Three Faces
By DSA
Reload. 1+2 Shonen-Ai.

Despite the high pitch shelling, and the constant bombardment of bombs, the shelter in which they crowded into only shook a little. Apparently the main targets of the bombing raid was the inside city, and not the out edges. Still, it did not make it safe for them. It was unknown if they would conduct a swept back out around the south end, which was where the shelter stood.

As Zechs looked around, he could see the pale, pinched expression of civilians who huddled in the darken corners of the concrete room. Old men, women, and children only. The few young men standing or resting in the far right corner were his men. Soldiers, not civilians. The young men around his age were recruited into the two warring forces at play, fodder for the grinding machinery of politics. Without the rights of civilians. Not that it mattered here in the war zone.

In battle, every one was the same. It was only after the battle did being a civilian or a soldier matter. It divided the victims into humanitarian violations or simple losses of military resources. A greater tally would be down much latter, although it would be very rough. Damn whatever political ideals that had begun the war. War came at too high a price. He hoped General Khrusenda knew what he was doing. He did not.

Adrift in his grim thoughts, he suddenly felt a sensation of eyes upon him. Coming back down, he looked up and caught the curious eyes of a young child. Despite the grim circumstances, they sparkled merrily. At first he thought the child was a girl, due to the long braid that hand messily down his shoulder, however the compulsory blue missionary tag around his neck announced his sex. Unable to help himself, he smiled at the cheerful boy. The boy grinned back. He shot to his feet and bounced over to Zechs' side, reassured apparently by the smile. Zechs blinked, a little startled at the speed in which the boy moved. It was lightening fast.

'Hey, why do ya wear that weird thing on top of ya head?'

Zechs was at lost to answer the question. It was not something he could easily answer to a child. In war, one never knew where a sniper laid, or when a stray bullet might hit, so he wore the helmet everywhere. He wore it even indoors as it became an ingrained habit. It paid off. He had a few dents and scratches scarring the metal to prove it. Even in the seemingly safest places, there was danger. Civilians did not have armour, and soldiers were forbidden to lend them such. It brought a revoke from superiors.

'Is is a hel' or something? Can I try it? Pleeease?'

He could not. Even for a child's request, rules had no exceptions.

'I am sorry, but I must refuse your request.'

The boy sighed and his shoulder slumped. The sparkle went out of his eyes and he pouted. 'Oh.'

He wanted to replace back the sparkle. The previous happiness the child had displayed was a rare thing. Zech thought quickly.

'Do you like candy? How about some of that?'

He had a more than a few saved up from the rations. He had been planning to present them to his little sister when he returned from the field, but Relena had already plenty back in the Neutral zone. The tactic worked. The sparkle slipped right back into the boy's eyes.

'Candy? Really? Ya fer r'al?' The boy's rough street accent came thickly into play as he bounced excitedly around Zechs. 'Ya not jackin' me, right?'

'No, look, here you are.' He pulled out a little bag in which he had been saving them. Kneeling before the boy, Zechs handed him two harden candy out of the bag.

'Aw, thanks a lot!' the boy grinned ecstatically at Zechs and darted away, clutching his hoard possessively to his chest.

Zech chuckled a little as he straightened. He then noticed the other children looking at him. There was a little fear in their eyes at the uniform he wore, however it was far outweighed by envy mingled with hopefulness. There were twelve children in the shelter, including the previous boy. But unlike the apparently cheerful boy, they were non-talkative. Indeed, they only spoke when close adults nearby spoke to them. It was very depressing. However... Zechs smiled back at the curious eyes.

'Hey, do you want some too?' he called out softly. 'It's free.'

The closet child near him looked hesitated. She looked up at the middle age women holding her, as if in question. Smiling the women nodded. The girl then scooted to her feet and shuffled to Zechs. Shyly, she held out her hand. Zechs dropped two into them and she clutched at it. A bright smile lit her face.

'Thank you.' The girl whispered, then she ran back to her mother.

A few other children then got to their feet, after receiving similar encouragements. Soon, Zechs found himself surrounded by children.

'Children, please line up and I'll give you candy one at a time okay?'

A chorus of yeses followed, and soon Zechs organised a neat line. As he got to the last one, to his surprise, he found the same braided boy waiting.

'Oh, you had your share.'

The boy grinned. 'I was hoping ya forget, but I'm not here for myself. I wanna to get some for a friend.'

Zechs looked confused. There had been twelve children only, he had counted.

'Who? Everyone here has had their share.'

'He's up by the opening.'

Zechs head jerked up and swerved towards the stairway of the entrance. That was the most risky part of the shelter. No one at all should be there. The shelter opening always got the worst of any damage. Indeed, the thin board of the door which greeted one at the opening, whatever remained of it, was riddled with bullets, a testament to the fact.

'Blast it- does he want to die? Who's looking after him? Tell your friend to get back here. It's too dangerous near there. The raid hasn't finished yet.'

'That's why I'm here for the candy,' explained the boy. 'Now can I have it?'

There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

Without say a word, Zechs gave him the remaining last two, shuffling the rock candy out of the bag. It wasn't clear how the candy related to the situation, but apparently the boy knew something.

He followed the boy, stopping a little distance before the stairway corridor of the entrance. The braided boy bounced up the steps, past Zechs line of view.

'Hey, I got ya candy.'

The voice was barely audible, almost drowned out by the squealing city battle.

'Keep it. I told you before, I don't want your stuff.'

'It's yours. Everyone's got candy. See, mine's here.'

'Oh.'

'Ya want it?'

'Pass it.'

'Come down and get it.'

Silence followed.

'They're coming. A final sweep.' The unknown voice spoke, almost carelessly switching the subject.

'Come down. Please.'

'A bomber is just over the town hall tower now. After five seconds, it'll be passing here.'

'Look, do ya want the candy or what?'

'Four.'

'I'll eat 'em all if ya don't.'

'Three.'

'Oy, I mean it.'

'Two.'

'Come down! Please.'

'One.'

The explosion rocked the shelter. Zech, being near the opening, bore the full blast of the noise. It tore at the eardrums, a harsh, long roar of destruction. Other explosions, although of lower intensity, added to the roar. Zechs dropped to his knees, clutching his ears in pain. The bombing felt like it could have been minutes, but in reality it was only last less than ten seconds. The howling of the overwhelming shriek was briefly replaced by silence, and then it broke into the merged screams and cries of the sheltering civilians. The previous girl was sobbing loudly in her mother's arms. Her mother and the adults surrounding her uttered hysterical prayers. The children with parent or guardians simply huddled together, and cried too. The earth foundations shook.

However, the shelter stood.

Zechs tensed, waiting for the next explosion. He strained his ears to listen for the tell tale whistle of another attack. He waited for several minutes. Strangely, the only sound beyond the tearful cries inside the shelter was the sound of an aircraft flying off into the distance. After that, there was nothing but the crying of the civilians.

Outside was silent. There was not even the forever present sound of gunfire to puncture the thick, eerie unnaturalness of the silence. It could not be assumed the battle was over, for the all-clear siren did not ring. Not that that siren guaranteed it all the time either, but it would have been reassuring for Zechs to hear it at least. However, there was nothing.

Then footsteps.

Footsteps coming down the stairway. Light ones, those of a child. Zechs looked up from his position. He was kneeling before a unknown face of a young boy. His hair was a shade of dark brown, and his eyes, although somewhat sharp, showing the blood of an Asian, were a deep cobalt blue. They met his. The clearness of them pierced through the metal mask he wore and burned into his own eyes. They read his soul, but gave nothing in return. They held back, or, perhaps they had nothing to give in return. He couldn't tell. Zechs had to tear his eyes away from the emotionless gaze before he drowned in the void.

It was then he noticed that the boy was holding the body of the braided boy from before. He laid limp in the other's arms. Blood ran down his forehead in a wide, trickling stream, across closed eyes. Zech's heart clenched in pain. Another dead. He did not know why he still felt, but he did. Every death counted to him, and it hurt. For what reason, he did not know, but somehow the death of the little boy hurt a lot more than others. Perhaps it was because he knew the face in life before death. Breathing hurt.

The standing boy seem to sense the soldier's pain. He smiled. A stretching of his lips below soulless eyes.

'He's alive.' He said softly, in a husky voice.

Zechs' head jerked up a little.

The little boy came down the stairs and carefully laid the unconscious boy against one of the pillars of the shelter. Upon closer inspection, Zechs could see the slight movement of the other's chest as he breathed in and out. He looked like a broken doll; propped against the concert, limp, however he was not one. For he moved. There laid the difference between dolls and the dead, against the living.

The other boy knelt by his side, and lifted up the pale hand. Opening the other's palm, the brown hair boy removed a wrapped candy, and then closed the hand again, leaving one behind. He carefully unwrapped the rare treat. Laying the wrapper flat on the ground, he removed the solid candy. Then he did something Zechs did not expect. With the round flat harden sugar, he wiped one side of it down the unconscious boy's bloodied face, from his closed eyes, down to his chin. Then, without expression, he placed the candy in his mouth, tasting it.

'Salty and Sweet.'

'Pardon?' Zechs was partially incredulous.

'Blood and candy. Salty and Sweet.' The boy replied solemnly. Then a speculative look flickered across his face. 'Tastes like tears. I wonder why?'

Then the gunfire began again, somewhere, as usual, outside on the battlefield. It provided a background rhythm to the all-clear siren screaming.

Fin.