Title: The Sky that Grieves
Fandom: 07-Ghost
Pairing(s): Vaguely there Ayanami x Yukikaze, Hyuuga x Ayanami.
Warnings: Mentions of Yukikaze.
Synopsis: They say the sky grieves for those who can't, or won't.
In the spur of the moment, everyone had accepted it as another casualty of war. There had been no expectations, no-one expected the silver-haired man to grieve for the loss of his subordinate, not in that moment at least.
That man hadn't been expected to show any flicker of emotion, not before the Kingdom was conquered and while they were still required to accomplish the mission set upon their shoulders.
Twenty-four hours later the Black Hawks returned bloody and triumphant from battle, and their leader had not once since said anything.
–
It was almost as if surveying a pool frozen over with a eerie calm. Ayanami had moved along – one couldn't say he had moved on, not when no-one knew if he had – almost like clockwork, spending mounting hours at a mahogany desk with pen and paper before him.
Then there were the rumors, hushed whispers in the long corridors of the Fortress. From time to time Hyuuga had caught wind of what was said, and it didn't surprise him. They called him cold; for not being moved by the death of a subordinate who had given his life in exchange, and unfeeling; Ayanami had not mourned at all, not visibly at least. They called him heartless, and he had not once said a word to dispute all the things being said about him.
Twelve days later sunshine gave way to snow and still the silver-haired man showed not once any sign of grief.
–
There was still nothing but the mounting stack of files and paperwork, and the icy facade masking the barely there hints of exhaustion. By now the rumors had been forgotten, they had died out after it became apparent that the subject of them having not once shown any interesting in silencing them at all.
The only witness to the lone shadow up on the ramparts of the Fortress amongst the silhouette of stone gargoyles and stoic sentries was a pair of crimson eyes and the blanket of night's gentle darkness.
Six weeks after that day, the unyielding walls started to show the first signs of cracking.
–
Three months later, it was entirely no surprise when Ayanami's exhausted body finally rebelled.
–
He finds him alone again on the empty walkways of the ramparts once more, under overcast skies and heavy grey clouds. The droplets that start to fall are heavy, soaking into the ebony of their uniforms and trickling down along the brim of his cap, but Ayanami doesn't move an inch from where he's standing.
There isn't any expression on those pale features, yet there is something about him that doesn't feel as frigid as it had.
A hand comes to rest against stiff shoulders, and just for a brief moment amethyst meets crimson before turning his gaze to the darkening azure above them. There isn't a need for words, not now, not for this particular moment, not when that moment of vulnerability etched in violet has told him everything.
One year later the sky grieves for the man who won't allow himself to.
END
A/N: Somehow inspired by standing in certain circumstances which dictate water pouring all over oneself, and because the weather here has been HORRIBLY rainy. Can be read as part of 'The Day Night Fell' continuum or a standalone, though there's a bit of a reference to what happened in that fic somewhere along the line.