Author: Chauni
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.geocities.com/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Violence, Self Mutilation,
Angst, Slight OOC-ness (with reason)
Pairings: 1x2, 3x4
Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own Gundam
Wing or the characters, or “Liberi Fatali” from the FF8 soundtrack. I made no
money off this, so please don’t sue me, I am but a poor college girl. ^-^
Psalm for the Sons
of Aries
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
Wufei
stared at the carnage around him, eyes hard. The scene was familiar; it
followed in from his nightmares to his days. Fire ate what it could, devouring
the once blissful scene and turning it into a hellish reality. Cries of wounded
echoed throughout the place, creating a haunting hell for him to walk through.
He dodged around rubble and bricks, everything covered in a thick layer of dust
and blood.
“I
am strong,” he whispered, his hands hanging at his sides. A few wisps of black
silk had escaped from his customary brutal ponytail and now brushed against his
boyish face. The wing carried screams and the metallic scent of blood, wrapping
around him in full force. Someone pleaded for mercy; someone cried for a
doctor.
“I
am strong,” he repeated like a mantra. His faith was what kept him going; it
always had been. His passions had been the fuel to his life, the fuel to his
convictions. But they were starting to decay, fall away with age and death.
Cold realizations of mortality had become more and more evident as of late,
tainting his once steadfast beliefs. Weakness had slipped its dark tendrils
around his heart and began to squeeze.
He
almost tripped over a shard of wood and he mentally berated himself for being
clumsy. He felt detached as he slipped away from the nightmare, out the gates
of the OZ facility. His feet carried him to where his bike was held; he needed
to get away.
What
is my problem? He growled to himself. I’m becoming weak! I’m starting to
pity them! He shook his head; pity was for the weak and he did not deal
with the weak. They were not worth his time.
If that was the case, then why was he casting a look over
his shoulder, allowing his softening eyes to gaze upon the destruction he
solely wrought. He shook his head roughly as he disappeared, the shadows
finally taking hold of him in their cold embrace and making him theirs.
Arise from your sleep, my children
Your cradles shall no longer exist
Quatre
looked down at his hands, mouthing words that wouldn’t come. His soul hurt,
ripping him apart more surely than any knife could. He had fought with such
intensity, and now, now…damn!
People
lay murdered everywhere, their bodies forever frozen, screams locked behind
still lips. Explosions still resounded somewhere on the fiery horizon, sending
small quakes rushing through the scarlet ground. Flames danced several miles
off, sending off suffocating clouds of black.
“Too
late,” he whispered with numb lips. His fist struck the console of Sandrock and
he ignored the pain that shot up his arm. He bit back the scream of rage, of
disappointment, that threatened to choke the life from him. Everywhere, a
nightmare waited for him, waiting to burn his eyes with death.
A
prayer, soft and quiet, flew from his cracked lips, words of direction for
every soul that had danced away. He didn’t feel the cool wetness that crawled
down his cheeks; things like that didn’t matter right now. He didn’t matter
right now. Those souls, those lost people, that was what mattered. After all,
it was for those people he was fighting for, right?
“And
this is what war truly is,” he muttered. His eyes fell to his hands, noting the
darkening shadow that fell across them. “Why can’t everyone see that this is
the fault of the war? Why can’t everyone see what I have, felt what I have?”
Arise from your sleep, children of Fate
Abandon your cradles
Duo
woke up, howl flying from his lips before he could catch it. His body trembled,
covered in sweat; he could see the darkened areas on his sheets even in the
night. His eyes fell to the other bed, to where his closest companion should
have been sleeping, but found it empty. Deeming it not unusual, the boy swung
his feet onto the floor and slowly padded to the bathroom, turning on every
light he could reach in his wake, as if to frighten away any demons that may be
lurking in the shadows.
Once
in the bathroom, Duo leaned over the sink and splashed some icy water onto his
tired face. He looked up and wasn’t surprised to find he was staring at
himself. His hand fell onto the cool smoothness of the mirror, noting the dark
shadows under his normally cheery violet eyes and the grim expression that was
donned onto his face. With a numb finger, he traced a line down his
reflection’s cheek, noting the small line of water that he left behind him.
“Me,”
he hissed. A soft smile crept like a timid cat onto his lips and his eyes
lightened. “Or is this me?” He shook his head, drops of water flying onto the
glass and sliding down. “Which one is it? Who am I?” With a blurred movement,
the pilot’s fist sailed into the mirror, shattering it. The sound was sharp and
like music as it fell everywhere, light and almost happy. Glass tore into his
flesh, reflecting the blood and himself with hundreds of eyes. A crimson
waterfall dripped into the sink, staining the basin a glaring scarlet.
He
stared into the glass in his hand, watching as the blood fell in a torrent of
maroon. “Perhaps this is me,” he whispered, almost dreamily.
“What
the hell is going on?” someone growled from the bathroom doorway.
Duo
slowly turned from the sink, his face blank and white as he regarded his
beloved companion. His eyes were wide and vacant as the blood continued to
fall, unnoticed. Glass that was embedded deep in his flesh reflected Heero,
each piece stained a deep burgundy.
“Who
am I, Heero?” he whispered, holding out both his hands. The blood dripped to
the floor in quiet pats, splattering against the cold tile. He wavered as he
stood, swaying back and forth dizzily until the Wing pilot caught him and eased
him to the ground. “Heero, who am I really?”
Arise
Discover the garden of Truth
“You’re
Duo Maxwell,” Heero growled, grabbing the only nearby towel, white of course,
and wrapping it around his partner’s mangled hand. “You’re the pilot of
Deathscythe.”
Duo
weakly shook his head, staring at up at him with wide, dead eyes. “I know that.
But, am I the smiling idiot or the God of Death? Am I you?”
“Me?”
the pilot asked, raising an eyebrow. This is going to need stitches, and
fast.
“The
stoic bastard soldier that does what has to be done without question,” he
explained, a haunting smile on his paling lips. He was growing limp in Heero’s
arms, drifting off somewhere unknown. “I lost myself somewhere down the line.”
Heero
watched as the white towel became an accusing red, soon soaked and dripping
onto the white tile floor. Quickly he unwrapped it and picked out several large
chunks of the mirror. He waited for Duo to make a sound, moan, cry, anything,
but was awarded with a slow, light breathing.
“You
are Duo Maxwell,” he murmured, looking at him with uncharacteristic soft eyes.
“You are everything.”
Brilliant truth
Burn the heavens of evil
Trowa
said nothing as he looked at the photograph that sat on the table before him,
his fingers lightly caressing it. A smiling young man stood there, his face
broken into something of pure beauty. His eyes squinted cheerfully while his
hand shielded his gaze from the cruel sun somewhere off camera. Blonde wisps
danced on his cheeks, captured forever in a forgotten breeze.
What
was this clenching in his chest? He shook his head, the jutting bangs swaying.
Somewhere, he heard Catherine call out his name, but he ignored it for the
moment. The picture called to him; that smile beckoned him to drown forever in
a pair of aquamarine eyes.
Forget
the war, they pleaded. For a moment, just shed that shell and remember
how to love.
“Love?”
he muttered, his voice distant and unrecognizable to his own ears. “Is that
what this is?” That feeling swelled, ripping all other emotions from his soul,
until all he could feel were those tight hands around his heart. He allowed his
emerald eyes to slip shut while a small breath he didn’t know he was holding
flew past his lips.
“What
can I know of love?” he asked himself. “I’m just a no-name soldier.”
“But
before you are a soldier, you are a human being,” a strong voice answered from
the doorway of his tent. “And all human beings can love, if nothing else.”
Trowa’s
eyes flew open in surprise, seeing a calm and slightly smiling Catherine
standing in the doorway. Her eyes flickered to the picture on the table, then
back at her brother.
“Don’t
forget who you are,” she muttered, ignoring the irony in the statement. “Don’t
turn your back on the heart that pounds beneath that flesh of yours. Your heart
is all you have; don’t lose it.”
Burning truth
Set ablaze the heavens of darkness
Heero
shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, feeling the coolness of the sheets
rubbing against his chest. He looked across the nightly sea of darkness and
noted his wounded companion sleeping soundly, even lightly snoring. Sighing, he
allowed his eyes to fall back to the ceiling.
“Who
am I really?”
The
war was taking its toll on everyone. He had spoken with Wufei a few days ago
and something had sounded wrong with him, but he knew that the Chinese pilot
was full of strength and could handle almost any problem on his own. The day
before, he had received a phone call from Quatre, who was definitely shaken up.
After a few moments of questioning, he had discovered that the blonde boy had
received a tip that a small town might be in the path of a battle, and had gone
in desperate hopes of evacuating it, only to be too late.
Somewhere
in the shadows, Duo murmured incoherently, rolling over. Heero spared him a
look, and found himself staring, totally enrapt in the sleeping boy.
I’ve
always been fighting to protect the people, but somewhere down the way, I found
something else to fight for. Duo, you have to know what is in yourself, you
have to know who you are, because I do. Are you that blind? Can’t you see what
I do?
Sighing,
realizing sleep was not going to be visiting him that night, he rose to his
feet and made his way to the desk. Without knowing it, his finger automatically
sought out the power button on his laptop and it flickered to life before him.
Green, mechanical light danced across his face while his fingers flew across
the keyboard with a cursed familiarity.
I wanted to
show you what I saw, but I couldn’t. I wish I could show you the truth of why I
fight now. Do you realize that all this is for you now? I move for you; I
breathe for you. I have changed so much; I can’t even see what I used to be.
Only on the battlefield am I that soldier, that born and bred killer that I was
when you met me. But now, now I wash my hands in the light of your life; I
redeem myself in your eyes. Salvation is ours, if we can find it. I think I may
have, but will you? I thought you would’ve been the first, except for Quatre
perhaps. Gods, Duo, quit walking through hell blind; once you open your eyes,
you’ll see past the fires and to the heart of Heaven.
Open your eyes, Duo.
For me.
Fated
day
The
five Gods of War stood on the blood-soaked field, armor gleaming in the noonday
sun. This was what their life was made for, the scent of death, the grease of
oil, the feel of metal as it was clutched beneath their white-knuckled hands.
It sickened them to know to reject this part of their lives was to only reject
their very souls.
Without
words, mouths robbed of battle cries, they dove into the fray. Duo jerked the
controls to the left, silently swinging his scythe as it delivered a fatal blow
to the Leo before him. Wufei, usually the most boisterous in battle, was oddly
hushed as his Dragon Fang swung out, grasping a Mobile Suit and flinging it
into several others close by.
Heero
hung his head for a moment. He had always respected his companions for the
fighting spirit within each of their hearts, something hardened and cold, but
something that never swallowed them whole. However, as his icy azure eyes
watched them move with silence over their comm. links, it seemed as if their
Battle Core’s (as he liked to call them) were only biding their time, waiting
until their souls had grown weak and weary, to jump forward and take total
control.
Isn’t
this always what you wanted? A group of warriors willing to die for their
cause, willing to fight until their bodies are too weary to speak, and still
shall fight? Isn’t this what you wanted, secretly? Someone just like you?
Heero
shook his head violently, his lip crunching upward as he shot the familiar
Buster Rifle. “They don’t deserve this! This isn’t them, damnit!” Hurriedly, he
switched over to Duo’s private station, his gaze heavy as he blew aside three
of the enemy’s suits.
“Duo,
are you there?”
The
braided pilot’s confused face appeared on the distorted screen. “What do you
mean, ‘am I here’? Where else would I be?”
Heero
dropped his Buster Rifle, bringing forth his saber. “You’re too quiet.”
Duo
snickered, slamming his hand down on several buttons. “That’s funny. Normally you’re
yelling at me ‘cause I’m too loud, and now you’re mad ‘cause I’m too quiet?”
Heero
swallowed, closing his eyes as enemy fire wracked his Gundam. Relaxing his
hands and taking a deep breath, he said, “You asked me who you were really,
Duo. Remember?”
“Y-yes,”
the other boy whispered, his voice barely heard over the crackle of the link.
“I
already know who you are, Duo Maxwell.” A shot sent his Gundam stumbling back a
few paces, and yet still, Heero remained unphased. “Now, prove to yourself who
you really are.”
Another
face appeared beside Duo’s, black sloe eyes narrowed into accusing slits. “Just
what the HELL do you think you are doing, Yuy?” Wufei screamed. “Why have you
stopped fighting?”
“You
have all lost the emotion behind your action,” he calmly stated, face cold.
“When you lose sight of your goal, you lose sight of yourself. You have all
become emotionless dolls, tools of a war to be discarded. Where are you now,
damnit? Who are you now?”
Wufei
leaned back in his seat, ignoring the blast that rocked his Mobile Suit. His
bronze skin paled considerably under the question, and his black eyes were
wide. “Who…am I?”
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
All
around, flames licked the sky, their eager tongues greedily lapping at Heaven.
Smoke overtook the blueness of the air, bathing everything in a sooty embrace.
It appeared to be a nightmarish Hell, the fire, the blackness. Nothing else
could describe the scene.
Quatre
fought on, slicing several Leo’s apart, his heated shotels splitting the metal
as if it were air. No words spewed forth, no emotion revealed itself upon his
delicate face. He moved more silently than Trowa, with the deadly accuracy of
Heero, all the while still maintaining his strategy and insight. He had become
Vengance.
His
eyes flew to Wing, noting the unmoving, defenseless suit. His fingers flew to
his comm. link, but stopped as Trowa’s face appeared, even and cold as always.
“He
says we have lost sight of ourselves,” he muttered, tossing his empty, useless
gun aside and bringing forth his blade.
Quatre
grunted as he was thrown against his seat. “He-he doesn’t know what he’s
talking about! If he’s doing this, then he’s the one who’s lost sight of
himself! Did he forget he was a soldier?”
“Quatre!”
Trowa yelled. “Listen to yourself!
“I
can hear myself just fine,” the blonde boy whispered, moving behind a Mobile
Suit and slicing it through the middle. The explosion rocked his heavy Gundam,
shakily sending it forward a step. “You don’t understand, Trowa. These…monsters,
massacred hundreds of innocent people! I-I had to walk through their blood,
Trowa!”
The
Heavyarms pilot stared at the boy on the screen, memorizing the waves of
anguish that erupted over his passionate face. “Quatre…”
“They
need to know what they have done,” the boy hissed, his eyes trembling. “They
need to feel the weight of their actions! Shouldn’t they be punished for their
crimes?”
Heavyarms
dashed around, cutting through two olive suits. “You have lost sight of why we
battle, Quatre. You are no longer fighting with a clear heart.”
“I
know why I fight!” he screamed, taking another blow. His chest had begun to
ache, that pulsating agony that rose in his heart, but he fought it down. “I
fight for those who can’t!”
Trowa
shook his head, eyes closed. “No, Quatre. You are now fighting for death. Death
delivers death.” An explosion erupted nearby, and static filled the radio for a
moment, only to be filled once more with Quatre’s innocent face. “Please,
Quatre, don- don’t die on me.”
Sandrock
ceased all movements and the Leo’s that were still scattered along the field
rushed in, firing. His face disappeared from the screen, but his voice, heavy
and weary, whispered over the link.
“Die?”
Trowa
had started to falter backwards, strange panic suddenly erupting onto his face.
He wasn’t doing so well right now, being distracted by the still, confused form
of Quatre and the motionless Wing. His own intensity didn’t falter, but his
companions wouldn’t last much longer.
“Quatre!”
Trowa yelled, his voice threatening to crack. “Quatre, fight! Fight for the
reasons you hold true! Fight for the truth and passion within yourself! Fight
for those who can’t defend themselves! Become their god, their savior!”
Sandrock
twitched, then lurched forward, much to Trowa’s relief. The boy began to fight
with passion and love, his moves becoming smoother with the merciful customary
Quatre tactics. Trowa smiled as he heard the boy’s prayers to Allah flood
through his comm. link, alighting upon his ears in blessed hymns.
“Quatre…”
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
Fithos lusec wecos vinosec
“Yuy,
you are insane!”
Heero
refused to answer, his hands still lightly resting upon his controls. He took another
hit, and began to slowly realize that he might have to forsake his plan in
hopes of survival. As he was about to fire back, a surprising phrase came
drifting over the staticy link, a jovial voice burdened down the years of
torment and anguish.
“Heero…who
am I really?”
Heero
smirked, a soft smile falling prey to his lips. He could feel where this was
going, could tell that this was not a question, but a statement that deserved a
heartfelt response. He already knew who he was, now, he just need to hear it
from his lover’s enigmatic lips. “You are Duo Maxwell.”
“And who is he?”
“He
is everything.”
Wufei
battled behind them, never stopping as his curses crackled over radio lines. He
was a dragon in the blood-laden ground, his actions never ceasing. He listened
to their sentiment, listened to their souls, and found himself in their words.
His strength, his purpose, all that was lost in a torrent of fierce emotion was
won once again. He was reborn; he was the phoenix.
Duo’s
lips cracked into a gentle sentiment of joy as his violet eyes cleared. “Thank
you, Heero.”
The
Wing pilot nodded, falling into his familiar role and swinging his saber once
more. The battle was almost over; the blackened sky refused to leave. Fires
continued to rage on, powerful and screaming, while the ground was thick with
death. Yet, inside the cockpits, resurrection had occurred, soul seeds had been
planted once again.
“And
the sons of Aries will march on…” Duo whispered, dispatching the final standing
Leo. “And the Gods of War shall forever battle on crimson soaked earth.”
“What was that, Duo?” Heero asked as Wing slipped into
bird mode.
“Nothing,
Heero,” he whispered. “Just something I thought of is all.”