The rain of enemy fire and screams of bursting engines, deafened the bleeding ears of bludgeoned soldiers. Thick liquid sot out and oozed from holes blasted through felled combatants. Sirens wailed burdening warnings of missile launch and incoming. The shrieks from amputees were the cacophonous chorus that rang through the reddened sky over the rampant heat and roars of war. Sergeant-ranked in the nationally unaffiliated Mithril, Special Response Team member Sousuke Sagara crashed to the ground from a shot to the leg – finally tearing him from the mission at hand and wearing the dis-attached warrior down. His face crashed into a pool of cooling wetness, the copper smell of it filling his nostrils as he lifted his face, feeling the gore was down scarred cheeks. Like a macabre shower, it coated his body, staining his camouflage apparel darker. Bits of things his mind refused to process were stuck in patches of his clumping hair, his blood and others mixed into a coagulation – but on her went, using his loaded weapon as a stand in which to propel himself up. His feral growl turned into a roar as he flung himself back into the brawls.
He surged the battlefield as earth-shaking steps cracked the worn land, yelling – screaming! - in animalistic instinct. Sergeant Sagara jumped over felled victims, his comrades whom they had shared a same housing with, without a single thought, crushing enemy carcases under combat-booted feet.
A moan sounded from the ground as an enemy raised its nearly sliced-in-half body from the dirt, reaching to the Sergeant. Without missing a beat he smashed the butt of his fire arm in contact with the mans deformed face. He felt a growing heat build inside – a fire that licked at his eart, increasing the hatred he already possessed. He wanted that men – these men – to suffer, but instead he put him out of his suited misery.
All around him, just a sea of bodies. He stopped moving in the middle of this ocean, the products of war and blood lust. A sudden wind breezed through, stirring dust and ash in a swirl about his being. His tattered clothes swayed like a cattail in the marshes. The sergeant's stormy eyes widened as he took everything in. he had been fighting but a moment ago. Now it was all falling away. The fighting slowly fell further into the distance until he was surrounding by a bland whiteness. The sterility of the color, White, all around. Save for the slow moving figure approaching him with each gentle footstep. What was the vision doing amidst the dead 0 no, no more dead, just white.
As she strutted closer he noted the small cobalt-trimmed, cerulean sun dress – strapless – that matched with her dark hair, a tinted azure among the ebony strands. Her skin was flawless, creamy like milk. Her eyes like beautiful toffee orbs. When she was not but ten feet away, a smile lit her features, shining like a star – the single ray of hope in a sea of doom.
Then everything was crashed.
Her eyes cringed. Corners of her delicate mouth turning down. Time seemed to slow as the young girl fell to her knees, blood blossoming through a puncture below her left shoulder, seeping in a splotch of crimson to taint her dress. The bullet clipped the sergeant's right bicep, but the pain was not registered. He could only stare at the scene panning out in slow-motion with horror. He dropped and slid behind just before she hit the nothingness of the flooring around them. She stared up at him, eyes glazed as shock set in. She opened her mouth to say something, a bloody mess was made of her once shining teeth. She went limp before she could muster her strength and form the words she wished to speak.
Mouth open and quivering, he clutched her close as a reflex and felt an unnatural coldness start to settle faster than he thought possible. As quickly as the shot, her life slipped out of her from his hands into another place entirely. Screaming, shrieking, into the empty abyss, he found himself in. The agony tore at his emotions, clawed at his heart and ripping it to shreds. He felt himself go mad. Insane. He began pounding his head into the floor, caking the white with splattered blood. His forehead dented, he saw through his doubled vision. A pistol la near by. He rammed into the steel destroyer, pulling it up to his mouth, letting the cold steel graze his tongue upon entry. Tears like molten lava rolled down his face as he looked back upon her crumpled, lifeless body with pained eyes. He squinted and tightened his hold on the trigger.
I'm sorry... he thought as he pulled.
"Baby. Baby – hey, SOUSUKE!" her voice started out as a mumble but grew urgent as she slapped her hand to her husbands chest to stop his frenzied thrashing, eyes tired but wide at this point.
She had ignored his quite, mournful moans as any night, earlier. This night had been different. He fist groaned in sporadic intervals. Then began clinging and clawing at the sheets as if possessed by plaguing nightmares. Finally convulsing about.
Her upper body was above his, nearly bumping heads as he gave a start, eyes wild and roving his surroundings like a crazed animal startled by the area around it. His wife's hair fell around them to one side like a curtain to shield him from the world or oncoming harm. He registered those caring eyes, the same beautiful ones in his dream, albeit worn from a hard days work and abrupt awakening.
Nightmare.
With heaving gasps and shivering breaths, he raised himself on his elbow, muscles tightening. He grabbed her close to him. Her brown eyes widened in shock as he crushed her to his persperated chest.
"Ah-ah-ouch! Sousuke!" she exclaimed in a mutter against his toned torso, face squashed against it with large and fearful force.
Before releasing her he kissed the top of her soft silken hair, as if to reassure himself of the realty of her.
"What's the matter, what's wrong?" she touched his cheek, caressing from jaw-bone to chin and over his crucifix scar.
He cupped his larger, calloused, hand over hers and turning it over, kissed the moistened palm. She smiled lightly, kissing his forehead and brushing his sweat-stuck hair out of the way. Licking away the light moisture from her sweet buds, he used his abdominals to heft himself up and kiss them.
"It was just a nightmare. I'm sorry I woke you," he frowned slightly, unnerved still by the vision. "Bad dream,"
"About war...? Fighting?" her lips gave a little pout in her sympathy.
Sousuke closed shadowed eyes and leaned himself back slowly.
"Much worse than just that," as he opened his eyes again, he brought her upper body closer to him with a light hand at her back.
Kissing the soft flesh where beneath a fast-pulsing heart pump, he settled himself again, suitable for them both. She nestled into him, finding a comfortable and familiar spot and stared up at him through thick lashes with caring, chocolate eyes. He smiled as he pulled her body into his fore a brief moment, her breathing slowing.
And there he sat, holding the same body as in his dream – alive as they bother were. He returned to his sleeping after a time and dreamt no more of massacres, but of subtle, discreet beach getaways and honeymoon evenings they had so recently shared. At the pinnacle, he smiled as he was fully swept under sleeps mighty wing.
A/N:
Was it worth your while?
If so – comment!
If not – tell me why and give me constructive criticism!
I'm sorry for Kaname's "death" scene : ( it was hard to write on an emotional stand point for myself TTnTT
