Epilogue 2
The night was bright, filled with uneasy shadows as created by flickering. The two waited. Explosives had been set in the last desperate rush out of the base. Now they were waiting for the time when the memories of that evil place were no more. The fire would burn itself out soon. Soon there would be nothing. They would leave a monument to the others and leave. Then try to forget all that had been seen in there.
It was hard. Hard now to even think of how things had been. Minds touched by virtual reality could not soon believe again. There was always the doubt, always the questions. How can I know this is real? What if this is just another simulation? The what ifs would haunt a mind, could destroy it in the end. Some handled it better than others though. Heero just didn't really care that much one way or the other; his view was that you can't live in a world of maybe. Truth lived in perception, not necessarily universal reality. But others…
Heero walked over to where Trowa sat. "Are you okay?"
Trowa worried Heero. Ever since they left the base he had drawn into himself, even more than normal. His mind pulled away from the world, leaving his body to fend for itself. He was hiding from something, but as of yet Heero couldn't get Trowa to say anything, let alone talk about what was wrong. Something had hurt Trowa, and so he reacted; fight or flight. But this danger wasn't physical; he couldn't fight it, couldn't kill it. But he couldn't run either. It was part of himself. Wherever he went his demons followed, so his mind ran, beyond the reaches of feeling or pain. Nothing could get to it. No more pain. But no healing.
"Sometimes I wonder if I even exist…" The words were unexpected, and Trowa's voice was softer that usual; as if he were talking to himself and Heero was just listening in on the conversation. "Tell me Heero… who am I?"
This person wasn't the Trowa that Heero know. This was a scared child begging for reassurance, but Heero didn't know what he could give.
Trowa looked up suddenly. All his masks were off, the barriers released. Trowa's soul was bared and it scared Heero. He was demanding so much and the cost of failure this time was unimaginably big. This had nothing to do with him; he wasn't the one who the consequences of failure would hit the worst. Now Trowa's life lay in his hands.
He had played with people's lives before, had controlled their future, but never before with anyone he had cared about. It never mattered before if they died because of his actions, never made any difference, because he knew that the final goal would be worth their lives. He knew that things couldn't be fixed or changed, and that this was the way things had to be. But now… he didn't want to lose Trowa. So what could he say to make things better again? How do you convince someone that they exist?
Flames were dying, taking with them the last of the light. The few patches of light were quickly consumed by the advancing darkness.
"Nothing, not even thought, can exist on it's own. Something has to be thinking… So you have to be, because something has to be doing the doubting existence. Do you understand that?"
Trowa nodded, if a bit doubtfully.
"So then I exist. But what do I exist as? Who am I?" He turned to Heero, looking straight at him. Heero saw the depths of the pain. In his friend's eyes he saw only emptiness, deep and hollow. His eyes were dead; dead, cold and uncaring. Trowa looked back down at his hands again, shoulders hunched against the world, shaking with a chill in both mind and body.
"You are yourself." It was the only answer Heero could give. He couldn't understand the lack of self, the doubt.
"I heard a saying," Trowa told him quietly, "that what a person did in the past doesn't matter, it's just who you are that counts. Does that mean I don't matter? I only have the past. I am no one right now. If I mean nothing, then why am I still here? What have I done that makes my life worth living? What have I done that makes my life worth more than the lives of those people I've killed? I would have killed you back there, Heero. How can I be allowed to live?" It sounded more curious than disturbed. It was a child's voice, asking why the sky was blue.
"You can be allowed to live because you didn't kill me, Trowa. In the end you found yourself again. You deserve life as much as anyone else."
"Trowa died, Heero. He burned with the others."
Trowa's eyes were wild, haunted. In his own mind he was a dead man walking. The past was living Hell. The present isn't, and would never come. Why bother anymore? Why bother to fight when you were already dead? Death was hopeless.
Trowa's hands started moving in rapid jerky movements. Repetitive, rhythmic motions, drawing lines of red into his hands, his arms.
Heero grabbed his friend's arms, trying to stop the damage. This lack of control; had never seen Trowa act like this before. The VR must have hit him harder than Heero had ever considered.
"What's that?" Heero demanded, motioning at the thing his friend had been using to cut himself. Trowa had a piece of metal in his hands. It looked like a piece of the building, but why would Trowa have that? He asked the question partially to satisfy his curiosity, but mostly to distract Trowa from what he had been doing.
"A piece of Trowa's Place." Simply stated, it was said as if it should have been obvious.
Alarms rang in Heero's mind. This drove home how bad Trowa was now. And it had all been Heero's fault. He had worked so hard to link Trowa to the base, to Trowa's place. Now there was nothing left of that. Just a burning pile of rubble. And now, now Trowa was no one. There were no stimuli pointing towards anyone. Just Heero; but Heero was connected to two people. Both Trowa and Erik knew Heero. Two opposing personalities...
Trowa wrenched his hands away. "Don't touch me," he told him harshly. Slashing, once again. The same movement every time. Trowa watched as the blood began to flow from his hands.
"Stop it!" Heero grabbed the wrists once again. Trowa jerked his hands out of reach, letting out a panicked cry. Moving just out of Heero's range he sat hunched over, looking betrayed, scared, rocking slightly, still cutting.
"Why? " Heero tried to keep his voice gentle, non-threatening. Trowa responded my rubbing harder, forcing the metal into his arms.
"Pain is real. Pain tells me I'm here. Nothing else will. If I feel pain than I know I'm still alive. If I'm alive than I'm real."
This was scaring Heero. Something was wrong, and he wasn't qualified to deal with it. He would simply restrain Trowa until he could get him off to Preventers, or somewhere with someone trained to deal with this. He couldn't lose another friend. Trowa was the only one left. No one else could understand. They tried, but you couldn't truly know what it was like unless you had been there. He needed the others because they understood.
Heero stood, watched with pain in his eyes as Trowa flinched back, looking more like a wild animal, unused to humans, than someone who had once had the strength to take on the world.
"Let's go Trowa. It's time to go home." Things weren't supposed to be like this, Heero reflected. We were all supposed to die in glorious battle, going down in a blaze of light. Not this slow fading away, broken and alone.
"No. I won't"
"Come on. It's time."
"It's time, time to go." Trowa's eyes were wide, as he repeated what Heero had said. "Time to go home." Taking up the piece of 'Trowa's Place' he stared at it for a moment, then made two quick cuts. His hands unshaking, aim sure and true, the speed and reactions of a true Gundam pilot shone through, and Heero caught one last glimpse of who Trowa really was. Two cuts, one slicing up the inside of each arm, right along the veins.
No!
Heero was at Trowa's side in an instant, cursing himself for not moving faster, not taking the weapon away from him. For not being able to help his friend the one time it was needed the most.
Blood flowed freely despite Heero's efforts to stop the flow. The cuts had been right on, well planned, cutting up the arm instead of across, deeply, quickly.
Heart of stone, nerves of steel. A soldier has no need for emotions. But this loss hurt. He couldn't be what Trowa had needed. He hadn't had the strength to do what he wanted. After all he had been through he hadn't had the strength when it really mattered.
He watched the lifeblood flow from his last friend. Seeing him fading away, floating, drifting. Dying unknown, unloved. Leaving him as the others had. Leaving him alone, to face the world and deal again.
The last of the light left the sad clown's eyes. The blood stopped its constant flow; just a trickle now, seeping slowly into the dark earth.
Sitting on the hillside, Heero reached over and closed the lifeless eyes of his friend. It was then that the Perfect Soldier died; the last of the Gundam pilots had no place now in this world. But Heero Yuy, the entity beyond the name learned true grief in that moment. And on that hillside, with the full moon casting an eerie glow over the pair, Heero Yuy wept.
***end***
