26-Nov-2005
Title: Thankful 1/1
Author: tkmaxwell777
Fandom: Gundam Wing AC
Category: Friendship
Pairings: 1+2, OC+OC
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, POV, Sap
Archived: Yep! www.gwaddiction.com AND
Bittersweet_Haven ML at http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/tkmaxwell777bhml/
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing AC or its characters. It is the property of Shin Kidousenki, Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise, and any other affiliated parties. This story is a parody of its defined universe and is in no way an official continuation of the original anime series. All underage characters engaging in any sexual activity in my stories are considered Emancipated Minors. This story is for entertainment purposes only and should not be read as a realistic representation of actual romantic or sexual relationships. It is not meant to be a commentary on the political, social, or spiritual ramifications of homosexuality. Content neither condones nor condemns any of the lifestyles or views portrayed. I write these stories because of the interesting dynamics between the characters and complex personality types that inspire the exploration of relationships beyond friendship without regard to gender or preference. I make no money doing this, so please do not sue me for writing it. Constructive feedback is always greatly appreciated!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Okay, so this is late, but between a sick Mother and a sick Hubby, I've been busy this holiday. Hope you enjoy it even if it is after the festivities!
He walked down the empty street, messy dark hair blowing in the wind, as he made his way to the community center. Three years he'd been coming to Thanksgiving dinner there. Three years he'd spent the holiday with strangers who didn't notice his slight limp or the way he watched his surroundings like only a former soldier couldn't stop doing. It was hard for him to leave his apartment at times, memories of war battling with the present, but there was someone he came to see, and he couldn't miss that for anything. He'd sit alone, watching, and once finished with his meal, he'd leave with a quiet farewell before returning to his solitary existence. The only thing that made it all bearable was the pair of violet-blue eyes welcoming him each time he showed up for the holiday.
Violet-blue eyes that reminded him of someone he'd loved what seemed a lifetime ago.
He'd been completely shocked the first time he'd encountered those eyes again - just like the eyes that had captured his heart and soul against his own will. He hadn't seen that color in twenty years, and at first he hadn't known what to do. Silently accepting his plate from the owner of those eyes, he'd found a table and watched how the young man teased everyone, lifting their spirits with laughter and acceptance. It was the same way his love had brightened his days when they had been together. That realization had brought the older man back the next year, unable to ignore the bit of light that had miraculously come back into his life - the bit of light that he'd see again today.
Reaching his destination, the former soldier shook himself out of his thoughts and got in the line. He could already hear the young man behind the tables, voice cajoling as people passed by. The older man's heart soared with pride at how that humor and easy grin made people feel like they were partaking of a family meal instead of taking charity. Although people could donate money, the dinner was always free. As the former soldier got closer, he studied the owner of that cheerful voice and violet-blue eyes, noting his healthy complexion, a slightly taller build and broader shoulders, and an open expression that had been missing the previous year - the latter explained by the absence of the young man's female companion from two years ago. There was a male friend helping him today, staying by the young man's side. It made the former soldier think about his friends from the war and where they might be now.
"Hey! I was hoping you'd be here. How've you been?" The young man's voice called out as he caught sight of him.
The older man smiled at the enthusiastic greeting and bright eyes. "Good... and you?"
Those eyes looked over to his friend, and the grin turned into a playful smirk. "Been really good."
"I'm glad," the former soldier replied, noting curious dark blue eyes going in his direction. "Work still going okay?"
A hand ran through shaggy bangs absently as the young man said, "Better than expected actually." There was a moment of hesitation, like he wanted to say more, but then he just smiled. "Can't complain when you're happy."
The former soldier nodded, realizing others were being held up behind him. "Being happy is always something to be thankful for and not just today." He paused, needing to convey his own feelings, but not knowing how. He added hastily, "It was good to see you. Take care of yourself." With that, he gathered up his tray. He almost dropped it when he heard the young man mutter to his friend beside him.
"If I had a father, I think he would be like him."
Those words brought a pang of loss, and the older man walked quickly to his empty table. He ate as he watched the young man's antics - talking, laughing, and teasing the quiet friend beside him - and the ache within him wouldn't abate. Usually, just the sight of those eyes and the sound of that laughter were enough to ease the longing, but this year, it only seemed to make him more depressed. He picked at his food, glancing at the young man every once in a while, wondering what it would be like to really be part of his life, even as just a friend. Of course, just being allowed to glimpse a bit of the heaven he'd had so long ago was more than he deserved, but he still couldn't help but wish that the young man was... her son.
Their son.
It was rather ironic that the young man had said something so similar to his own musings, but the former soldier didn't entertain the hope of more. He was almost done with his meal when those violet-blue eyes cut his way again. He was surprised when the young man leaned over to say something to his friend and began walking away from the huge serving table... towards the older man's. The purposeful strides were a little disconcerting. Had his attentions been noticed and disliked? He hadn't thought he was being intrusive. He'd always tried to keep his distance, just indulging in the silly fantasy that this young man was the son of the woman he loved and had lost. Was there anything wrong with that?
The young man was soon standing in front of him, those eyes anxious but determined. "Hey, listen, I don't normally bother people who act like they want to be left alone. I mean... those who come here this time of year probably don't want to talk about why, or get involved on a personal level, and I respect that. I just... " That hesitation came again but this time it didn't stop him from going on. "You've been coming here for three years now, and I don't even know your name." He looked away uneasily. "I've always felt... I don't know... some kind of connection with you. I just thought maybe... well, you always ask about my job, but I've never told you that I own a salvage yard a few blocks away, so I thought you could come by, and I could show you around, you know?" He tugged on the end of his long braid nervously - a trait as familiar as those eyes to the older man.
The former soldier didn't know who this young man was, or how he could be so much like her, but he needed to at least try to explain. "You remind me of someone I loved," he admitted. "That's why I come here... to see you."
The young man flushed. "Oh... well... uh... I... "
The older man smiled ruefully. "You have her eyes. I've never seen anyone with that same shade, so I hope you'll forgive me for staring and acting oddly. You're exactly how I would picture her son... if she'd lived to have one."
"I'm sorry," the young man whispered, crestfallen. "I didn't mean to upset you. I guess I shouldn't've... "
"No, it's all right," the former soldier assured him. "It helps... to see you, I mean. I tell myself that you are her son, and it makes me feel better." He found himself flushing at that, but the smile he got was worth the embarrassment.
"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever... " A hand was offered. "I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell."
The older man took it, noticing the strength in the grip. "Donovan Morgan, but my friends call me Dove."
Duo grinned. "Well, I tell you what. If you want to pretend I'm her son, I won't mind." His face darkened a little. "I don't know what happened to my mother... or my father. I was on the streets as far back as I can remember. For all I know, they abandoned me."
Dove frowned at the young man's assumption. "You're what, twenty? The Alliance made a lot of orphans during your childhood. For all you know, your parents could have been killed in the conflict, leaving you without a family."
"Maybe," Duo replied bitterly then shrugged it off. "I made it okay though. Guess I have to be thankful for that."
Donovan knew the price of war - losing lives and not all of them that of grown men. "I wish I'd been there for you." It was an odd thing to say, like he was apologizing for the father Duo had never known, but it felt right somehow.
The young man seemed to sense that as well. His eyes became suspiciously bright as he choked out, "Me too."
Duo's quiet friend was suddenly by his side, a strong arm around those broad shoulders. He glared at Donovan in warning as he spoke. "We need to begin cleaning up, Duo."
Duo rolled his eyes at the other young man. "Chill, Heero. I'm not in any need of rescuing. This is Dove Morgan. He says that I look so much like someone he used to know that I could pass for her son, so knock off the possessive crap and be friends. I invited him to come by the yard sometime." He looked back at Donovan and smiled. "This is Heero Yuy. He's my partner." The meaning of that was left to Dove's discretion.
Heero gave the older man a measuring look. "Duo is not known for being cautious. I just try to look out for him."
Duo's face reddened - with embarrassment or anger, Donovan couldn't tell. He smiled then, remembering that need to protect, and felt a kindred spirit in Heero. "It's good to have someone to watch your back," he replied, relieved when Heero relaxed a little, apparently realizing that Dove understood all too well. "If he's half as mischievous and rambunctious as the woman I knew, you have your work cut out for you."
The quiet young man nodded, saying a polite goodbye before going to help pack up the leftover staples. That left Duo and Donovan planning his visit the following week. As the older man made his way to the door to leave, Duo followed. "Don't mind Heero. He's kinda overprotective. We went through a lot together, so he worries about me."
"It's okay," Donovan told him. "It's good to have someone who cares. I was like him when it came to her."
Duo hesitated once more then blurted out, "What was she like? The woman you pretend is my mother?" It was a child's question that begged for comfort where there had never been any. "It would be nice to think that she was."
Dove Morgan felt tears threaten but pushed them aside. "Her name was Elizabeth Renee Dutton. I called her 'Ellie', and she was everything to me. She was an elementary school teacher, killed while I was off-colony fighting against the Alliance. She had your eyes and laugh." He took in the young man again, noticed how similar Duo's build and hair color was to his own, and swallowed hard. What if this young man was his son? Donovan and Ellie had been lovers before he'd left for Earth, planning to marry later. If she'd given birth while he was away, it was possible the child had been orphaned when she'd died, wasn't it? His voice shook as he said, "She would have loved you... "
"You don't really think... I mean... it's not possible that I'm... " Duo's bewildered gaze asked for guidance.
"I don't know," Donovan answered softly, "but reality might be too cruel, for both of us. I'd just like to think of you as her son ... even if it's only make-believe." He gave the younger man a hopeful look. "Is that all right with you?"
Violet-blue eyes lit up as Duo suddenly grabbed Dove in an awkward hug. "Yeah, I can live with that... Dad."
The End
(:./tk/imagination1)
