| At the request of Ais, who pleaded so very eloquently for a sequel to Self-Interrogation and Never Changes. My dear MikAAislin Nymph, I hope you like it. With encouragement like that, I just might stay after all�... This is not up to my usual standards. Might be a little confusing with all the pronouns but I tried to maintain the atmosphere of the previous two. Unbeta�d for a reason. Oh Misuzu-sis, where are you? *frowns* Why have you abandoned me? Title: Hindsight Author: Lady DarkAngel Ladydarkangel_1 @ yahoo.com Archive: Lady DarkAngel's Gundam Wing Fanfiction Library http://www.geocities.com/ladydarkangel_1/index.html, Darkflame�s (if she�ll take it�.) and anywhere else is fine, just ask me first Category: POV, dark, deathfic (???) Pairing(s): Same as in Self-Interrogation and Never Changes. That is to say, guess. Disclaimers: Gundam Wing or Shinkidousenki Gundam Wing is copyrighted and trademarked by Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency and associated parties with all rights and privileges. The characters were used without permission for the purposes of entertainment only. This is not meant for sale of profit. Any characters not created by those listed above are mine and hereby considered the sole property and copyright of the author. Anyway, I�m just a poor college student. So can I play with them? I promise I won�t break them�... much. Rating: PG-13 Warnings: One or two bad words, sad contemplation of evil and its consequences Feedback: Kami-sama, YES!!! Ladydarkangel_1 @ yahoo.com (ignore the spaces); any and all comments are welcome like the sweet ego-sustainers they are. It�s beyond sad. The word tragic doesn�t even come close. I knew him well. Both of them, actually, but he�� he was different. You could tell just by looking at him he was a little off. His aura or body language or whatever it is that you sense from a person that allows you to read them just screamed �not normal�. �Something wrong here.� �Not up to standard.� �Defective.� No. That last one�s not fair. It�s not like any of us are the picture of mental health and normalcy. It�s not his fault. Not entirely. That�s what I keep telling myself. He just didn�t know any better. And how could he? Look at his life, his childhood, his upbringing, his circumstances�� God, look at *us*. All of us. At me. We�re no better. We�re the same. He could have been us, we could have been him. You have no IDEA how much that scares me. What did we do to show him the right way? What did we do to correct him when we saw he was wrong, teach him when he didn�t know, help him when he couldn�t make it on his own? We could have done something�� saved him somehow�� Saved *him* somehow. As much as it hurts to think about it, we failed them both. *Him* especially. But while there�s really nothing I can do for *him* anymore, I can still help the other. We could have�� We didn�t. But we saw it happening. We knew. Oh, not everything. I�m sure that *somebody* would have acted if they knew exactly how far it went. That there was immense pain, blood flowing�� But we weren�t stupid. We saw. We knew. We understood what was going on. There was no way NOT to. We spent so much time together, it was inevitable. He couldn�t hide it from us, even though he tried. Every pitiful, pathetic, pleading gesture there for all and sundry to perceive. We had advance warning. Too lat now. Way too late. It�s easy to look back and criticize. Even easier to grieve and vow to never let it happen again. But for the poor unfortunate soul who prompted your epiphany, nothing can change facts. Your words, your pledges, your tears, your rage�� useless as they fall dead to the ground, killed by fate and your own actions before they could serve a purpose. Nothing can raise the dead, nothing can bleach fearful memories from a traumatized mind and nothing can absolve a soul so tainted it would willingly bleed its beloved counterpart without a second thought. No punishment, no treatment, no regime can do the impossible and right such a grievous wrong. *He*, of all people, knows that. So all that�s left is to stand in the rubble that was once a life�� two lives�� and watch the dying embers fade from a fire so strong it consumed them both. And I�m getting far too poetic for this. This isn�t about niceties and euphemisms and all the polite, non-offensive, non-provocative crap the doctors and shrinks and police handed to us almost daily for�� what, three years now? Time flies when you don�t want to see tomorrow. I was never this bitter and jaded before. Sure, I had a tough life but it never had made me as hard as this did. We were victims of our way of life and acted accordingly. Before there were smiles sometimes and light-heartedness when the situations allowed. Jokes and laughs and fun and all of us as a group together. But now there�s always tears and guilt and anger and a hole in our lives where *he* should be�� *they* should be. Why is it I try not to think of them together? Oh, I remember them both very well. One with sorrow and pity, the other within anger and hate, but my mind refuses to piece them together. The mental snapshots of them have been ripped in two. I think it�s all I can handle, really. It�s one or the other. And it�s usually *him* I think of. Of how we lost him. How we could have saved him. A tear falls unnoticed from my cheeks and falls through my hair. Longer now. Shading towards grey a little. Not young anymore. Still less then thirty physically but my soul is as old as it gets. I�ve lost my edge. I�m retired; I�ve left the world that could have cared less about the tragedy that happened to some of its greatest children. I think too much now, dark and brooding, and don�t take good enough care of myself. Get sick a lot. The guys aren�t happy about that. *He* wouldn�t approve either. Too bad. Too late to change now. I touch the thick stone walls that imprison him. He�s inside, I�m outside�� I can go inside, go visit if I want. The door is there, just a few feet away. I�m standing near his spot. I can bring an offering, something to appease that restless soul and my conscious. But I won�t. I never do. The others wonder why I still come, still torture and hurt myself like this. Guess I can�t stop. Need to add my own blood to the mix. Besides, it�s not like he�ll recognize me. And even if he did, he�d just scream and wail and cry for his lover. Poor bastard doesn�t get it. Any of it. Just one more irony to toss on the pile. I leave him alone in his tomb and walk away, the solid clank of iron bars resounding through the air from his tiny cell window. The screaming and wails of the inmates echo endlessly as I leave this place of pain and insanity again, knowing I�ll come back. I always come back. I need closure. I need to know why. I need forgiveness, to give it and get it. I need JUSTICE, true justice for this crime. And I will get it. For *him*, for me, for everyone. All I need to do is ask that one simple question I�m afraid to even think of, can�t even finish the sentence. The one that�s haunted me for so long; the one that keeps bringing me here. He loved you, you bastard! How could you�� ~ Owari ~ Well, what do you think? Did it bomb as much I as I think it did? Ais, talk to me! This was your idea! Lady DarkAngel ---------- Lady Protector of POVs in Hentai Onna-Gumi Moderator of Duo's Sugar Intake Keeper of Duo's Nice Rear-end Keeper of Heero's Homicidal Intentions Want the rest? Whole sig�s at my site! Lady DarkAngel's Gundam Wing Fanfiction Library www.geocities.com/ladydarkangel_1/index.html |