Identity, or Heero Yuy and the Great Feats of Nerditude
by ReySolo

~~~
Chapter One
~~~

I open my eyes, but close them again quickly to shield them from the bright light.

I try again, slowly, and realize the lights are dimmer now. I take in the two figures standing above me. A teenage boy with a long brown braid hanging over his shoulder is leaning over me. Further back is an older man, with grey hair at his ears, mustache, and goatee, and a bright pink Hawaiian shirt.

The boy smiles at me. “Hello.”

I try to respond in kind, but my voice cracks at first. On my second try, I manage, “Hello. Who are you?”

“I’m Duo, and this here’s my Uncle Howard.” The boy—Duo—grins, and the old man nods.

I think for a moment. “Who am I?”

The two exchange a glance, but I am unsure what it means. Duo turns back, shrugging. “We found you a ways up the road, but you weren’t entirely in one piece. We patched you up, but you only just now woke up. How do you feel?”

“Duo...” Howard begins, but the boy gestures at him, and he goes silent.

I assess my status. “My head feels... odd.”

The two exchange another look. “We’d better call Doctor G.” Duo looks back at me, explaining, “He was here earlier, helped us out a bit. He should probably look you over more, now that you’re awake.”

I nod slowly.

Duo stands to leave the room, but pauses. “Howie, how ‘bout you get our guest some water while I call the Doc?”

The old man glances at me, but then leaves the room as well.

Alone, I begin to assess my surroundings. I am apparently lying on a couch in a small room that appears to be part living room, part workshop. There is a television in one corner, but there are also tools, gadgets, and parts lying around on the floor and on the coffee table.

Across the room appear to be family pictures. Wondering if Duo and his uncle are the only ones who live here, I decide to get a closer look. I sit up carefully, then attempt to stand.

My legs almost immediately collapse under me, but I manage to land back on the couch. I accidentally kick something on the way down, however, and it makes a loud crash.

The old man comes running back into the room, empty-handed. “You okay?” he asks.

“I... think so,” I reply, and assess my condition. “I do not believe I have injured my legs.” I decide to remain seated now, however.

He sighs. He looks as though he’s about to speak when Duo returns. “I heard a crash. You alright?”

“Yes. My head still feels a bit odd, though. Did I injure it? Is that why I have no memories?”

“Maybe,” he replies, and Howard looks at him, frowning. Duo continues, “Doc’ll be here in about fifteen minutes; he’ll look you over, make sure you’re okay.”

I nod. I look around, attempting to take in my surroundings from my seat on the couch. “You live here?” I ask.

“Yup, me an’ Howie, ever since my folks died when I was three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I hardly remember them anyway. Besides, Howie’s great. Lets me do whatever I want.”

“Only because you’re gone more than half the year at school.” Howard replies, but he’s smiling as he says it.

“Aw, you know you love me, Howie. If only ‘cuz I help you with your gizmos and whatchamajigits.”

The old man sighs. “Help, shmelp. You spend more time makin’ your own machines and cannibalizing mine for parts.”

“Yes, well...” Duo grins, looking a bit pink.

“What exactly is it that you make?” I ask, intrigued.

“Eh, this and that,” he shrugs.

“Robots, mostly,” Howard answers more clearly.

I look at the piles of circuitry more intently. “Robots?”

“Well, I do kind of...” he looks at me, seeming to notice my interest. “You wanna see one?”

I nod, starting to stand again without thinking. Fortunately, this time I meet with greater success. Walking is a different matter, however. Duo grabs me as I falter with my first step. He eases me back to the couch.

“How’s ‘bout you wait for that ‘til Doc G looks you over, okay? I’ll just go get some of my stuff to show you.”

I nod, and he leaves, giving a parting glance at Howard.

When Duo returns, he’s carrying two foot metallic monstrosity. A complex black and grey robot with yellow trim and green eyes, holding a scythe. “This is Deathscythe,” Duo announces with pride, and places the robot on the floor in front of me. He then holds up a smaller device. “Behold!”

As he presses keys on the device—a remote, I realize—the eyes and scythe light up a bright glowing green, and the thing begins to walk forward.

I watch with fascination. “You made that?”

“Uh-huh. And I’m planning to make him even better.” He hands me the remote. “Wanna try?”

I take the remote immediately, glancing over the controls. I make Deathscythe walk, turn, and swing the scythe like a weapon. I smile, enjoying the toy.

As I look up, I realize the others are smiling as well—but they’re watching me, not the robot. That gives me an odd feeling, and I quickly hand the remote back to Duo.

It is strangely quiet, until the silence is broken by the ring of the doorbell. Duo races to answer it, returning a minute later with an odd old man in a white lab coat. His grey hair is in a strange mushroom shape, his nose is long and pointed, and he has a scar down one cheek.

“So, boy, Duo here tells me you don’t know who you are,” he says in greeting.

I shake my head. “I... cannot remember anything. I do not know what happened to me, I only know that my head feels strange and I have no idea who or where I am.”

“Well, I’m Dr. G. Why don’t you let me take a look at that head?”

I nod, moving to let him sit beside me on the couch. He pokes and prods a bit, and I wince at the feeling.

“Careful there, Doc,” Duo warns, looking upset by my reaction.

Dr. G continues to prod, and it is uncomfortable. “I’m being perfectly—”

Pain—then darkness.

~~~

I awaken again, feeling as though only a few moments have past. Duo, Howard, and the doctor are still there, looking at me worriedly, but my head feels perfectly fine now. I still remember nothing about myself or my past, but at least I feel alright now.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I apologize for being too rough,” Dr. G. gruffly admits. “However, I think I’ve patched you up sufficiently. I’m also giving you some pills; they should help with any future pain.”

“It feels fine now,” I inform them.

“Good.” The doctor stands to go, but Duo is still looking worriedly at me.

“Are you sure he’s gonna be alright?” he asks.

“And what about my memory?” I ask.

The doctor pauses. “You appear to be in good health overall. If a head trauma caused your memory loss, it will probably return on its own in time.”

“And until then, you can stay with us, right, Howie?” Duo looks at his uncle expectantly.

He nods in answer, looking speculatively between me and his nephew.

He can’t possibly be as curious as I am about my identity. Where did I come from? Who am I?

~~~

Days pass. We contact the local sheriff’s office, the nearby city’s police station. They have no record of a missing boy fitting my description. At night, I sleep on the couch; during the day, I try to figure out who I am.

“Find anything?” Duo’s voice comes from over my shoulder.

“No. I can find no record of a missing teenage boy of Asian descent anywhere in this state.” I’m feeling rather frustrated. I have been at Duo’s laptop for several hours now, seeking any clue as to my origin.

“Well, don’t worry too much. Uncle Howie said you can stay here as long as you need to. And our couch isn’t too uncomfortable, right?”

“Hn.” I am listening, but I’ve already heard the offer. As grateful as I am, I desperately want to know who really I am, where I belong. Are my parents worried? Do I even have parents? Did I run away from home? An orphanage? Who am I?

Behind me, Duo sighs, then leaves the room. I feel some remorse. He has been nothing but kind to me since I woke up here, and barely acknowledge him, seeking only to leave this place.

Closing out of the missing persons websites, I open a new search: baby names. If I can’t figure out who I was, then maybe this is the perfect opportunity to decide who I am.

~~~

“I am Heero Yuy.”

In the living room, Duo looks up from his work on Deathscythe, startled.

“That’s what I have named myself. It’s a Japanese name; it means something like ‘the one and only.’ And since I can’t find evidence of anyone else related to me, I appear to be the only one.” Not necessarily the best reason for choosing a name, but I like it anyway. At least I now have something that’s mine.

And if that weren’t rewarding enough, the smile that graces Duo’s face makes me even more satisfied with my choice. “A pleasure to meet you, Heero Yuy.” He stands, reaching out a hand. “I’m Duo Maxwell.”

I take it and shake, smiling back. Still, at the back of my mind, I wonder at the easy dismissal of my past.

~~~
Chapter Two
~~~

“Hey, uh, Heero?”

Absorbed in the trials and tribulations of Captain Jean-Luc Picard aboard the USS Enterprise, it takes me a moment to recognize my assumed name. When I do, though, I feel warm for a moment—I have a name. “Yes?”

“If you’re still not making any progress toward finding... y’know, yourself, do you want to maybe go to that con this weekend?” Duo sounds oddly hesitant. It could just be distraction, though, since he’s working on Deathscythe at the same time.

The convention has been advertised during the commercial breaks of this Next Generation marathon. Several actors and writers, from various Trek and other shows, will be available to sign autographs.

One thing I’ve learned about myself the past few days is that I share Duo’s affinity for science fiction. I don’t really know if I watched it before my amnesia, but I have a basic knowledge of the main characters in many shows, even if I don’t recall seeing any particular episodes.

“And hey,” Duo adds, looking up at me. “If you liked sci fi before, maybe something’ll jog your memory, or you’ll run into someone who knows you.”

While I wasn’t sure the chances of that, given my lack of success so far, going to the convention with Duo sounded appealing anyway. “Sure.”

“And, um... you wanna go in costume?” His cheeks are pink.

Ah. Perhaps that had been the reason for his hesitation. “As whom?” I ask, conveying no emotion.

“Well, uh, Howie an’ I were gonna go as Doc Brown and Marty—you know, from Back to the Future?” He looks at me, seeking recognition.

I nod. Why do I know pop culture, current events, everything about anything except myself?

“Well, we already have the outfits from other cons—yes, I’m a geek—but, well, I kinda just thought of someone you could totally dress as.”

I raise an eyebrow.

~~~

The next day we spend in front of the television watching all 14 episodes of the short-lived series Firefly.

The day after that we spend scouring thrift stores and department stores, seeking just the right khaki pants, maroon shirt, suspenders, boots, and—of course—a brown coat.

“These pants are too small,” I protest, looking at myself in the mirror. And Malcolm Reynolds didn’t look Asian to me, but at least that issue isn’t uncomfortable.

“That’s kinda the point, Capt’n Tightpants,” Duo grins.

“That was just in Shindig,” I argue, “When he wasn’t wearing his usual attire.”

“Maybe I just prefer it this way?” His grin grows, becoming... something else. Hungry?

Why would he care how tight my pants are?

~~~

“Hey, Howie, we should’ve gotten our hands on a DeLorean for the con,” Duo remarks as we get out of Howard’s pickup. Around us are parked various sizes and shapes of vehicles, only some of which are painted with things like Spiderman and the Green Goblin or the Death Star from Return of the Jedi. “Or, hell, made one ourselves.” Somehow, he loses some of his mechanical credibility when wearing that ridiculous orange life-preserver vest. I can’t say I like his braid tucked away, either, though I’m not sure why.

“With whose money?” asks Howard, currently wearing Dr. G’s white lab coat and a wig to give him more grey hair in a mad-scientist style. “You’ve already spent enough this summer on—”

“Hey, Deathscythe’s worth it, okay?” Duo interrupts, eyes flashing in anger. “He’s gonna be awesome; right, Heero?”

I nod. “If our new designs are correct, his wings should support his lighter structure enough to give lift. He’ll be...” I glance down at my own outfit. “Shiny.”

Duo grins, and we head into the convention center.

~~~

We’ve been here for two hours and already Duo is toting t-shirts, action figures, patches, and gizmos from at half a dozen vendors. At least some of them gave discounts for those in costume. I myself have purchased only one item—a shirt that proclaims, “There’s no place like 127.0.0.1”. Duo had an odd look on his face when he saw me buying it, but I liked it. Besides, the only other three outfits I own are some cheap shirts and jeans I got at the thrift store, and the tank top and spandex shorts I’d been wearing when I woke up.

We’re heading toward an advance screening of some new show about giant robots, planning to get there early so we can find good seats, when there’s a loud “SQUEEEE!!” somewhere to our left. Not an entirely unheard sound in this atmosphere—while predominantly attended by males, this con hosts a good number of “fangirls” as well—but it seems to be getting louder, closer to us, very quickly. My first thought is that maybe it’s someone who knows me. My second thought is to run.

Too late. We’re soon assaulted by a group of girls, each dressed in the clothing of some space dweller, super hero, secret agent, or cat girl. A Hispanic girl apparently dressed as Inara Serra smiles shyly, as a somewhat plump Captain Janeway pushes her forward. “Hey, Captain Reynolds, can we get a picture of you and Inara together?” the more outgoing girl asks.

I look to Duo for guidance, but he simply shrugs, smiling.

I turn back to them, feeling vaguely overwhelmed, but nod. I wince at the next “Squee!!” but allow myself to be posed beside “Inara.” After two pictures in simple poses, one of the girls shouts, “Kiss!” The others shriek in agreement. “Kiss! Kiss!”

My heart speeds up. I don’t know if I want to kiss some girl I just met. Not for the first time, I wonder if I have a girlfriend out there somewhere that I’ve forgotten about. Still, they really seem to want me to do it, and it’s just for some picture.

I lean down to kiss the girl’s cheek, but at the last moment, she shifts her head and I end up kissing her lips. The camera flashes just before I jerk back in surprise.

She smiles shyly at me again. “Sorry,” she whispers, before backing away. The whole group thanks me, and they continue on their way, now directing their “Squee”s to someone dressed as a rather muscular hobbit.

I turn back to Duo and Howard. Duo looks disappointed for a moment, but shrugs it off when I ask him about it, instead ushering us on to the screening.

~~~

Duo remains uncharacteristically quiet for some time, even after the screening. He then recommends that we go stand in the monstrous lines for autographs—different monstrous lines.

“To maximize autographs in minimum time,” he explains. He then holds out one of the gadgets he bought—a hand-held communicator from original Trek. “Don’t be afraid to call for backup if you’re assaulted by fangirls again.”

So he and Howard await Bill Mumy’s John Hancock, while I stand alone awaiting Brent Spiner’s. I take advantage of the time alone to scan the crowd, trying to see if anyone or anything sparks a memory. Apart from a trip to the market and a few walks, this is my first real time outside of Duo and Howard’s home. Though I’d doubted it, I’d hoped something here might help. Nothing.

I’m still scanning the crowds when we meet up again. I see Duo and Howard near the lobby fountain just as a commotion begins to my left. A glint of silver catches my eye, and before I know it, I’m springing into action. I launch myself toward Duo, knocking him to the ground, then I spring up, wresting the weapon from the grip of the—

Preadolescent boy. Plastic gun. A replica of the noisy cricket from Men in Black, to be precise.

“Ow! What the hell are you doing??”

“Language, young man. And you—get your damn hands off my son!”

“Is there a problem here?” A security guard approaches, looking threateningly toward me.

“Uh—no, sorry. My mistake.” I apologize profusely to the boy and his mother as Duo and Howard come up behind me. They pull me away, assuring the guard that no harm was meant.

We move down the hall, away from the crowds. “Heero? You okay?” Duo asks, looking concerned.

“I—I thought the gun was real. I don’t know what—” I suddenly remember throwing Duo to the ground. “Are you alright?”

He startles for a moment, then smiles reassuringly at me. “My ass may not be up for that Doctor Who marathon tomorrow, but I think I’ll live.”

I smile back, relieved that he’s joking with me again. Oddly enough, the incident seems to dispel the earlier tension between us. We enjoy the rest of the day at the con together, but every so often my extreme reaction floats through my mind.

Who was I?

~~~
Chapter Three
~~~

Weeks pass. My memory prior to my awakening here remains a blank slate. Continued web searches have still revealed no trace of my previous life. I spend less and less time searching as time goes by. No one appears to be looking for me; was there anything in my old life worth remembering? My new life, however, seems to be worth living.

Further communications with legal and civil services allow me to establish a new official identity as Heero Yuy, emancipated minor. Howard arranges for my admission to the same boarding school Duo attends, after I pass the simple placement tests for the twelfth grade. Dr. G gives me the required physical, pronouncing me to be in perfect health despite my persisting amnesia. Duo and I arrange to be roommates, since Duo’s friend who would have been staying with him managed to get a single instead.

“It’s gonna be awesome!” Duo is very excited, once we get the news I’ve been accepted. “You can meet Fei and Hilde and Quat and Tro and hang out in our nerd club, and take the same classes as me, and see the sweet new library, and sneak out to catch fireflies or watch meteor showers, and...”

I smile and shake my head, listening with half an ear as I look over our schematics for Deathscythe’s new scythe.

“...in the Great Feats of Nerditude contest—shit!”

I look up, startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I—it’s—you—” He takes a deep breath. “Nothing, I just—I totally forgot about our Great Feats of Nerditude contest!”

I blink. “Nerditude?”

“Okay, so not really a word. But—this group of my friends at school made our own little nerd club, and every summer we each set out to accomplish the best, nerdiest accomplishment we can. Memorizing digits of pi, deriving complicated formulae, programming complex algorithms to determine what makes the best Trek episodes so awesome...”

I smirk. “And you win every time?” It sounds like something Duo would do.

“No,” he grumbles, but then grins, “You haven’t seen just how nerdy these guys are! Well, guys and girl now, since we initiated Hilde last year. Man, Fei fought that. I mean, geez, it’s not like him being a language nerd is even the most masculine of the nerd domains in the first place, and I thought her talents in bio and chem labs were more than enough to let her in, but...”

“Duo,” I interrupt, bringing him back to his own original topic. “The Great Feats of Nerditude?”

“Right! Yeah, so we’ve been having so much fun this summer, I got completely distracted from my own submission.”

“Which is?”

He grins sheepishly. “Uh, I don’t really know, now.”

I look back down at what I’m working on. “What about Deathscythe?”

Duo tilts his head, looking contemplative.

I hold up the schematics, my new calculations visible in the margins. “This is his new scythe.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Okay, then, he’ll be our joint submission.”

I smile back, wondering at the feeling of warmth that statement gives me.

~~~

“Night of fire... you better better stay... you better better begin the prayer to me... Dammit, Heero, how are you still beating me?”

“Perhaps if you tried concentrating on the ‘dancing’ instead of singing along?” I suggest, not missing a beat. Admittedly, this is a relatively easy Dance Dance Revolution song.

“But I have to sing along, it helps me keep the rhythm,” Duo protests. He does seem to get worse when he’s talking instead of singing.

When we get to the end of the song, he goes to the console, removing the disc. “Screw it, the Disney mix sucks anyway. I’m sick of Pluto propositioning me.”

“Pluto...?” I suddenly recall the background animation with the dog Pluto. “I, uh, don’t believe that was what the creators intended.”

“Right. And Disney movies don’t have thinly veiled sexual references.”

I refuse to continue this conversation. Though my mind chooses that moment to compare Pluto’s position with Duo’s position right now, leaning over the console to change discs.

I like Duo better.

Before I have time to contemplate that thought in its entirety, Duo stands and begins the next round of DDR. I continue to triumph in song after song, and he collapses on the couch in a heap.

“I surrender!” he proclaims. “I bow to thee, oh great god of the DDR.”

“‘Never give up, never surrender,’” I quip back at him, earning a pillow in the back as I continue to the end of the song. When I don’t even lose my combo to his distraction, I can practically hear him sticking his tongue out at me.

When I finish, I lie back on the couch across from Duo. Our legs overlap in the middle of the couch, and we joust with them a bit, both trying to obtain the most comfortable position. We end up with my legs on his chest and his under my ass.

He leans his head back, sighing. “Video games should not be so tiring,” he proclaims. “Now I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“You know, this is my bed you’re sweating on,” I inform him haughtily.

“Is it?” he asks, looking innocent for all of two seconds. He then grins wickedly—and wiggles his toes.

“Argh!” The ticklish feeling has me rearing up off the couch and ending up on the floor.

I roll over, glaring up at him as he cackles. Of all the indignities...

No matter. Why get mad when I can get even?

“You know what they say about people who live in glass houses,” I inform him casually, standing slowly.

It takes Duo a moment to understand my threat, and by then it’s too late.

“Eeek! No! Argh! Heerooooo! Tickles! Stop!” I tickle him unrelentingly, skillfully evading his flailing limbs, pausing to let him breathe only occasionally.

“Uncle! Uncle!” he cries.

“From what I heard, you deserve that,” Howard calls from the other room.

Duo growls in that general direction, then at me, but I just smile. Finally, I stop, and sit on the floor with my back against the coffee table.

“Gonna... kill you...” he mutters, still catching his breath.

“But then who would help you with Deathscythe, or beat you at DDR, or embarrass you at conventions?” I ask innocently.

He glares at me, but then sighs and grins ruefully. “Very well, I suppose I shall let you live. But don’t let it happen again.”

“On my honor,” I return solemnly, holding up my right hand.

“Live long and prosper?” Duo looks confused at the V of my fingers.

“My Vulcan honor?” I offer.

He grins, lying his head back on the couch. “You’re such a nerd, Heero.”

“I try.”

~~~

About a week before we need to leave for school, we go out to a movie. The latest superhero movie, in which a crack team of heroes must learn to work together to defeat an evil cadre of villains. Not the best plot, and full of cheesy lines, but the special effects are top notch, and on the whole the movie is enjoyable.

At least, it is until about halfway through. I’m not sure exactly what happens after that point.

Duo and I have one large, refillable popcorn between us. We’ve both been munching away during the slower parts, and forgetting about it in the more exciting scenes. Then, about an hour into the movie, we both reach in at the same time, and the backs of our hands touch.

That’s it. Nothing exciting about it. Skin-to-skin contact, as we’ve had numerous times before without issue. Still, the part of me that knows facts about the world despite knowing nothing about me knows that this situation sometimes has meaning. In a cliché, chick-flick romance sense. There is no reason for me to consider this incident in that way. This is simply innocent hand-brushing between two teenage boys at an action movie. Absolutely no reason to zone out for the entire rest of the show, thinking obsessively about that brief contact.

Now, for the first time, I wonder if I have a boyfriend out there somewhere that I’ve forgotten about.

~~~

I’m not quite sure how to act around Duo now. Somehow, that brief moment at the movie theater has me rethinking my feelings about him. I knew I liked him, but he’s also the only person my age I really know. Is that why I’m feeling... this? Whatever this is?

I try not to let him know—I have no reason to believe he’d reciprocate, or even that he’s attracted to males—but I think he can tell something is going on. I spend more time away from him, working on Deathscythe only when he’s not, using his laptop in whichever room he’s not, always formulating some excuse for my behavior.

Finally, he confronts me about it.

“What’s up, Heero?” he asks over my shoulder as I type away at his computer.

“Nothing much. I haven’t run searches for missing boys much lately, so I thought I would check on that.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Are you having second thoughts about coming to school with me?”

Yes, but for reasons I’m not prepared to explain to him. “No, I just... I still don’t know who I am—who I was, if anyone out there is still looking for me.”

“Heero, I... I think you’d have found something by now if there was anything to find,” Duo confesses in a low voice.

I really have almost given up hope of ever finding anything, but hearing Duo say that still bothers me. I don’t reply, continuing my search.

He’s silent for so long I’d think he’d left, but I can still hear him breathing behind me. Finally, he asks quietly, “You don’t like it here with me?”

That finally gets me to turn and face him. “I like it here. I like being with you. Maybe too much.” What am I saying? I wasn’t going to tell him.

His eyes widen, but his reply is cautious, even-toned, “What do you mean?”

I suppose it’s too late to back out now, so instead I forge ahead, “I like you, Duo. I think I like you as more than a friend.”

His mouth opens and closes twice, but when he does speak, his response is simply, “Oh.”

Well, that was entirely unhelpful. Now that I’ve admitted it, I need to know if I have a chance, or if I need to stop myself from feeling any more. Though I’m not sure if I could.

Neither of us speak for a moment, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Well?” I finally ask. “Do you... like me?”

“God, Heero,” Duo replies, looking pained somehow. “I like you, I really do, but... we can’t.”

Can’t...? Because we’re both boys? No—it hits me. “Because I still don’t remember anything from before?”

He winces. “Well... I...” he starts, but then is silent for a moment. “It just wouldn’t be right.”

“And if I never get my memory back?”

He turns away. “I... I don’t know. We just can’t.”

With that, he leaves the room.

~~~
Chapter Four
~~~

Things are even more awkward between Duo and me the next day, but we manage to find our way slowly back toward the easy camaraderie we had before. If Howard noticed anything, he never mentioned it.

Our return to friendship may have been facilitated by the crunch time of finishing Deathscythe before leaving for St. Gabriel’s. While Duo informed me that the Great Feats of Nerditude contest would actually be held at the end of the first week of classes, to allow time for any necessary set-up, it will probably be safer for Deathscythe to be in one piece before we leave. Besides, while Duo is bringing many of his tools, Howard has a more extensive collection, and we want to be sure everything works before we lose those resources.

“That... should just... about... do it!” Duo shouts over the sound of the welder the day before we need to leave. Turning it off, he removes his gloves and mask, and holds out the result of our weeks of labor. “Well, what do you think?”

I take a moment to admire our work. Structurally, he’s changed a lot, but the two functional changes are what really stand out. Provided that we’ve done everything correctly, Deathscythe will now be capable of flight. More impressively, his scythe—once a glowing piece of plastic—will now slice through almost anything. “It’s like he’s been given a whole new life,” I remark. Like me. “Maybe he should get a new name.”

Duo looks at me intently for a moment, but then shrugs. “Alright. Let’s see...”

We’re both silent in thought as Howard comes outside to join us. “So, is Deathscythe Mark II complete yet?”

Duo shakes his head. “Nah, he needs something with a little more... fire to it, don’t you think?”

Howard looks confused, and a little bit worried. “More fire than a working scythe?”

I roll my eyes at Duo, then answer Howard’s original question. “He’s complete, although we haven’t tested everything yet. We’re trying to decide on a new name for him.”

“Ah,” Howard looks relieved. While he’s been fully supportive of the project, and is a fine handyman himself, I don’t think he entirely trusts the lengths to which Duo will go to make a better, more impressive machine. “Well, let’s see what the little bugger can do!”

Duo grins maniacally, and lifts the new remote. Then he pauses. “Er, Heero, would you like to do the honors?” He holds out the remote.

I would, but I know Duo is even more passionate about the project than I am. I shake my head. “You go ahead; he’s your baby.”

He blinks. “You know you’ve put in as much effort as I have, Heero, he’s our baby.” I notice he pulls the remote back a bit, though.

I smile and shake my head. “Go ahead.”

He smiles back. “Alright then. Here we go... Ten... nine... eight...” He looks at us expectantly.

Howard and I stare at him, refusing to join in the countdown.

“Spoilsports,” he mutters. He continues loudly, “Three... two... one! Houston, we have liftoff!”

Deathscythe rises in the air, and I’m surprised at the sense of pride I feel. Duo’s a little shaky at the three-dimensional controls at first, but he keeps the robot in the air, then flies him up higher, towards the sole tree in the yard. My gaze is oscillating between Deathscythe and Duo, so I catch the evil look on his face a moment before the scythe activates. It swings, and a good-sized branch falls from the tree to the ground, the sliced ends glowing red for a moment. A bit of smoke rises from the ground... and a flame appears.

“Oh, hell! Duo!” Howard yells, running to stomp out the flame before it grows. Luckily, there is no matching fire in the tree.

“That’s it!” Duo cries, seemingly oblivious to the near emergency as he brings Deathscythe in for a clumsy but safe landing. “Deathscythe Hell!” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Deathscythe Hell, our baby...” I consider. “Does that mean we take turns cleaning up his messes?”

Duo looks over at his uncle, who is making sure that there’s no real damage besides the broken branch and some singed grass. “Nah, I think we can leave the cleanup to Gramps over there,” he replies, making sure to speak loudly enough for Howard to hear.

“I ain’t nobody’s grandpa, and you’re cleaning up any future ‘messes’ yourself, kid! And you better not set any fires in the house with that damn thing! Or the dorm—I’d better not get any calls from St. Gabriel’s sayin’ you’ve burned down a building!”

Duo sighs, shaking his head and smiling at me. “I think we’ve reached that point at the end of summer when he’s glad to see me go.”

“Ya think?” Howard heads back into the house, grinning.

“Well, since Deathscythe Hell appears to be fully operational, perhaps we should finish the rest of our packing?” I suggest.

“And by we you mean me,” he returns suspiciously.

“Why, I suppose I do, yes,” I answer as though I hadn’t really realized it. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the baby when you’re gone.”

“Like hell! You’re not playing with him without me!”

“But I’m done with my packing.”

“Because you barely have any crap! Half the stuff I own you’re gonna be using anyway, the least you could do is help!”

I pause. Was that still friendly bickering, or a real concern? “Do you not want me rooming with you?”

Duo opens his mouth, but hesitates before replying. “I never said that.”

“But you’re uncomfortable with my feelings for you.” I wasn’t planning on bringing it up after his rejection earlier, but now I fear it’s important.

“It’s not that...” he begins, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Then what is it, Duo?” I demand, frustrated. “So I don’t know who I was. I think I’m starting to know who I am. And I think I’m starting to know you. And I happen to think that you and I fit together well. If you’re just not interested in me, just tell me, but if it’s something—”

His lips are on mine. His arms wrap around me. I gasp, then return the kiss with vigor. I don’t know if I’m just copying his motions, or if there’s some sort of muscle memory involved. I don’t even know if this is my first real kiss—not including the brief one at the con—but it doesn’t matter. It’s my first kiss I remember, and it’s my first kiss with Duo, and it’s wonderful.

Finally, he pulls back. “Trust me, I’m interested.”

“Then what else matters?”

He looks conflicted for a moment, but then leans forward to kiss me again.

My second kiss with Duo is just as wonderful as the first.

~~~

When we finally go inside, Howard looks toward us disapprovingly. My heart freezes. Did he see us kissing? Does he disapprove of same-sex relationships? Will he forbid us from doing anything? Or worse, forbid me from seeing Duo at all?

All he says, however, is “Remember, we’re leaving at 9am sharp. You’d better be all packed tonight.”

“I know,” comes Duo’s quiet reply. He saw the look, too. Does he know what it meant? What if he regrets kissing me now?

We finish packing in near silence. But every once in a while, his hand brushes mine.

And he kisses me goodnight.

~~~
Chapter Five
~~~

Our drive to St. Gabriel’s takes six hours. Fortunately, Howard acts as though nothing unusual happened the day before, so the ride isn’t as awkward as it could have been. Duo and I do sneak some caresses and brief kisses when he’s not watching, though.

Unloading everything doesn’t take very long, with three of us to move everything and my not having much. There don’t appear to be many people moved in yet, so the campus looks somewhat empty. We wave goodbye to Howard, and Duo takes me on a tour. He shows me the other dorms, the cafeteria (“avoid the Friday chicken-O’s,” Duo warns me), the new library, the main classroom building, the science building (“home of the physics, chem, and bio labs, and consequently, Hilde”). We’re heading back to our dorm room when a girl calls Duo’s name, so we stop and turn.

A girl with short brown hair and a Scalding Lake shirt comes running up to us. Following at a more dignified pace behind her is a Chinese boy with his black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

“Hilde! Fei! What’s up, guys?” Duo grins, accepting a hug from the girl. I know she’s just a friend he hasn’t seen in months, but I still feel uneasy until I see her step back and take the hand of the Chinese boy—Fei.

Duo, on the other hand, looks shocked at this small display of affection. “No way! You guys finally got together?”

Fei’s eyes narrow. “Finally?” Hilde blushes.

“Oh, we’d been betting that you two would hook up ever since early last year,” Duo explains. “Let’s see... I think Tro bet on ‘by the end of summer’, so I guess I owe him fifteen bucks. Damn.”

Fei is starting to look annoyed, so Hilde quickly changes the subject, “Hey, Duo, who’s the hunk?” Which, surprisingly enough, doesn’t make her boyfriend any happier.

“Oh, right! Heero, these are my buds and fellow nerds Hilde Schbeiker and Wufei Chang. Guys, this is Heero Yuy, a friend I made this summer. He’s going to be rooming with me.” We’ve decided not to reveal our relationship to anyone just yet, especially since we’re not exactly sure where we stand ourselves. Or rather, Duo seems to be unsure.

Wufei’s expression finally relaxes into a smile. “You are a far braver man than I, Heero Yuy.” That’s right, he’s the one who took a single rather than rooming with Duo.

“I don’t know, there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity...” I smirk back, becoming the recipient of Duo’s glare, but from the looks of it, Wufei’s respect.

“So, the contest is Friday afternoon, right? Three o’clock?” Hilde asks, bouncing on her toes.

“Yep,” Duo agrees. “Excited much?”

“Of course, it’s my first one! And I’m so gonna whoop your asses with my nerditude, too!” She grins, then looks at me. “Oh, hey, are you going to be in the contest, too? I mean, you are a nerd, right? I don’t think Duo has any other kinds of friends...”

Duo glares at her. “Do too!”

Studiously ignoring him, I reply to Hilde, “I’ll be there, though I’m just doing a joint entry with Duo.”

“Oooh, I can’t wait to see it! To see everybody’s, actually—even Fei here won’t tell me what his submission is gonna be.”

“You wouldn’t tell me yours, either,” Wufei replies.

“Yeah, because I want it to be a surprise!” she retorts.

Wufei sighs, and I get the feeling they’ve had this argument before. It doesn’t seem likely to be resolved with logic, anyway.

Duo clears his throat. “Well, I think we’re gonna head back and get unpacked. You guys wanna come by later and hang out, maybe play some D&D? DDR? D&DDR?”

The other two look as wary about the last suggestion as I feel. Still, we make plans to meet later, then go our separate ways.

Only to be accosted by two more of Duo’s friends before we make it back to our room.

“Hey, Duo!”

The previous interaction is repeated, only this time Duo hugs a blond boy who steps back beside a taller brunet boy. While they don’t hold hands, they stand closely, and I wonder if they aren’t also more than friends. Also, giving credence to Hilde’s theory, these are apparently nerd friends as well, as evidenced by their shirts, one proclaiming “resistance is futile if <1 ohm,” the other instructing “RTFM.”

“Quat, Tro, this is my new buddy and roomie, Heero Yuy,” Duo introduces me.

“I’m Quatre Winner,” the blond tells me with a smile, “And this is Trowa Barton.”

Trowa nods, “Nice to meet you.”

I nod in return.

“Hey, you want to help us move in?” Quatre asks Duo. “We both just got in.”

“Uh, sure,” Duo replies, looking at me in question.

I shrug in agreement, and we both go to help his friends carry their things up to their room. We have the added help of Quatre’s father and sister (“one of many,” he informs me) and Trowa’s sister, so it doesn’t take too long. When we’re almost done, Quatre’s family wanders off while we finish up.

“Might want to leave that for Trowa,” Cathy Barton advises me as I pull a large desktop computer—one of two or three computers I’ve seen—from the SUV. Trowa himself is upstairs at the moment. “That’s his baby, and it’s also pretty heavy...”

I lift it from the vehicle easily. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

Trowa does give me a look of concern as I bring the computer in to his desk, but he doesn’t say anything, simply looking relieved when I set it down. He heads back out for the next load.

Quatre comes in carrying a box that apparently contains a telescope, places it gently on the floor, and falls back onto his bare mattress. “Well, that’s the last of my stuff.”

“Except for this box,” calls Duo from the hallway, panting slightly. I go out to meet him, and take the heavy box from him to bring the rest of the way into the room. “What do you have in here, bricks?”

Quatre looks up from the bed. “Oh, right, that would be my books.”

“Geez, Quat, don’t you know you’re supposed to put books in lots of smaller boxes, not one big one? I think I pulled a muscle,” he groans, attempting to massage his left shoulder.

I place the box on the floor, then go over to him, gently rubbing the sore area. I don’t recall ever giving a back rub before, but I decide to try.

“God, Heero, feel free to never stop doing that...” Duo sighs, and I note with pride that apparently I am doing this properly.

“I’ll go see if Trowa needs more help...” Quatre raises himself from the bed and exits abruptly.

I stop my massage immediately. “I’m sorry.”

Duo tilts his head back at me. “I thought I said not to stop?”

“But you didn’t want anyone knowing about our relationship,” I remind him.

He shrugs, then winces and gestures for me to continue the backrub. “Friends can give each other backrubs. Besides, Tro an’ Quat have been together while pretending they’re not for like two years now.”

I find myself wondering if that’s what I have to look forward to, but at that moment Cathy enters the room with a large box. I stop the massage again, hearing Duo’s quiet whimper of protest, and head down to collect the next load of Trowa’s belongings.

We stay up late that night figuring out how to combine Dungeons & Dragons and Dance Dance Revolution. The end result is not pretty, but it is a great deal of fun.

The next day classes begin. They’re even easier than I had anticipated after taking the placement tests, which makes me wonder if I in fact already completed high school. During my second day of calculus, I correct the instructor, Mrs. Une, who is not altogether pleased. Other teachers, at least, are more appreciative of my participation. Still, I find myself unable to devote full attention to classes, as Friday and its contest approach.

Finally, that fateful day arrives.

~~~
Chapter Six
~~~

“Lady and gentlemen, I hereby call this meeting to order. Welcome to the third annual Great Feats of Nerditude contest!” Duo announces proudly.

Quatre and Hilde both clap, the latter bouncing excitedly. Trowa and Wufei share a look, raising eyebrows and smirking at Duo’s overdramatizing. I simply smile in anticipation.

“Now, who wants to show their stuff first?” Duo asks, ruling from his prominent location on the floor in front of Trowa’s bed. Trowa is leaning his computer chair back against Quatre’s bed, beside the blond himself. Wufei is in Quatre’s chair, with his girlfriend sitting on the floor leaning against his legs, one of her hands protectively clutching something encased in a large potato sack. I’m on the floor beside Duo, and our own entry, wrapped in an extra sheet, sits on my other side.

“And who elected you supreme overlord?” Wufei demands.

Duo sighs, looking theatrically put-upon. “Would you prefer to run the meeting then, Fei, because you would obviously do a much better job than little ol’ me?”

“Indeed,” the Chinese boy replies haughtily. “Now, before we begin the presentations, I wish to call for a reading of last year’s minutes.”

There is a moment of silence, which Trowa eventually breaks. “We never took minutes.”

“An oversight that I intend to remedy this year,” Wufei answers smoothly, pulling a notebook and a pen from his bag (or man-purse, as Duo called it, most likely just to annoy the owner). “Well, even though we didn’t take minutes, shall we review for our new members the feats of yesteryear?”

“Coughsonotawordcough,” Duo mutters.

Wufei glares at Duo. “Yesteryear: noun. The year before the present year. Time past; yore.”

Hilde tilts her head back and smiles at him with pride. “My boyfriend, the walking dictionary.”

“Yesteryear was also an episode of Star Trek: The Animated Series. ”

Everyone looks at Trowa.

“What?” he asks.

“We could just give Trowa the prize now,” Quatre suggests, deadpan.

“Uh-uh, no way,” Hilde protests. “I may not win, but I at least want my fair chance to win this nerd showdown.”

“That was the episode with Spock coming back from a time-traveling project to find that history had changed and he’d died at age seven, correct?” I ask Trowa.

Everyone looks at me.

Trowa nods once, smiling slightly.

“So, contest now?” Duo urges. “To sum up: me robot, Quat pi, Fei Elvish, Tro security cameras.”

“Well, that was singularly unhelpful,” Hilde rolls her eyes. “Quatre made a pie?”

Wufei looks down at his girlfriend. “I move to revoke her membership,” he declares.

“Joking, honey,” she grins. “How many digits? I only know 3.14159265358,” she recites, almost singing.

Quatre picks up without missing a beat, “9793238462643383279502884197169—”

“Okay, okay,” Duo interrupts. “We get it. It was like a hundred digits, right?”

“Two hundred fifty,” Trowa corrects.

“39937510582097494459...” I continue, smiling at Quatre. He joins in, and we continue until Wufei throws what appears to be a knit Puddle Jumper from the desk at Quatre and Duo grabs a Star Wars pillow from the bed and smacks me with it. Repeatedly.

“So, contest now?” Duo repeats, while still hitting me with the pillow. I grab it and hold until he gives up. Then I hit him with it once and throw it back onto the bed, out of his reach.

“Ahem,” Wufei clears his throat, attempting to regain control of the “meeting.” “Would anyone like to volunteer to go first?”

No one volunteers, but Hilde is bouncing again.

“Hilde, why don’t you go first?” Wufei suggests.

She beams up at him, then pulls the bag off of her parcel. “Voila!” she announces, unveiling a potted plant.

“‘What a strange and unusual plant,’” Trowa quips.

Hilde grins. “Meet Audrey II. I bred her myself.”

Duo gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Wufei, did you know about this?”

Wufei glares at him.

“Um... does it really feed on blood?” Quatre asks, eyeing the plant suspiciously.

Hilde laughs. “No, though she is insectivorous.”

“Then you’d better tell your roomie to watch out,” Duo warns solemnly.

“Duo!” Quatre admonishes.

“Come on, Relena’s not that much of a pest,” Hilde defends her roommate. Hilde did not see her roommate flirting with me all through lunch on Wednesday. Duo did. We ate lunch outside the next day.

“But wait, there’s more!” Hilde announces. She looks around, then up. “Hey, Fei-sweetie, pass me that binary clock, would you?”

He looks curious, but wordlessly hands her the device, unplugging it from the power strip.

She takes the plug and inserts it somewhere in Audrey II’s pot.

The blue lights on the clock begin flashing.

Everyone looks impressed, except for Quatre who sticks out his lips in a pout. “Now I have to reset that thing,” he complains.

“Oh, like you didn’t have Trowa set it in the first place,” Hilde retorts, unplugging the clock and handing it back to Wufei.

Quatre’s pout changes to a glare.

“So, how many points do I get?” she asks quickly, averting her eyes from his gaze. I don’t blame her; somehow, Quatre’s glare is more potent than her boyfriend’s.

“We, uh, don’t really score with points,” Duo replies, glancing at Wufei.

Hilde looks confused. “Why not?”

“The disparity between the various domains of our nerditude made the construction of a rubric implausible,” Wufei explains.

“Wufei couldn’t handle the math,” Quatre adds, smiling again.

“I could see no reason to include differential calculus in a simple scoring system,” Wufei retorts. “I had already conceded on allowing the use of the horrendously awkward and colloquial term ‘nerditude’ in the contest’s official title.”

“Oh, you’re conceited, all right,” Duo pitches in.

“Okay, enough picking on my boyfriend,” Hilde inserts. Before he can thank her, she adds, “It makes it less effective for when I do it.”

Wufei raises an eyebrow, but appears to dismiss the entire conversation as a lost cause. “If Hilde is finished, I believe I shall present my entry next.” He puts the notebook aside, then reaches into his man-purse and pulls out a large journal bound in red leather. A title is handwritten in sharpie on the cover.

“qul’a’,” I read.

He looks at me in shock. “You can read tlhIngan?”

I blink. “Apparently.” They know about my amnesia, so this explanation does not surprise them, though clearly my understanding impresses them.

“It’s even in freakin’ Klingon script,” Duo remarks.

“What does it mean?” Hilde asks, looking almost cross-eyed up at the book from her position on the floor.

“Strong fire,” I answer.

Wufei nods. “Inferno.”

“Dante?” Trowa asks.

Wufei nods, and proudly opens the book to show the pages and pages of poetry scrawled in Roman letters but clearly the Klingon language.

“May I?” I ask, and he carefully hands me the book.

I flip through it carefully. “I see you chose a more accurate translation over the original rhyme scheme.”

He nods. “The Klingon language is limited; there aren’t sufficient synonyms or few enough word endings to maintain ABA BCB throughout.”

“Still, it is impressive,” I acknowledge. “Translated from the original Italian?”

“Si,” he answers proudly. As well he should, since the original Italian is more complicated than today’s textbook Italian.

“My boyfriend, the sexy multilinguist,” Hilde swoons.

Wufei’s smile turns depraved.

“So...” Duo interrupts quickly. “Heero can apparently confirm that Wufei’s gibberish is actually a Great Feat and not just random crap from some Russian textbook.” If his goal was to eliminate the disquieting smile on Wufei’s face and replace it with a glare, he’s succeeded. “So who’s next?”

“Trowa and I can go next,” Quatre offers. “We have a joint submission.”

“It is... legal this year, right, Trowa?” Wufei questions.

Trowa looks at the ceiling innocently. “Hack into the school’s security cameras once, and now I’m an incurable delinquent?”

“Once?” Duo coughs.

“Er... there aren’t any cameras in the girls’ dorm rooms or showers, are there?” Hilde asks.

Trowa just looks at her.

Quatre pokes Trowa in the back. “Our submission?”

Trowa lets his chair fall forward, then maneuvers over to his largest computer. Arranging the second flat-screen monitor so we can all see it, he opens a program—“QT2000 Galaxy.”

The screen displays a top-side view of the Milky Way, until Trowa clicks and drags, showing us various different angles. We watch entranced as he clicks on one of the stars, zooming in and showing details about its name, temperature, size, location, and more. He clicks on others, and some also reveal moving three-dimensional models of their solar systems. Some, such as Alpha Centauri, even include information about references in fiction.

“Wow...” Hilde whistles.

Her boyfriend knees her. “You didn’t sound that impressed with my entry,” he complains.

“That’s because I can understand and appreciate the beauty of star systems more easily than I can something written in a language I can’t even pronounce.”

“I could read it to you,” Wufei offers.

“Um, Fei-honey, French is sexy. Italian is sexy. Klingon makes me worry you’re gonna get spit all over me.”

“She’s got a point there, Fei-honey,” Duo puts in, thus earning the glare Wufei could not easily aim at his girlfriend. “So,” he added quickly, “You guys made that whole program yourselves?”

“Trowa did all the programming,” Quatre acknowledges modestly. “I just supplied the astronomical data. I mean, I did have to reference several sources, it’s not like I calculated everything or had it all memorized.”

“Not all of it,” Duo repeats. “Just most of it, then?”

“Nah, he looked everything up in the Junior Colour Encyclopedia of Space,” Hilde jibes.

“Well, in that case, I supposed they’re going to be disqualified,” Duo jokes.

“Meaning you’re afraid your own submission isn’t up to par, Duo?” Quatre counters.

Duo sticks his tongue out. “Mine and Heero’s is—”

“‘Heero’s and my submission is—’” Wufei corrects.

“Yes, Mz. Grammar Nazi. Ours is awesome. Check it out.” He gestures, and I boldly unwrap our baby.

“May I present: Deathscythe Hell!” Duo hands me the remote, as we’ve determined I have better control. We really don’t want Howard to get a call that we’ve burned down the dorm.

I take Deathscythe Hell up in the air, having him swoop in the air near Hilde’s head, and she squeals. Duo holds up a small stick he brought, and the scythe cuts cleanly through it, neatly avoiding Duo’s hand, and conveniently not setting anything aflame.

When I take the robot in for a landing, I look up at the faces of the crowd, excited and nervous about their response. This is what it’s all been building up to.

Something’s wrong. Hilde looks thrilled, but while the others are smiling, they don’t look nearly as amazed as they should.

“Well?” I ask.

“Those are some neat additions,” Quatre nods.

Additions? I remember that Duo had already created Deathscythe when I started on the project. So they’d already seen him?

“He flew even better than I’d expected,” Trowa adds.

Expected? The flight wasn’t a surprise?

“I don’t suppose we ever made a rule you couldn’t submit a variation on a previous year’s entry,” Wufei considers.

Previous year’s entry?

“But... he’s got awesome new features,” Duo argues. “It’s not like I just painted him pink or something.”

Quatre gives a sympathetic smile. “But what if I’d just memorized another few hundred digits of pi? Would you vote for that over the new, creative entries into this contest?”

I don’t like this feeling. I was the one who decided we should enter Deathscythe. Why didn’t Duo say something? We could’ve at least made a new body, something different, more unique...

Trowa sits up straighter. “That’s not your real entry, is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Duo asks, but he suddenly looks nervous.

“You have something else?” Wufei looks around, as if we’d smuggled something into Trowa and Quatre’s room and just hid it under the bed, or maybe cloaked it.

Duo looks at me, almost panicked. I look back in utter confusion, and the beginnings of worry. “Duo, what’s wrong?”

He bites his lips and shakes his head.

“Duo. Did you have a different entry?” Quatre asks calmly but firmly.

I can hear Duo swallow. “Yes,” he grits out, but doesn’t elaborate. He glares at the wall.

“Well?” Wufei demands.

“Fine!!” He shouts, eyes blazing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Fine. My actual submission was going to be...” He looks at me, and my worry increases exponentially at the pained look in his eyes. He doesn’t finish.

“Shit,” Trowa says, wide-eyed. “Your submission was Heero.”

What?

“No offense, but I really don’t see how finally coming out of the closet and getting yourself a boyfriend constitutes a Great Feat of Nerditude,” Wufei comments.

“Even a really nerdy boyfriend,” Hilde puts in, grinning at me.

But I realize what Trowa meant.

As does Quatre. “You made Heero.”

~~~
Chapter Seven
~~~

In an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Data meets the wife of his creator. He later learns that she too is an android, but that she is unaware of that fact. After some deliberation, he decides not to tell her. He wishes to save her from the shock of discovering that she is not human.

It is not a pleasant feeling.

“You made Heero.”

The events of the past few months come together into a disturbing whole. My lack of a past and Duo’s dismissal of it. My initial poor motor skills and now superior speed and strength. My encyclopedic knowledge. Even Duo’s careful word choice in several situations makes more sense now.

I am a robot.

The look on Duo’s face only confirms that conclusion. Before anyone else has a chance to digest the new information, I’m gone. I barely hear Duo’s cry for me to wait, and I don’t stop.

At first, my only thought is to get out, away. But once I do, I find myself moving very determinedly toward a particular destination.

The science building.

It’s late enough on a Friday that there aren’t any classes, but early enough that the building hasn’t closed yet. I pick up a few things from the biology lab, then make my way to the physics lab.

I carefully remove and fold my shirt. There’s no place like 127.0.0.1. When I bought it, I didn’t realize how simultaneously appropriate and inappropriate it was. I am just a machine, a glorified computer. I have no real home.

That thought could hurt, if I were human. I’m not. So it must not hurt.

Ironic, all this time I’ve been wondering who I was. The real question I should have been asking is what I was.

Now I will remedy that oversight.

In the back of the lab is a counter with a sink in it and a mirror on the wall. I look at myself in the mirror. A fascinating piece of engineering looks back at me. I look human. In color, form, and material, I appear human, at least externally.

What about internally?

Slowly, with the steady hands of a doctor—or a machine—I take a scalpel from the case I brought from the bio lab. Looking in the mirror, I place the sharp edge at my suprasternal notch—the top of my sternum, if there is indeed a sternum under the skin here.

For just a moment, I wonder if I’m wrong. But the clear memory of Duo’s face springs to mind. The perhaps too-accurate memories of particular conversations, actions, events, all confirm that I am not human, that I did not even exist until this summer. Perhaps I knew it all along—the evidence was all there—I just could not bring myself to accept it.

I put more pressure on the scalpel, and a line of blood seeps out. Interesting. Why design a robot with blood? Perhaps to hide the fact that it is a robot.

Even from the robot itself.

I slice downward. I feel something akin to pain, but it is doubtless some internal sensor indicating damage to the machine. Right now, determining just what I am is more important than avoiding damage. I continue cutting.

When the incision is about four centimeters long, I gently pull the skin apart. There is less blood than would be in a real human, and I can feel something hard—not bone, but metal. The metal and the blood are a bit warm; my machinery clearly produces some heat, adding to the illusion of humanity.

I resume making my incision, remembering a similar operation on Deathscythe Hell. Our baby. I suppose I do have a kindred with him, though perhaps we are more like brothers of a sort.

Suddenly, my right arm ceases functioning, and the scalpel falls to the floor. Probing the cut with my left hand, I realize I have inadvertently cut a wire. A single wire which apparently impacts the operation of my entire right arm.

I reach down and retrieve the scalpel with my left hand. After all, why wouldn’t a machine be ambidextrous? I resume cutting, but more cautiously this time. I cannot afford to lose control over both arms.

Despite my focus on my work, I see the figure in the mirror an instant before the shout comes.

“Heero! STOP!! ”

Duo.

I freeze.

“Put it down, Heero, please.”

I place the scalpel on the counter, then turn to face him. I suppose I could learn more about myself from my maker. Ignoring his ashen face, I ask calmly, “Is there a cleaner way to view my inner circuitry?”

“Oh, God, Heero.” He walks toward me, taking hesitant steps as if I am a suicidal human about to leap off a tall building. His arm hovers in front of him as if he may fall at any moment, and his complexion suggests the same.

I watch him in silence.

He glances around, but his eyes never leave mine for more than a second, as if he fears what I might do if he looks away for too long. Then, holding my gaze, he grabs my neatly folded shirt and presses it against my bloody chest. So much for keeping it clean.

“How did you find me?” I ask, ignoring his actions.

Sighing, he explains, “Trowa hacked into the security cameras again. I didn’t realize you were going to do... this.”

“What does it matter?” I ask. My tone is flat, not bitter; machines cannot feel bitterness. “You have already won your contest, correct?”

Duo gives a frustrated groan and whirls around, his back to me. The bloody shirt falls to the floor. “Dammit, Heero, it’s not about the contest.”

“Then what do you desire of me? A Nobel prize? Fame and fortune? Or perhaps a servant to cater to your every whim? You did make me anatomically correct.” Though that hypothesis does not entirely compute, given his reluctance to begin anything physical with me in the first place.

He makes the sound of frustration again, and looks back at me. There is pain in his eyes. “Okay, originally? Yes. It was—you were designed for the contest. But I... when you woke up, and you didn’t know what you were...”

“You lied to me,” I insert flatly.

“No! I... well, I just couldn’t tell you. But I never actually lied,” Duo confesses, “I mean, I did find you up the road—I got most of your, uh, parts at the electronics store...”

“You convinced me I was human.”

He swallows, not looking at me. “You seemed convinced yourself, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you otherwise. Howie... Howie didn’t like that.”

Howard. That must be why he disapproved of us kissing—not because we were both boys, but because I wasn’t even human.

“But, over time,” Duo continues, “I think I started to convince myself you were human. I mean, you had a personality, likes and dislikes, desires and fears...” He meets my eyes. “I started to care about you, not as a project, but as a person. As a friend. And as—something more. And I thought you cared about me as well.”

“Care?” I ask hollowly. “Can a machine feel any such emotions?”

For a moment he looks like he’s about to crumble. Then he seems suddenly determined. “You tell me.”

Before I realize what he’s doing, he reaches behind me, grabs the scalpel, and presses it against his own chest.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand shoots out and pulls his hand towards me. For a moment, we remain in that position in tense silence.

The speed with which I reacted makes me sure he somehow programmed the protective response. The look of immense relief on Duo’s face belies that thought, however.

“You tell me,” he repeats, quietly.

My eyes drop to the spot of red on his shirt. His prized “+1 Shirt” shirt. The scalpel barely had a chance to break the skin, but the growing speck of red encompasses my vision. Somehow, that sight hurt. How could a machine feel emotional pain? I release his hand and reach out to touch that spot of blood.

He drops the scalpel, then gently pulls my hand away from his chest and places it on mine. Covering the deeper incision still dripping with my own blood. If it even is blood...

“It’s the same,” Duo says quietly. At first I’m confused, but then I realize he’s talking about the same thing I was thinking about. “Your blood... it came from my body.”

The thought makes me feel warm and cold at the same time. Which wouldn’t make sense even if I were human, but I feel it nonetheless.

I feel. I may be a machine, but I feel. And I feel for Duo.

“How did...” I begin, then I start to feel dizzy.

“Hush,” he whispers. “Let me take care of this, then I’ll tell you all about yourself. I just want to make sure your insides stay inside from now on, okay?”

I nod, and he uses my shirt to clean me up a bit. That’s when he notices the wire and, consequently, my useless arm.

“Shit, Heero...” He closes his eyes, then sighs and finds the equipment to repair the damage I’ve done. He retrieves sutures from a first aid kit in the bio lab, and sews me back up.

Finally, my chest looks once more like an ordinary human’s—albeit one who just had open heart surgery.

Patting my chest gently, Duo looks into my eyes. To my surprise, he leans forward and kisses me deeply.

When he pulls back, I’ve almost forgotten what I am.

“Heero Yuy,” he states. “You may have begun life as a project for a contest. You may be composed of more mechanical than organic parts. But you are so much more than that. To me, you are Heero Yuy, my friend, my boyfriend, and anything you want to be. Understood?”

I smile and kiss him again.

~~~
Epilogue
~~~

As promised, Duo gives me a long talk about how he created me, and what parts make up the whole that is me. He confesses to receiving a good deal of help from Dr. G, who is actually a medical doctor who specializes in prosthetics. I have several organic parts, but none were acquired illegally. As for my knowledge, Duo apparently programmed me with all of the data stored in an online encyclopedia, so I had access to both factual and cultural information.

“So, what now?” he asks me, looking nervous. We’re back at the dorm, sitting on his bed with our backs against the wall.

What now? I take a deep breath. “Up until today, I believed I was human. I think... I would like to continue that life.”

He looks startled. “You mean—remove your memories of today? I don’t know if I could—I might damage all your memories. Unless—if that’s what you want—”

“No,” I interrupt. “I’m glad to know who—what—I am. But I would rather continue to live as an ordinary human. I don’t want anyone else to know about me. I want to graduate high school and find a job. I want to...” This next part is the hardest to say, regardless of how Duo acted in the lab. “I want to have a long, happy relationship with you.”

I needn’t have worried. He gives me a huge smile and another passionate kiss.

We have another moment of fearful uncertainty when we call Howard. However, the old man is mostly just relieved that I finally know the truth. He also reveals that he suspected I was human in spirit if not in body, and gives us his blessing to continue our relationship.

As for the nerd contest? The five of them unanimously declare me the winner. I protest that it was Duo who created me (and Trowa is jealous that Duo had developed something that passed the Turing test before he did), but they maintain that I can still out-nerd any of them. Despite my protests, I am inexplicably proud.

Now I know who I am. I am a nerd. I am Duo Maxwell’s boyfriend. I am Heero Yuy.

That’s all that matters.

OWARI