Now, HERE's a sight to see. Me writing about someone other than Kaworu and Shinji *collective gasps* Okays, this is a 1x2 fic, and I haven't decided what other couples there are going to be…. But, er, forgive me if it seems a little AU, and people act OOC. Bear in mind that I have never EVEN SEEN THE SERIES!!! *runs off, giggling now that the secret's out* okays, I'm over it. So dun kill me, please… Oh, and many gomens to Celeste, because I know that she believes Heero belongs with Relena. I'm sure she's right, because hey, I've never even seen the series and am a shonen-ai/yaoi freak myself and would turn even the most obviously straight characters gay if I could. (wow, that was in one 'breath'.) Okay, standard disclaimerz apply; I don't own the series or characters (most of them, anyway) because then I'd probably create an entire 3 extra series dedicated to m/m love between the pilots. Ha. Ha ha. So anyway, here goes…
* * *
Violet eyes studied the shimmering lake that slept before him. Stretching out his slender legs, the pilot enjoyed the silence, which was only added to by the rustling murmurs of pine branches in the wind. Sunbeams found his pale face, and ran along his back, a duller orange-yellow now that mid-day had seen its end.
Duo flipped his braid out from in front of him and stood up at last, loosening up with the help of warmth still captured in his body. He donned his footgear and ambled slowly in no particular direction at all. Struggling, he battled darker thoughts that preyed upon his mind, resisting them as best he could – thoughts of pain, of war, of death, of sadness.
Streaked with all shades of grey, rather like a charcoal rendering trying to pass as a real sky, the horizons had now deepened, and opened up to bleed upon all surfaces beneath them. Duo's pace quickened slightly, but with no real purpose; he had nowhere to go.
The war was over. The colonies and earth were at peace, so the adolescent had returned to the place of his birth. Now, he was in America, the land that sired him, and the soft earth beneath his shoes felt nothing like home, but just a piece of this surreal, tranquil place that didn't seem to quite be a true existence at all. Opening his mouth, he let in the bursts of cloud-flesh, alien on his tongue.
Alien. He remembered mothers on the street, pulling curious children away from the pilot who had been part of the war. It didn't matter what side he was on; he was against peace, and so, to some, was still a demon upon their roads.
Alien. It was a word that created a tangy bitterness on his tongue, ruining the fresh taste of true rain. Duo spat out everything in his mouth, still attempting to forget the memories that refused to be forgotten. His digits ran to trace along his belt, pleased with the lack of gun, yet another sign that the war was over.
Not having slept in a few days, the brunette pitched his makeshift tent under a colossal tree. Struggling, he managed to assemble the rain fly, and stumbled rather sleepily inside, unrolling his sleeping mat and bag, clambering inside, and zipping everything up.
The sky continued to mourn as the now ex-pilot slept.
* * *
Heero crashed noisily through the brush, hacking mercilessly away at any plant that dared get in his way. Information sources had told him that Duo had come to this area, perhaps in search of solitude (which, if Heero had his way, he wouldn't get) or perhaps just for the sentimentality of it all – his 'home' on Earth. In the distance, the sky howled at the earth, deep, disapproving rumbles of thunder filling the air. Constant irritations, like weather, were strange matters to Heero, but the Perfect Soldier endured.
"Duo? Duo? DUO!!! SHINAGAMI?" Occasionally, he would let free such cries, and there would be an empty, hollow echo returned. Nothing more. Not that he had expected to find Duo in the first year, of course, but it had been three years since the end of the war. And that was plenty of 'alone' time, Heero estimated. So he stumbled through the unyielding brambles and called the name of that which he sought, but to no avail.
No matter. Could he not endure? Was he not the Perfect Soldier?
Within his body that had been labeled such, a suppressed soul sobbed, and began to give out.
* * *
Shivers tore pitilessly at the God of Death. Ironic, he mused, they're trying to kill me.
It would have been a lot funnier if it wasn't working. Duo pulled a damp blanket over himself, and the cold would still not relent, sinking teeth of ice into his tortured body. Daylight stole without leave into his tent, a muted shadow of even yesterday's. Pathetic. Duo wondered vaguely why he was so tired, but the temperature would leave him no rest to sleep. Aside from irritation, he took no notice of his breath – difficult, and how it rattled each lung.
As he was slipping, at last, into a sort of sedated, almost-sleep, he heard the voice of an old comerade. Shame, he thought, I don't have the strength nor the voice to answer.
Somehow, the part of him that saw what was happening sighed, I never liked the thought of dying alone.
* * *
Heero paused, pulling his coat tighter about his frigid form, and listened. He heard general scurrying and scuttling, but no return call. As he turned to go back, to find another rout, he halted yet again.
Because he could hear the breathing
At first, he had thought it some strange insect, perhaps like a cicada (he had discovered them upon trees on previous searches) and… well, not like it at all. Because, as he realized, it was human. There was a frightening urgency in it, as if each breath was a triumph, but harder than the last. And breath, of course, didn't come like that. It came easily, did it not? Except –
Heero didn't finish that thought as he ran towards the noise.
* * *
* * *
Violet eyes studied the shimmering lake that slept before him. Stretching out his slender legs, the pilot enjoyed the silence, which was only added to by the rustling murmurs of pine branches in the wind. Sunbeams found his pale face, and ran along his back, a duller orange-yellow now that mid-day had seen its end.
Duo flipped his braid out from in front of him and stood up at last, loosening up with the help of warmth still captured in his body. He donned his footgear and ambled slowly in no particular direction at all. Struggling, he battled darker thoughts that preyed upon his mind, resisting them as best he could – thoughts of pain, of war, of death, of sadness.
Streaked with all shades of grey, rather like a charcoal rendering trying to pass as a real sky, the horizons had now deepened, and opened up to bleed upon all surfaces beneath them. Duo's pace quickened slightly, but with no real purpose; he had nowhere to go.
The war was over. The colonies and earth were at peace, so the adolescent had returned to the place of his birth. Now, he was in America, the land that sired him, and the soft earth beneath his shoes felt nothing like home, but just a piece of this surreal, tranquil place that didn't seem to quite be a true existence at all. Opening his mouth, he let in the bursts of cloud-flesh, alien on his tongue.
Alien. He remembered mothers on the street, pulling curious children away from the pilot who had been part of the war. It didn't matter what side he was on; he was against peace, and so, to some, was still a demon upon their roads.
Alien. It was a word that created a tangy bitterness on his tongue, ruining the fresh taste of true rain. Duo spat out everything in his mouth, still attempting to forget the memories that refused to be forgotten. His digits ran to trace along his belt, pleased with the lack of gun, yet another sign that the war was over.
Not having slept in a few days, the brunette pitched his makeshift tent under a colossal tree. Struggling, he managed to assemble the rain fly, and stumbled rather sleepily inside, unrolling his sleeping mat and bag, clambering inside, and zipping everything up.
The sky continued to mourn as the now ex-pilot slept.
* * *
Heero crashed noisily through the brush, hacking mercilessly away at any plant that dared get in his way. Information sources had told him that Duo had come to this area, perhaps in search of solitude (which, if Heero had his way, he wouldn't get) or perhaps just for the sentimentality of it all – his 'home' on Earth. In the distance, the sky howled at the earth, deep, disapproving rumbles of thunder filling the air. Constant irritations, like weather, were strange matters to Heero, but the Perfect Soldier endured.
"Duo? Duo? DUO!!! SHINAGAMI?" Occasionally, he would let free such cries, and there would be an empty, hollow echo returned. Nothing more. Not that he had expected to find Duo in the first year, of course, but it had been three years since the end of the war. And that was plenty of 'alone' time, Heero estimated. So he stumbled through the unyielding brambles and called the name of that which he sought, but to no avail.
No matter. Could he not endure? Was he not the Perfect Soldier?
Within his body that had been labeled such, a suppressed soul sobbed, and began to give out.
* * *
Shivers tore pitilessly at the God of Death. Ironic, he mused, they're trying to kill me.
It would have been a lot funnier if it wasn't working. Duo pulled a damp blanket over himself, and the cold would still not relent, sinking teeth of ice into his tortured body. Daylight stole without leave into his tent, a muted shadow of even yesterday's. Pathetic. Duo wondered vaguely why he was so tired, but the temperature would leave him no rest to sleep. Aside from irritation, he took no notice of his breath – difficult, and how it rattled each lung.
As he was slipping, at last, into a sort of sedated, almost-sleep, he heard the voice of an old comerade. Shame, he thought, I don't have the strength nor the voice to answer.
Somehow, the part of him that saw what was happening sighed, I never liked the thought of dying alone.
* * *
Heero paused, pulling his coat tighter about his frigid form, and listened. He heard general scurrying and scuttling, but no return call. As he turned to go back, to find another rout, he halted yet again.
Because he could hear the breathing
At first, he had thought it some strange insect, perhaps like a cicada (he had discovered them upon trees on previous searches) and… well, not like it at all. Because, as he realized, it was human. There was a frightening urgency in it, as if each breath was a triumph, but harder than the last. And breath, of course, didn't come like that. It came easily, did it not? Except –
Heero didn't finish that thought as he ran towards the noise.
* * *