Lilies Fair by Zooie
Standard disclaimers apply
Heero POV
You weren’t supposed to grow old. Though you’d been denied
your childhood and were never truly young, your body was still strong.
You were virulent, animated, robust. You were ageless.
“Age is something that doesn’t matter unless you are a
cheese,” you once told me.
You weren’t supposed to die. You were indestructible, untouchable,
infallible. You were beyond the grasp of death, suspended in a timeless
rhapsody of perseverance and determination. You were timeless.
“It is only possible to live happily ever after on a day-to-day
basis,” you used to say.
You weren’t supposed to leave me. You were my bond with life.
You helped me see what I had to live for, not what I had to regret.
You turned my shadows into light. You completed me.
"Enjoy life. There's plenty of time to be dead," you’d
laugh.
There was a time that I believed you. There were days when your words
were enough. There were moments when your smile was all the reason I
needed to go on.
But then I watched as the zest faded from your eyes, as your quick
movements became stiff, as your skin became marred and wrinkled. I watched
as your braid became streaked with silver, as your limbs grew frail
and brittle, as your laugh became coarse and harsh. I watched as you
grew old.
"No man is ever old enough to know better," you would grin.
I stood witness to your death. You faced that final battle alone, smiling
to the last, even as the cancer sapped you of your strength. You brushed
aside my worries, content to accept your lot.
"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we
wait so long to begin it," you’d sighed.
I held your hand on that last day, watching as your chest slowly rose
and fell. Your hand was cold and limp; your skin felt like paper. We
both knew the time had come, but only I was afraid, terrified at being
left behind.
“Where there is love, there is life," you reassured me.
“You will never be alone. I will always live on within you.”
And then your eyes closed for the last time. And as I sat there beside
your bed, holding your lifeless hand, I wished I had the strength to
join you.
********************
I sit in what was once our house, a space that now belongs to me alone.
It’s a small, tidy structure with clean lines and soaring ceilings.
It rises from the surrounding earth as if it were organic, emerging
from the soil like some natural being. The rooms are bright and airy,
illuminated by sprawling windows and gaping skylights. The decor is
intimate, but functional. There is little excess. We’d chosen
a palette of warm colors and rich fabrics, creating an atmosphere that
is snug and welcoming. Outer space is far too cold.
It had been years before we’d settled permanently. Neither of
us had had a stable home during our youths and the idea of a fixed residence
had seemed odd. After the war, we’d stayed in the colonies for
a while, traveling from satellite to satellite, lending our voices wherever
they were needed. We’d allowed ourselves to be used as political
figureheads, recognizing that without our cooperation our efforts would
be for naught. People need reminders, lest they begin to forget. We
compromised our integrity in the name of peace.
By AC 201 relations were relatively stable between Earth and the colonies.
Both of us frazzled from the constant attention and publicity, we decided
to take an extended vacation. We’d traveled to Earth with the
intention to leisurely tour the planet. So we did, taking in sights
of beauty and sophistication, reveling in what we had managed to save,
yet regarding it with disjointed interest. The Earth was stunning, yes,
but it held little but bloody memories for either of us. Then we visited
Australia.
A land untamed by man, a innate exquisiteness not of this world. It
was virginal, pure. It was a place to start anew. And so we had, making
out home there for over fifty years.
Now I sit in our living room, perched at the edge of the leather couch,
staring at the plethora of photo albums I’ve spread across the
coffee table. I’ve spent a lot of time with these albums since
you left and can describe from memory each picture in detail. I can
tell you which albums capture our best years and which ones portray
our worst. I know them by heart, because that is where the memories
lie.
I open the volume from our first years. It is the thinnest and more
worn than the rest. I flip through the book, eyes unseeing, not needing
to look at the images to relieve those days. I know what I’ll
see. I know these pages hold the faces of the dead.
I move past the snapshots of Quatre and Trowa, their fledgling relationship
lending an exuberant energy to their smiles. I bypass the occasional
photos of Wufei, smirking at the idiocy which defines our universe.
I merely glance at shots of Relena, although the bubbly girl the images
showed would have shocked the general public. She had never been one
to display her emotions heedlessly.
I stop near the end of the album. A photo of you is pasted in the center
of the page. It’s long been my favorite. You’d always been
hard to photograph. You would either don a cheesy grin or would refuse
to smile at all. You never looked natural. Never once had any one succeeded
in capturing you in the image. Except for this once.
The picture was taken in the winter. You stand at the edge of a field,
dressed in short-sleeves and jeans, your hair pulling loose of its braid.
Snow if falling lazily all around you. Your face is tilted up towards
the sky and you have your hand raised slightly in the air, the snowflakes
gently brushing against your skin. Your expression is reverent, your
eyes filled with amazement. You have such an open look of innocence
and wonderment. For once there is nothing jaded or adopted about your
stance. In that moment, you were free of your past. In that photo, your
soul had shone through.
I had been the one to snap the picture. And then I had taken your hand
in mine, had gently turned your face towards me. I had stared into your
marveling eyes and admitted my love for you, there amongst the wandering
snowflakes. And when you kissed me, you freed my soul.
*******
The End
*******
Note: Everything Duo says is a famous quote, except for the second
half of his last statement. I didn’t footnote them because it
would’ve really interrupted the flow of the fic. But giving credit
where credit is due... listed in order of quotage.
1. Billie Burke
2. Margaret Bonnano
3. Anonymous
4. Holbrook Jackson
5. WM Lewis
6. Gandhi
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