By: Lionna Mouri
Email: [email protected]
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairing: Zechs/Treize
Song: "ain't afraid to die" Lyrics - Kyo/Music - Dir en grey
Content: deathfic, shonen-ai/yaoi implied --> 13x6/6x13, angsty, songfic
Disclaimer: The song be not mine ((but it's gorgeous so go DL it from somewhere right NOW)). Characters are also not mine. I can dream, y'know? But I am not part of the big companies that own the lovely anime and manga series. ^_^V
June 12-13, 2001 ((wrote it around the midnight hour lol))
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
the way that we walked together back then is lost
yet always we were walking, someday shall I meet with you?
Slowly pale blue eyes opened and took in the plain, white ceiling of the room. Funny... he had expected a sea of blue sky and white clouds. But he was inside, he quickly realized, for the fresh smell of grass and plants was not there. He sat up, looking around the small, scarcely decorated room. He had woken up alone, again. It was just another day of the present. There was no way to change the past now. Saddened by those thoughts, he slipped his long legs from beneath the sheets and stood, heading towards the bathroom for a shower.
As the water cascaded over his bare body he closed his eyes once again and let himself slip back in time. Back to the days before the war and when he had still had some free time. /I do have free time now.../ he mused. /The only difference is that I have no one to share it with./
Back then he and his companion had taken long afternoon walks to talk over earlier meetings of the day. Then conversation turned to happier things away from the upcoming war. Talking of flowers or of trips to distant places... Sometimes it would begin to rain as they strolled, yet the drops of water did not heed them from continuing on. In fact it was quite amusing to run back towards the building, bodies soaked through and through, and then see the reactions of everyone inside. /In fact I believe I overheard a comment about that during the war./ At least not all happy memories had faded.
atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls I understand that I cannot reach you, yet
in your room, a single flower of the kind that you loved, is now...
After showering he dressed in warm clothes, set on going for a walk. It was rather chilly out, the first snow having fallen just the other day. He left the shelter of his small apartment and headed out into the world of white. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he looked about the streets, noting how few people were actually out. /It's not that cold,/ he thought. He crossed the street towards a large park. Strolling down the snow-covered paths he noted the bare tree limbs and abandoned playgrounds. He paused, however, as he came across a group of snow angels; booted footprints all around them. He smiled faintly, wishing silently that he could see a certain angel. He moved on after a time and ended up at the other edge of the park. He didn't slow his pace, deciding to walk along the perimeter of the snow-covered grounds. He caught a glimpse of something in one of the house windows on the other side of the street. His footsteps faltered momentarily as he saw the budding rose sitting in a vase by itself on the window ledge. Its petals were as white as the snow outside, and he could easily see why it stood for purity.
the day of last year's final snow a promise firmly exchanged
when I remembered, it started to melt, and spill from the palm of my hand
As he walked on, the image of the rose remained in his mind. He recalled the past two winters - both had held horrible battles of war. /Peace can't seem to remain unbroken./ His eyes lifted to the sky as it began to snow again. He paused, staring up at the vast spread of clouds from which the flakes were falling. He held out his hand, catching the small white crystals. They melted so quickly, such a short life. He blinked back tears. /I promised.../
One snowy night many years ago he had promise his newfound lover and closest companion... he had promised that he could be strong, surviving on his own with or without someone at his side. He had promised that he would never purposefully harm himself as he once had. /That reminds me.../ Carefully he used one hand to pull down the sleeve of his coat to bare his pale wrist. Old pale, lines scarred where once a sharp object had cut into his skin. It was his reminder... was the reminder that he needn't try ever again. /Yes.../ he thought, closing his eyes, /you are here within me. Always, love./
atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls I understand that I cannot reach you, yet
in your room, a single flower of the kind that you loved, is now...
When he returned to his apartment he slipped out of his coat and went to the phone, calling a florist. Once he had placed his order, he placed the phone back down and went to the couch, falling back on it lazily. He knew... he knew that his love, his friend, was gone... passed on. He knew it, but there were times when memories were too perfect and he would forget that the other was dead. Tears were about to fall but he pressed his fingers lightly over his eyelids, waiting for the pressure to pass. He blinked open his eyes again when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, he took the box of flowers and paid. He entered the small kitchen and located a vase. From the floral box he removed three perfect, long-stemmed roses. One was blood red and slowly blooming. Another was white, and the last was white with stained tips of pink. He arranged them in the vase, staring at each, and thinking of what each represented.
all alone by the window, just staring at the snow, while I remember you
through the glass, I recall you, and give you a final kiss...
He picked up the vase and carried it to the window in his bedroom. Carefully he situated it on the sill and pulled away the curtains. It was positioned perfectly so the light from outside caught the drops of water still clinging to the petals. Kneeling on the floor he looked up at the flowers... It hurt, again, to think of something past. /I never gave you a proper goodbye./ Thoughts of a smiling, redhead child came to mind and his lips twitched upward. She was a beautiful girl... /You would be so proud of her, love. So very proud.../ This time he couldn't restrain the tears that welled up in his eyes. Slowly a few salty drops slid over his cheek, tracing down to his lips.
hey smile don't cry anymore
from here on, always, I'll be watching you
"I'm sorry..." He attempted to smile, lips twitching dangerously. "I can't always smile, love..." He swallowed carefully, continuing to stare up at the roses, wishing that they had not been just bought... That they had come from his lover's gardens. He closed his eyes, wiping away the tears with his fingers. /I know you were willing to die, love. But it hurts so much to know that I also was willing... I still am... Yet here I am./ He placed on a false smile again, staring at an undefined point on the carpet. "It really hurts, you know. The pain is so deep - to be alone again. I had forgotten how it felt. I depended so much on you." He laughed faintly. "I know you're somewhere..."
atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls I understand that I cannot reach you, yet
in your room, a single flower of the kind that you loved, is now...
He closed his eyes, resting against the wall. All of the special, important moments he could remember... He had learned to forget the memories that made him feel guilt. It had been war. What had happened... had to happen. Things may have turned out so much worse if his actions had not been as they were. /Do you know how long I spent tearing myself up, love? I hurt so badly... was so guilty, love..../ Eyes still closed, his lips turned a bit farther up, becoming a truer smile. /But that child... Your precious child made me see something. We learned together./ He touched his fingers to his face, feeling the wetness of tears that he hadn't known were still falling. /She wishes that she knew you. I have tried my best to help her, love, but I, too, wish you were here./
the brightness quietly colors the inside of the town white
you saw the season's final colors
a tear falls reality is cruel, isn't it?
you saw the season's final colors
The roses remained on his sill for as long as he could keep them. One morning he awoke and headed towards the window. Silently he stared at the wilting petals. He collected the petals, plucking them off one by one, and then set them aside on his dresser top. The stems were thrown away and the vase was put away. The red, white, and pink-stained petals remained scattered on the wooden surface and he silently stared at them with clear, pale blue eyes. Spring was coming soon, or so he believed, for the snow as beginning to melt. At least the flowers would be back again. But the sharp tang of the winter air would fade as would his excuse to have watery eyes. He smiled faintly. /Sometimes I can't help it, beloved. I have tried my best to remain happy, but I have already been far too hurt to ever be truly happy./ But content... yes, he could honestly say that he was content. He wiped away the single tear that fell and laughed at himself softly. He had been called in for a mission and he had to leave. He turned, leaving the rose petals where they lay.
the four seasons and your colors too soon will disappear
the snow melts, on the street corner, the flowers bloom
you saw the "hues" softly dissolving
He went to Brussels to meet up with his mission partners and from there they left for a small town in Italy. Their mission passed with great success and they returned to Brussels to file in their report. The snow had already melted and he wondered vaguely if winter had truly passed. Yet another seasonal anniversary of war and death gone by. He stepped out of the Headquarters building and just stared along the street, observing those passing him by without a glance. It was ironic, actually, to think that he could freely walk down the streets without having people look at him in disgust. /Do people so easily forget? I had not thought forgiving came so easily.../
the day of this year's final snow on the street corner, one single flower
when I look up at the sky, the final snow will spill into the palm of my hand
He started off down the sidewalk, crossing the street to the next block. He was to meet an old friend at a cafe a few blocks away. He passed a number of shops, although nothing stood out. As he paused at the corner, waiting for the streetlight to change, he turned his head to watch an old woman holding a bouquet in hand, heading towards her car. A flower slipped from the ribbon tying it all together, however, and the white rose tumbled to the ground. He reached down to pick it up, but the woman shook her head, smiling and saying that he could keep it. He fingered the flower, focus completely on it as he began to cross the street. He suddenly stopped in surprise as something cold dropped on his hand. Staring up at the sky he saw that it was snowing again.
A smile crossed his face and he swore that someone called his name, softly... lovingly. "Mirialdo..."
He knew. He kept his face tilted up to the sky, his eyes closing as he continued to finger the rose. Waiting silent and calm, he heard the screech of tires as a driver turned sharply around the corner. His body remained lax the entire time, even as the car slammed into his body and he felt pain swallow him. His hand went numb and the flower dropped from his grasp.
As the pale-haired man lay bleeding on the ground the snow continued to fall from the sky, landing on cooling skin. The pure white rose lay as a symbol of death just beyond the reaches of a pool of blood. There were moments of labored breathing, of people hurrying to call an emergency vehicle, but he remained oblivious to it all, face peaceful and mind ready. As his heartbeat faded, he slowly slid away from life.
::Hello, love...:: A small smile. ::Been some time, hasn't it?::
::I wish it was longer. But I should have suspected it.::
::I didn't do it-!::
::I know, love... I know.... shh...::
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
From the crowd a dark-haired woman pushed her way through, heartbeat fast in worry. She stopped only a few feet from the dead man and her eyes filled with tears that overflowed. A hand flew to her mouth as she cried. She knew by his expression that he had not feared... No, he had never been someone to fear anything, not even life alone. She dropped to her knees and gently touched his hair. "If there's any justice you'll be with him..." she whispered softly. "Zechs..." Noin covered her face, crying openly. "I would have at least wanted to say goodbye...oh Zechs..."
The tombstone that had been removed once Mirialdo Peacecraft had appeared alive was now replaced in its original position next to the burial spot for Treize Kushrenada. Upon the one-year anniversary of Zechs' death, Mareimeia went with Lady Une to visit the graves. The child carefully laid a bouquet of perfect red rose between the two headstones. With gloved fingers she brushed away the light layer of snow covering the granite stone that had been placed between the two dead men.
"The way that we walked together back then is lost
Yet always we were walking, someday shall I meet with you?"
"Rest well, Otou-san, Mirialdo-san."
~ * ~ * ~ Owari ~ * ~ * ~