Categories > Anime/Manga > Gundam Wing > Captains
TITLE: CAPTAINS
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R/NC-17
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, crossdressing, swearing
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: The Caribbean in the time of pirates. Duo Maxwell is an infamous captain pirate bored with easy lays. His life will get much more interesting when he meets the dark Navy Captain Heero Yuy in the most unusual circumstances.
Chapter 6: The Demon's Eyes
After a delicious meal Heero had unfortunately been too preoccupied to taste, they departed the quaint inn and went strolling on the docks. In an effort to prove to Trowa that his new found emotions hadn't turn him into a complete love-struck fool, the Captain Lowe fell down on his well-worn persona and gave him an exhaustive tour of the premises with his much famed efficiency. He highlighted dutifully the places of interest such as the Harbourmaster's Office, the military ammunition depot, the Hall of Auctions, the Spirits & Spices trade market and finally the gallows and slave grounds in the seediest part of the port, the sight of both of those prompting twin expressions of distaste.
Both tall, elegant, handsome and dangerous looking, the young men were an attraction. Heero's formidable presence and his continuous glaring would have been enough to attract some unwanted attention even without the ceremonial uniform he hadn't shed after his morning visit to the Palace. His companion was as much --if not more-- distinguishable with his more than average height, his well-trimmed and sharply dressed physique, his rakishly messy auburn hair and his unfathomable green eyes. Trowa was also walking with a wealth of arrogance as if he owned the Port and spoke loud and with grand gestures. It soon became evident that the spy was already playing his part and wanted to be seen, thus Heero, unfamiliar with his friend's choice of cover, made it his point to be quite thorough and to go with leisure. He described the regular traffic maritime in painstaking details, pointing out the most notice-worthy ships, be them military or merchant and even introduced him into a few taverns and brothels.
Despite Trowa's growing amusement, Heero also continued to conduce his own investigation, but nobody could be of any help in the better part of the port and he was loathed to question the shadiest sailors or to enter the more ill-reputed pubs, refusing to believe the sweet Helen would consort with such a crowd. While interrogating an umpteenth bartender and just after delivering the now well-rehearsed maiden's description, the Captain was rudely interrupted by a drunkard he hadn't noticed before.
"Violet eyes you say? You're either nuts or hallucinating mate. There's no such thing as violet eyes."
Although the words were badly slurred, they were understandable and patronizing-sounding. Heero stood dismayed for a while. When the Captain Lowe spoke, people shut up and listened, that was the rule. They also cowered in fear but that's beside the point. This man had to be very brave or a simpleton. Either way, he was also quite drunk so Heero couldn't decently hit him for his irreverence. It wouldn't become his rank to be caught brawling in a pub. All things considered, here lay the temptation as he was curious to see his grandfather's face if he found him in the brig for bar-fighting. Repressing his first violent impulse, he answered sarcastically.
"You are the one soaked in bad rum old man. Shouldn't you be the delusional one? I know what I saw."
Neither put out nor impressed, the drunk gave Heero a disapproving look as if correcting a kid who should know better and insisted: "Nobody has violet eyes. Nothing human anyway..."
Trowa who had been silent up till then seemed intrigued by that last remark and asked gamely for clarifications. Whether he was genuinely interested, humouring the man or already working on his cover and contacts was anyone's guess. Heero's less charitable theory was that his friend was purposefully letting the conversation drag to torture him. The drunkard, eager for the attention --unwarranted as it was-- went on with his nonsense. He was now ranting about violet-eyed monsters affirming he had seen the God of Death and that he had violet eyes, demon's eyes. Demons? Great! Next thing you know he would go spouting about goblins and pixies.
Heero had heard the tales about Shinigami like anyone else who hadn't lived under a rock for the past few years, but he was certain that Duo Maxwell was an ordinary man and not the fairy tale creature people made him out to be. He was just a little harder to catch than other pirates and more irritating than most. Heero had taken a great dislike for the man because he couldn't help but see his choice of pseudonym as a personal offense to his own Japanese heritage, never mind that Shinigami didn't know him and had already been rampaging well before Heero joined the Navy.
Heero was a realist. He was a firm believer in things he could see and touch and wasn't moved by folklore in the slightest. He had seen a great part of the world, been to places most people only ever dreamt of and met people of all sort. Yet, not once had he encountered a creature even remotely supernatural, thus he deduced there were no such things. Having no interest in listening to rum-induced ravings and even less in hearing his Helen sniggered at, he chose the path of least resistance and stalked out feeling snappish. He knew Trowa would follow... eventually.
A while away, his glare hadn't abated much and his mood was still as soured. Furthermore, discouragement was forthcoming as he was no closer to find the Lady than when he had begun his quest. He walked briskly and without paying much attention to his surroundings, confident that everyone possessed of common sense would clear his way. That's why the second and much more violent collision of the day came as such a surprise. Heavily built and tough as they come, Heero didn't budge, but the misfortunate interloper went flying and landed butt first on the pavement with an undignified grunt. He was ensconced in a long black coat, black leather trousers and an equally dark tricorne put askew upon one brow. From far away, the ensemble might have given false stature to his silhouette but up close and personal he was fairly short. His head barely brushed the Captain Lowe's chin which had put him level eyed with the gleaming medals during the brief moment of impact. He was now moaning and cradling his abused nose in trembling hands.
"Damn it all to Hell! What is it with you Military today? Is it pick-on-Duo-day and somebody forgot to tell me? Can't you look where you're going, you moron? You'll maim someone with all that trashy metal on your chest."
"Well I can't help it if you're so short. And you're the one that charged head-first into me like a beast on rampage."
Still sprawled on the ground, the man threw him an annoyed glare and Heero thought he glimpsed a flash of purple. He glanced heavenwards and though he heard the sharp intake of breath upon recognition, he didn't give it any mind and completely missed the disbelieving look that went with it. Heero refused to concede he might well be delusional but he was clearly obsessed if he began to see Miss Winner in every passer-by. It was more than likely that upon a closer look, the lad's eyes would prove to be of a common blue or even another colour altogether; he was obviously projecting. When he looked back down to the man, his features were shaded by the brim of a hastily rearranged hat and messy bangs prevented confirmation of his eye-colour.
Heero was waiting for further insults but all brashness seemed gone as Duo comically scooted back, on hands and butt before noticing the ludicrousness of his efforts and scrambling back on his feet with a self-depreciating snort. The soldier would have continued to taunt the jerk who was pointedly not looking at him as if self-conscious, but he was interrupted by a loud and mostly incomprehensible bellow.
Both men turned curiously towards the way the voice came from and saw the crowd part to give way to a stomping Chinese man. Wufei, for it was him, encompassed the situation with one look, noticing immediately Duo's bloody nose, dusty pants and that his opponent wore a uniform. Coming to a mostly erroneous conclusion, he ignored the Captain Lowe and turned his anger congested frown against his friend throwing accusations in a shrill voice that had both Captains wincing.
"Can't you stay out of trouble for more than an hour?" Wufei marched upon Duo and used his slightly superior height to loom over him.
"Is that too much to ask?" Duo stepped back under the assault trying to put some distance between himself and the mad man.
"Will I have to stick to your stinky ass from now on?" Wufei followed and stabbed a vindictive finger in Duo's sternum.
"I am not your damn Nanny!" Duo was backed up against a muscular and medal-filled chest.
"Even if that's clear you need one." Feeling Duo stumble, Heero reflexively grabbed him by the hips and caught a whiff of cologne that seems familiar.
"That's a wonder you stayed alive that long on your own." Trowa arrived on the scene and wondered what he had missed.
"And what are you doing getting into fights?" Meiran charged in the slowly widening circle of onlookers and whimpered.
"Didn't you have your fill of soldiers this morning?" Quatre crashed into Meiran with his momentum.
"We shouldn't be attracting attention." Wufei stayed completely oblivious to the growing crowd and missed the disbelief on everyone's faces.
"Did you ever hear about discretion or is it too alien a concept for your pea-sized brain?" Quatre groaned with all his might and Trowa glanced his way, curious.
"But if you really want to be hanged that sure can be arranged." Quatre recognized Trowa and ducked behind Meiran.
"And that is the terrible Captain Sh..." Auda and Abdul appeared suddenly from out of nowhere and grabbed Wufei, gagging him in the process.
After that everything happened fast. The guards come pirates wasted no time in carrying the struggling Wufei away and were quickly swallowed by the crowd. Trowa's attention had been briefly diverted and when he looked again Quatre had also disappeared. Taking advantage of the general confusion, Meiran shook herself out of her own stupor, dove for her Captain, seized his hand and, yanking him free of Heero's hold, she took at a run dragging him shell-shocked after her. Heero had a glimpse of a long brownish braid trailing behind Duo.
Before the two men still standing had any time to react, a big bald man with dark skin materialized seemingly out of thin air and gave them both a fatherly smile.
"Sorry about that. Don't mind them; they have a severe case of deep-sea fever. I am their doctor and am going to take very good care of them. Thank you for your patience and good day to you."
Apparently satisfied of his success at damage control, the man vanished the same way he had come leaving a very disgruntled Heero and Trowa in his wake. The two friends looked at each other while the crowd dissipated, Trowa raised an eyebrow and the Captain shrugged.
"Seamen are often weird."
Trowa answered with a slightly broad smirk: "So you must fit right in!"
"Very funny."
"I try."
"So, talking about weird: did you learn anything interesting from your new friend? Any imminent imps' invasion I should worry about?"
Trowa gave him a smug look.
"As a matter of fact, you o' little faith, I got some very useful information. Dunno if I should tell you however... if you ask nicely perhaps..."
Heero blanked his face, advertising his lack of interest and Trowa sighed, long-suffering.
"Okay okay! I'll tell you anyway because it is more of an interest for you than for me. What do you think about the fact that there is presently a brigantine called the Sandrock anchored in the harbour?"
Trowa grinned, smugger still and sighed again when Heero didn't react. The Captain was usually pretty bright, but also had his dense moments; he would have to dot his /i/s and to cross his /t/s if he wanted the discussion to go anywhere.
"The Sandrock! You know "Sandrock!" like the Winner-owned Middle-East country I was talking about earlier. Isn't that worth investigating? How many chances are there that's a coincidence? Might be where your Holy Maiden is hiding."
His friend looked suitably impressed by his investigative powers at last and began throwing curious glances around as if the mysterious ship or even the elusive woman would suddenly appear out of nowhere. As they were in the middle of the market place and nowhere near water, it was unlikely. Trowa snorted, Love had a way to turn one's brain to mush.
"I don't know which ship it is exactly but that should be written in the Harbour's registers."
He went in the direction of the Harbourmaster's Office, confident that Heero would get a clue and follow. He wasn't disappointed. It was kind of far as the Office had been one of the first stop in their tour, but they walked fast, the Captain almost bursting with anticipation.
The bored employee in charge of the registers wasn't eager to help and whined after special authorization and other such paperwork. However, Heero's infamous glare was an effective if blunt incentive. They had learned that the Sandrock was a one hundred and seven feet long brigantine, with the required two masts, square sails and little fire power as is often the case for merchant ships. It was flying a Maltese flag and was owned by one Quatre Winner. That confirmed Trowa's suspicion that it was who he had thought he'd recognized in the blond man earlier. It was also registered to be departing with the next tide and anchored at the opposite side of the docks. There wasn't enough time to intercept it but Trowa didn't want to be the one breaking that particular news to Heero who was hurrying in the direction they had just come from. He followed at a more sedate pace; strengthening his resolve in expectation of his friend's foreseeable frustration once he came to that same conclusion. Trowa was disappointed himself as he really would have liked to meet the woman who had made such an impression on the usually stern Captain.
Heero arrived at Sandrock's moorings just in time to see the brigantine sail away. He concentrated on regulating his breathing after his useless run, slow in, slow out, repeat. He clenched his fists. He wasn't supposed to feel this helpless, but he did. There was nothing more he could do. He wasn't so far gone that he would freight a Navy ship to pursue Miss Winner. He had influence enough and it was damn tempting but ludicrous. What would he tell her once he'd catch up with her? It wasn't like there was anything tangible between them. He was already engaged to another and he had only met her this morning. Oh God! Was it only this morning? He felt like he had searched for her for years. What was happening to him? He must be going mad. He had acted all day in an unreasonable way that didn't become him. Helen was pretty yes. She had been a lovely distraction but she was gone. It was painful right now but in time she would be no more than another missed opportunity in a lifetime full of them. He would forget her and get back to his orderly life and all would be well in the world. Why was it already grown men weren't supposed to cry?
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING: 1x2 and some het pairings in the background
RATING: R/NC-17
GENRE: AU, Adventure, Historical, Romance
WARNING: yaoi, crossdressing, swearing
DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything save for the story, so please don't sue poor little me
SUMMARY: The Caribbean in the time of pirates. Duo Maxwell is an infamous captain pirate bored with easy lays. His life will get much more interesting when he meets the dark Navy Captain Heero Yuy in the most unusual circumstances.
Chapter 6: The Demon's Eyes
After a delicious meal Heero had unfortunately been too preoccupied to taste, they departed the quaint inn and went strolling on the docks. In an effort to prove to Trowa that his new found emotions hadn't turn him into a complete love-struck fool, the Captain Lowe fell down on his well-worn persona and gave him an exhaustive tour of the premises with his much famed efficiency. He highlighted dutifully the places of interest such as the Harbourmaster's Office, the military ammunition depot, the Hall of Auctions, the Spirits & Spices trade market and finally the gallows and slave grounds in the seediest part of the port, the sight of both of those prompting twin expressions of distaste.
Both tall, elegant, handsome and dangerous looking, the young men were an attraction. Heero's formidable presence and his continuous glaring would have been enough to attract some unwanted attention even without the ceremonial uniform he hadn't shed after his morning visit to the Palace. His companion was as much --if not more-- distinguishable with his more than average height, his well-trimmed and sharply dressed physique, his rakishly messy auburn hair and his unfathomable green eyes. Trowa was also walking with a wealth of arrogance as if he owned the Port and spoke loud and with grand gestures. It soon became evident that the spy was already playing his part and wanted to be seen, thus Heero, unfamiliar with his friend's choice of cover, made it his point to be quite thorough and to go with leisure. He described the regular traffic maritime in painstaking details, pointing out the most notice-worthy ships, be them military or merchant and even introduced him into a few taverns and brothels.
Despite Trowa's growing amusement, Heero also continued to conduce his own investigation, but nobody could be of any help in the better part of the port and he was loathed to question the shadiest sailors or to enter the more ill-reputed pubs, refusing to believe the sweet Helen would consort with such a crowd. While interrogating an umpteenth bartender and just after delivering the now well-rehearsed maiden's description, the Captain was rudely interrupted by a drunkard he hadn't noticed before.
"Violet eyes you say? You're either nuts or hallucinating mate. There's no such thing as violet eyes."
Although the words were badly slurred, they were understandable and patronizing-sounding. Heero stood dismayed for a while. When the Captain Lowe spoke, people shut up and listened, that was the rule. They also cowered in fear but that's beside the point. This man had to be very brave or a simpleton. Either way, he was also quite drunk so Heero couldn't decently hit him for his irreverence. It wouldn't become his rank to be caught brawling in a pub. All things considered, here lay the temptation as he was curious to see his grandfather's face if he found him in the brig for bar-fighting. Repressing his first violent impulse, he answered sarcastically.
"You are the one soaked in bad rum old man. Shouldn't you be the delusional one? I know what I saw."
Neither put out nor impressed, the drunk gave Heero a disapproving look as if correcting a kid who should know better and insisted: "Nobody has violet eyes. Nothing human anyway..."
Trowa who had been silent up till then seemed intrigued by that last remark and asked gamely for clarifications. Whether he was genuinely interested, humouring the man or already working on his cover and contacts was anyone's guess. Heero's less charitable theory was that his friend was purposefully letting the conversation drag to torture him. The drunkard, eager for the attention --unwarranted as it was-- went on with his nonsense. He was now ranting about violet-eyed monsters affirming he had seen the God of Death and that he had violet eyes, demon's eyes. Demons? Great! Next thing you know he would go spouting about goblins and pixies.
Heero had heard the tales about Shinigami like anyone else who hadn't lived under a rock for the past few years, but he was certain that Duo Maxwell was an ordinary man and not the fairy tale creature people made him out to be. He was just a little harder to catch than other pirates and more irritating than most. Heero had taken a great dislike for the man because he couldn't help but see his choice of pseudonym as a personal offense to his own Japanese heritage, never mind that Shinigami didn't know him and had already been rampaging well before Heero joined the Navy.
Heero was a realist. He was a firm believer in things he could see and touch and wasn't moved by folklore in the slightest. He had seen a great part of the world, been to places most people only ever dreamt of and met people of all sort. Yet, not once had he encountered a creature even remotely supernatural, thus he deduced there were no such things. Having no interest in listening to rum-induced ravings and even less in hearing his Helen sniggered at, he chose the path of least resistance and stalked out feeling snappish. He knew Trowa would follow... eventually.
A while away, his glare hadn't abated much and his mood was still as soured. Furthermore, discouragement was forthcoming as he was no closer to find the Lady than when he had begun his quest. He walked briskly and without paying much attention to his surroundings, confident that everyone possessed of common sense would clear his way. That's why the second and much more violent collision of the day came as such a surprise. Heavily built and tough as they come, Heero didn't budge, but the misfortunate interloper went flying and landed butt first on the pavement with an undignified grunt. He was ensconced in a long black coat, black leather trousers and an equally dark tricorne put askew upon one brow. From far away, the ensemble might have given false stature to his silhouette but up close and personal he was fairly short. His head barely brushed the Captain Lowe's chin which had put him level eyed with the gleaming medals during the brief moment of impact. He was now moaning and cradling his abused nose in trembling hands.
"Damn it all to Hell! What is it with you Military today? Is it pick-on-Duo-day and somebody forgot to tell me? Can't you look where you're going, you moron? You'll maim someone with all that trashy metal on your chest."
"Well I can't help it if you're so short. And you're the one that charged head-first into me like a beast on rampage."
Still sprawled on the ground, the man threw him an annoyed glare and Heero thought he glimpsed a flash of purple. He glanced heavenwards and though he heard the sharp intake of breath upon recognition, he didn't give it any mind and completely missed the disbelieving look that went with it. Heero refused to concede he might well be delusional but he was clearly obsessed if he began to see Miss Winner in every passer-by. It was more than likely that upon a closer look, the lad's eyes would prove to be of a common blue or even another colour altogether; he was obviously projecting. When he looked back down to the man, his features were shaded by the brim of a hastily rearranged hat and messy bangs prevented confirmation of his eye-colour.
Heero was waiting for further insults but all brashness seemed gone as Duo comically scooted back, on hands and butt before noticing the ludicrousness of his efforts and scrambling back on his feet with a self-depreciating snort. The soldier would have continued to taunt the jerk who was pointedly not looking at him as if self-conscious, but he was interrupted by a loud and mostly incomprehensible bellow.
Both men turned curiously towards the way the voice came from and saw the crowd part to give way to a stomping Chinese man. Wufei, for it was him, encompassed the situation with one look, noticing immediately Duo's bloody nose, dusty pants and that his opponent wore a uniform. Coming to a mostly erroneous conclusion, he ignored the Captain Lowe and turned his anger congested frown against his friend throwing accusations in a shrill voice that had both Captains wincing.
"Can't you stay out of trouble for more than an hour?" Wufei marched upon Duo and used his slightly superior height to loom over him.
"Is that too much to ask?" Duo stepped back under the assault trying to put some distance between himself and the mad man.
"Will I have to stick to your stinky ass from now on?" Wufei followed and stabbed a vindictive finger in Duo's sternum.
"I am not your damn Nanny!" Duo was backed up against a muscular and medal-filled chest.
"Even if that's clear you need one." Feeling Duo stumble, Heero reflexively grabbed him by the hips and caught a whiff of cologne that seems familiar.
"That's a wonder you stayed alive that long on your own." Trowa arrived on the scene and wondered what he had missed.
"And what are you doing getting into fights?" Meiran charged in the slowly widening circle of onlookers and whimpered.
"Didn't you have your fill of soldiers this morning?" Quatre crashed into Meiran with his momentum.
"We shouldn't be attracting attention." Wufei stayed completely oblivious to the growing crowd and missed the disbelief on everyone's faces.
"Did you ever hear about discretion or is it too alien a concept for your pea-sized brain?" Quatre groaned with all his might and Trowa glanced his way, curious.
"But if you really want to be hanged that sure can be arranged." Quatre recognized Trowa and ducked behind Meiran.
"And that is the terrible Captain Sh..." Auda and Abdul appeared suddenly from out of nowhere and grabbed Wufei, gagging him in the process.
After that everything happened fast. The guards come pirates wasted no time in carrying the struggling Wufei away and were quickly swallowed by the crowd. Trowa's attention had been briefly diverted and when he looked again Quatre had also disappeared. Taking advantage of the general confusion, Meiran shook herself out of her own stupor, dove for her Captain, seized his hand and, yanking him free of Heero's hold, she took at a run dragging him shell-shocked after her. Heero had a glimpse of a long brownish braid trailing behind Duo.
Before the two men still standing had any time to react, a big bald man with dark skin materialized seemingly out of thin air and gave them both a fatherly smile.
"Sorry about that. Don't mind them; they have a severe case of deep-sea fever. I am their doctor and am going to take very good care of them. Thank you for your patience and good day to you."
Apparently satisfied of his success at damage control, the man vanished the same way he had come leaving a very disgruntled Heero and Trowa in his wake. The two friends looked at each other while the crowd dissipated, Trowa raised an eyebrow and the Captain shrugged.
"Seamen are often weird."
Trowa answered with a slightly broad smirk: "So you must fit right in!"
"Very funny."
"I try."
"So, talking about weird: did you learn anything interesting from your new friend? Any imminent imps' invasion I should worry about?"
Trowa gave him a smug look.
"As a matter of fact, you o' little faith, I got some very useful information. Dunno if I should tell you however... if you ask nicely perhaps..."
Heero blanked his face, advertising his lack of interest and Trowa sighed, long-suffering.
"Okay okay! I'll tell you anyway because it is more of an interest for you than for me. What do you think about the fact that there is presently a brigantine called the Sandrock anchored in the harbour?"
Trowa grinned, smugger still and sighed again when Heero didn't react. The Captain was usually pretty bright, but also had his dense moments; he would have to dot his /i/s and to cross his /t/s if he wanted the discussion to go anywhere.
"The Sandrock! You know "Sandrock!" like the Winner-owned Middle-East country I was talking about earlier. Isn't that worth investigating? How many chances are there that's a coincidence? Might be where your Holy Maiden is hiding."
His friend looked suitably impressed by his investigative powers at last and began throwing curious glances around as if the mysterious ship or even the elusive woman would suddenly appear out of nowhere. As they were in the middle of the market place and nowhere near water, it was unlikely. Trowa snorted, Love had a way to turn one's brain to mush.
"I don't know which ship it is exactly but that should be written in the Harbour's registers."
He went in the direction of the Harbourmaster's Office, confident that Heero would get a clue and follow. He wasn't disappointed. It was kind of far as the Office had been one of the first stop in their tour, but they walked fast, the Captain almost bursting with anticipation.
The bored employee in charge of the registers wasn't eager to help and whined after special authorization and other such paperwork. However, Heero's infamous glare was an effective if blunt incentive. They had learned that the Sandrock was a one hundred and seven feet long brigantine, with the required two masts, square sails and little fire power as is often the case for merchant ships. It was flying a Maltese flag and was owned by one Quatre Winner. That confirmed Trowa's suspicion that it was who he had thought he'd recognized in the blond man earlier. It was also registered to be departing with the next tide and anchored at the opposite side of the docks. There wasn't enough time to intercept it but Trowa didn't want to be the one breaking that particular news to Heero who was hurrying in the direction they had just come from. He followed at a more sedate pace; strengthening his resolve in expectation of his friend's foreseeable frustration once he came to that same conclusion. Trowa was disappointed himself as he really would have liked to meet the woman who had made such an impression on the usually stern Captain.
Heero arrived at Sandrock's moorings just in time to see the brigantine sail away. He concentrated on regulating his breathing after his useless run, slow in, slow out, repeat. He clenched his fists. He wasn't supposed to feel this helpless, but he did. There was nothing more he could do. He wasn't so far gone that he would freight a Navy ship to pursue Miss Winner. He had influence enough and it was damn tempting but ludicrous. What would he tell her once he'd catch up with her? It wasn't like there was anything tangible between them. He was already engaged to another and he had only met her this morning. Oh God! Was it only this morning? He felt like he had searched for her for years. What was happening to him? He must be going mad. He had acted all day in an unreasonable way that didn't become him. Helen was pretty yes. She had been a lovely distraction but she was gone. It was painful right now but in time she would be no more than another missed opportunity in a lifetime full of them. He would forget her and get back to his orderly life and all would be well in the world. Why was it already grown men weren't supposed to cry?
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