Moving On
Diviana Foresman
February 2, 2001
***
I say goodbye to Sally and make my way out of the Preventers Headquarters. As I walk briskly down the sidewalk, I pull the collar of my jacket up higher. It is a chilly night, and I, in my naivete, had not brought my larger coat, thinking I would be warm enough.
I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets and cast my eyes down, watching the tan-coloured cement under my booted feet. If Trieze could only see me now, I thought. But he can't, I reminded myself sharply. Trieze is gone, never to return.
I had had this debate with myself many times before. I knew that Trieze was dead -- if he had not died, the war would not have ended. Yet, there was still a part of me that honestly believed he had survived. How, I know not - there was nothing left of the Tallgeese II and it was miles from the nearest colony or spaceport. Even if he had survived somehow, he would probably still be floating out in space. But then again, Trieze wasn't wearing an oxygen suite during the fight. So he would have died anyways.
And so, I have forced myself to believe that he is truly dead, as much as my heart disagrees. I feel a drop of moisture on my neck, and I am wrenched from my thoughts as I realize it is raining. Not a heavy rain, mind you, just a soft drizzle. As I walk onward, I return to my thoughts, staring straight ahead of me. And I can't help but notice how much the tiny drops of rain falling from the sky resemble his eyes. A crystylline blue, like the ocean. They were so easy to get lost in. You could have drowned before you even realized it.
Those lovely eyes, how could I forget those lovely eyes of his? Through the time since the war's end, I have been forgetting so many things about him, whether I want to or not. I have long forgotten his voice and the way he'd smile at me. But I could never forget those eyes of his. Perhaps because I see them every day. Even though his face has long lost its features in my memory, his eyes are still there. They stare back at me, the bright blue contrasting with the black background, where his face would have been if I had not forgotten. And though it may sound crazy, I swear they are smiling.
I reach my apartment and let myself in, shaking the water off my jacket. I make myself a cup of hot chocolate and sit in front of the window, watching the rain fall as I snuggle deeper into my quilt. Again, I am lost in my thoughts, though this time, they are of memories...
...His hand was warm as it gripped mine. We walked throughout the park aimlessly, going nowhere in particular. All of a sudden, it began to pour, as if some celestial dam had been opened. Trieze and I continued walking slowly, however, and soon pause under a tall oak tree. As we waited patiently for the rain to stop, we talked. Nothing much, just a petty little conversation to keep ourselves going. Most of it, that I can remember, was something like this:
"Lovely day, isn't it, Colonel?" he had said.
I answered, "Yes, sir, it is."
"And the rain, Colonel, what do you make of the rain?"
"What do you mean, sir? How do I feel about the rain?"
Trieze smiled. "The rain has many meanings. It gives life, as to us, yet it can take that right away just as quickly. Like a rose..."
"A rose, sir?" Back then, I was so in love with him, I repeated his words as often as I was allowed.
"A rose." he had answered. "Beautiful and descructive at the same time. In fact, it reminds me of someone I know... someone quite close to me..."
I knew then, that he shared my feelings. And though we never told anyone, not even each other, we both knew it. But, now, what now? Am I supposed to go on, living without him? How could I? It would be impossible. Yet, I've made it this far. I've become a major political speaker, I've helped end the war, and I'm working as hard as I possibly can to prevent another. Yes, I've made it this far, but how much longer will it be until I snap or break down? How much longer must I continue berating myself for allowing his death to happen before I could tell him I love him?
As I sit watching the rain pour outside my window, I see his face once more. And not just his eyes. No, this time, I see him standing there, with his hand outstretched, a smile upon his lips. The apparition fades, even though he said not a word, I know what he was trying to tell me. Trieze had always loved me, and he knew I loved him back. He was proud to have me as his right-hand soldier. And most importantly, he is not gone. Trieze may be dead, but he's not gone. As long as I continue loving him, he will always live on, in my heart...
~~~owari~~~
A/N: I don't own GW. Neither do I have any money, so unless you want my collection of nail polishes, don't sue me, okay?
Diviana Foresman
February 2, 2001
***
I say goodbye to Sally and make my way out of the Preventers Headquarters. As I walk briskly down the sidewalk, I pull the collar of my jacket up higher. It is a chilly night, and I, in my naivete, had not brought my larger coat, thinking I would be warm enough.
I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets and cast my eyes down, watching the tan-coloured cement under my booted feet. If Trieze could only see me now, I thought. But he can't, I reminded myself sharply. Trieze is gone, never to return.
I had had this debate with myself many times before. I knew that Trieze was dead -- if he had not died, the war would not have ended. Yet, there was still a part of me that honestly believed he had survived. How, I know not - there was nothing left of the Tallgeese II and it was miles from the nearest colony or spaceport. Even if he had survived somehow, he would probably still be floating out in space. But then again, Trieze wasn't wearing an oxygen suite during the fight. So he would have died anyways.
And so, I have forced myself to believe that he is truly dead, as much as my heart disagrees. I feel a drop of moisture on my neck, and I am wrenched from my thoughts as I realize it is raining. Not a heavy rain, mind you, just a soft drizzle. As I walk onward, I return to my thoughts, staring straight ahead of me. And I can't help but notice how much the tiny drops of rain falling from the sky resemble his eyes. A crystylline blue, like the ocean. They were so easy to get lost in. You could have drowned before you even realized it.
Those lovely eyes, how could I forget those lovely eyes of his? Through the time since the war's end, I have been forgetting so many things about him, whether I want to or not. I have long forgotten his voice and the way he'd smile at me. But I could never forget those eyes of his. Perhaps because I see them every day. Even though his face has long lost its features in my memory, his eyes are still there. They stare back at me, the bright blue contrasting with the black background, where his face would have been if I had not forgotten. And though it may sound crazy, I swear they are smiling.
I reach my apartment and let myself in, shaking the water off my jacket. I make myself a cup of hot chocolate and sit in front of the window, watching the rain fall as I snuggle deeper into my quilt. Again, I am lost in my thoughts, though this time, they are of memories...
...His hand was warm as it gripped mine. We walked throughout the park aimlessly, going nowhere in particular. All of a sudden, it began to pour, as if some celestial dam had been opened. Trieze and I continued walking slowly, however, and soon pause under a tall oak tree. As we waited patiently for the rain to stop, we talked. Nothing much, just a petty little conversation to keep ourselves going. Most of it, that I can remember, was something like this:
"Lovely day, isn't it, Colonel?" he had said.
I answered, "Yes, sir, it is."
"And the rain, Colonel, what do you make of the rain?"
"What do you mean, sir? How do I feel about the rain?"
Trieze smiled. "The rain has many meanings. It gives life, as to us, yet it can take that right away just as quickly. Like a rose..."
"A rose, sir?" Back then, I was so in love with him, I repeated his words as often as I was allowed.
"A rose." he had answered. "Beautiful and descructive at the same time. In fact, it reminds me of someone I know... someone quite close to me..."
I knew then, that he shared my feelings. And though we never told anyone, not even each other, we both knew it. But, now, what now? Am I supposed to go on, living without him? How could I? It would be impossible. Yet, I've made it this far. I've become a major political speaker, I've helped end the war, and I'm working as hard as I possibly can to prevent another. Yes, I've made it this far, but how much longer will it be until I snap or break down? How much longer must I continue berating myself for allowing his death to happen before I could tell him I love him?
As I sit watching the rain pour outside my window, I see his face once more. And not just his eyes. No, this time, I see him standing there, with his hand outstretched, a smile upon his lips. The apparition fades, even though he said not a word, I know what he was trying to tell me. Trieze had always loved me, and he knew I loved him back. He was proud to have me as his right-hand soldier. And most importantly, he is not gone. Trieze may be dead, but he's not gone. As long as I continue loving him, he will always live on, in my heart...
~~~owari~~~
A/N: I don't own GW. Neither do I have any money, so unless you want my collection of nail polishes, don't sue me, okay?