Yeah, a bird just smacked into my window and died. It got me thinking.

Pie Jesu

by Saki

The wind blew coldly against the young girl's back as she knelt in the frozen grass, cradling a bundle of feathers in her naked hands. Gently she stroked the soft feathers behind the bird's head, watching as the light faded from its midnight-black eyes. The lass flexed the sparrow's wings with a tender finger, then nudged the beak away from the palm of her hand. The head hung limply, illustrating an obvious broken neck. Wincing, she bit her lip in sympathy for the little bird. All around, the last leaves of fall skittered by, uncaring.

~ ~ ~ ~

Dishes clinked in rapid succession, standing out above the low purr of human conversation. The café by Main Street was comfortably crowded with a wide variety of folk. Beside the window sat two leather-clad Generation-X'ers sporting nose rings and colorfully-dyed hair. Not two tables away were businessmen deep in conversation, hunched eagerly over a laptop and pile of notes. A young man, his eyes unusually thoughtful, noted all this from his table-for-two in the center of the coffee shop.

"Hrrumph." He looked up lazily at the sound of a woman's cough. The waitress, a scraggly blonde with a sour expression, shifted her weight to one side and held pen and pad ready. "Order?" she drawled.

"Oh, not yet. I'm waiting for a friend." The boy grinned and shrugged.

Another cough from the waitress as she stuffed the pad back in her apron. "Well, your boyfriend better hurry up, I haven't got all day missie," she grumped as she slid the pen into her hair and walked away.

The boy scowled playfully, tossing his arse-length braid with a slender hand. "I'm no girl," he muttered, and grinned.

"I know you aren't, Duo," came a voice from behind. The stringy, muscled owner of that deep and depressing voice moved forward and slid into the chair opposite Duo with the grace of a predator cat. His dark brown eyes sparkled…is it the light, or was that amusement I saw? Duo thought with a hidden wonder.

"Nice timing," Duo replied casually. "Now I'll have to wait even longer for my coffee. You're so inconsiderate." Heero shrugged slightly and voiced an unintelligible mumble.

Duo opened his mouth to say something, but was rudely interrupted by that familiar cough and "Order?" He scowled slightly.

"Two coffees," Heero commanded. The waitress sniffed and headed back to the kitchen.

An oasis of silence settled over the table. The waitress returned, deposited the coffee, and left. Once they had their steaming mugs of caffeine before them, conversation painfully eked forward.

"I hear we have a new mission," Duo began. Heero sipped his coffee, noncommittal.

"It's, uh…s'more ass whooping." He studied Heero's face, which was quite fixated on the hot drink.

"Dangerous, I've heard. Real--"

"What's the point of it all?" Heero cut him off.

Duo blinked. "What?"

Heero, still hunched protectively forward over his coffee, raised his eyes to Duo's face. "I repeat - What's the point of it all? - Over."

Duo cracked a weak grin at the CB joke. "It's…uh…"

"All we've ever known is killing, killing, and more killing." Heero's calm voice washed over Duo's senses, drawing him close to the dark pilot's hidden heart. "Never once have we left someone alive. Every mission is to destroy. This blood on my hands reeks of decay and destruction." The 01 pilot scowled and returned to his coffee.

Duo grimaced. Heero, doubting the execution of others? "It's for the good of the colonies," he attempted. But he knew Heero was right - all this killing was wrong. Would it ever end?

"Death is and endless circle - it only leads to more death," muttered Heero.

Duo's face softened into a sad, compassionate smile. "Heero…" He stood and moved closer to the other boy, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder. It was taut with anxiety. "Let's go back to the base, okay? It'll be over someday. Everything, over."

Heero looked up into Duo's eyes and saw a beautiful peace he longed to hold. "Duo…" he mumbled. Duo knelt beside him, and Heero let his head fall forward to rest on the other pilot's chest.

~ ~ ~ ~

A tiny mound of dirt was all that stood to mark the grave of the fallen sparrow. The girl rested on her knees before the tribute, a shadow hiding her face. It was cold, and a darkness she had never known before clung to her breast. The wind blew, and nearby, a bird began to sing.