GW doesn't belong to me. This is a response to Doubti007's line challenge. I can't do the fic challenge because I've never seen 'Saving Private Ryan', unfortunately.

Warnings: shonen ai (I+/x2),

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I've never seen the sky as beautiful. No, usually it's just blue and clear, or sometimes it's cloudy and gray or white; or maybe that bright red- orange you can only see when the sun sets. I guess I've never realized how beautiful it really is. It's funny that now, of all times in my life, I should decide to become 'poetic'.

I mean, because now it hurts just to turn my head or to lift my hand. And lying here on the side of road with my car half wrapped around a tree, half crushed from the other car, makes me want to see my Duo, now more than ever. I wonder if he would even recognize me because I *know* I must look really bad; I can see my own blood soaking and spreading into the cement out of the corner of my eye.

Some one's screaming now, and I can't say who it is. It might be some random person/gawker, the other driver, or it might even be me. I wish I knew.

The breezes are so nice, like little breaths of God. They let me smell his scent, and to be able to have a little reminder of him before I go makes me feel so lucky. Yes, lucky. I mean, I can have a piece of him when I go to hell, or even heaven if the God sees fit. Still, to be without Duo is a hell worse than any I could ever imagine.

"Heero?!" His voice is a like an electric jolt to me. Some Heavenly creature is either playing a very cruel joke, or is the kindest god I could have ever hoped for. Duo's face is suddenly in front of me, and it's as if all my prayers for a kind death have been answered.

He props me up, and despite my pain, I have to smile at him. His violet eyes are glittering with tears, and I want more than anything to take away his pain. It takes some effort, but I manage to place one of my bloody, damaged hands onto his beautiful face. It seems so wrong to sully something so perfect and wonderful with something as *vulgar* as blood, especially mine.

"Happy anniversary, love." I don't say it to be cruel or mean, but as a genuine wish for him. I know it must've sounded unkind, but it was not meant that way at all. He pulls me closer, and I can't help noticing that I was ruining his clothes; but hell, if he doesn't care, neither would I.

He strokes my hair, and I can't help but notice the subtle rose scent on him. 'It' is going to happen soon, I know, and I want Duo to know how much he means to me before I leave him.

"Duo, I love you." I wish there was more I could do to prove how much I really cared for him, but at this point it's not really an option.

"I love you with all my heart." He stops running his hands through the unruly mess I call my hair and wipes a tear of his ivory face.

"I love you so much," he says, his voice trembling just the tiniest bit. I'm glad he doesn't tell me that I'm going to be okay; I don't think it would do either of us any good if he lied now and broke his own motto: I may run and hide, but I'll never tell a lie.

He begins to stroke my hair again, and he draws in a shaky breath. My hand is still on his pale cheek, and he kisses it gently; a few salty drops mingle with the drying blood and the orangey-pink liquid makes a slow trail down my arm. My hand finally falls back, but it doesn't really matter to me; it's almost like I have no control over it.

"Please don't go, Heero," he whispers between his sobs, "if you leave I'll cry, and…and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask softly. To tell the truth, I thought Duo's eyes were beautiful when he cried; they shimmered and sparkled brighter than any star in the sky, galaxy, universe; whatever (or would it be wherever?).

"Because boys don't cry." Actually, I knew he was going to say this before he even opened his mouth. It brought a little smile to my face and I closed my eyes for a brief moment.

"But you aren't a boy anymore, Duo. You're a man." It is like I've broken a dam inside of him, and his shoulders shake with his sobs. But he is a man, and not once did the crying get loud, or fast or the least bit uncontrollable. For a while, I didn't think it would stop, but after a few long minutes, it did, and my American lover wipes his tears away with a blood stained sleeve.

I have begun to get cold, and I know it is because of blood loss. I will not tell him though, because this would be easier for him, I think. I can feel my body shutting down, and I don't want my last moments on this earth to be of Duo being hurt more than necessary.

Another breeze wafts by, and for the second time in these past fifteen minutes I catch the scent of rose petals.

"Duo?" my voice comes out very hoarse and I think it has something to do with my blood being all over the asphalt. "Duo, why do I smell roses?"

He lets out a bitter chuckle and bends down to kiss me on my forehead.

"I was bringing you roses, love, white roses because our love was—no, is—so pure." A bundle of roses are suddenly placed on my chest. At this point, my vision is blurring at the edges, and something like a veil is screened over my eyes; it is scary because time is almost up, and I won't be with my soul mate anymore.

"Duo," I say, my voice very low now, "these roses are pink."

"It's because I put them in your blood," he replies, and his voice is very thick; he's crying again, I think, and I realize that next to my unwillingness to leave him, there is nothing: no fear or hesitation.

"Look at the pretty pink flowers. Aren't they beautiful?" It's hard to think straight now. I'll be gone in less than a minute, and my words are slurring together, so I know I can't say very much, but I have so much to tell him.

"I love you, Duo. I fought the wars for people like you. I love you." Duo pulls me into his trembling arms, and I say a silent goodbye to him and all the other pilots before the darkness settles in.

And then, then there's nothing.



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Strange ending? I tried. I liked the way it turned out, though. Feedback.