling to the side bonelessly, I gather the strength to turn and look at him.

His chest is heaving, his skin glistening with sweat and he looks different somehow. His eyes finally open and I am faced with an intensely sober blue, his hair everywhere and he reaches out a hand to gently draw me to him.

We lay unspeaking for a long time, my back to this chest as he catches his breath. Coming back down off of our high, I wonder if he will regret what just happened. The light of reality can reveal all the things you've been avoiding and erase all the smaller things you've been indulging in that seem important at the time.

"Why did you ask about my childhood?" he finally asks, his voice controlled and level again.

Ignoring his question, I curl up closer to him as if that could answer anything and reply, "Have you always been a solider?"

"Yes," he answers without thinking, then turns my own curiosity on me, asking, "What about your childhood?"

"War," I say tonelessly, but for some reason I don't mind telling him because I know he won't pity me.

"Heero-" I begin, but he stops me, interrupting.

"That's just my code name. "Heero Yuy," named after the pacifist leader."

I wasn't expecting that, and I turn around to look at him, facing his body with my own.

"What's your real name?"

He looks almost embarrassed for a moment before answering gruffly, "I don't have one."

And I am not really Trowa, but Nanashi.

I wrap an arm around him lightly and draw him close to me, and looking at him, listening to his words, I realize that he is who he is. His identity, it's his. And to me, he will always be him. Besides, we've never needed many words anyway; I don't need to know his name to know him.

He turns with his back to me when I don't say anything else, and I press my face into his hair. It's wild and everywhere, but soft and dark against my skin. This is his hair, no one else's. Those are his eyes, always changing but always that same shade of penetrating blue.

And we lay, two nameless boys, sleeping until this night ends, but sleeping together, waking together. His breath delicate and his mannerisms rough in the cold light of day, but always him.