18-Aug-2004
Title: Advice Worth Following
Author: Mookie
Pairing: friendship (unless your inner fangirl/boy wishes to see more)
Rating: PG
Warnings: spoilers for eps 10-13
Challenge: flattery
Word count: 1,065
"You're no longer restrained to the colonies," Trowa was saying. "In my case, it's not that simple."
Heero wished he could believe Trowa, believe that things were that simple, now that he was believed dead.
Believed dead, and no name to be remembered by. That counting as being deceased seemed wrong somehow.
"Or should I follow your example?"
Heero would have laughed if he'd had the energy. After his failure at New Edwards, he was the last person to be emulated.
"In that case, I just have one warning for you," he said. "It hurts like hell."
To his surprise, Trowa threw back his head and laughed.
Heero watched as the sun brought out the highlights in the fall of hair over Trowa's brow, and how the smile did far more to brighten his face than any celestial body could.
The way Trowa explained himself, he made it seem like he was a vigilante.
But weren't they all, really? Heero doubted that the governments on any colony were capable of reaching consensus on much of anything. When climate systems were used to put out fires, that summed up the way the figureheads made decisions.
Heero sighed inwardly. Decisions were made impulsively and actions were knee jerk in nature. Much like his own performance at New Edwards.
He couldn't offer Trowa anything other than words of advice that he'd been given years ago.
He wasn't sure if he was being humored when Trowa said he'd do as Heero had - following his emotions.
Was that why he'd had no problem pressing the detonation switch?
Trowa had neatly evaded his question with double talk. Heero had very well expected to die, and yet Trowa had thwarted those plans. Then Trowa talked very calmly about following Heero's lead.
He hoped Trowa did what he felt was right for him, as if there was one thing Heero wasn't, it was a leader.
Given a task, he'd do the best he could to accomplish it. He'd give it his all and then some; there was no need for false modesty as far as his abilities went.
When it came to making decisions for others, however, that was not something Heero wanted responsibility for.
He hadn't been kidding Trowa. It did hurt. It hurt then, and it still hurt now. He wiggled his toes and was relieved to see the sheet rustle in response. Death would have been far easier to accept than being left a broken shell of the man he was before.
If he could even consider himself a man. No, he was most definitely not someone to be emulated.
Those who were - well, Heero had certainly caused them to blink out of existence. Not that it mattered in this case; he couldn't tell Trowa whose examples were worth following any more than he could direct Trowa's actions himself.
Trowa was silent in the truck next to him. Heero knew how he felt; at least, he thought he knew. He wasn't in a position to claim knowledge of anyone's thoughts or feelings.
He did know the bitter taste of disappointment in one's self, and he wasn't so blind to people that he didn't realize Trowa was giving off waves of self-recrimination.
Catherine poked her head in the passenger window. "You're the one who brainwashed my Trowa with your strange ideas," she said. "I won't let you off so easy next time."
There wouldn't be a next time, if Heero could help it. Why Trowa wanted to accompany him on his mission was beyond him, but he wasn't going to decline the offer. Someone might need to take care of his body, after all, and this time there would be no month-long recovery.
"That girl's tears stopped me," Trowa said, his voice quiet. "If you were in my shoes, you still would have done it." He sounded disappointed in himself for failing to follow through on his plan of action.
"Now you know why I admire your strength," he continued.
Heero didn't want to hear it. Unlike the pacifist whose name J had given him, he was unworthy of admiration. Trowa himself had informed Heero that as far as OZ was concerned, the pilot of Gundam Zero-One was dead. He'd not done it to be a martyr. He'd done it because he'd felt the need to punctuate J's words. Loudly.
He'd pressed that little red button because he couldn't think of anything else that might insure the safety of the colonies.
Trowa regretted not self-detonating, and Heero was not about to let him get away with that.
"I told you before," he said. "The best way to live a good life is to follow your emotions."
Trowa sent him a sidelong glance and then put the truck in gear. "Let's get going," he said, putting further argument to rest.
Heero swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah."
They hadn't been traveling for long when Trowa's right hand slid over on the seat, grazing the side of Heero's leg before returning to the steering wheel.
Heero looked at him sharply, but Trowa's eyes were glued to the windshield. Heero turned his head and looked out the side window.
Trowa wasn't entirely happy with Heero, and certainly not with himself, but he was nonetheless using the temporary downtime to assist Heero on a mission that had nothing to do with the colonies and everything to do with his personal desire to set a wrong to rights again.
Maybe in another time, another place, Heero mused, watching the scenery as they passed. Despite Trowa's feelings on the issue, he was not about to change his mind.
Mindful of the pain in his left arm, Heero reached his left hand out slowly and rested it lightly on Trowa's thigh, just for a moment, before he pulled it back.
Trowa's hand dropped down and gave Heero's fingers the briefest of squeezes.
"Don't think this means that I'm not going to remind you every step of the way that I disagree with what you're doing."
Heero nodded, and went back to looking out the window again.
Any fears he had that Trowa might blindly follow Heero's less than stellar example were put to rest. The one bit of worthy advice he could offer, the one Odin had given to him, was something Trowa had taken to heart.
In spite of himself, Heero Yuy smiled.
The End
(:./mookie/advice)
