Broken Road: Epilogue
by Kristen Elizabeth

********

AC 248
Earth

"Mr. Yuy? Mr. Yuy..." Joanne Samson, RN leaned over her patient. "Mr. Yuy...are you awake?"

The old man snorted, but didn't open his eyes. "Don't you mean, 'are you still breathing'?"

His private nurse's face relaxed. "Now there's the patient I know and love." He made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, his signal of amusement. "So...are you just going to lie there, pretending to be asleep or are you going to sit up and talk to your guests?"

"Kyaku ka? Who the hell is it?"

Joanne sighed and reached under Heero Yuy's head, to fluff his pillow. "I believe it's common courtesy to *not* curse when greeting people you sent for."

Heero's aged eyes still twinkled Prussian blue. "And when have you known me to be courteous, Jo-san?"

"You've got me there." She laughed as she helped him sit up straighter. "It's your daughter and her family."

"Adia ka?" He sat up even straighter.

Joanne nodded. "Should I send them in?"

"Tyotto...just Adia for now." His nurse disappeared into the hallway, returning a moment later with a tall, slender woman behind her.

"Dad!" Adia's smooth voice was like music to his ears. Brushing past Joanne, she ran to the huge bed where her father lay. The bed he and her mother had shared for so many years. As though she were four years old, instead of forty-six, she flung herself onto it, burying her face in her father's shoulder. "Dad."

With all the strength he could muster, he wrapped his arms around his daughter's shoulders. "Aka-chan", he whispered into her ear. "You came."

There were tears in her bright blue eyes as she pulled back. "Of course I did!" Her tone was indignant. "Really, Dad...sometimes I think you think I'm eighteen again."

"Nani? You aren't?" He touched her cheek. "Could have fooled me."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Adia grinned. "I brought your grandkids."

Heero looked over her shoulder. "So I heard." A scowl settled onto his brow. "And that man they call 'father'."

Adia rolled her eyes childishly. "When we reached our fifteen year anniversary, I thought you might actually start calling my husband by his name, Dad. Are we going to have to make it to twenty before you do?"

"Aka-chan..." He paused. "I'm not going to be around for that. Honto yo."

The mood had instantly plummeted. "Don't say that", she said softly. "Please?"

He ignored her request. "I don't suppose that brother of yours is planning on making an appearance."

"You know Max would if he could, Dad. But he's on Mars for another two months."

Heero nodded. "I know. And that's good....I suppose."

Adia face lifted. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Two days ago."

"Two days ago was...." Adia stopped.

Her father glared up at her. "You can say it, Aka-chan."

"Why, Dad? It only makes it hurt all over again."

Heero's glare relaxed as he gazed out the window. "You don't have to tell me that."

"I'm sorry, Otou-san."

The use of her childhood nickname for him sent a lump rising in his throat. "What are you sorry for, Aka-chan?" His tone was gentler. "Did you have anything to do with the cancer in your mother's body?"

Adia lowered her head. "No."

"Zya...no more of that sorry business. Wakatta ne?"

"I understand", his daughter replied. "I just...miss her."

There was a long pause. "Hai. Soo."

"What did you think of this year's memorial service?", Adia asked.

Heero's scowl settled back onto his deeply wrinkled face. "Sentimental sap", he muttered. "Tsumaranakatta."

Ignoring his Japanese, she continued. "You know, they wanted me to speak at the service. Bugged me for weeks until I finally asked, rather pointedly, if they were planning on reopening the wounds of Mom's death every year or just the first two. They stopped calling after that."

"You and me, Aka-chan. We don't do sentiment."

"When I talked to Max last night, he sounded angry at me." Adia bit her lower lip. "Did he say anything to you?"

Her father shook his greying head. "Your brother is just like your mother. He can't say a bad thing about *anyone*, let alone his older sister."

Adia seemed satisfied by this. A moment of comfortable silence passed.

Heero eventually broke it. "I need to ask you something, Aka-chan."

"Yes?"

"I'm probably not going to be around much longer", he continued. Adia opened her mouth to protest, but he held up one weathered hand. "Don't look at me that way, Adia Marie. You know it as well as I do, ne?"

"Otou-san..."

He pressed on. "The nihongo word for 'the god of death' is 'Shinigami'. I can feel him getting closer every day, Aka-chan."

"Shinigami...", Adia puzzled. "Didn't you used to call Max that?"

"Only when the baka started braiding his hair."

Adia laughed. "He was going through a phase. He cut it off after a few years." She thought she heard her father mutter something about a namesake, but there was too much interspersed Japanese for her completely understand.

After a moment, he relaxed. "This isn't why I wanted to see you alone."

"Then why...?"

Her father was quiet for a long time, seemingly choosing his words. "I need to know something." He paused before opening his mouth. He shut it quickly, attempting to speak again a moment later. "Did you...iya, iya." He tried again. "Was I....was I a good father, Aka-chan?"

The question floored his daughter. Her mouth dropped open. "Were you a good...?"

"I need to know. Ima yo."

Adia stood up from the bed and walked a few paces. Memories hit her from every side. Her father helping her learn to read, ride a bicycle, load and fire a pistol. Family picnics on the beach with Uncle Millardo, Aunt Noin and the twins. Her father giving Miss Hilde away when she remarried thirty-five years earlier.

She swallowed heavily. Her father's reluctance to talk about his past. The periods of withdrawal always followed by long periods of balancing happiness. The way her parents would look at each other and then look at her and Max with such love and almost a sense of relief. A shiver ran down her spine.

Heero took her silence as long as he could. "That bad, ne?"

"No", she replied emphatically. "Iie." In his native tongue, to better assert her answer. "Otou-san..." She sat back on the edge of the bed. "You were....you *are* the best father anyone could ask for."

He stared at her for a long moment before looking away. "I asked Maxwell the same question; he gave pretty much the same answer." His aged fingers worked at the covers unconciously. "But for some reason, Aka-chan, your answer is even more important."

"Why? Why mine?"

Another moment passed. "I was there, in the delivery room, holding your mother's hand when your brother was born. I brought him home from the hospital. I helped feed and change him. I watched him take his first steps." He closed his eyes. "I didn't...get to do *any* of that when you were born, Aka-chan."

"Otou-san." The word hung on her lips. "It wasn't your fault." She smiled. "All right...maybe I resented it a little whenever I was being punished as a child or didn't get my way or something like that. But I've never, ever doubted that you cared about me, Dad. In the same way you care about Max." Adia bent down and kissed her father's cheek.

Heero bit his tongue, tasting his tired blood. "You know, Aka-chan? You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "What about Mom?", she teased.

"Your Okaa-san..." Heero shook his head. "I still haven't found a word in any language that comes close to describing your mother."

Closing her crystal blue eyes, Adia lay down next to her father, her nose squashed against the sleeve of his nightshirt. "I love you, Otou-san."

He was a long time in replying, but eventually, he did. "Ai shiteru, Aka-chan."

*********

"Good morning, Nurse Samson."

"Mr. Barton...hello!" The uniform clad woman's greeting was as warm as the situation called for. "Thanks for coming so quickly. He's been asking for you."

Trowa Barton lowered his gaze to the thick oriental carpet covering the study that lay just outside the master bedroom. It was a place he had spent many hours in, with his old friends. "How is he?", he asked quietly.

Joanne sighed. "Honestly...it's only a matter of days. He's still pretty coherent, but expect to hear a lot of Japanese. He seems to speak less English every day. I've been exhausting my translator trying to figure out what the heck he's been asking me to do for him." The lightness in her voice was weighted by the situation.

"He did that when Relena died, too", Trowa commented.

She nodded. "I remember. Well...go on in. You know he doesn't like to wait."

Trowa managed a small smile. The woman had been Heero's nurse for the two years since Relena's death and had been Relena's nurse during the last year of her life. Yet, for all that, she really didn't know her patient all that well. Heero Yuy could out wait anyone.

He entered the room as quietly as possible, but he need not have taken such care. Heero was wide awake, sitting up in bed.

"Trowa."

"Heero."

"You look like hell, hurui tomodachi. Yoku nai desu."

"Look who's talking." He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed.

The men lapsed into a familiar, comfortable lull.

"I put flowers on Relena's grave when I went to visit Quatre the other day", Trowa said, eventually.

"Arigatou", Heero replied. "I wish I could go see them both one last time."

Trowa shrugged. "They're just graves. Memories don't lie six feet under the ground."

"Honto desu ne", Heero agreed. "They're all around. Every time I go into that bathroom, I see something of Relena's that someone has forgotten to get rid of. Ribbons, hairpins..." He looked down at his hands.

"Same thing happens when I go into mine. And it's been eight years since Quatre died."

Heero's eyes managed to twinkle. "You find ribbons and hairpins?"

"Very funny." Trowa shook his head, good-naturedly. "Razor blades and aftershave."

"Ii desu yo." There was silence for another minute. "Any regrets, old friend?"

Trowa scratched his chin. "About Quatre?"

"Jumyo desu. Life in general."

"Plenty, before I met him. Afterwards..." He paused. "No."

Heero shifted slightly. "Watashi ga wakarimasu."

"Speak English, Yuy. You know I can't understand a damn word you're saying."

"I like it that way, baka."

"Now *that* I understood."

The Japanese man gave a short laugh that ended in a wheeze. The half formed smile quickly fell from his dry lips. "I do have one regret. Jitsu wa....it's more of a complaint, really.

"What's that?"

"Here we are, Trowa. Old men. Hurui...aged....decrepit. However you want to say it." He took a breath. "But you know something that's been bothering me for the past few weeks?"

"You let something bother you?"

He went ignored. "That braided American baka. He went and died when he was...what? Twenty, twenty-one? Tiigaku nai desu ka?"

"Twenty-one", Trowa confirmed. "Your point...?"

Heero attempted to sit up even more. "Sore de....he'll always be twenty-one, Trowa. He'll always be young and healthy. Wakai."

"I think you're thinking way too much about this." Trowa shook his head in amusement. "What about Wufei? He was only...."

"Fifty-five", Heero supplied. "Hurui desu."

"So what? Sure, Duo looks good in memory. But think of all the things he never got to do that we did. We lived our lives, Heero. With the people we loved. He didn't get to." Heero nodded, non-commitally. "Of course", Trowa continued. "We are talking about Duo. He did manage to put a lot of life into those twenty-one years."

"That he did."

Silence again blanketed the room, broken by Trowa. "You know...when you go, I'll be the last one."

"Hai", the other man agreed.

Trowa let himself smile. For all the mellowing Heero had done in 45 years, he still had no compuctions about telling the whole truth, no matter how harsh it might be. "Don't worry, friend. I won't be that much longer."

"End of an era."

"No. The era died a long time ago. With Duo."

"Soo desu." Heero closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt so very tired. "Soo desu ne... Still, no regrets?"

"None. We live, we die..."

"We live again."

"Perhaps."

"We'll find out soon. Ne?"

"That we will."

*********

"Is...comfortable?"

"...as possible. I gave....to help him sleep."

"I...see him."

"That....not be....good idea.....doesn't recognize...."

"I see."

"....sorry."

The hushed conversation outside the bedroom doors continued, but Heero Yuy was no longer trying to pay attention. He was long past the need to know anything. The details seemed unimportant; only the big picture was clear. He was dying.

Death was certainly not something he feared. Too often in his early years, he had asked for it. Wanted it to wrap him up and take him away. For the good of the people around him. For the good of the cause. This time, he selfishly wanted it for himself. Whatever lay on the other side....a heaven, a hell, another life...she would be there, waiting for him. Of that, he was certain.

*You hit me.*

*You're damn right I hit you. Do you think you get to just walk right out of here like that?*

*Are you telling me you want me to stay?*

Heero fought to draw breath as the memory faded. "Relena." She was there, all around him. As though she had never left him.

*I couldn't find you...you left and I couldn't find you. You left. You always leave!! Why do you always leave me?*

"I didn't, Relena", he whispered dryly. "This time...you left me."

*You...get to me....*

Heero looked up at the bed's canopy. White lace...blinding white.... He slowly slipped into it, closing his eyes for the last time.

"I love you, Relena."

*********

"The world lost a hero yesterday. At 8:55 PM, Heero Yuy, former Preventer, Chief Security Officer for the Peacecraft Administration and military activist, died in his home at the age of 68 from heart failure. He is survived by his daughter, Adia Yuy-Daniels, age 46, of Earth and his son, Maxwell Yuy, age 41, of Mars. He will be buried in Restfield Cemetery beside his wife of 43 years, Relena Peacecraft-Yuy, the late Ambassador of Earth, former President of the United Alliance of Earth and Queen of the World. A memorial service will be held at the gravesite. In other news tonight..."

*********

"Now I'm just rolling home,
Into my lover's arms.
This much I know is true.
God blessed the broken road, that led me straight to you."