Title: The Chosen One
Synopsis: Noah was the most righteous of his time, but he was not a perfect man. His time as one of the last humans on earth brings vengeance to person who was supposed to save humanity. /Earl-centric, very dark/
Rating: T
A/N: As I'm writing this I turn to my sister and say, "I just realized that I'm writing fan fiction about the bible. I'm going to hell." And then I realized that all of DGM is basically fan fiction about the bible and that every Allen/Lavi thought that I've had means that I'm basically writing slash fiction about the bible. And now I can never walk into a religious institution again. Anyways, I'm sorry if I got some of the biblical stuff wrong; I'm a fan fic writer. I like to pervert the original text in whatever ways I can.
Disclaimer: I don't own DGM, because if I did, the series would make sense.
…
"In Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham prayed for the souls of the people who would be lost," my son, Ham, tells me over dinner on the third night of our voyage. "And he begged the Lord to stop and to change his plan but He did not listen. Still, Abraham tried. What did you do, father?" My son asks me this knowing what it does to me; knowing that it kills me to hear him say this.
Earlier that day the bodies began to appear. It was the first day that we were able to venture onto the deck of the ship. I went with Ham and Shem; Japheth was too seasick to leave his bed. Though it was pouring rain we walked to the edge of ship and looked over. The water was almost black. I was about to walk away, needing to tend to the animals, when I heard my son's scream.
Back in our village Ham and his beautiful bride, Sare, had been popular. They dined each night with good friends and were well regarded. Amongst those friends were a newlywed couple that they had loved as brother and sister.
"Ham, what is it?" Shem yells to his brother. Through the rain and wind I struggled towards him. "Why are you screaming?"
The man was strong; a carpenter. He had a hearty appetite and a heartier laugh. When he smiled it was from his heart and when he cried the tears were real. I remembered how, on his wedding day, he shed tears of happiness unlike any I had seen before. His name was Gavri and he had dark hair and a muscular body.
It was raining. I could not see the tears streaming down my son's face. All I could hear were the heart-wrenching sobs coming from his chest and how Shem's face –once he had reached his brother- had grown white.
But Gavri was not alone in tears during his wedding. His bride cried as much as he did. She was feminine and beautiful; she had golden curls and caring brown eyes. When she smiled the world smiled with her. Chaya was her name and it meant life and the joy of living. When one was around her they could understand her name, just as they could understand her husband's. He was manly and virile and she was joyfully alive.
When I reached my son I tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away, choosing to look back down into the ocean, only to vomit on the deck when he did once again. I was helpless; I looked down.
Somehow, despite the turbulent waves and great rain, Gavri and Chaya were still together. They floated next to each other, rain pouring down on their faces, their bodies sinking a bit and floating back up again. Were their hands latched around the others? I could not tell. My mind fleetingly wondered if the Ark had moved at all and if we would be seeing other familiar faces.
Shem had taken his brother by the shoulders and was now guiding him back into the Ark, away from the unwanted memories of the world that had been taken from us. I, however, stayed outside. The Ark was moving; I knew that to be true. Wave after wave shook the boat, nearly shaking me off of the dock, but yet, the couple stayed behind us. There was a ghost of a smile on Chaya's once lively face. As I stared I saw that.
"I am not perfect," I tell my son. "I have just done the task that my Lord has asked me to-"
"You say my Lord, father, but is He really your Lord? Is He not all of ours? All of us that are left, of course." Shem and his wife Nora look away, not wishing to be part of this argument. My wife, Set, gasps but says nothing. Japeth is still in his room where his wife Serac tends to him as he moans with his sickness. Sare stares at her usually docile husband with wide eyes; he is not one to disrespect his elders. "But He is all of ours; do not be so selfish as to say that He only looks to you. I understand that He chose you as His favorite of all beings, but He would not-"
"Son, I am not perfect. I do not know why the Lord chose me to be His messenger but-"
"Abraham prayed for those who perished in Sodom and Gomorrah. What will you do?" Ham repeats to me as he stands up from our table. His food is left unfinished as he leaves the table. As he walks away he wipes a sleeve to his face. Sare gives me a sympathetic look and chases after her husband.
"Father, I…" Shem does not know what to say, nor do I. "Ham is sad; we all are."
"My youngest son was always my most sentimental. Ham has just…" And I realize that I have nothing to say.
The bodies of my son's friends were not the only ones that we saw along our journey. Days would pass and the rain would be too much to handle. Other days I would venture outside and see the bloated decaying bodies of the humans and animals that died by my Lord's hands. My sons did not venture outside again until the rain stopped. For me, it became a sick hobby.
I did not know why the Lord had chosen me to be the one to man his Ark, to save his creatures. My son was correct; I was not Abraham. I was not entirely good. There were times that I was jealous or angry. Occasionally I found myself questioning Him and His motives. I had lied and cheated and stolen. I was told that I was the most righteous of the people of my time, but that did not mean that I was as righteous as those who had come before me.
And on those long days of rain I would watch those bodies go past my boat and wonder who they were. In my town there were all sorts of people. When an older man floated past I wondered if he was like Nadiv, the blacksmith. Or when a young girl, no more than seven, was brought to the ship by a giant wave I was reminded of Zeela, the daughter of my friend Biran. And I came to wonder, why?
Humans would never be perfect. There would never be a person who could meet up to the ideal in His eyes. Noah, himself, the one chosen by Him was not perfect and I knew that. Why then, me? If I had died along with the rest of my people then would there have been this guilt? This… hatred.
Yes, hatred. That was there, now. As I saw each rotting carcass of a person who someone had once loved, there was a darkness growing in my heart. If my Lord was just and if He cared, would He have let this happen? They had purposes and they had lives and yet, He just let them die without proper burials and with no ceremony. Would He have done that?
Or was He just the most unfair of creatures, laughing at the poor humans as they suffered?
And if He did do that, what was that to stop anyone else from doing the same? Couldn't anyone theoretically call themselves a God and do the same? And if that were the case-
"Noah, don't stand out here alone," my wife tells me, putting a hand on my shoulder. It is hard to hear her above the storm; it is hard to see her through the rain. "You'll get sick."
But I knew that I was already sick. The seed had been sown and the idea grew. I hated God and all that he stood for. He took from those who did not deserve it and gave to those who deserved it less. I had been chosen, yes, but for what purpose? If He were to just repeat this again and again with no one stopping him, what point was there?
And at that moment, I knew. I would stop Him. No matter the time, no matter the cost, I would stop that detestable God and all that He stood for.
…
"Earl~, are you alright? You're so quiet; it's not like you."
"Oh yes, Road~! 3 I'm just going down memory lane for a little while!"
"Oh~, really? What are you remembering, Earl? Dirty, dirty things? Teehee?"
"Oh~, nothing much and nothing quite as exciting as that! Just the way that I became how I am and how al of this began."
…
Fin