Disclaimer: Did you notice that time in Megami Kouhosei when Hiead and Zero made out passionately for a while and then did "forbidden things"? No? I didn't think so. And you know why you didn't see that? Because I don't own Megami Kouhosei. I sure as hell don't make any money off of it, either. I think it's safe to say that until you turn on your television and are shocked to find our two favorite boys bumping and grinding (ha! Sorry, I had to fit that phrase in here somewhere), then the previous proclamation still stands. I do own any and all original characters in this story as well as the plot (yes, plot; pariah_chesiretiger says there is one! =o); please inform me if you'd like to archive my work. =o)
Thanks to the following for their delightful feedback (my, you all must be just incredibly nice or very easily entertained, ne?): Kichigai, Argent Inluminai, gundamesca, RcA, Jaden, SilverShinigami, 01, Chevira Lowe, and pariah_chesiretiger. Thank you! =o) (Oh, and, as a side note to pariah_chersiretiger, I do plan on continuing Prophecy of the Mage as soon as I get over my big, bad writers block where it's concerned (I know what I want in the long-run, but, oh, how to get there? =o); hopefully, the next chapter should be out soon (sorry for making you and the other readers of that story wait!))
Author's Note: I've gotten a few inquiries as to how long this fic is going to turn out to be, so I'll do my best to answer them now; I'm not really sure how long this story will end up being. I'm writing it from chapter to chapter, whenever inspiration strikes, so until the time comes when I mention that the end is drawing nearer, just assume that it'll keep on going. Also, I want to say sorry if it seems that Zero is a bit too religious in this fic--it's my understanding that he was from a small colony, so it seems plausible to conclude that he had a "righteous" upbringing, with the church acting as one of the few support systems in his community. Okay, then…read and enjoy! =o)
Zero's POVWe are together in this place, and yet so completely alone.
Our breathing makes a quiet symphony of indistinct whispers, and this subdued duet lasts indefinitely, until you rupture it with speech.
"What do you want, Zero?" you ask.
What?
"In life, Zero. What do you want in life?" you clarify, picking up on my puzzlement before I've even said a word.
I…don't know.
What is it that I want?
I've never really asked myself that before.
I speak, though I'm not really sure what I'll say.
"I want--"
You.
"I want--"
Acceptance.
But most of all,
"I want--"
To be loved.
I trail off into silence, and you nod your head softly, as if to say "I thought so."
We do not speak for what seems to be a millennium, though it might just have been a minute, or a moment.
"I want to be a hero," I say, finally.
You turn your head to look at me in surprise. Then it seems that you recover from your split-second loss of control, and you are once again intense and otherworldly.
You're analyzing me, aren't you? Judging my words and weighing them for my sincerity. Our eyes lock and hold, and I feel naked as you overpower me with simple might of will from across the room.
I want to look away, but I don't, because I think I see something beautiful…delicate and battered, but so very beautiful…surfacing from beneath your layers of unreasonable wrath and steely nonchalance to plead for my notice.
You're giving away more of yourself than you think, but as soon as I realize this, so too do you, and your barriers are back up, stronger than ever.
You angrily turn your face back around to stare at nothing, instead of me.
A minute of this finds you calmer, and then you startle me, for a hollow chuckle, deep and bitter like fine wine, escapes your throat to fill the space between us.
"There's no such thing as a hero," you say with a small shake of your head, resuming our erratic conversation as if we'd never paused.
"You're wrong," I argue at once, shocked and incensed at your words.
At this I expect a harsh and heated defense, and thus prepare myself for a clashing of words and bodies.
But you do not do what I expect; you merely lean back against the wall and close your eyes, as if you're giving up.
This disturbs me more than it should, but before I can go and do something stupid, like ask if you're alright, you open those lovely, unnatural orbs and turn that glorious silver head towards me to speak.
Despondent words escape your rosy lips to permeate the air with the coldness of your thoughts.
Your exquisite porcelain face is smooth and distant as your insight, blunt and forlorn, is set forth.
"There are two types of people in this galaxy, Zero; the dead and the dying."
Seconds pass with only the soft humming of the ship's ventilation system between us.
"Why can't you understand that?" you ask, voice tired and uncomprehending.
The question hangs, draped from the ceiling and reaching from the floor, until it's all around me, and I am enveloped in it.
I have no answer.
This isn't what I want to hear--everything is just so confusing.
That's not you speaking, is it?
Maybe not; but you've been scarred so deeply that it's all you know; you see only sorrow.
My heart hurts for you.
Suddenly an answer is upon me, and I know, very clearly, why it is I can never think that way.
My life has been built upon the overwhelming urge to live, and to be happy.
If I gave that up, my body might still eat and breathe and function, but there'd be no "me" left to speak of, no soul left to laugh and cry; love and hate; comfort and be comforted.
"I can't because…if I did…I'd be destroyed," I say haltingly, hesitant to reveal this intimate truth.
Like a drop of dew sliding off a leaf, my explanation floats through the air for several suspenseful seconds before it rams into your awareness and melts into your mind.
Your eyes are shuttered; their liquid depths swirl with disdain…and something else.
"Of course," you say, as if you knew that all along.
Maybe you did.
More quietly now, eyes on your hands (as if to yourself): "Of course."
Your gaze comes back up to study my face; I stare at the floor.
Our lips do not move; our symphony of silence has resumed.
But now I've found I cannot bear it anymore, and so I leave.
*****************************************
The night comes swiftly enough, and I find myself struggling to slumber.
The stars outside twinkle, sparkle, and shine in undisguised merriment, and I don't want to see this, but when I shut my eyes to block them out, Zion's light pierces through my eyelids and prods me back to wakefulness.
This is an interesting turn of events: I used to have trouble falling back asleep, but now I can't seem to even grasp my small bit of rest in the first place.
I am disheartened.
I…want my Mother back.
I want someone to tell me everything will be okay, and banish the boogieman underneath my bed, like I had when I was young and unused to pain.
I want someone to tell me that I'm accomplishing something, and say that it's okay to feel different.
I want…so much more than I thought.
But there is one thing which I can't go on without: you.
I have found myself growing increasingly dependent on your presence; your competence; your insanely beautiful self.
Can't you see it, Hiead?
I need you to help me through my days and nights.
I try to block this out, and fade to Oblivion.
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I wish for tranquility; a brief respite.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
I pull my pillow over my head in hopes of shutting out the rest of the Universe, but this does not happen.
And if I die before I wake,
I briefly consider pushing down, ever so slightly, onto my pillow, and holding it…holding it…until everything just goes away. But I don't.
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Eventually, I drift away, and know no more.
My dreams are peaceful and serene, though, until yesterday, they hadn't been like that for a very long time.
I feel strangely soothed, like a phantom of good will has shared my company and kept me warm.
When I wake I feel oddly abandoned and alone.
I wonder why…?
Author's Note: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though I'm aware that I regressed back to my earlier format by making it rather brief. Ah, well. =o) Maybe the next chapter will turn out longer, ne? It's always fun to be inside the mind of the morally ambiguous ones (Hiead, here I come!). =o) Okay, this note does have a point. I fully intend to poll you and then positively barrage you with shameless plugs.
Explanation/Question: I've got story-Hiead's past semi-planned out, and I was wondering if I should put it into this fic, or another one (called something nifty and Glass-related, of course--like "Pieces of His Past"). What do you think? (Don't feel obligated to respond--it's just an idle question from one slasher to another.)
Plugs: I kept telling myself to do this, and then forgetting. Okay, here's some more of my stories that you might like:
Megami Kouhosei (No pairing): "Goodbye, Rome" __ PG-13__ Complete __Because not everybody lives happily ever after. __ http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=736420
Harry Potter (Draco/Harry): "But Deliver Us From Evil" __R__ Complete__ Harry/ Draco SLASH. Harry and Draco come to terms with life, death, and being in love...with each other. This fic is now finished. __ http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=642153 or "Prophecy of the Mage" __PG-13__ Incomplete __ SEX. LOVE. LIES. BETRAYL. DEATH. Homophobes may run away screaming now as there's also H/D SLASH. Interested? Then go ahead; spare yourself the puzzled glances of anguished curiosity. You know you want to. =o) Click, read, enjoy (and all that jazz). __ http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=675967
Digimon (Takedai): "Hope for my Soul" __ PG-13__ Incomplete __ Whereby truths are found, revelations made, and friendships broken and strengthened. __ http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=764857
Yikes! Too many stories, ne? Oh, screw it, I'm too lazy to take the time to delete my cut-and-paste work. =o) Bye for now!