Part 1
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##...## denotes inner thoughts
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    "Just sign here, sir, and the property is yours," the real estate agent handed out the last set of papers.  Rowan looked them over and put his signature on the pages.
    "Congratulations!" the woman handed him the set of keys.
    "I still cannot believe that someone as young as yourself would want to live in such a remote place.  You should be careful out there." Rowan noted the uneasiness in the woman's voice.  Her smile also looked somewhat strained, fake even.  The boy shrugged and dismissed her behavior as inconsequential.  He was happy finally to be able to get a place of his own.  Besides, the house was rather large, especially for a single person, and came with a lot of land space. The price had been ridiculously low, which made the young man even happier.  He had some money saved from all the odd jobs had had over the past several years, but it wasn't much.  Being able to afford a house of his own was a dream on Rowan's part; he thought he'd never be able to buy anything like that.
         But then, he came to this small town and thought that here would be a nice place to settle down for a while.  Rowan was a
drifter; he never stayed in one place for very long, never really made friends or formed attachments.  He was a loner of sorts ? a
seemingly friendly guy who never let anyone too close. He was very attractive, so he never had a shortage of admirers, both female and male.  In fact, he usually had a whole host of girls chasing him wherever he went.  But he just wasn't interested, explaining it to himself as a problem of commitment, rather than a lack of interest in women altogether.
       So anyhow, since his parents had died when Rowan was around four, he had never stayed in one place for long.  First, there were different orphanages, then schools?At 18, he had changed a dozen jobs and had traveled all over the planet.  He had even been to L1 and L2.  However, the young man never had had the feeling that he belonged anywhere he had been over the years.  Something always seemed to be missing, something important.  Rowan drifted, trying to find this mysterious piece of him, but so far he wasn't successful.
       And then he came to this small backwater town in the middle of nowhere and something clicked.  He wandered around, looking into the windows of tiny shops, ogled the girls, chatted with old ladies and, for the first time in years, he felt happy.  He didn't plan to stay for long, but several days after arrival Rowan happened to notice a posting in the paper advertising property for sale.  Settling down was the last thing on Rowan's mind, and so was buying real estate, but something about the house's description attracted him.  The price was obscenely low and on impulse he rode his motorcycle over to look at the place.  That same day, he called up the real estate that had put the property up for sale and the end result was the jangling set of keys in his hand.  He decided to inspect his new property right away, but stopped by a coffee shop for a quick lunch first.  Out of habit, he picked a seat in the corner of the shop where he'd be least likely to be bothered.  After sitting down, Rowan opened the menu and starting looking through it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Annie Greenwood had owned the coffee shop for years.  She knew everything about every single inhabitant of this town.  If one needed information about anything at all that had to do with the town's affairs, Annie was the one to go to.  Needless to say, she knew all the people in town by face, as well as by name.  Therefore, she was surprised when a stranger walked into the shop.  She watched as he glanced around before taking a seat in the corner.  Annie pretended she was busy at the counter, using the excuse to study the newcomer.
        He looked no older than 16, 17 at most.  He had short hair the color of burnt honey and wide eyes.  Even though Annie was getting on 50, she was as prone as a schoolgirl to drool over a cute male specimen, and this one looked particularly attractive.  As the self-appointed information bureau of the town, the woman just had to find out where this kid came from and whether he'd be staying. Grabbing her notepad, she walked over to the boy's table to take his order. "Good day, young man!  You're new around here, aren't you?"
         Rowan was startled out of his exploration of the menu by a husky female voice.  He looked up to see the waitress smiling at him.  He smiled back guardedly.
         "Yep, I'm new.  Just arrived here a few days ago." His tone, although friendly, hinted at the boy's reluctance to divulge personal information.  Annie sighed inwardly, frustrated.  Oh well, she'd try again, after she'd taken his order.  The kid asked for a hot sandwich and coffee.  She left to start the food cooking and then came back with his coffee.  "So, young man, are you here with your parents?"  She didn't notice the momentary change in the boy's expression at that.
    "Nope.  I'm on my own," his tone was cheerful, but Annie noticed that the mirth didn't quite reach his eyes.  His eyes?she had never seen anyone with eyes like that before.  They were large and liquid, now blue, now violet, the color changing depending on the direction of light.  But what struck the woman the most was the expression in those eyes.  The kid couldn't be older than 17, and yet his eyes looked too old for someone his age.  They were the eyes of one who had seen too much, felt too much, had been hurt and betrayed too many times.  The look in his eyes was cold, guarded, almost cynical and
definitely disillusioned.  A boy shouldn't have eyes like that, the hostess thought, an involuntary shiver going through her.  She was positively dying to find out more about this boy, so she sat down across from him.  He looked at her questioningly.
    "You see, my dear, it's the off-peak time for me, your food is cooking, so I have a few minutes to chat," the woman smiled
amiably. "It's not often that we get fresh blood in this godforsaken place," she added.
    "I see," was the boy's response.
    "Say, will you be staying here awhile?"
    "Yeah.  I just bought a house about two miles away from town.  I was actually going to go there after lunch."
     "A house?  About two miles from here?"
     "Yes ma'am."
     "Will you be living there by yourself?"  Something about the woman's tone made Rowan look up.
      "Yes, of course.  Why?  Is there a problem?"
      "You haven't heard anything about that house?" Annie was incredulous.
      "No.  What's wrong with it?"
      "Well?Maybe I shouldn't tell you?Young kids are so impressionable... Besides, there's probably no truth to those rumors anyway."
       Having said too much, Annie was now looking for a way to back out.
       "But I really want to know now!  Please?  Pretty please?" The boy gave her a goofy grin that made his eyes sparkle.  Annie relented.
       "Well, you see, that house is really old.  Like 300 years old. It was built before that awful war."
        "That would explain why I got it so cheaply."
        "Yes, that and the house's legend.  You see, young man, shortly after the war the place was bought by two boys settled there.  A year later there was a great tragedy.  One of them fell down the stairs and broke his neck.  The other one committed suicide.  No one really know what happened?Anyhow, the place had been put up for auction and sold off.  And strange things started to happen to the owners.  They kept it under wraps, but one thing that's clear is that they didn't like the place too much.  They sold it two months after they moved in. After that, the house was bought and sold every few months, like clockwork.  And then, no one wanted to buy it anymore because people started to believe that the place was haunted." The boy, who had been listening to the story with great interest, snorted at Annie's last phrase.
       "I don't believe in ghosts," he said simply.
      "That's up to you, young man, but be careful out there."
      "Thanks for the advice.  I will be."
      "You're welcome.  Well, I hope I didn't scare you too much.  I'll go fetch your food now," and with that, the woman left.
    ##So that's why the woman at the real estate office acted strange. Well, it'll be interesting to live in a house with a history. ##
       Annie watched as the kid finished his lunch, paid the bill and left.  She wondered what could have happened to him to make his eyes so cynical.  She hoped he'd be all right in that cursed house ? she truly believed the place was haunted.  She didn't tell the boy, but over the years, there had been a string of unexplained deaths on the grounds as well.  All of them took place under mysterious circumstances that were never unraveled.  The woman hoped the boy would be OK.  She had liked him a lot.

Interlude
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    Heero was floating in space, surrounded on all side by pitch black. He couldn't feel a thing, although he knew first-hand how painful gunshot wounds were.  He wondered idly whether he was dead, or whether it had been yet another bungled attempt.  Suddenly, he felt, rather than saw, a presence some distance away from him. "Who are you?  And where the hell am I?" he demanded of the newcomer.  His answer was silence.   "Answer me!" the boy asked more urgently, desperately trying
to break the oppressing silence.  He felt the being draw nearer.  The whole thing was really weird.  Then, a voice started speaking.  It was not speech in any conventional, human, meaning of the word.  Rather, the voice seemed to connect to Heero's mind through some sort of telepathic link.
    "Am I dead?" Heero asked again, this time more subdued.
    "Yes."
    "Who are you?"
    "You should know, Heero, your lover used to call himself one of us. Surely, your heart has told you who I am."
    "Where am I?  Is this heaven, hell?  Tell me!"
    "You are neither in heaven nor hell.  Look!"
    Abruptly, the darkness began to dissolve and Heero saw that he was in the room where he had taken his own life.  With a start, he saw his body lying on the floor.  Blood was pooling around the corpse; strangely, the face had remained serene and expressionless ? devoid of any emotion, just as he had been in life.  Heero gazed at what used to be him and was somewhat surprised when he realized that he didn't feel anything ? no regrets, no relief, nothing.  He turned to look for the being that had been talking to him but still didn't see anyone, just felt.  In his mind, he knew whom the voice belonged to, but for some reason he still asked the question.
    "Are you a god?"
    The being chuckled.
    "You must have a pretty high opinion of yourself, kid, if you think God would come down just for someone like you!  No, I'm just a messenger.  I was sent to tell you something."
    "What is it?"
    "Well, you see, kid, God isn't very pleased with what you have done in your life."
    "It was not as if I had much choice.  I was following orders, for the greater good."
    "I'm not talking about the war.  I'm talking about him."
    The scene changed.  Heero was now standing next to Duo's lifeless body.  Did ghosts cry?  Heero didn't know ? he hadn't had much experience with the supernatural.  But he felt a heavy lump start forming in his throat.
    "It was an accident," he whispered dejectedly, "I didn't mean to hurt him?"
    "But hurt him you did.  And not just now."
    "I'm sorry.  That's why I followed him.  I wanted to tell him I loved him?I just wanted to be with him.  Forever."
    "Sorry, kid.  It's not that simple anymore.  You were given a chance: to become a complete human being.  Through him.  You wasted it." The messenger's tone was stern.
    "All I wanted was to ask for his forgiveness.  Is it possible?a second chance?"
    "A second chance, huh?  As I said before, it is not that simple. You can have a second chance, but you have to work for it.
"You will stay on Earth as a spirit until you have learned the lessons you were supposed to learn in life.  Only then can you obtain redemption and find peace.  Only then can you go home."
    "Home?" Heero asked blankly, "I don't understand. What lesson am I supposed to learn?"
    "That's for you to figure out, kid.  Good luck!"
    Heero felt the messenger's presence begin to dissipate. "Wait!  How am I supposed to learn my lesson if I don't even
know what it is?  And why can't I see you?"
    "You are a smart boy, you will figure it all out, I'm sure," the messenger replied.
    "How will I know?"
    "When you see me, you'll know," the fading voice said mysteriously, and then the messenger was gone.  Heero was left alone
to contemplate his words

A hundred and fifty years would pass before the story resumed again.
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Interlude 2
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    "OK, keep it moving! Come on, come on, we don't have an eternity here, despite what you might think!" The long procession of souls due for reincarnation slowly shuffled along, the saints flitting back and forth to make sure no one fell behind.  At the front, a sort of a counter was set up.  There, a scribe stood with a list of destinations for each of the souls.  A soul would come up to the counter, give its name and the scribe would find its destined new body on the list.  Then, St. Abelard would
administer special eye drops, which made the soul forget everything that happened to it in the previous life.  Only after the medicine was given, would the soul be sent on its way to be reborn again. Very efficient system, a recycling program of sorts, which kept the population level upstairs and, with all the wars that had been going on lately, population control was an important issue for the celestial dwellers.
     Usually, the operation Reincarnation went smoothly.  Lists were drawn up far in advance, signed, stamped and otherwise
approved.  However, even in heaven they experience glitches every once in a while, and this one day in A.C. 332 turned out to be one of them.  Far down, in a small town on Earth, a woman went into labor very unexpectedly.  The reincarnation department did not foresee this and, as a result, no soul had been prepared for the baby.  A minor turmoil ensued and a messenger was quickly dispatched to find an adequate candidate, and soon.
        Archangel Michael was sick and tired of being ordered around for ages and this last errand annoyed him even more.  He had been interrupted from one of his rare quiet moments, which he had been spending reading Letters from Earth [1] ? a book that he found? enlightening.  Therefore, all he wanted was to grab the first soul he saw and get back to the book as soon as possible.  When he perceived a lone spirit wandering around aimlessly, he rubbed his hands together gleefully (mentally, of course!).  As he neared his target, Michael saw that it was a boy with long hair and sad eyes.
    "Rejoice, spirit, for today is your lucky day!"
    "How is that?" the boy retorted, apparently unfazed by the fact that one of the high angels was speaking to him.
    "Why, you get an early chance for rebirth, of course."
    "Yeah, whatever."
    Michael was surprised by the kid's lack of enthusiasm, to say the least.  In general, souls danced in joy when their turn came to live again.  But, as we have mentioned before, Michael was a tired, overworked and under-appreciated angel; therefore, he didn't much care about the boy's reaction, or lack thereof. **Poof** and they were standing in front of St. Abelard and his
helpers.
    "Name?" the scribe questioned the boy without looking.
    "Duo Maxwell."
    "Maxwell?Maxwell?" the scribe started looking through the list (which was several miles long, we might add).
St. Abelard was impatient, however.
    "We don't have time for this!  The woman will give birth any minute and we must hurry.  Sit down, child!"
Duo sat, and Abelard got the eyedropper ready to administer the drug of forgetfulness.  But, as luck, or fate, would have it, something distracted his attention at the last moment and, instead of putting two drops into each eye, he only put one.  A second later, when the soul was well on its way, too far to return, the saint noticed the leftover liquid in the dropper.  However, since it was too late anyway, the saint just shrugged and continued his work.  Hopefully, it would all work out.
     Meanwhile, on Earth, the first cry of a baby boy announced the arrival of new life into the world.  His cry was music to the new mother's ears.  The exhausted woman accepted the baby from her doctor's hands and held him gently.
    "He's perfect?" she whispered.
    "Have you decided what name to give him yet, madam?" At that moment, the boy opened his eyes and smiled up at his mommy. His eyes were a stunning shade of violet, which the woman had never seen before.  She touched his tiny cheek, afraid somehow to injure the fragile skin, and smiled back at her son.
     "Rowan.  I'm going to call him Rowan."

NOTES:
[1] Letters from Earth, by Mark Twain.  About as irreverent about religion as it gets, in my opinion.
[2] I chose eye drops because of the proverbial "Eye is the mirror of the soul," or something like that.  `Sides, I was thinking about A Midsummer Night's Dream at the time **sweatdrop** I think there was an idea like that in some movie I saw a long time ago and whose name I forget.
[3] Portrayal of Michael and the saints was heavily influenced by the movie Dogma, which I think everyone should see because it rocks ^^.

Second Chances, Part 2 ? Connection
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        Rowan heaved a sigh of relief as he dumped his bag on the floor.  Granted, he didn't have much in the way of possessions,
but it still weighed a lot.  The boy looked around the house with increasing curiosity.  There was a definite atmosphere of long-
standing undisturbed peace around the place.  As Rowan started exploring around the rooms, he noticed a fine film of dust on every available surface.  The furniture was, by his standards, antique. Apparently none of the previous owners had stayed long enough to refurbish the house in a more modern fashion.  Oddly, though, Rowan felt strangely comfortable in this setting, which should have been completely alien to him.  He puzzled over this phenomenon for a moment, but shrugged it off as unimportant.  He decided to take a closer look at the entire mansion since he was planning to live here.  Leaving his belongings by the front door for the moment, the boy embarked on his quest.  A considerable amount of time passed before he was finished, and the tour left Rowan with mixed feelings.
        First, he was awed by the size of the place.  It was HUGE, especially for a single guy to live in.  It had two stories, with the living and dining rooms, the kitchen and a couple of other rooms on the first floor. The upper level had two bedrooms and a guest room/study.  The house was built in what Rowan had heard referred to as "Victorian" fashion ? a style that had been popular many centuries ago.  The boy had seen pictures of Victorian mansions before but he didn't know the style was still used.  Although?he remembered the coffee shop owner telling him that the place had been built two hundred years ago.  But still?this was COOL!  Yes, although Rowan was hardly a regular teenager, many of his perceptions were a lot like those of a typical 18-year-old.  Living alone in a place like this was, predictably, a grand adventure.
        Another thing that amazed Rowan was that the place was stocked with everything someone could possibly need for a living. There were bed linens, towels, and bathrobes.  The kitchen held a full complement of cooking utensils, silverware, pots and pans, and china.  The place looked as though its inhabitants had only left for a vacation, or something of that sort, and would be coming back shortly.  Except the house felt as if it hadn't been lived in for many years.  The atmosphere was slightly eerie and, although Rowan didn't consider himself overly impressionable, he felt goose bumps make their appearance on his skin.  The things that the coffee shop owner had told him about the "cursed" nature of the mansion sprang to mind.  However, Rowan refused to be intimidated by some stupid stories of an old lady.  The house was kept in a perfect order; that was all.  Why all the stuff in it looked about 200 years old was a question that the boy deliberately skipped.  Surely he would find an
explanation for everything once he settled down.  But, as the teenager made his way through the untouched rooms, he couldn't
shake the feeling that someone was watching him

********

        After finishing the tour, Rowan once again congratulated himself and marveled at his unexpected good luck.  This place was a palace for someone like himself, and he owned it!  Fantastic.  So what if it was a bit creepy?It just added a little flavor to life. Rowan went outside and moved his motorcycle into the garage next to the house.  Upon returning, he took his meager possessions upstairs, thinking that this was as good time as any to unpack and make himself at home.  He chose the smaller of the two bedrooms, mainly because a huge window with a gorgeous view of the lake and the hills took up one of its walls.  Rowan loved sunlight; it made him feel?alive? The room didn't contain much ? just a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a wardrobe-type thing.  While putting his stuff away, Rowan discovered that the room also contained a stereo system.  By the looks of it, it was over a 100 years old.  The boy had never seen a working model of this type before and he was amazed to see that this one looked to be in a perfect condition.  The player was hidden under the bed and the speakers concealed in the room so as to create a good acoustic effect.  In addition, Rowan found a large box of small disks that he recalled were CDs.  CDs weren't used anymore, but he had encountered some before in antique shops.  Wow, the boy thought to himself, this place really reeks of history.
        Once his belongings were unpacked and put away, Rowan set to looking through the CDs because he really wanted to try out the stereo system.  The music was really old, most of it from the 20th century, some even from before then.  The boy was looking at the song list on one disk ? "Scorpions" ? when suddenly an overwhelming sense of déjà vu filled him.  He knew this had happened before, he knew the kind of music this CD contained.  Almost despite himself, Rowan put the disk into the player and started it.  His mind made a note in passing of the fact that he knew how to make the thing work even though he'd never been near one before.  As the first sounds filled the room, he started humming the tune, and had sung most of the song before he realized what he was doing.  To say that the boy was surprised would be an understatement.  Once again, however, being the
utterly pragmatic and realistic person that he was, Rowan shrugged the strange experience off.  He attributed it to the possibility that he'd somehow heard the song before.
        By the time he completely finished settling in it was quite late, so Rowan decided to go to bed.  He'd found sheets and
things in the closet before, made the bed and promptly dropped off to sleep. He'd had a lot of new experiences today and, like any normal teenager was a bit overwhelmed and tired.  But, as he fell asleep, he thought he felt a presence in the room, watching him.
        Unseen, the spirit smirked evilly, as it watched the sleeping boy.  So, after all these years someone decided to disturb his peace again?Well, this one would soon follow his predecessors.  Very soon, indeed?

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Second Chances Part 3 - Recognition
==============================

    ...Swing, swish - one down, only about 20 more to go.  The boy spared a glance at the screen for a damage report.  So far, so good; only minor scratches.  He'd been pretty careful up until now. Now, if he could only get rid of the remaining mobile suits, he'd be home free and this mission would be complete.  Just then, the red light on the radar went off and the alarm signal started beeping.  Another look at the screen revealed 200 or so Tauruses headed to the fray.  They'd be here in another minute.  "Shit shit SHIT!" the boy cursed loudly.  He flipped on the comlink, hoping that Wing or Shenlong, which were supposed to meet him here, were already within this frequency range.  His answer was nothing but static.  "Dammit Heero!  This one time you could afford to be a bit early."  He prepared to switch the channels to call for backup when Deathscythe received a direct hit which knocked out the Gundam's communications system.  From now on, he was on his own against the swarm of the enemy suits.  Several minutes later, he was surrounded on all sides and reduced to barely trying to defend himself; forget about attacking! The alarms were going off all over the cockpit, indicating massive damages.  It became clear to the pilot that the situation was quite hopeless.  Damn, I guess I'll need to use this, after all, the boy muttered grimly.  He wiped the sweat off his forehead and tossed the heavy braid back over his shoulder, then reached for the self-destruct device.  He pushed the "on" button just as Deathscythe was rocked by yet another blast.  The red light went on and....

    Rowan sat bolt upright in bed, his chest still heaving from the nightmare he'd just had.  For several moments he simply sat there, trying to calm down.  His heart was still beating madly.  This nightmare had had a bizarre realistic quality about it.  Rowan had had nightmares before - lots of them - but he'd always been able to tell it was just a dream.  This time, it was as if Rowan had indeed been in a battle with mobile suits - a battle far more intense and frightening than the ones he'd seen in movies.  Puzzled, the boy laid back on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but it wouldn't come.  He lay there until dawn, the blanket wrapped around him, feeling alone and miserable.  Elsewhere in the house, the spirit was plotting to get rid of this latest
nuisance of an inhabitant.

****

    After a couple of days of getting used to his new dwelling, Rowan decided that it was time for him to find some sort of a job to pay for the living.  He was a good artist but somehow he doubted that painting would be enough to buy him dinner. Fortunately, he was also a great mechanic and could put together or fix just about anything - a skill that was one of his inborn talents.  And so, one morning he made his way down into town and hired himself out to a mechanical shop there.  As far as Rowan had been able to tell, the place specialized in everything from hovercraft to speeders, to computers and refrigerators.  The variety was just fine with him.  The owner of the shop was a bit surprised to see an 18-year old asking for a job like this, but took him. Rowan would start the following week.

    When the teenager came back home, he decided to try to sketch something.  The nightmare he'd had a couple of days
previously was still making him restless and unsettled, and he thought that maybe if he drew the disturbing feeling would go
away.  He'd brought his art supplies with his and now got them out. Taking the stuff with him, Rowan went out into the
backyard, where the rays of the setting sun were making the bushes look golden.  Taking out his sketchbook, Rowan picked
up his pencil.  He figured he'd draw some of the people he'd seen in town today: some of them had been quite colorful-looking.  Stroke by stroke, a face started to take shape. Rowan was confused; he had no idea where THIS image was coming, it definitely was NOT one of the townspeople.  However, he figured he'd just draw.  ...Precise, chiseled features, spiky hair, serious eyes...  In a few minutes, a face of a young man - no, a teenager - was looking back at the artist.  The sketch had a remarkably life-like quality about it, the eyes of the boy looking determined and purposeful, guarded and yet strangely vulnerable.  "Where the hell did this come from?" Rowan wondered out loud.  After some contemplation, he decided that the
picture needed some color.  "Hmm, I wonder what color his eyes should be?"  He looked through his collection of colored
pencils and, after a moment, selected a dark cobalt-blue.  Not quite sure of the result, he began to color in the irises.  The
outcome pleased the boy so much that he decided to color in the rest of the picture as well.  Rowan became so engrossed in
his work that he didn't even notice when the sun set until it became too dark for him to see the page.  He got up briefly to get a
lamp, then settled back to the drawing.  After a few hours, it was finished.  By this point, the boy was so exhausted that he fell
asleep right on the grass, leaning against a tree, his work on the ground beside him.  The sketchbook was still open and from
the page gazed the face of a boy with dark unruly hair much like Rowan's own, only darker, and deep cobalt-blue eyes.  The
look in those eyes had changed with the addition of color; they were still guarded but not quite as emotionless.  Now they held
some sort of hidden smile, maybe even tenderness.  Those eyes were alive.

****

    The spirit was gliding soundlessly through the garden when he saw his quarry fast asleep on the grass.  The spirit smirked to
himself and approached the boy, bent on doing him some mischief.  The spirit stopped, however, when he saw the picture
Rowan had drawn.  "How?.." the ghost wondered, looking at this, almost perfect, portrait of himself.  "What if?..  No, it can't be."  Changing his intentions for the moment nevertheless, the spirit moved to stand over the sleeping form.  Rowan's bangs
covered half of his face; the light of the lamp cast mysterious shadows and made his features beautiful and delicate.  As the
spirit gazed at the boy, he suddenly became aware of how much this boy reminded him of the one he had once loved, and
lost.  The memory filled the ghost's hardened soul with emotions he had thought he'd never experience again.  They were
feelings of regret, and sorrow, and guilt...  For the first time in decades the spirit's thoughts wandered back to that cursed day
when his beloved died.  The words of the Messenger came back to haunt him: "...When you find the answer - only then can
you go home..."  For weeks that had followed Heero racked his brains trying to figure out what the phrase had meant.  But, as
the time went on and he still couldn't solve the puzzle, he became more and more obsessed.  And, slowly, obsession became a
fixation, then anger.  Eventually, instead of thinking how to obtain forgiveness, the ghost started to curse his fate, God - all and
sundry. His desire to find a way to expiate his sins evolved into extreme and utter hatred of everything and everyone.  He became one very angry spirit, as the new owners of the house soon found out.  Heero didn't want anyone to violate his and Duo's dwelling and he proceeded to drive away any new tenants - some by simply scaring them off, some by driving them to madness and suicide.  Then, as the place acquired a solid reputation as haunted, people stopped coming and the spirit had had the house to himself ever since.
    Until now.  This boy showed up and was somehow rendering Heero unable to hurt him.  On the contrary, he was bringing up
feelings that Heero didn't experience for so long.  The spirit wondered why Rowan reminded him of Duo so much.  Their
appearances were a bit similar, but there was something else much stronger, something he couldn't place...  Almost in spite of
himself, Heero stretched out his hand to touch Rowan's hair, knowing the gesture would be futile - ghosts weren't allowed to
touch the living.  Heero's fingers went right through the sleeping boy but, unexpectedly, Rowan turned into the nonexistent
touch.  And whispered something.  Heero leaned closer to hear what the teenager was saying and noticed the tears running
down his cheeks: Rowan was crying in his sleep.  Then, he whispered again and his words froze Heero in his tracks.

****

    ...Hands, lips, skin against skin...The small touches in passing, and the rougher passion play.  The ecstasy of his climax and the featherlight caresses that meant worlds to him.  Even as he re-lived the moments, the loneliness and emptiness he always felt
was ever so poignant.  Then, suddenly, through the haze of his dreams, an angel came.  Angel whose face he recognized as the
one he'd sketched tonight.  More than that, though, he knew who the face belonged to.  This, was his guardian angel - the one
who made him feel safe, protected.  The one who had made the hurt and misery go away.  The angel floated toward him and
enveloped him in his feathery embrace.  And, as the boy felt the soft wings around him, tears began to roll down his face, but
these were tears of joy.  As his angel held him close, he felt the longing that he'd had all his life dissolve away, the void inside
him fill and in its place - pure happiness.  After all this time, he finally felt complete, whole. "Heero," he whispered, "It's been so long..."

****

    The spirit heard the boy whisper his name and froze.  In the next moment, he snatched his hand away. Rowan was still enjoying his newly found happiness when he felt the angel's embrace weaken, then break.  He raised his head only to see Heero slowly dissolve into the air, leaving him alone once again.  A dream, only a dream... "Heero... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  Rowan screamed out, grasping at the air desperately.  And woke up. Heero watched, amazed, as the boy's face contorted and he cried out as if in great pain.  All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to get away from Rowan, from here.  This whole scene had scared him, and that wasn't easily done.

****

    Rowan's eyes snapped open and he looked around, still dazed from his dream.  No, it had only been a dream.  He was still in his garden which was now moonlit and quiet.  His notebook still lay open on the grass next to him.  Rowan sighed as he got
up.  All a dream... He was still alone.  What he couldn't understand, though, was why the emotions he had experienced had
felt...right.  And why they were still roaring inside his mind.  And how had he known that other boy, Heero.  Thinking about him
now, saying his name was somehow comforting.  Rowan was so confused; he felt like there was an important piece of memory
he was missing.  If only he could get that one piece into place, he would solve the puzzle of what had been happening to him
lately.  And Rowan sensed that the secret lay somewhere in this house.

**********************************************************************
Second Chances 4 - Confrontation
==========================

    Several days after his strange dream found Rowan completely immersed into his new job.  He was busy all day, practically from dawn till dusk, and the degree of exhaustion that he drove himself to prevented his thoughts from coming back to the experience.  In fact, Rowan totally forgot about it.  The memories resurfaced some time later, when Rowan began to feel like he
was being watched whenever he was at home.  Every once in a while he would get a tingling sensation between his shoulder blades, as if someone were staring at him.  First the boy attributed these peculiar feelings to his overactive imagination.  However, as days went by and he still felt like someone was spying on him, Rowan began to think that either he was going insane, or there was something going on here.  Sometimes the teenager could swear there was someone in the room besides him, but of course, whenever he turned around, there was no one there.  This odd situation was getting on Rowan's  nerves.  He was an utter materialist and didn?t believe in any of supernatural stuff; therefore, he sought a rational explanation for the spooky goings-on.  Failing in that, he was becoming irritated.

    The chain of weird sensations culminated rather abruptly one quiet evening when Rowan was sitting in the windowsill watching the sunset.  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, indicating the presence of a "supernatural" being.  Rowan tried to ignore the feeling for a while but was unsuccessful.  He was annoyed and unnerved.  Feeling like an idiot, he decided to try to talk to whoever was in the room.  Odds were 99 to 100 that the boy would get an answer.  Rowan tried anyway.

    Heero had been prowling the house ever since the incident a few weeks previously.  He had been intrigued and decided to find out more about this mysterious new tenant before actually confronting him.  He followed the boy around, watching him, trying to decipher his character, his personality.  In spite of all the stalking, Heero didn?t get very far.  The boy, in fact, reminded Heero of the way he had been so many years ago.  Reserved, quiet, almost wholly absorbed in his responsibilities.  Quite a bit of time passed since Rowan moved in and still Heero knew next to nothing about him.  He was growing more and more curious and tonight he found his quarry sitting in the window, watching the setting sun.  He was surprised to see the expression on the teenager?s face.  It was an expression of utter loneliness, desolation and deep sadness.  It was the first time Heero saw Rowan allow his emotions to be displayed openly and, quite simply, he was shaken.  He came a little closer to study the boy?s
features.  Then, suddenly...

    "I know you?re here,"  Rowan stated calmly, without turning around.   Heero didn?t know what was happening - ordinary humans couldn?t see (or feel) ghosts.  At least in normal circumstances.  This teenager, however, clearly was anything but
ordinary.  Heero still remembered the time when Rowan had sensed his touch and whispered his name.  And now here he was, _talking_ to him, like talking to spirits was a regular hobby for him.

    "I know you?ve been watching me for weeks now.  I guess you don?t like strangers in your house, do you?  I?ve heard what happened to people who lived here years ago.  You haunted them out, didn?t you?"

   //What am I supposed to say to him?  Should I say anything at all?//

    Rowan couldn?t understand what was going on.  First he started having some bizarre flashbacks to events he?d never lived through in the first place and now he was talking to an empty room.  He didn?t know how he knew, but through some sixth sense Rowan _knew_ there was someone in the room besides him.  Some invisible presence.  //A ghost? Nonsense, I don?t believe in ghosts, or any of this otherworldly crap!..//  Nevertheless, the stories and rumors he?d been hearing since he?d come to live here, flooded into Rowan?s mind again.  //Bullshit.  There?s no one here and you know it. You?re just freaking yourself out. // Well, if there were in fact a ghost in the house, Rowan would show it he was aware of it.  The teenager refused to be intimidated.  So he spoke, feeling more than slightly foolish inside and clearly did not expect a reply of any kind.  So when a voice spoke up behind him, Rowan nearly jumped out of his skin.

    "This is my house, after all,"  the voice was slightly nasal, and sounded a bit hoarse - as if it hadn?t been used for a long time.  A fair guess considering the circumstances, Rowan thought sarcastically once he regained his wits.  After he calmed down,
however, the boy became very angry about the whole affair.  This - this _being_ had watched him for the past several weeks, watched his every action, spied on him!  Well, this was Rowan?s house now and he didn?t give a damn about some silly ghost?s sentiments.

    "Are you planning to get rid of me like you did others?  Well, guess what.  I don?t believe in ghosts or nay sort of religious and supernatural crap!  So, as far as I?m concerned you don?t exist, buddy.  You can just go take a hike.  I don?t give a
rat?s ass if you like me living here or not.  It?s my house now and you won?t chase me out of it.  I?m here to stay, whether you like it or not."

    "Hn."

    Rowan had been facing away from the ghost up until now.  When he heard his opponent?s contemptuous grunt, he whirled around.  He didn?t see anyone of course, but he could feel the spirit?s presence still.  His confusion must have shown on his face for he heard the ghost chuckle softly, which made the teenager even more infuriated.  At the same time, Rowan
realized that telling his unwelcome housemate to get lost wouldn?t necessarily make him do so.  So he tried again.

    "Look, let?s just get some ground rules down, OK?  I don?t bother you, you don?t mess with me.  I won?t try to change this place excessively, if that?s what you?re afraid of.  In exchange, you won?t spy on me and get into my business.  Sound fair?"

    "Quite."

    "Fine.  Now get lost."

    Even as Rowan said it, he wondered whether this last command would only piss the ghost off. To his surprise, he heard the spirit acquiesce and then sensed his presence weaken and disappear as it left the room.  Rowan sighed in relief.  Zero to one, in his favor.  The boy hoped he and the ghost would manage to co-exist comfortably.  There had been something very disturbing about this incident and it wasn?t simply the fact that Rowan had communicatedwith a wraith.  No, he?d had a strange sense of déjà vu and the ghost?s voice had sounded vaguely familiar, as well as his tone.  Rowan couldn?t shake off the feeling that he?d heard this voice before.  Where, though, he couldn?t remember.  The teenager shook his head, trying to put the incident out of his mind for now.

    To say that Heero had been surprised by the boy?s behavior would be a major understatement.  He had been shocked, stunned, stupefied.  First, by the mere fact that the teenager had been able to _feel_ him.  Second, by the way he had been addressed.  It had been Heero?s experience until now that people tended to panic at a simple mention of a ghost, let alone hearing their voices.  This one hadn?t been scared, he?d been furious.  And, strangely, Heero felt pangs of regret when he had been told to get lost.  It wasn?t like he _liked_ this kid or anything, but he just hoped...  Hoped what?  He?s alive and you
are dead, idiot.  Just leave him alone, it?ll be easier for both of you.  Just let the boy live his life here in peace.  Perhaps 150 years of loneliness had been a bit too much for Heero and he just longed for some companionship, but, as he lurked in the dark rooms, he thought that it would be wonderful to be able to trust someone again, and to be trusted. Heero felt acute disappointment when he recalled the anger in Rowan?s eyes.  Those eyes reminded him of Duo so much it hurt.  In fact, Rowan reminded Heero of Duo more and more, and that scared him.  //Duo... Why did it have to end like that?..// And perhaps it was
because in Heero?s mind Rowan was becoming more and more like Duo that Heero was so disheartened by Rowan?s rejection.

    Rowan couldn?t believe what had just transpired.  He was living in a freaking haunted house, for crying out loud!  Part of him said that he must have smoked something and dreamed the whole thing up.  There was no such thing as ghosts, or any other metaphysical beings.  In his 18 years, Rowan had seen enough to know that God, even if he?d ever existed, was either dead or didn?t give a damn about what happened to humans.  A world where a little boy had to become a whore after his parents died, so that he wouldn?t starve to death... Such a world had no God or heaven.  Once you died you were worm food and that was that. Ghosts were something an old woman would tell her grandkids about, a load of crap.  And Rowan?s grandparents were long since dead.

    On the other hand, the more rationally reasoning part of his brain accepted the fact that the bizarre conversation had really taken place.  Try as Rowan might to deny it, he had a housemate.  Gradually, he had to come to terms with the fact.  Rowan decided that the best policy was to know your opponent, and so he set about researching the history of this place. He was sure that if he looked hard enough, somewhere he?d find a clue as to who the ghost was and why he inhabited the house.  Some sixth sense also told the boy that, if he found out the origins of this strange phenomenon, he?d also discover the origins of his nightmares and weird flashbacks.

    The boy started his quest by looking through the random junk that was piled up in the basement.  The various people who had bought the place must have collected stuff left by the previous owners and just left it downstairs, forgetting to get rid of it.  Boy, was there a lot of stuff there!  Rowan was amazed at how much junk people could leave behind.  Most of the things were very old, like a hundred years old or so...  Only a few of them Rowan knew the uses for.  He had a strange feeling, like he was going back in history as he sorted through the assortment of oddities.  There were articles of clothing here, toys, pictures, a few books and letters as well.  Fascinating as they were, however, none of them provided any clue as to why there was a ghost in the house.  Then Rowan remembered the story told to him by the old waitress at the coffee shop when he first arrived in town.  There was something about two boys who lived here after the war and died under mysterious circumstances.  If he wanted answers, he?d probably find them once he found out who those original dwellers had been.  The problem was finding who they were.  After a few days of looking, Rowan still had nil results.

    //Wouldn?t it be simpler to just ask the ghost?  He hasn?t done anything to me yet... Maybe he?s not so bad//

    But the teenager decided to hold his ground.  He wanted nothing to do with this apparition. He would figure things out and he didn?t need anyone?s help to do so.

    Rowan?s next stop after he turned the house upside down was the town?s library, which  had computers for public use.  The boy had considered getting himself a laptop, but somehow had never gotten around to it.  In any case, the library computers had access to extensive databases dating back to the war, and that suited him just fine.  Rowan started coming there after work every day and spending a few hours, looking.  Several days of search later, he had some of the information he?d been hunting for.  The history of the house on the lake read like a bizarre fiction story and Rowan was fascinated by it.

    The house and land surrounding it had comprised a small estate that had belonged to the Winner family.  The name sounded vaguely familiar... the Winners had been one of the richest families on Earth and the colonies before, during, and shortly after the war.  Later, the family lost some of its wealth and influence, but its descendants still kept the Winner name afloat.  The house was a gift, given by Quatre Winner to the two of his close friends.  None of the articles Rowan found had any mention of who these friends had been...  not even their names; no pictures, either.  The only thing that Rowan knew was that they had both been boys, teenagers about Quatre?s own age.  They had settled in the house in AC 198 - about a year after the war ended.  Rowan didn?t know the nature of their relationship, but he assumed the two had been close friends if they chose to live together.  A tragedy occurred a year later: an accidental death of one of the boys, who fell down the stairs and broke his
neck.  This was followed by the suicide of the other boy on the same day.  Investigation never determined what had really happened and eventually the house was put up for sale because the Winner family didn?t want it back.  Too much history, Rowan thought.  Whoever bought the place sold it again only a few months later, and this was followed by passing of the property from one person to another, interspersed with a few mysterious deaths of some of the owners. Haunted house indeed, Rowan chuckled dryly.  By now he was fairly certain that the ghost that he had spoken to was one of the boys who had died all these years ago.  But who had they been? Some research on Quatre Winner provided Rowan with a short list of close friends.  They had all been Gundam pilots during the way.  Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, and Chang Wufei.
Rowan did a double take when he saw the name Heero.  His dream came rushing back - the touches, the whispers, and the face...

    For a while Rowan was so overwhelmed by his visions that he just sat there, trying to get a grip on himself.  By the time he did, it was almost closing time, so the boy collected the printouts he?d made and went home.  Among all the stuff waiting to be read were a couple of articles with photos in them.  Those the boy was especially looking forward to perusing.

    At home, Rowan grabbed a snack and settled to the printouts once again.  He was too caught up in his chase to stop now.  Eventually he came across a picture of who he assumed be all five of the pilots.  His breath caught in his throat when he saw the faces in the photograph -  one of them with a long braid, the other with short spiky hair and cold eyes.  The caption read:  "Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy"  There were other names as well, but they meant nothing to the teenager at the moment.  His eyes stayed fixed on these two faces - faces of people who had been dead for at least a hundred and fifty years.  Looking at Duo was like
looking in the mirror.  Rowan shuddered at the realization.  This Duo guy had had a long braid of hair, while Rowan?s was more like his partner?s - Heero?s - short and a bit spiky.  However, from there on they looked nearly identical.  Same shape of the face, same noses, eyes, even the eye color.  Rowan could feel the goose bumps beginning to form on his skin.  For some odd reason, encounter with this little photo unnerved him more than conversation with a ghost.  The ghost....  Somehow Rowan was sure the ghost was that second boy in the picture, Heero; the one that Duo had his arm around in a jokingly possessive gesture.

    Rowan sat there for a long time, gazing at the old photo, trying to decipher the nature of the relationship between the two.  Somehow it was very important that he figure it out. Eventually Rowan gave up and got up shakily.  He felt incredibly exhausted, emotionally as well as physically.  By now it was way past midnight, more like 3am.  The boy decided that some sleep was in order and headed upstairs, toward his bedroom.  He was just about ready to crawl into bed when it started.  First, he felt like he was immersed under water - a sensation of utter unreality, as if he had been detached from his body and was watching the events from above.

    Then Rowan was transported into a different world.
******************************************************
Second Chances 5 ? Evolution
======================

?You killed?
?You destroyed?
?You burned?
?You sinned?
?You laughed?
?You lived?
?You loved?
?You lost?

    "No, leave me alone!  Get out of my head!  Shut up, SHUT UP!  Leave me alone!  Who are you, dammit!"  Rowan screamed, clutching at his head.  He was in terrible agony, physically as well as emotionally.  He sank to his knees in the middle of the room, sobbing, trying to block out the voice inside his mind.  He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and yet the images kept coming.  Horrible images full of blood, violence, and death.  Images interspersed with lighter and carefree ones of love, and happiness, and laughter, but those were few and far between.  And above it all, maniacal cackles of the one who was the
cause of all this grief and destruction.

    "No?" the boy whispered forlornly, "I? I couldn't?  It couldn't have been me?  I'm just a teenager, this was all two hundred years ago?"

    The voice kept on relentlessly.

?You murdered?
?You took lives?
?You spilled blood?

    Images of the remains of a burned-down church; dozens of bodies in  and around it.  The body of a nun, burned horribly, dying?  Faces of  soldiers, contorted with fear just before they were cut down?  Screams?  So much blood, so much violence.

    "No, I don't understand, it can't be?" Rowan sobbed ? dry sobs without tears.  At one point he thought he was going to be sick, but instead he coughed up blood.  He sat back against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest, riding out the storm.  Slowly, painfully, the nightmare subsided and the boy simply sat there drained, his shoulders shaking from the shock of this epiphany.

    Heero watched the teenager writhe and cry out in agony as he was  being confronted with something only he could see.  The ghostly boy didn't know what was happening, but he wanted so much to help Rowan. He didn't know how.  Then a voice in his mind ? voice that sounded suspiciously like Duo's ? started speaking.

    "Trust your heart."

    "I don't know what to do, what to say."

    "Just trust your feelings."

    "I'm afraid."

    "Don't be.  There is always room for errors.  No one is perfect."

    "But he told me to go away.  What if he does again?"

    "Then you'll try again."

    "What if I do wrong?"

    "The you do it again.  There are always second chances."

    "I'm afraid."

    "Just believe in yourself."

    "All right, I'll try."

    Heero left the shadows, then stopped, hovering uncertainly, not sure  what to say to start the conversation.  The other boy solved the  dilemma by raising his head suddenly and addressing the spirit.

    "It's you again."

    "Yes."

    "I thought I told you to get lost.  You won't scare me."

    "I don't plan to."

    "Then what do you want?"

    "You looked like you were in pain and I thought?"

    "You thought you'd help."

    "Yes."

    "Well, buzz off!  I don't need your help."

    "Hn."

    "Just leave me alone, would ya?  I don't need anyone's help, especially not yours."

    "You don't look it."

    "Well, I'm fine!  Now get lost!"

    "Look, I can understand what you are going through?"

    Rowan whirled on him, eyes blazing.

    "No, you can't understand!  You have no fucking clue!  Do you know  what it feels like to have a voice inside your head telling you that  you're a fucking homicidal maniac?  Do you?"

    "No, but?"

    "Then leave me alone!"

    With that, the boy turned away and buried his face in his hands  again.  Heero could sense the confusion and turmoil that were Rowan's mind.  He wanted to help, but what could he do if the boy refused his help?

***

    Rowan was in hell, living hell.  He was in constant pain, both  physical and mental.  Three days after his mysterious seizure he was  still having nightmares and flashbacks.  The voices in his head  wouldn't stop speaking all at once.  It was as if there were two  personalities co-existing inside the boy at the same time.  The unfortunate teenager was under this torture day and night.  He wandered around the house as in a delirium, not really knowing what was going on anymore.  All he wanted was for his horrid visions to cease.  After all this time he simply could not take the psychological suffering any longer.  Then, one night a solution occurred to him as he sat huddled in a blanket in his bedroom.  A solution that would make all the pain go away once and for all.

    Slowly, deliberately, Rowan got up and headed into the kitchen, then  to the bathroom.  There, he stood for a long time staring at the knife in his hand.  His wrist, the veins pulsating with anguish.  It would be so fast, so easy.  Just a couple of slashes, a few minutes of pain and then ? peace for all eternity.  So simple and so beautiful, this would be the perfect answer.  It would silence the relentless voices in Rowan's mind.  No more of those bizarre recollections?  So perfect.  Yes, death was perfect, the ultimate solution.  Rowan realized that he longed for it, longed for the peace.  Just raise your hand, then lower it, make the cut?

    "You know, it's not that simple."

    "You again."

    "Dying won't resolve any problems."

    "Oh, yes, it will."

    "No, it won't and it hurts like hell.  Believe me, I know."

    "Hn."

    "Look, I don't know what's happening to you, but I know what it's like to feel guilty for someone's death?"

    Rowan was silent, so Heero continued, somewhat encouraged.

    "Killing yourself is a coward's way out.  I took it.  You might be made from stronger stuff.  But I suppose it's your life, you
decide in the end."

    With that, Heero left Rowan alone, hoping against hope that the kid  would listen to his words.  Somehow he really couldn't stand the thought of this boy killing himself.  It was important that he stay alive.

    Rowan looked at the blade glittering faintly in his fingers.  He contemplated what the ghost had just told him.  It would be so
easy?  No more horrid images?  Indecision, so much indecision?  A coward's way out, but a way out nonetheless.

    He couldn't take this anymore!
**********************************************************************
Second Chances Part 6 ? Revelations
============================

    Rowan looked at the blade glittering faintly in his fingers.  He contemplated what the ghost just told him.  It would be so easy?  No more horrid images and recollections?  Indecision, so much indecision?  A coward?s way out, but a way out nevertheless?

    Rowan simply couldn?t take this anymore!   He felt tears start to well up in his eyes as he took one last look at his reflection in the mirror.  A stranger?s face.  Then slowly, deliberately, the teenager raised his hand ? and flung the knife at the mirror.  The pieces of shattered glass spilled all over the bathroom, some imbedding themselves in his skin, but Rowan didn?t pay any notice to this minor physical discomfort.  The chaos in his mind was a lot more painful at the moment.  The boy gradually sank to his knees and didn?t even twitch when the soft voice spoke up behind him, telling him he?d made the right decision.  Rowan just shook his head, too drained to argue with a ghost just now.  Then, on impulse, he asked the question that had been pestering him for weeks now.

    ?Who are you??  The question, same that Rowan asked Heero at their first encounter, sounded utterly different now.  It was posed in a tired, accepting tone and sounded like the boy was genuinely interested in the answer.  He wasn?t belligerent anymore, just wanted to know.

    Heero wondered exactly how much he should share with the kid.  Then, deciding to take the middle road, he gave Rowan a much-shortened version of his story.

    ?I had been a soldier during the war, fighting for the colonies.  A terrorist, really.  I had been trained to kill, not to feel.  So when love hit me over the head I refused to let it in. I didn?t appreciate what I had until it was too late.  My lover died and it was all my fault. So I killed myself to pay for the crime.  Apparently that wasn?t a good enough punishment and so I?m here talking to you right now.?

    Rowan was silent for a minute while he digested this information.  It was all pretty much like he had found out through his research, except for this, latest detail.  The boys had been lovers.  Somehow that didn?t bother the teenager.  On the contrary, it was just another piece of the puzzle finally falling into place.  There was another question that Rowan was dying to ask, but he?d do it later.  He got up shakily, feeling better for some reason.

****

    Rowan was sitting on the windowsill watching the sunset.  He had been feeling a bit better lately and he was glad he had taken Heero?s advice that night.  He suddenly realized that he hadn?t run into the ghost since then and wondered whether the spirit had left the house for good.  Strangely, the thought upset rather than comforted him.  Rowan felt an odd sense of loneliness without the ghost around.  He had been sort of getting used to him.  He briefly entertained the idea of befriending an apparition, then chuckled at its ludicrousness. Completely lost in his thoughts, Rowan didn?t notice it when the room became occupied by one more being.  He nearly fell out the window when that soft nasal voice spoke up right next to him.

    ?Shit,? Rowan cursed to cover his shaken nerves, ?I thought you finally took the hint and left me alone.?  His words sang hollow even to himself, though.  It was like he said them for protocol?s sake, without real meaning.  Ostensibly, the ghost thought the same, for he chuckled softly.

    ?I see you are feeling better.?

    ?Yeah, in a way.?

    ?I?m glad.?

    There was a pause.  Then Rowan suddenly blurted out the question that was on his mind.

    ?Why didn?t you try to get rid of me like you did others who lived here before??

    The ghost was silent for so long that Rowan nearly gave up on getting his answer.  Then, unexpectedly, Heero spoke.

    ?I?ll tell you.  But first, you to answer a question as well.?

    ?Sounds fair.?

    ?Who are _you_??

    ?Wha??  I don?t understand.?

    ?Tell me who you are ? where you come from.  Tell me about yourself.?

    ?I should have know you?d ask something like that,? Rowan sighed, ?Well, then, don?t blame me for boring you because there?s really nothing much to tell.?

***

    Rowan?s story turned out to be terrifying as only truth can be.  It was made all the more so by the flippant tone in which the boy described his life.  Heero had wanted to know about his housemate, but now he almost wished he hadn?t.  Rowan?s words made him cringe for the first time, perhaps, ever.

    Rowan was an accidental by-product of an affair between a girl from a wealthy and extremely conservation family and a happy-go-lucky house painter.  Beata, Rowan?s mother, was terrified when she found out she was pregnant, and for a good reason.  Her parents had been unforgiving and threw her out of the house once they knew what happened.  Her lover offered marriage, but he died in an accident only a month before the wedding.  Beata was left alone in the streets without any means or skills to survive.  The baby was born shortly afterwards.  Her path was much like that of other women who were desperate enough to do anything to feed their children and had nothing but pretty looks at their disposal.  Unfortunately, Beata?s luck was even worse than that of her ?colleagues.?  One of her clients turned out to be a homicidal maniac who followed the woman home one night, brutally raping and killing her.  The murder had a witness for the six-year old Rowan had hid himself when he heard the commotion in the hall. The child watched in horror as his beloved mother was murdered and he could do absolutely nothing to help her.  He was found by the policemen who had arrived on the scene several minutes too late, called by some neighbor who complained about the screams.

    Rowan was taken to an orphanage, which burned to the ground a year later, taking the lives of everyone who inhabited the place except for a handful of kids, including Rowan.  From then on, he was on the street, doing what he could to survive ? pick pocketing, hooking up with various gangs, the list went on and on.  However, he was fortunate enough to have a knack for all
things mechanical and electronic.  Once he learned enough to make a living, Rowan stopped stealing and instead drifted from place to place selling his skills to anyone who cared to hire.

    Of course, Rowan?s story was not nearly so detailed.  He gave a very terse account in only a few sentences, but the anguish that Heero could feel emanate from the boy helped him fill in the tragic gaps.  Now Heero understood why Rowan acted like he did ? shutting everyone out, trusting no one but himself.  That was how he?d survived this long.  Heero was shocked to find out how much the kid?s story reminded him of Duo?s.  Only Duo had turned out differently.

    As he listened to the teenager, Heero briefly wondered what they had fought for all these years ago.  Was it worth it to put their lives on the line if two hundred years later little children still had to steal and maybe even sell themselves in order not to starve?  Rowan?s voice bought Heero back to reality.

    ?Well, that?s the answer to your question.  Now how about answering mine??

    ?Perhaps some other time.?

    ?Hey, not fair!  You can?t back off after you?ve made me spill my guts out!?

    Rowan?s answer was silence and the boy knew the spirit had left.  He sighed in frustration, then slammed his fist on the window frame and muttered a curse as he tried to bring his unearthed memories back under control.

    ?Bastard.?

    The boy blinked back the tears that threatened to pour down his cheeks again.  He wasn?t sure why he suddenly decided to share his life with this ? Heero.  Except it made him feel better and it made the pain subside.  Even now, almost fifteen years later, he was still getting flashbacks of that horrible summer night when his mother died. Talking about it relieved some of the grief, helplessness, and guilt he still felt.  More than ever before, Rowan felt that he was somehow connected to Heero.  Perhaps it was karma.  He didn?t know.  But he was sure that, once he got the answer to that last question, the puzzle would be completed.
******************************************************
Second Chances Part 7 - Nostalgia
===========================

[Some time later]

    Rowan stretched as he slowly blinked sleep out of his eyes.  He squinted at the clock, then remembered it was Saturday and he didn't have to be anywhere in a hurry.  He padded over to the window and looked out.  It was a typical October morning - cloudy and somber.  It had rained during the night and now the soggy leaves were quietly whispering in the wind.  The water in the lake reflected the subdued hues of the sky and Rowan thought today would be a perfect day for painting.  Rainy days always put him in a somewhat depressed mood, but at the same time it was then that he was at his most creative [1].

    Rowan set his art supplies by the window overlooking the garden where the last of the autumn flowers were trying to stand their ground against the cold rain.  It was this soaked garden with its nearly naked trees and dying flowers that would be the subject of today's picture. As Rowan worked, he allowed a part of his brain to wander off and his thoughts eventually
tracked back to the events of the past months.  He'd had no more flashbacks of the truly nightmarish quality.  There was just a constant dull ache in the background of his mind, a vague sense of loss, as if there had been memories that were irreparably damaged, beyond recognition.  Irretrievable memories.  Rowan learned to deal with this ache, more or less. From time to time, though, he felt like whatever was inside him was simply lying dormant, waiting for something to happen, expectant.  Time would tell.

    Rowan also got a bit closer to Heero the ghost.  They weren't friends - yet.  But they had gotten over their initial mutual animosity.  Now, they found each other's presence almost comforting in a way.  Neither was willing to delve into the other's deeply hidden secrets or share his own.  At first, the silences were awkward but gradually they became less so. Companionable silences that they both enjoyed.  And, perhaps, they learned more about each other from these quiet moments than they would have talking.  Rowan found himself drawn to the ghost.  Could one be attracted to a ghost?  Maybe attraction was a wrong term to use; maybe it was that Rowan was happy not to be alone anymore.  Regardless of what this feeling was, he found it both disconcerting and pleasant.

***

    Heero gazed upon Rowan's sleeping form.  For once, the boy was sleeping peacefully, without thrashing about or crying out in terror.  Heero had watched him sleep enough times to know that nightmares were a usual companion of the teenager's slumber.  Whatever dark shadow plagued his past came back to haunt him when he was at his most defenseless.  But now, he was breathing evenly, and there was even a hint of a smile on his lips.  Heero sighed inwardly as he tried yet again to figure out what his true feelings for the boy were.  He had gone across a wide range of emotions - from dislike to curiosity to gentle attachment to...  To what? Love, some insidious voice inside Heero whispered.  What was love?  Heero might have felt it once, but it had been so long he was no longer certain he knew what love really was.

// Do you feel emptiness inside you that only he can fill? //
// Yes. //
// Do you feel lost without him? //
// Yes. //
// Do you feel you could do anything, sacrifice everything for him? //
// Yes. //
// Do you care for him so much it hurts?  //
// Yes. //
// Then you know what love is. //

    Heero wasn't sure he wanted to know what love was.  He and Rowan belonged in different worlds, worlds that could never cross.  They could never be together even if Rowan accepted Heero's feelings, which he never would.  And Heero would never divulge his secret - not for fear of rejection, but because he didn't want to make the boy's life any more difficult than it
already was.

    Rowan stirred in his sleep and mumbled something.  Something inside Heero broke loose and a wave of desperate longing washed over him.  What he wanted - what he _needed_ - was Duo, Heero knew that.  There would never be, could never be, any substitute for him.  And the more Heero thought about it, the more he came to realize how much he was trying to make Rowan into Duo in his mind.  Or was it that he was feeling guilty for betraying Duo's memory and so was making excuses for himself?  Was it that Heero simply wouldn't allow himself to feel anything for anyone because of what he'd lost?  He didn't know.  He wasn't sure.  He was hurting.  He wanted peace.  He was tired.  He'd been in this world for too long, seen too much.  He just wanted to sleep - an eternal sleep.  A release, everlasting.  He'd been promised forgiveness so long ago but still he didn't know what to do to obtain it.  Torn between the present in the shape of this strange boy, and the past full of dark ghosts like himself, Heero felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces with Rowan's every breath.

[Flashback to several months before]

// Why haven't you tried to get rid of me like you did others before? //

[Back to the present]

    Heero almost made the decision to leave Rowan alone forever and not to trouble him any longer when the boy whimpered in his sleep, a frown wrinkling his forehead.  Heero hesitated again. He recalled Rowan saying how he thought Heero's answer would help him find _his_ peace.  What if it was true?  Heero wondered.  What if he could really help the teenager get rid of his pain and have a normal life?  How could he pass up the chance, however feeble?  He was debating what road to choose when a voice spoke up right next to him.

    "A hard choice to make, isn't it?"

    Heero tensed, if ghosts can tense, as he recognized the voice and the presence as those of the Messenger from long ago.  The one who condemned him to this, quasi-existence.  Then he remembered the Messenger's parting words, "...When you see me you'll know your answer."  Did this mean his ordeal was over?

    "Why are you here?"

    "Well, you looked like you could use some help, kid, so I came.  Have you solved my riddle yet?"  Well, so much for the end of the ordeal.

    "No."

    "Well, that's too bad.  I thought you were a smart kid..."

    "Hn."

    "I'm here to give you a hint.  Your fate depends on what you decide to do about this boy, Rowan."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Heh, I think I gave you enough of a clue.  You're on your own from here, son."

    And with that, the Messenger was gone as suddenly as he showed up, leaving Heero to ponder his words again.  I have to tell him the truth, the spirit realized unexpectedly.  If I can help him find peace, I'll have accomplished my goal as well.  Even if that's not what I'm supposed to learn, I will have done a good deed at least.  Heero snorted at his own naivete.  A good deed, indeed!  The whole affair was complete nonsense.  But Heero made his decision; whatever the consequences might be, at least he would try.

***

    ?You?like me?? Rowan breathed out once he got past the initial shock, ?That?s why you watched me all this time??

    ?Yes.? The ghost?s voice sounded pained, as if he was forcing himself to speak.

    Rowan was silent for a moment.  Then he said something that felt like a knife cutting into Heero?s phantom skin.

    ?Bullshit.?

    Rowan turned on his heels and headed toward the stairs (he?d been upstairs in his room).  He was fuming; he was upset.  He wasn?t sure why.  Just something about this whole thing was very wrong, somehow.  The thought of a ghost being in love with him disturbed Rowan greatly. Besides, the ghost was probably making fun of him.  He was lying.  He had to be.

    Heero spoke up behind him.

    ?I?m sorry.  I shouldn?t have??

    ?No, you shouldn?t.?

    ?Look, I??

    Heero reached out to touch Rowan?s shoulder, to stop him from leaving, forgetting the boy wouldn?t feel his touch.

    ?Don?t you dare touch me!? The boy spat out, whirling around, shrugging his hand off.  Before they both realized what had actually transpired.  What happened next was unexplainable, even more so than all the prior events.  Rowan was staring at a boy about his own age, with unruly dark hair and blue eyes.  A boy whose face he?d drawn before.  The boy who haunted his dreams. The boy he _knew_.  The boy?

    ?Heero??  Rowan whispered, staring.  Heero stared back, speechless, stunned.

  A series of images flashed through the mortal boy?s mind like a bunch of slides going by on a screen.  The fight, the screaming, a hand on his shoulder, the fall?  The darkness?

    ?Oh, my God, ? he managed to say, ?I remember it all now.  We had a fight, you and I.  I fell??

    Heero could do nothing but stare.  Then it hit him.  The puzzle was complete for both of them.

    ?Duo.?  It was not a question, simply a statement of understanding.  Rowan/Duo nodded and smiled shakily.

    ?I understand now,? he said.

    ?I don?t understand how, or why, but this is my chance to tell you what I never said all those years ago.?  Heero had been given a second chance somehow and he was determined not to waste it, not to waste any of the precious seconds that this miracle lasted.

    ?I love you, Duo.  I always have.  I?m sorry for what I did to you.  I know a sorry doesn?t cut it, but I mean it.  I?ve craved your forgiveness all this time.  Can you forgive me? Please??

    He looked up into Duo?s shining violet eyes and saw the joy written there.

    ?Apology accepted, koi.  We were both fools back then, you know.?

    ?I love you.?

    ?I know.?

    Duo raised his hand to touch Heero?s cheek but, as his fingers met the other?s skin, the moment shattered.

    Rowan blinked, trying to figure out what just happened.  Then he saw the pale shape standing not three feet away from him.  He knew it had to be the ghost and, instinctively, he backed away.  Into empty air.

****

[1] Actually, this characterization is more about me than Rowan *grin* I?m usually at my most creative when I?m depressed *sighs*

*****************************************************
Second Chances Part 8 - Liberation
=================================

    Heero reached out to steady the other boy but his hand went right through Rowan.  He looked on in mute horror as Rowan tried to regain his balance, failed, and fell.  Heero screamed, voice full of raw agony.  He couldn?t ? not again.  He simply couldn?t bear to go through the same ordeal twice.  He couldn?t lose Duo twice.  Surely, this was beyond the cruelest of punishments that God could have devised for him.  Surely, no God would be this cruel.

    He knelt by Rowan?s body, crying unashamedly.  ?Please don?t do this.  Please don?t kill him, too.?  The prayer wasn?t addressed to anyone in particular.  It was just a cry for help from a soul too torn to continue its existence.

    ?Well, don?t you kids have some rotten luck.?  It was the Messenger, Heero?s nemesis, yet again.

    ?Rowan?  Duo?  He ? I?,? Heero choked, unable to go on.  To Hell with the Perfect Soldier façade ? his anguish was far too great to keep the mask of impassivity on.

    ?This kid is not really Duo,? the Messenger said gently.  Heero looked up questioningly; dimly aware of the figure swathed in a black hooded cloak across from him.

    ?Duo?s soul was reborn out of turn by mistake,? the Messenger explained, ?and because someone somewhere screwed up, Duo?s memories weren?t all erased as they were supposed to be.  That is why Rowan keeps having those flashbacks.?

    Now Heero knew everything.  This kid was Duo enough to make him hurt, but not enough to be the American?s clone.

    ?But?  What now?  Is he going to?? Die, but Heero couldn?t finish the phrase.

    ?Well, it?s in your hands now, son.  You get to decide his fate since it was partly your fault he ended up like this.  You get two choices. One, Rowan dies and you get to take your chances with him in the Sweet Hereafter.  Or he lives but I will erase all of his Duo memories.  He won?t remember anything, anyone.  You pick which.?

    ?Why me??

    ?Not my decision, kid.?

    It wasn?t fair.  _He_ couldn?t decide whether someone should live or die.  _He_ was no God. How could he decide something like this?  Especially when so much was at stake ? for both of them.

    On the one hand, Heero wanted nothing else than to be with Duo, in this world or the next.  On the other, Rowan deserved a chance to live his own life, not someone else?s.  He deserved to have his own memories, not someone else?s.  Besides, this kid was not Duo, could never be Duo, and could never replace him.  His personality was different to make him a unique person in his own right.  Heero remembered Rowan?s pain, his dreams, and his hopes.  He recalled the boy?s sorrows and sufferings, his drawings, and his imagination.  And then, Heero knew what choice he should make.  Rowan deserved a second chance at a normal life, and Heero would give it to him.  He told the Messenger as much.

    ?But, are you sure?  He will not remember anything.?  He won?t remember you, the Messenger meant to say.  Heero nodded slowly.

    ?It?s OK.  Maybe he will be happier then.?

    ?Very well, if that?s your final decision, son.  I shall return things to the time just before he came to this town.  What happens from there is beyond my control.?

    Heero nodded again.  Rowan would always have the shadows from his past and they would probably come back to haunt him.  But at least he?d have a shot at a better future.  He earned as much.

    ?Are you ready??  Heero just nodded, afraid that his voice would fail him should he try to speak.

    Time stopped, the moment frozen like a still-life photograph.  Rowan opened his eyes ? Duo?s eyes.  He saw Heero and smiled ? Duo?s smile.

    ?I love you,? he said ? Duo?s voice.

    // I love you, too. // Heero?s soul screamed out, but before he could say the words aloud, the moment broke, the clock started ticking again.  When it did, Rowan was no longer there and the house looked like it had before the teenager moved in.  Heero looked around and saw the Messenger, still standing across from him. Suddenly, the hood of his cloak fell off, revealing
the face of a kindly old man with a hint of a smile hidden in his beard.

    ?Congratulations, son.  You made a good choice.  Now you get your ticket home.?

    Lost in his thoughts, Heero didn?t realize what the man was saying.

    ?Huh??

    ?You are done, your trial is over.?

    ?I don?t understand.?

    ?Still as dense as ever, eh, Heero?  Your lesson was to learn love and sacrifice for the one that you love.  You were able to do just that, finally.  So you get your well-deserved rest now.?

    Understanding finally dawned; Heero was free at last.

    ?Are you ready??

    ?Yes.?

    The Messenger took his hand and suddenly the walls of the house began to get translucent, as if they were made of smoke ? a mirage.  Quickly, Heero?s surroundings changed; they became more and more ethereal.  Before long, he found himself in the air, above the remains of the old mansion.  What survived were a few sections of the outer walls.  That was all.  The ruins
were overgrown with weeds and ivy.  Heero took one last look, before turning away to follow his guide.  One last look at the remains of his life.  But, as he floated further and further into oblivion, Heero felt no regrets.  On the contrary, a sensation of utter tranquility spread through his entire being.  He felt serenity and calm overtake him.  At long last, he found peace he had longed for all this time

***

? Epilogue ?

    It was late in the afternoon when a teenager of about eighteen rode into the town on a battered ancient speeder that had obviously seen better days.  The boy had traveled a long way already and, when he saw the sign for this quaint little place in the middle of nowhere, he decided here would be as good place as any to stop for a few days.  He cruised down the narrow
streets until he noticed a coffee shop on one of the corners.  His stomach rumbled, letting the teenager know it was time to eat.  He parked his bike and walked in.  The place was nearly empty and he picked a cozy seat by the window.  He gave his order to the waitress, then settled to wait, whiling the time by watching the passers-by in the street outside the shop. His observations were interrupted by a yelp right next to his table, followed by the sound of glass crashing on the floor.  He turned around to see a girl about his own age, another waitress judging by her uniform.  He also saw the cause for her distress ? there was an
overturned tray on the floor, as well as several broken dishes, pieces of food, and a puddle of coffee.  She probably slipped and dropped the tray in the process.

    ?Sorry!  I?m so sorry!?  The girl babbled while frantically trying to pick up the pieces scattered on the floor.

    The boy got off his chair and knelt on the floor next to her.

    ?Mind if I give you a hand here??

    The girl looked up at him and smiled unexpectedly.  She had soft brown hair and deep blue eyes, and a great smile.  She couldn?t be called beautiful by anyone?s standards, but there was a certain air about her that made her very attractive. The teenager smiled back.

    ?Hey, I haven?t seen you around before.  Are you new in town?  My name is Hermione, but everyone calls me Mona.  What?s yours??  All said in one breath.  She smiled again, and the boy noticed small blue fires that lit up in her eyes every time she did.

    ?Yep, I?m new here, just got in about an hour ago.  My name is Rowan.?
 

~~**Owari**~~

Well, what do you think?  C&C, please!

~Murasaki