Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or it's characters. If I did, I wouldn't still be attending High School! I'd probably be in Hawaii or Japan or something… But anyways, please don't sue! I'm just a poor kid with about six bucks.
NightmareA warm summer breeze rustled the curtains, the white fabric billowing into the bedroom, bright against the dark shadows. Moonlight spilled onto the floor through the open glass doors, highlighting everything in a soft, surreal contrast.
The stars that winked in the endless heaven above didn't seem so distant tonight, and the moon was like a silver coin dangling against the velvet skies. No clouds dotted the wide horizon, leaving it so broad that it was overwhelming to a man born and bred in the titanium shell of the colonies.
Leaves rustled under the soft caress of the real breeze, spreading their delicate pink petals all over the balcony floor. The air itself was thick with the intoxicating scent of the cherry tree, and heavy with the warmth of July.
A quiet rustle in the bed beside him made him aware of the boy's presence. He shifted his sharp, yet loving gaze onto the child, watching as his chest rose and fell with his steady, peaceful breathing. In the darkness, with his eyes closed, the boy was just another normal child, carefree and innocent. The darkness cloaked the scars that lay hidden behind the dark locks of hair and the calm, closed eyes.
In the dim light he could make out the near flawless features, the slim, Japanese face, the thin, small mouth. His dark hair, unruly as it was, still seemed to fall perfectly into place over his face.
The boy slept, dreaming deeply in the way that only children can do. But behind the childlike mask lay the mind of a battered solder, tired and battle weary. The mind of an old man.
For a fleeting moment he was envious of the boy for his deep sleep. Sleep itself had evaded him tonight, despite their long journey to the Earth. Much like his small companion, he too was a victim of war, but most of his lost innocence was of his own doing.
Troubled thoughts always seemed to consume him, whether they were grief or anger or worry. But these days his concerns were focused on the boy. He knew that the child would be able to accomplish things he could never dream of seeing in his own lifetime. But to teach a child to kill?
True, war had raped him of his innocence long ago, but he was still just a boy with human feelings and emotions. Yet, as he already knew in his heart, if he really loved this boy, the only thing he could do is train him. If he didn't fight, he wouldn't live. And his life was not meant to end here, just another meaningless casualty in a war that had lasted for generations. He had to play his part, they both did, and where the boy would bring peace and end to the soldier's life, he would create a soldier, a killer from a child.
The boy shifted, murmuring in his sleep and throwing one outstretched arm over the man's stomach. He watched him for a moment longer before gently brushing his hand away. The cool sheets slid easily away from his skin, moving like water as he rose from the bed.
Moving across the room, the heavy silence of night seemed almost tangible, with only the faint sounds of humming insects and the eternal pulsing of the waves that rolled in gently and lapped at the long beach. The white sand seemed bright against the black skies.
He stepped outside onto the balcony, the pale cherry blossoms wet under h is bare feet. His eyes settled on the silver moon, no longer aloof on her distant throne, but rather gentle, comforting with maternal grace.
Swinging himself up, he sat on the black rod iron railing, leaning back against the stucco walls of the large hotel. Above him the overhanging limb of the tree continued to shower him lightly in white petals.
The ocean spread out over the horizon, almost as deep and vast as the emptiness of space. The waters spread over the earth, meeting the white Mediterranean sands of the beach, where the city of white washed houses and Spanish style roofs flowed down the hill to greet the ocean. Everything flowed itno each other, the landscape filling him with a sense of harmony.
He let out a tired, weary sigh and his shoulders slumped, his face instantly becoming that of an old man, no longer filled with the passion and eagerness of youth. It was the face of a man who was living life one damned day at a time, the rising sun representing the dawn of a new struggle to preserve his humanity.
His fingers found their way to a cross that was reavealed now that his shirt was no longer there to hide it. Few people knew he wore it, and even less knew of his faith. It was a thing of change, meaning everything to him one day and a hollow void the next.
It was no wonder either, considering who and what he was. A professional murderer, an assasin, the one who had killed perhaps the colonies' and the Earth's last chance at peace. How God could ever except a bastard like him was truly a mystery. The sins he bore on his soiul seemed unforgivable in his eyes. Perhaps they were.
But he still wore the cross, why he didn't really know. He wasn't exactly the sentimental type, nor a kind Christian man. Maybe he kept it for luck, maybe as a reminder of the horrible mistake he had made the day he had killed Heero Yuy.
Sometimes he wondered if maybe that was why he was raising the boy, so that this child could be the next Heero Yuy, a hope for peace in world distraught with war. Maybe he sought his own redemption through this child.
"Odin?"
Prussian blue eyes, the same deep color as the ocean, locked on his with the intensity of a hawk, his own little fledgling.
They didn't say anything for awhile, just faced each other, eyes searching for emotions through the masks they both hid behind. The boy's melted into his own face, displaying his helplessness and turmoil that had tried to hide from the man's eyes.
Odin smiled, a smile that for once was real and genuine, that actually reached his eyes, two chips of ice set deep in shadows. The boy moved closer and leaned beside him against the wall. Odin and he remained in an understanding silence, minds resting, relaxed in the comfort the derived from one another's presence.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? It seems so empty, like it goes on forever…" Odin whispered, his husky voice breaking the silence. The boy's eyes followed his up to space, the dark blanket above them. He noticed the necklace that was lying in the man's hand, and realized the hidden meaning in the words.
"He's still with you. My mother used to tell me that nothing lasts forever, except for Him," he said. His face frowned again, thining. "And she said that someday this nightmare will be over."
His voice rang gently in Odin's ears, and he looked back down to the cross that hung over his bare chest, as if protecting his beating heart. Odin removed the cross from his neck, and dropped it over the boy's head, letting it fall into place over his heart. The boy looked up at him, surprise etched across his small features.
"Yeah kid, he's with you too. And so am I. I'll be with you when the nightmare ends."
He looked shocked. "But… it's your cross…"
Odin grinned his ruthless, characteristic grin. He tousled the boy's hair. "Keep it. That way both of my saviors can be in one place."
The man's face grew solemn again. "Life is cheap. Especially my life. Just remember, I'll always be with you. Nightmares never last forever."
