AN: Karle Wilson Baker's Let Me Grow Lovely inspired this…and cold medicine. I don't think I've ever written something this strange; I wasn't even going to publish it, but since I'm sick- and this was done in thirty minutes (It demanded to be written) – I probably won't be working on my actually stories until I'm feeling better so felt a little guilty and did post this. May be taken down later.
X
Let Me Grow Lovely
He had seen it in veterans- the sickness called age. Contrary to belief, it was not a thing only humans were afflicted with. It gave Reploids younger than he, who had fought longer, more fiercely, a snarling twist to their mouths and a hard, almost maniacal glint in their eyes. Perhaps that was why so many succumbed to the Virus now, worn as they were…
He had seen it in Dr. Cain. Even as the man had struggled to extend his life, his spirit had lost its vibrancy some time before Sigma had separated from the Hunters, yet he had tried to hold on to life, all for some twisted sense of obligation. Dr. Cain had known then, what was happening, that Sigma was Irregular- that he had ushered in an age of terror and death: He knew what he had done.
X, too, knew what he had done- those were his children waging this war. He was the father of those Reploids, and Zero was the origin of the virus. Their offspring were a fearful symmetry of insanity and machine.
They were the Fathers of Death.
X had watched his friend grow old as well; the weight of the Virus, being the original carrier of the genocidal flaw that marred an otherwise rational race, was staggering even for Zero's proud shoulders.
He would fall, too, as Dr. Cain and the veterans- most of the others already had -and X could only watch Zero refuse his offered hand, feeling horror that descended upon him in an almost gentle mien.
He knew it, then, that the age would touch him as well.
He knew...he had been the first of his kind, and he would be the last.
That age had claimed his father. Maybe it was the first thing he'd ever seen: The pain and love and the breaking age in that dear man's eyes.
I have no shield against it. I will grow old...I will grow old, soon. But...please, don't let me grow old like that. I can't grow morose and downtrodden. I have to be stronger: This world will collapse in steel and fire and hopelessness, and I must be there for the ones left.
So, no…. Don't let me grow old, just...let me grow, let me be strong- let me be a father to my people again.
Let me grow lovely, growing old.