Black-Angel-001: a short for gundam wing. the part of the soilder you can apply to any of the main charecters or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.
Enemies No More
"Why? Why did you have to kill my son," the man screamed. He was on his knees, his body covered with dust, soot, and burns, his clothes ragged and torn. The tears of pain and sorrow that streamed down his face washed his cheeks and fell onto the body he craddled so closely in his arms. The little body was so terribly burned that it was hard to tell what it had been before. The grieving father lifted his face to the soilder, his eyes begging for an answer but shying away from it too. They held the bright, feverish light of a man in the pits of an eternal hell. With the blazing fires behind and around him the image easily became reality.
"Why do I have to grieve for my son? You've killed him and for what?" He asked in a tormented shout. "He was still just a baby..."
The soilder remained standing, staring down at the father holding his son's body and sobbing endlessly. He stood and he stared and he felt pity and sadness grow in him.
"I grieve with you," he said almost softly. Maybe the words were carried in the wind, or maybe the father had exceptional hearing, but somehow he heard.
"You grieve with me? How can you grieve with me when you caused this without a second thought? I understand that you fight for the colonies but how do you justify this?"
"I was ordered."
For a moment, the soilder thought the father might strike him. The father stared up at the man in uniform, who looked like a boy himself, who had torment skimming below the surface of a calm and emotionless face, wondering at his words. Then the father shook his head sadly.
"I think that the one who orders you is cruel if he allows this. My family and I did nothing to deserve this."
"You, the people of earth, suppressed and killed us for many years," replied the soilder, his voice cracking.
"But I had nothing to do with it, not a single attack! My son was just as innocent, even more than I am! But, you killed him as if he were your enemy," roared the father, surging to his feet. The soilder took a step back. "If you are commanded to kill the innocent, are you or your commander any different that the very people you fight?"
"Casualties are common and expected in war." Even to his own ears the words were cold and heartless. But, then, the truth usually was. Once again the father shook his head.
"But this cannot be called an act of war if no one here is your enemy or is associated with your enemy. This," he finished, looking at his son's corpse, "is murder."
What could he say to that? His commander had known no enemy soilders were in the area, that nobody in the area had anything to do with them. Report after report confirmed it, but he had still ordered the attack. The soilder looked around him, at the flaming and smoking destruction, the death, and he cried. He cried for the loss and senselessness of it all. When he looked back at the father, he saw the man digging at the earth, the body of his son laying nearby. Without a word the soilder knelt beside him and began helping him to move the blood-stained earth. They paused and studied each other, still silent, and in that moment understanding passed between them and together they continued to dig.