Nostalgia

Author: Mujaki no Tsubasa

Rating: PG

Before, it was just them, and wires, and oil, and metal and screws and nails and electrical currents and fuel and everything was perfect. Even as their robots broke down because of poor design did not faze them, only serving as a push for them to try even harder, to do it better, to fulfill their expectations to themselves.

It was perfect.

Now, Spanner's Moscas no longer went dead underwater, nor did they break down under a thunderstorm because of circuit short-outs, nor was the energy supply so meager that it could only run for an hour at most. His Moscas were powerful. His Moscas were as close to perfect as they could be. Yet the other half was missing.

Perfection never seemed so far away.

He saw Byakuran several times, on the monitor when they were having base-wide broadcasts. There was deceit, there was manipulation, there was power and there was something that felt, that sounded like perfection in form of music as the man spoke, as he laughed, as he joked, as he commanded in poisonous honey.

Power - something Spanner always thought he had, now found that he never had any.

There was nothing he could do except to perfect and perfect and perfect his Moscas until absolutely nothing else could be done to enhance their performance. The metal cases were packed with wires, with guns and with flamethrowers and with hidden spikes and blades and laser guns and everything that would be capable of total annihilation.

There was no place for a heart.

He saw Shouichi sometimes too, here and there within the snippets of Byakuran's broadcast, other times where they passed each other on the hallway - a rare occurence that left Spanner at a loss for words each time their eyes met. Shouichi said nothing, only offering a nod.

There was no use for the past. Only the present.

It wasn't like Spanner meant to pry. The tiny droplets of blood on Shouichi's trousers were just in plain sight. So were the bags under his eyes. So were the dull, red marks just under the collar of his uniform. So was the way his hair was tossled about 1.5 inches more to the left than usual. It was all too obvious not to notice. They just caught those keen eyes of Spanner's on accident, that was all.

The ache in his chest was just an illusion, caused by many sleepless nights.

An illusion that felt so real.

He returned to his Moscas, to embrace them, to hold their cold metallic skin against his own. They were comfort. Comfort whenever he felt lonely in this big, cold room where only the lifeless resided.

Because Spanner was lifeless too.

Maybe it was also because he was lonely that the Tenth Vongola was still alive, handcufffed to his bed. Inside the guise of striving for power, maybe Spanner just wanted some company. Something alive that could breathe some life into his frozen little existence. He was committing treason, he had already become a traitor, he had deceived the only friend he had.

But Spanner could not turn back anymore.

The boy was his pet. His little lab rat. His little flicker of warmth. For it felt so nice listening to spoken words every morning when he woke up instead of hearing the whirring of the machines overhead. The boy whined, growled, punched, kicked, laughed, screamed, and breathed. It was all so life-like that it scorched like the sun.

Spanner's childhood was already gone.

He could imagine what look would be on Shouichi's face if he found out - if he finally knew that Spanner had been lying to him all along. Would Shouichi kill him? Would Shouichi torture him? Would Shouichi put him under a flurry of insults that would skewer Spanner's frozen heart? Or would he put a bullet through Spanner's head without a word?

Spanner had been destined to that fate since the start.

But at least it would get Shouichi to look at him in the eye again.