Disclaimer: I wish I may, I wish I might, but I never will own the g-boys. ) : *sniffle*

Puh-leease send me comments, critisicm, flames, anything! (All right, the truth is, I'm just desperate for e-mail.)

by Bluefire

* * *

Chapter 1

Duo stepped out of the shuttle and onto firm land once more, Heero close behind him. A youthful looking blonde followed closely, eyeing the destruction of the L2 colony. Moments later, a taller boy with bangs that shot out, shadowing his face, stepped out of the shuttle, flanked by a copper-skinned Chinese. They all shouldered simple black duffel bags, nothing more. Anywhere else, their clothing would have been considered discreet, nothing unusual. Here, it made the people stare.

The five young men couldn't help gaping some at the sight of L2. The colony looked more like a salvage yard than a place people had chosen to call home at one time or another. It was stomach churning, the smell, the blood, the crushed buildings and flickers of smoke still present in the air.

"When did this happen?" Duo's eyes were wide as he took in the sites through the shuttle terminal windows. He had been born on L2 after all.

"Two days ago," an alto sounded from behind the group of men. They wheeled around in unison to face a ginger-haired girl, dirt-smeared face lightly spattered with freckles.

"Who are you?" Heero demanded.

"Agyoku," she offered a hand. Heero took it hesitantly. They probably hadn't been washed in a while. But her hands were still cleaner than his, at that.

"Heero," he told her crisply. "This is Duo, Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei." She nodded to them. "What happened here?"

"Why are you here?" She crossed her arms over her chest, planting her feet firmly apart. "Why would anyone come here now?"

Heero ignored the question. "What happened here?" he repeated.

"Mobile suits. Do you know of anything else that would do this?" Her tone had a bitter relish, her eyes flicked out the cracked terminal windows to the destruction outside.

"How did you get a shuttle here?" she pointed the question at Heero, facing him with clouded green eyes.

"We came to help," he replied, after a moments pause.

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Funny; that's what the dolls said right before they attacked."

"Do we look like we're going to attack?" Duo interrupted. His violet eyes were flashing at the girl. His stance made it clear he was protective when it came to the subject, for whatever reasons.

"No," she shook her head slowly, "not at all. But you're not here to provide relief either, are you? You would have more baggage, I think. You would not be looking around this place as if it were a test subject, but with compassion."

Heero blinked in surprise. So the Perfect Soldier had overlooked a detail. They weren't forecasting any need for a cover, or meeting Agyoku. Practice made perfect, and soldiers that had no war to fight often had skills that went lax. A casualty of peace, he reminded himself. Necessary.

"We have to leave," his voice sounded gruff, even in his own ears. He shouldered his duffel bag, and turned to go.

"Heero, shouldn't we---"

"No," he cut Quatre off. The shorter blonde gave him a look that spoke volumes, like he had been reading Heero's thoughts. Duo's face was flushed, and he kept staring at Agyoku. Heero reached over and tugged on his arm, indicating it was time to leave. The braided boy barely noticed. As usual, Heero found no use for patience and simply tugged him on.

Agyoku's eyes were on his back; Heero could feel it as he dragged Duo away, the others following his lead. He started fuming silently as he stepped over debris, beams and ceiling plaster that had fallen during the attack. Duo's eyes were still on the girl, still unaware of the fact that he was being pulled away. This was no time to be repentant or protective of a lost childhood. A scowl darkened his face like night as he realized that thought was more for himself than Duo.

* * *

Duo snapped back to reality as sunlight hit full on his face, as he realized they were no longer in the shuttle terminal. Now they were outside, in the midst of all the crumbled buildings and charred scraps of metal, foundations trembling.

It was cold; he shivered in spite of himself as he silently reprimanded the fact that he hadn't dressed warmly enough. The sunlight was harshly bright, scorching everything live to a dull brown, killing the weeds that had been growing on the streets. His eyes were so caught in seeing his home like this; it took his mind a moment longer to realize Heero was still dragging him, in a death grip no less.

"Oi, Heero, I can walk by myself," he reminded, pulling free. The other boy didn't even acknowledge his answer, walking straight forward with a determined gait. He seemed lost in his cold world, tuning all of them out.

Sighing, Duo went back to his observations. He remembered what this place used to look like; one did tend to remember where they had spent a good deal of their childhood after all. His breath caught in his throat when he remembered exactly where they were, where Heero was unconsciously headed.

"Quatre." He was surprised at how choked his own voice was. He was a murderer, he should be used to living like a dead man. The large blue eyes turned towards him, full of sympathy for what Duo felt, though there was no way he could possibly understand. "Quatre--Quatre I... what day is it? I... I need to know." Why was his voice shaking so much?

The blue eyes looked surprised at the question, mostly the way it had seemed to contain so much emotion, but nodded and gave his reply. Duo's breath became even shakier as he drew it in. "Thanks, Q." He turned to Heero, who was at the front of the group, a scowl making his face heavily shadowed. "Heero, slow down. We're not going to the safe house yet."

Heero's head jerked up and he stared at Duo infallibly. "Why?" no feeling in that voice, no sign of what he had been thinking.

"I need to do something." Duo left it at that. No reason to tell them. They had been through a lot together. They would understand. He hoped.

* * *

The buildings were worse here, like the mobile dolls had just stepped on them. The district was worse, the people in worse condition. Duo knew what his friends were thinking. Quatre, about how sad it all was; Trowa, how did anyone even manage to survive at all? Wufei, how weak everything was, the injustice of it all. Correction, make it three of them he understood. Heero, who knew what he thought? He wouldn't voice anything he did feel. He just followed Duo, eyes refusing to meet the carnage that the others so willingly acknowledged.

They had to be wondering where he was taking them, but, to his utter thankfulness, they didn't ask. They were almost there. The sirens of various alarms could be heard all over now; L2 did still have a fire department, however shabby it might be.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes saw something that filled him with memories... no, flooded him till he was drowned and couldn't bring himself to come up for air. Half of the building was caved in, the steeple broken almost clean through the center. It had been rebuilt only three years ago. The Maxwell church. His old home.

He didn't realize he had been running until he stopped, panting outside the door. Several children played on fallen timbers in the courtyard, but their loud chattering had fallen silent as they stared at him with open curiosity that is usually only found in children, with no shame or condoning, just curiosity.

He waited for the other ex-pilots to reach the front step before shoving the doors open and stepping inside.

It was dim in here, lit only by a few candles. The foyer was even smaller than he remembered, the carpet brown and torn, even stained with blood. But he didn't come here to stare at the foyer. He pushed open the unpolished oak, double doors to the sanctuary.

His eyes took a moment to adjust. A long beam lay strewn across a few of the pews where the suits had fired. The peaked roof matched the original perfectly, the same old cross adorning the far wall near the pulpit. Everything was in roughly hewn wood, like it had been made by a woodcutter in the 1800's. White candles were all over , 24, to be exact. They were all lit, candlelight reflecting a strange shadow dance across the plaster walls.

"Who would know to light all these?" he murmured to himself. "Who else could care about 24?"

His heart jerked and constricted for a moment when a head that had been bowed in the first pew snapped up and turned to face him. He hadn't realized he wasn't alone.

The other boys shoved their way into the sanctuary behind him, but his eyes weren't interested in seeing them.

The girl rose from her seat unsteadily. Her blue eyes met Duo's, recognition being screamed in those depthless orbs. He knew the same thing was mirrored in his. He couldn't bring himself to breath, to think. He fell against a rough wood pew, knees unable to support him any longer. She took a hesitant step forward, almost reaching out her hand.

" Duo?" her voice shook, it had changed since he had last seen her. He bowed his head, promising himself this was some sort of mirage. 10 years since he had laid rest to her ghost. She took another step forward, and he squeezed his eyes shut. No. Not possible. Not Possible... "Duo, is that you?"

" You're dead," his voice was a cracked, dry whisper. A husk of the rich sound it should have been. "Why is your ghost chasing me? Because it's today?"

"Duo, I'm not dead." She sat down near him, or rather, her knees wobbled and she saved herself a fall. "But they told me... they told me you were."

He opened his eyes. Maybe... it did look like her. Older, but of course she would be older. Still younger than him. She didn't have her hair braided, like him anymore. Sister Helen had always put their hair in braids. But she hadn't cut it either. It was lighter than his, a light, cinnomeny sort of brown, a few streaks of blond highlighting it in the candle's glow. She had a few freckles, but they were almost invisible. Her skin wasn't a baby white any more.

"Karina?" that was all he could say. She nodded. Her eyes were glistening, and his own were already overflowing. He didn't care much what the others thought at this point.

"You're real? You're not dead and you're real?"

She nodded, lower lip trembling as she bit down on it. "I.. I was told they killed you... and I never thought you might be something other than..." Dead. She didn't say dead. Because it was becoming apparent to both that neither really was.

So he reached a hand forward. Just touched her shoulder, seeing that there was physical matter in front of him, no hallucination. Leather jacket felt real enough, and the hair spilling out around it. Real. Not a ghost, not dead...

He leaned forward and gripped her tightly. "Good to see you again, Kari."