Archiving: Just ask!
Warnings: Will be listed at the beginning of each section since each section is different. Traditional het pairing will be adhered to, for once, with one exception. One part is shonen-ai and you'll find out which part that is, and if you don't like it just ignore that.
Blame: I wonder if Yoko isn't still around. The ideas I've been getting aren't quite like her, but they seem to work pretty well... But until I know for sure that I have a new muse or not, I'll shoulder the blame.
Comments: Um... not much. Just my usual disclaimer about the fact that I don't own GW, and a brief explanation on this. I was walking home from work and thought about some of these fics I've written: very few of the multi-part stories I've written have been finished. But they're all fairly similar in layout, and I wanted to write something different. I got to thinking about the concept of reincarnation, and came up with the idea for this fic starting with Wufei, then all the others. So here it is: "Paths That Cross." It's in five or six parts, named for the cities they take place in. I tried to write them in chronological order, but I hope it works out to where they can be read in almost any order... And I chose LA for the last one because I live just a little bit south of there and I know the landmarks fairly well. The names for each part have changed where necessary: I needed them to refer more to the cultures that they live in, and I seriously doubt that anyone goes by the name of their past life, in this life. The personalities may differ a little, but they will be the same overall.
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Paths That Cross by Shinigami's Demon
Part One: Jerusalem, 589 BC
Warnings: Shonen-ai, violence, death
(Author's Note: Quatre's name in this life is Isaac, Trowa is Noah, and Catherine is Rivka. Catherine would fight, I think, if it meant enough to her. Home and family would. Had to give them Hebrew names to fit in with the culture, as explained above.)
Isaac walked down the dusty streets of Jerusalem. It was hot: it always was, and it had not rained for some time, but that did not trouble the farmer. What troubled him were the rumors he had been hearing, rumors of war in a country ill-prepared for it with a country whose existence revolved around it. The Babylonian army *was* coming: Isaac had managed to flee only a few hours before they arrived at his home and had not stopped running until he reached the city. What troubled him about the rumors was that they *were* only rumors: nobody was doing anything to prepare for it.
Yet Jerusalem itself could only be a temporary refuge: Nebuchadnezzar was accounted one of the world's greatest commanders and his army was easily large enough to swarm the holy city. Isaac had come here, to the City of God, in hopes that if and when the Babylonians succeeded in storming the walls, they would leave the Temple of Solomon alone. In truth, he did not hold out much hope of God performing a miracle and saving them all from the conquerors: not so much as a single sick child had been healed anywhere in the land of Judea in anyone's memory.
The marketplace was noisy and bustling, as always in Jerusalem. Just as he recalled it from his visit as a child. Vendors hawked anything from wheat to water, some cheaply and some outrageously high. Over the city, on Temple Mount, loomed the beautiful temple that was the pride of the Hebrew nation. The noonday desert sun beat down upon them all, although here in the heart of the Fertile Crescent it did not seem so bad. A few vendors called to him as he made his way through the crowds, but Isaac politely waved them off. The market was no his destination today, but the means to an end. The destination finally came into sight: a cool stone house that belonged to an old friend of his. He knocked on the door: it was only a matter of moments before it opened to reveal Rivka, Noah's sister.
"Yes, he's here," Rivka answered Isaac's query. Then she paused and looked at him closely. "Isaac! Is that really you? It's been so long, we were wondering if you'd forgotten us! Come in, come in!" She hugged him fiercely, and he smiled gently. "What brings you here, anyways?"
Isaac stepped into the dark, cool interior. Rivka ran to the kitchen and brought out a bowl of dates. "Noah, get in here!" she called. "It's Isaac!"
Noah appeared out of nowhere: he stood next to Rivka. Looking at them, Quatre could not believe how much they had changed from the days when they came so frequently to the farm. Rivka's hair was a few shades darker than Noah's, curly instead of hanging down over her face like her younger brother's, but their eyes were the same piercing green so rare in these parts. Noah smiled a little.
"Welcome back, Isaac. It's been a long time."
"Yes, it has..."
"Have a seat." When they were all seated with the fruit in the middle, Noah reached for a piece. "You're a long way from home. Surely you didn't come all this way just to see us."
Isaac blushed under his tan. "I don't have a home now. I'll be staying in the city, but I don't expect to for long."
"You're worried about something."
"You could say that. The Babylonians are attacking. I barely escaped them. They are pillaging the whole countryside. What they can't carry they burn, and the people who can't or won't be slaves they kill. I came here hoping they might leave the temple alone, but now that I think about it, I doubt that."
"I see," Noah said quietly. Under his reserve, Isaac could feel the tension and sadness in the rabbinical student. "I had heard rumors, but those have been floating around the city for several months, that Nebuchadnezzar was going to move soon. It appears not even rumor outdistances him."
They were quiet. Rivka spoke after a few minutes.
"And you feel that not even Jerusalem can stand against them."
"It's more than just what I think, it's what I feel." Isaac bowed his head, listening inside. "The stones of this city are screaming the warning, the pebbles on the roads are shaking under the thunder of their horses' hooves and their chariots' wheels. But nobody hears, nobody sees. Jerusalem will not, cannot, stand. Not against this force."
Silence descended on the small room again. Isaac stood. "I don't like to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I felt that I should warn you. They are three days behind me. I came straight here to let you know."
Rivka and Noah got up as well, and the woman took the dates back into the kitchen. They could hear her starting to prepare dinner and looked at one another.
Nowhere did Isaac feel quite so comforted as in the presence of his friend. Something about him just calmed him down, quieted the fears... but nowhere did he feel quite so empty, either.
"Isaac, I trust you like I trust nobody else," Noah started, his face hidden, "but I am not sure that Jerusalem cannot make it. I appreciate the warning, and the thought. Will you stay for dinner? There is much to catch up on."
"Yes, thank you."
{{Four days later}}
Isaac walked up to a place where he could view the surrounding countryside with a minimum of risk. It was a sobering sight, oddly beautiful but deadly. Flickering campfires dotted the black land for as far as he could see in all directions, the fires of a massive army. These were the forces that Nebuchadnezzar had raised against Judea, and they had arrived the day before. Their approach had been felt long before it was heard, and heard before they were seen. All of the city's exits were cut off, the heavy gates closed and barred. Jerusalem was besieged.
He looked up to Temple Mount, let the night wind ruffle his short-cropped sandy brown hair. The temple stood there, solemn and serene in the night. Noah hadn't gotten out, nor had Rivka. Noah was up there at the temple now, serving the people as he was being taught how, while Rivka was helping the city's defenses.
One by one the fires went out and the smell of burning wood and dung (1) ceased to carry up to Isaac's nose. It would not be long now. The army would attack the next morning, if they were retiring this early. He sighed. The men would be manning the walls and some of the women would help, but it had been a long time since any of them had seen war. Samaria, now controlled by the Assyrians, was conveniently far enough away to forget about the risk. Still, Babylon had not been the anticipated threat.
Isaac stood there until dawn touched pink streaks on the clouds of the eastern horizon. The smell of dung once more drifted up, but not for long. The camp was aflurry with activity: this was it. He saw the two battering rams being brought to bear on the city gates and shook his head. The temple would likely be the best place to go. ~*~*~
Rivka gripped her bow tightly. The activity in the camp could only mean one thing. She had never seen any army before, much less one this size, but this was obvious. The men had rested and were mobilizing.
She looked around. She was not the only woman on the walls and the men did not begrudge the strong female presence. Every hand was needed. This would be an ugly battle, uglier than most, she had been told by a veteran who had escaped from Samaria. Not two armies fighting it out on the battlefield under the eyes of expert commanders. This was a populace fighting for its home, freedom, life, on its ground. This would be hand-to-hand in the streets, back alley ambushes. If they won, they could be years clearing out the corpses of the dead. And even Nebuchadnezzar would find his abilities limited by the rabbit's warren of streets. Still... She looked at the army gathering below her and bit her lip.
~*~*~
"Noah." Noah stopped. Aaron was approaching. "Do you plan to fight, or to stay?"
"I will fight."
The rabbi nodded. "For what reason do you fight?"
"I fight for all that I hold dear. My God, my sister, my home, my life..."
"Go with God, then." Aaron walked away.
He had been doing services all night long and was exhausted. Fighting would probably get him killed, but if he slept he might not wake again except to the sounds of battle and a sword in his ribs. He would be part of the Temple defense, if it came to that: hundreds were crowded in the courtyard and on the grounds. They had to be kept safe. Noah would die to see the youngest child in that crowd kept free and safe from harm.
A dull roar came from outside the gates, dampened a little by distance, but unmistakable. "It begins," he murmured to himself.
"Noah!"
"Isaac, what are you doing here?!"
"What do you think? Waiting. Are you going to fight, or just-"
"Hmm. I'll fight, at the Temple. There are many who hope for a miracle. Where's Rivka? Have you seen her?"
"Last I saw of her, she was on the eastern wall..." He trailed off. Both looked to the wall: the battle had been joined there. Noah's face fell. "I'll fight with you, old friend."
The taller student regarded him through a thick shock of dark brown hair. "You've been a great deal more than a friend to me, these past years. I'm not sure how to put it, but... I'll do everything I can for you." He offered a hand. Isaac took it. "Let's go. I know where the weapons are for the Temple guard."
~*~*~
The yelling alerted her. The old veteran was at her side. "That's what it is, you know. They're yelling, making the biggest noise they can, trying to intimidate us. It's also letting the commander know that they're ready to go. It'll start any minute now." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "If you go now, nobody'll blame you. You'll stand a better chance if you go down into the streets."
Rivka shook her head. "No. I'm here. This is where I choose to make my stand. If we lose and I live, I'll be a slave. I don't want that. If we win, then I'm free to help others."
"If you're not too badly hurt yourself. Or dead."
"If it happens, it happens. We all die sometime: not many can do it on their own terms."
The veteran grunted an assent. "Best of luck to you, then."
"And to you, sir."
The lines before them moved, surged forward at an incredible pace. Soon they were within range of her bow. The walls shook from the numbers of yelling voices and pounding feet. She loosed an arrow: while it hissed down she was already fitting another into the bow. A quiver on her back and each hip, each packed with thirty arrows, then she would resort to her knife. If they hadn't scaled the walls by then.
A resounding thump shook the air, then another in response. A pause and then both sounded almost together. The rams were at the gates: they should not have gotten there so quickly! The defenses at the walls were hopeless if the rams beat down the gates too soon...
A makeshift ladder came up right in front of her; it knocked the tip off of the arrow she was nocking and nearly hit her. Surprised, she hesitated a moment, just long enough for a soldier to show his face. The old veteran punched him in the face with a sword hilt and pushed the ladder down. Up and down the wall, the story was similar.
The air hissed and howled and screamed then: a ball of fire whizzed over her head and landed somewhere in the city. Catapults, loaded with flaming shot. The battle for Jerusalem had just become even more desperate.
~*~*~
Isaac and Noah listened to the steady thumping of the battering rams on the city gates and the whistling of the catapult shot. Smoke from the burning city carried on the breeze: it would be difficult for the rabbis inside the temple to keep order. They looked at one another, faces worried.
"How did they get to the gates that quickly?" Isaac asked.
"I'm not sure," came the tight response, "but I know that it can't last much longer. Look, the walls are being scaled as it is, and the gates aren't strong enough to hold forever." It was true: the tops of the city walls teemed with battle, and then a thump ended hollowly. Loud yelling and screaming came from the direction of the eastern gate. "They're in, now. It won't be long."
Almost the same mix of men and women as fought at the walls stood here, ready to fight for the women and children inside the temple. They shifted uneasily, holding weapons that most of them did not know how to use, and there was an audible mutter of prayers going skyward.
Closer and closer came the sounds of battle. Then the Babylonians rushed around the corner. It was time to make a stand, or surrender to slavery.
Isaac tried to stay close to Noah. But the swirling tides of battle tore them apart: Through a break between the lines he glimpsed the rabbinical student fighting calmly and coolly like a veteran with two soldiers. Then the lines closed and another soldier turned to face Isaac.
As fast as they came, the Hebrews cut down the invaders. And yet the invaders kept coming, slowly pushing the back the line of defenders. They were already inside the temple grounds...
"Hold the line!" Isaac heard a familiar voice yell, but he couldn't see Noah. He took up the cry for him: "Hold the line!"
And still the line gave, little by little swept back under the onslaught. A point came where they no longer bothered fighting Isaac, simply ran yelling and cheering through the piles of the dead into the temple. "No..." But it was too late: Jerusalem had fallen. and the last of the temple defenders still standing were rounded up into a group with the terrified, screaming women and children.
~*~*~
The black smoke of burning Jerusalem rose into the sky still: some of the other slaves had been put to work at putting them out. But the vast majority, from Jerusalem and from other cities that had fallen to the Babylonian army, were removing the corpses from the city. It was a filthy business: most of those who had fought were wounded, the smoke and ash and dust in the air mingled with the sweat on their faces and bodies and the sun had started decomposition of the bodies already. Isaac was covered in more blood than he ever though possible, from more people than he cared to know. He had begun to block out the faces of those he carried to the bonfires outside the city, but happened to glance at one just as the flames began to take the body.
"Rivka..." He blacked out, but only for a moment as one of the others woke him.
"You musn't faint, sir," said the girl.
"I knew her..."
"I don't mean to be cruel, but you may have to do this several more times. I think everyone here knew someone in that pile," she said. "You're not alone." Then she sighed. "I hate war..."
"Hey!" One of the slave guards yelled. He came up and cuffed them both sharply. "None of that," he growled in barely passable Hebrew. "You're here to work, not to talk, do you understand?"
Nearby they were executing the leaders of Jerusalem, as well as any who refused to submit. It was a silent warning, an intimidation tactic. Isaac's eyes kept straying between the bodies he carried and the swords that flashed in the air. Once in a while he recognized somebody: that was the rabbi Noah had been speaking with, there was another of the students, the governor of Jerusalem... Noah...
Noah seemed to sense him. Bruised, bloodied, unashamed, he held his head high and scanned the crowds. He was the next in line, yet he knew Isaac was out there. Across the distance their eyes met. Worry reflected in his eyes: if Isaac was working then it would not be for him, but for Rivka. He shook his head. Noah grimaced, then smiled a thank-you. And he, too, fell under the sword.
Afterwards, Isaac never thought anything could hurt that badly. He could have sworn he felt the sword go into Noah, but lived through the agony that was his friend's death. All he knew was a white-hot pain that seared his heart: he could not breathe, was not conscious of the kicking his fallen body was receiving. The pain, and the emptiness inside.
The words he was later was told he spoke came from nowhere, puzzled him to the end of his life.
"Another time, then..."
Part One - Owari
(1) Dung was a very good source of fuel in those days: it happened, it had to be gotten rid of, there was plenty of it... why not burn it? I just probably wouldn't eat anything cooked over a dung fire... ::shudders::