Alone: A Gundam Wing One-shot
The sun hung low in the sky, a large golden disk dipping down into a pool of blood. Everywhere he looked all he could see was the tinged with that deep crimson red. Heart's blood covered the land about him. Acid burned the back of his throat and bitterness coated his tongue. Ashes were all he could taste. Human sweat, blood and tears had been shed and only at sunset when all was the color of blood could you see the truth of what had built the fragile peace that would soon dawn.
Scenes from battles long past filtered through his mind's eye. The sharp smell of burning metal and mobile suit fuel seemed to reach out and bring the phantoms of the past alive. The young man wondered if it would ever be real to him, this new peace. The war was over yet it still seemed so much more alive than the unknown, never felt ideal they all had fought for for so long. He tore his gaze from the bloody landscape that brought back accursed memories and stared at his hands, limp upon his knees.
His hands were long fingered and slender but worn with use. Calloused and strong, he'd lived his life by the work his hands could do. From the intricate circuitry of a guidance computer to the simple motion of pulling a sidearm trigger, his whole existence was mapped by the ability of his hands. He'd fought the war with his hands. Motionless on his legs, they were as bloody as the landscape. Numerous lives won and lost by the actions of his fingers. Fingers that were red and calloused and scarred with use, fingers that had never known peace. What was he to do with his hands that only knew the actions of war?
So much was changing and yet everything seemed the same to him. The politics were the same, people were the same. Had he fought for anything at all? He didn't see any difference from the beginning to this end. A peace built on the bodies of its denizens couldn't really be peace for long. Yet how else would such an ideal come about in the first place if no one fought and died to give it meaning? Nothing made sense to him anymore.
He was lost. Adrift in a sea of blood red and remembered pain and death. He could smell the smoke of battles gone and still feel the bruises and broken bones of survival. The young man knew only the pace and rhythm of war. The dance of battle and the desperation of living through only one more day. The wishing and praying and hoping. But never the end. Never the final success of defeating the last enemy. He didn't know the actions of laying down arms in peace, of living for a life time and not a day. He didn't like not knowing. It made him feel weak, aimless, misplaced. An oddly shaped puzzle peace that didn't fit because it was from the wrong puzzle.
Thoughts continued to swirl in a mess of tangled memories and feelings. He was so confused and didn't know what to do; everyone else was celebrating the end of the long war. The young man clutched his long, thick plait of chestnut hair over his shoulder as if it were his final lifeline. His deep purple eyes were clouded with deep thoughts that dimmed their normal cheerful glow. The sun was setting red over the war torn land and Duo Maxwell, Gundam Pilot 02, was alone on the windy balcony of Relena Darlian's Mansion.
The elegant French doors leading out onto the grey stone overhang opened smoothly and without a sound. The wind ruffled the chocolate colored locks of the individual leaving the warm, bright laughter within the building. His Prussian blue eyes scanned the large balcony in search and settled on the slim hunched figure seated on the railing, dangling slim legs over the ground far below. The normally stern features of the young man softened at the sight of the other boy's hunched and defensive posture.
Heero Yuy moved with the grace of a large jungle cat and made not a sound upon the rough stone floor. Still, deep violet colored eyes turned to greet him as he approached. A slight smile crossed the blue eyed boy's face and the delicate brows of the other knit together in surprised confusion. Duo opened his mouth to speak but a finger pressed against his lips, requesting silence. The long haired boy closed his mouth and sighed against the still present finger.
Moving his hand from Duo's face, Heero brushed fingers across a high cheekbone, down a slim shoulder and side to rest upon a slender hip. Violet eyes welled with tears as the chestnut haired young man buried his face into his best friend's welcome shoulder and cried. Strong arms held him tight from behind as he remained twisted awkwardly and allowed silent sobs wrack his body.
Time passed and the balcony door opened again letting out several more slim figures. All were, lean and graceful as the first and all held the same haunted, confused eyes as the once lone resident of the overhang. The three young men moved closer to the two intertwined upon the railing. Prussian blue eyes rose from the sniffling bundle held close to meet those of the others. They moved closer under that enigmatic gaze, drawn by the comfort and empathy within. They too were adrift and could sense their only harbor near.
Duo sighed softly and shifted a little distance from Heero's embrace. He turned, swinging long legs over the railing and met his fellow pilots' gaze. His smile was faint, and watery. His large, violet eyes were red rimmed and damp and loose tendrils of chestnut hair were falling from his long braid. Still, his expression was a welcoming as that of the young man within whose arms he'd found comfort.
Smiles broke out upon pale and drawn faces. Tired from war and death and unknowing of the thing called peace they all felt unneeded and misplaced in the newly dawning world. They had fought for Relena's Peace but they didn't understand it. Alone, each of them, the soon to be legendary Gundam Pilots, was adrift in the new era. Once the smoke had cleared and bodies of the fallen were buried they were as much relics of a bygone time as their battered mobile suits.
Alone they were nothing now except uneasy reminders. But they weren't alone. They had forged their bonds in blood and pain during battles on Earth and in space. Trust only between each other and as long as one had another then a least a small piece of the known was alive in the unknown depths of the new era of peace. In each other's eyes they saw the broken, barren battlefield that lay behind their own haunted gaze. They were akin, family in a brotherhood of survival.
The five men, young only in body, stood together on the windy balcony of the large and ornate mansion. They smiled softly at one another and said not a word. They basked in silent companionship. The sun set behind them and painted the world red as the blood spilt in battle but it did not touch them. They had seen and shared too much of the real battlefield to let the poetic beauty of the setting sun to dampen their bonds. Alone, peace seemed impossible and together it seemed even more so. Yet, hadn't they already achieved the impossible with the sun setting on the dawn of an unknown peace?
AN: Well, how was it? Please tell me what you think.