Author's Note: Going for a little tragedy here, this is my favorite pairing. The characters might be a bit ooc because I haven't refreshed myself on the anime in quite some time. Regardless, here's my fiction work again! For those of you keeping up with my other projects, no, I haven't quit. I've just been real busy as of late! Sorry!
Anyway, this is my first fic for this fandom! Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. If I did, I'd have access to all the fanstuff I missed out on because I was flat broke. SIGH
Warning: Light shonen-ai.
Pairing: 1x3 (Heero x Trowa).
Fic Note: Not really going for any real plotline here, nor am I really basing this within any timeline within the actual GW story. This fic was actually inspired by several debates in one of my classes about what would happen if everyone decided one day that the world needed to be purged of a certain group of people and worked together to do so; a mass genocide. That, and I felt that I really needed to write something again.
Far Too Late to Say
His life was devoid of meaning once again, this time forever.
"We have to go, now," the urgency in the voice triggered a response from the taller of the two brunettes.
Neutral emerald eyes locked with worried azure ones. "Not yet."
There was tension. A million questions and a thousand arguments swirled in the atmosphere. A soft, pink tongue wetted parched lips. "We have no time left."
"Go ahead then, I'll catch up."
The shorter of the two young men was becoming annoyed, "What could possibly be more important?"
"The last act; I still have to perform."
That did it. The taller brunette had completely lost his companion with his logic. In exactly fifteen hours from that very moment, the order to destroy the planet they were currently residing in would be put into effect. Here this young acrobat was before his comrade in arms, worrying not about how he should be heading for the last few escape shuttles headed out to safety, but about some final small performance concluding a circus program. The whole idea was absurd.
"You're joking."
"I'll leave that to Duo."
The darker brunette found himself wetting his lips again. There was no moving his companion, he knew that much. If there was one piece of knowledge he gained over the years, it was that the Heavyarms pilot would not be moved once he created a mission for himself, he would see it out to the very end. It was that exact quality that had attracted him to this young man, a pilot with the same values as his own. There was only one difference; this one could be negotiated with, given that an enticing offer could be set on the table.
"So you absolutely have to go."
Emerald eyes flickered determination, "Yes."
"When is the final act?"
"Five hours."
Five hours. The two of them had already wasted a good twenty minutes on conversation, and given that they had a fifteen hour time limit when the conversation started, after five hours would leave a window of about ten hours or less to their deadline.
"How long is the act?"
"A while."
"How long?" the speaker's emotional control was slowly slipping.
"An art form can't be rushed," was the reply.
"I'll come back for you," blue eyes sparkled with energy, "I'll make you come with me then."
"Then I will wait for you," the other agreed.
As the perfect soldier turned to leave, he would prepare for both their departures, the taller pilot grabbed a hold of the other's wrist. Blue eyes were filled with confusion and a shy flicker of hope, hope that he had come to his senses and was ready to follow. Those hopes would soon be crushed.
"Heero."
The perfect soldier looked at the taller one in the eyes, waiting. The once nameless one bent slowly forward, lips hovering seductively, eyes appearing to be trying to memorize the other's face. "Heero Yuy. I love you."
It was the simplest thing Trowa had said all day, but somehow it spoke volumes that neither understood just yet; it was not yet the time for understanding. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, neither knowing what was to be done next. Finally, they broke apart, both disappointed about something but neither could place their finger on what.
The spotlight was hot on Trowa's face. Even though he was shirtless and in his usual simple outfit, Trowa was sweating profusely. For the first time ever in a performance, Trowa appeared nervous. Even the lions could smell it; they paced their cages in agitation. His uncertainty was causing even Catherine's hands to shake, all knowledge of knife-throwing suddenly erased from her. The crowd was silent, expecting. They had no idea. Catherine had no idea. Only Trowa knew, out of all those people, the fate that would befall them; they could only guess. He regained his confidence when he reminded himself why he had asked to be left behind.
When the act was over, the news broadcasts began. Trowa waited outside, as he had promised; he felt his stomach twist a bit inside as he listened to the announcements. He felt as if his performance had been all for nothing. His audience was trapped in their seats, unable to move from fear, the shock at their current situation.
After waiting for some time, a small rush of panic rose in Trowa's heart. When he finally decided that it was time to just head for the escape shuttle on his own, he realized that it was too late. The nearest shuttle was a good four hours away and he had only two hours left on the clock to remain alive. There was only one thing left to do at this point, Trowa figured. He gathered the people into the tent once again, to finish what he started.
Heero had been just about to leave when the shuttle had unexpectedly taken off. He had been thrown back onto some cargo and was disoriented for only a few moments. When he came to, the first thing he did was look out a window. A hysterical passenger had hijacked the cockpit and started the shuttle. It was too late to go back.
Next thing he knew, Heero had fallen into a mad rampage. Thoughts of regret and anger coursed through his veins; regret for leaving and for letting his companion stay, frustration from not being able to return, and blinding anger. It was the maliciousness growing inside of him that provided him pleasure when the warm blood of his victim splattered all over his body from the several shots he had fired. For the first time in his life, he felt joy from destroying a man's life so voluntarily. It would never be enough; the victory so short-lived.
"Heero."
The countdown began. The remaining pilots were too shocked to deal with Heero, but in more of a panic to focus on getting the shuttle out of range from the planet designated for termination. Heero barely registered slipping away his weapon, running from the cockpit and staring out the nearest window. He plastered his hands on it, cupping them around the planet, as if that would save what was left behind.
They knew it was the end. Trowa knew and he felt no reason to blame his lover for never making it back. He forgave him; it could have happened to anyone. Trowa was strong, he could care for himself. He felt no real fear, just peace. Tranquility as he got on that rope and did one last flip, the last one his audience would ever see; flipped to the cheers of the last crowd Trowa would ever hear. He felt no regret for staying, even as a white light engulfed him and he was being painfully shredded apart. His pain lasted for an instant and then there was no more.
His mission of choice had been accomplished, with an unexpected price. He gave the people one last thing to smile about, to the death. Had he lived, he would have said that it was a risk he wanted to take.
The planet was gone in an instant and things no longer made sense to Heero. Earth had been destroyed by the leaders of the space colonies insisting that they needed to purge the system of evil. Trowa had not been evil and could never be. So Heero did not know how to feel' the minute his lover died, he instantly transformed into a cold façade, something his lover had spent years chipping away.
Staring into the darkness where all that was familiar to him once resided, he had a revelation.
"Heero Yuy. I love you."
He leaned forward to the glass, a thin stream of tears flowing down his face, and he remembered the kiss. He remembered every laughter, argument, and battle in which they had corresponded with one another. He remembered every serene moment they had just sat outside in the fields, just content with the silence of one another's company. He remembered sweet whispers and warm nights.
It was around then that he realized he had forgotten to say something to those beautiful emerald eyes before they had parted earlier that day. Something he had been waiting to say for years, something his lover had been waiting for. He should have just gone and said it when he was given the chance too, but he had no way of knowing then that it would be the only chance he would ever get. It just wasn't fair, and it was too late. It was far too late for all that now and he knew.
He would never be able to forgive himself.
OWARI
Saikenyuu: Thank you for reading! I hope I can start finding time to plug out some more fictions soon! In the meantime, I appreciate reader reviews/comments/criticisms/suggestions/etc.! All essentially the same thing I guess, haha. Hope to see you all again!