TITLE : Innocence
RATING : R (slash - m/m)
PAIRING : 2x1 strongly hinted at
WARNING/AUTHOR'S NOTE : Deathfic! First time, constructive criticism wanted (needed - not my best work!) Poemfic - kinda my favourite poem, by William Blake.
SUMMARY : Not really much of a story, just introspection. Heero's thoughts at a very important time in his life.
DISCLAIMER : Gundam Wing not mine! Belongs to Bandai and someone else, I think.
*********************************************************************** ********************************************************************
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
A person once told me to follow my emotions. The trouble is, I forgot what they were. I had them beaten out of me. It was a blessing in a way -- I forgot about the pain in my life, and believe me, I've had a lot of it. I no longer cried myself to sleep every night. I no longer felt the urge to get close to someone, to experience comfort of any kind -- I was no longer in any danger of getting hurt. And I liked that. For a while.
A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Hose misus'd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human Blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre of the Brain does tear. A Skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing.
It was the little girl. . . . . . . .and her dog. She gave me a first glimpse of the key that would open the cage around my heart. She gave me a flower -- a simple thing. "Are you lost, Niisan?" she asked, another simple thing. But those simple things nearly unravelled the steel cords that bound my emotions, nearly made me feel again. For a single moment in time that seemed to last an eternity I could feel my body, my mind and soul, my caged heart reaching for . . . . . . . something. But it slipped out of my grasp as the little girl's cornflower blue eyes released me, and she turned around and skipped away, the blue ribbon in her hair bouncing up and down and the little dog yapping at her heels. I almost screamed for her to come back, just so I could find out what it was I yearned for. But my training pulled me back, back into the numbing void of emotionless being that was my world.
The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight Does the Rising Sun affright. Every Wolf's & Lion's howl Raises from Hell a Human Soul. The wild deer, wand'ring here & there, Keeps the Human Soul from Care. The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
I forgot about the little girl and her dog, just as I forgot about my . . . . . . . . . . . . . family. That is, until the mission.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little Wren Shall never be belov'd by Men. He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
That mission nearly killed me -- enemy mobile suits everywhere, surrounding me. But I didn't panic, I wasn't programmed to panic. No, I calmly shot a mobile suit that was blocking my way. The beam cannon sliced through it like it was constructed out of paper, not out of the incredible metals that I knew it was. The suit fell backwards, crashing into a civilian building. My mind registered the fact, and stored it away in a computer-like fashion, tucking it into the file entitled "Necessary Casualties".
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly Shall feel the Spider's enmity. He who torments the Chafer's sprite Weaves a Bower in endless Night. The Caterpillar on the Leaf Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief. Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
After I had completed the mission, I was ordered by Dr.J to investigate the civilian building and the surrounding area for any evidence of my presence. I complied and began searching the rubble along with the emergency crews, posing as a desperate son trying to find his parents. On the near side of the building, I lifted a particularly large piece of metal -- the arm of the enemy mobile suit -- and searched under it for any trace of gundanium. There was none, but as I turned away I caught a flicker of blue. I bent down to take a closer look, and found it to be a blue silk ribbon fluttering in the sudden breeze.
He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar. The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat, Feed them & thou wilt grow fat. The Gnat that sings his Summer's song Poison gets from Slander's tongue. The poison of the Snake & Newt Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
At that moment, something stirred inside me, a steel cord snapped. I remembered the ribbon -- I had seen it last bouncing up and down in time to a little girl's skipping steps. It had matched her cornflower blue eyes, and her pretty blue summer dress. I leaned forward and desperately pulled at the rubble holding the ribbon down.
The poison of the Honey Bee Is the Artist's Jealousy. The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy & Woe.
A few hours later I found the puppy. It matched with the little girl and her blue silk ribbon. I picked them all up and buried them not far from the city, in a meadow filled with poppies. Appropriate, that it was poppies. Poppies have always symbolised remembrance, and I was destined to remember the little girl and her dog . . . . . . . and her blue silk ribbon, forever.
And when this we rightly know Thro' the World we safely go. Joy & Woe are woven fine, A Clothing for the Soul divine; Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The Babe is more than swaddling Bands; Throughout all these Human Lands Tools were made, & born were hands, Every Farmer Understands.
After that, the emotions kept bursting through the bars of the cage. And I wanted them to. I was tired of living without them. Each day, the ice melted a little more, the cage lost a few more bars, another steel cord snapped, and the walls built against my emotions got less and less high, easier and easier to scale.
Every Tear from Every Eye Becomes A Babe in Eternity. This is caught by Females bright And return'd to its own delight. The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore. The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath Writes Revenge in the realms of death.
And scale them someone did. He exploded into my life with a big . . . . . bang. He dominated me right from the start. At first I tried to ignore him. Tried to ignore his cheerful chatter and smiles. His casual touches and searching looks. He never went any further, but I could tell he wanted to. Hell, I wanted him to go further, needed him to go further. I needed to feel his touch, his caresses, needed to hear him say my name in an intimate tone.
The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air, Does to Rags the Heavens tear. The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun, Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun. The poor Man's Farthing is worth more Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore. One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands Shall buy and sell the Miser's lands:
Every time he was near me, I could feel something inside me growing. No matter how many touches he gave, I found myself wanting more. I wanted him, with every cell in my body, every fibre of my soul, every emotion in my heart.
Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole Nation sell & buy. He who mocks the Infant's Faith Shall be mock'd in Age & Death. He who shall teach the Child to Doubt The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out. He who respects the Infant's faith Triumph's over Hell & Death.
Every now and then, he recited sections of a poem to me -- one of William Blake's. I remember every single word. I was confused by it at the time, so I asked him what it meant -- he merely smiled and closed the book. I asked him what it was called and he shook his head and replied, "You would never understand, Heero,". And I didn't. I didn't. Until now.
The Child's Toys and the Old Man's Reasons Are the Fruits of the Two seasons. The Questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to Reply. He who replies to words of Doubt Doth put the Light of Knowledge out. The Strongest Poison ever known Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
He became my whole world. He was what I found in my 'Grain of Sand' and my 'Wild Flower'. When I was with him, I knew Eternity and Infinity. I no longer wanted or even needed him. No, I had finally mastered the most complicated emotion of all -- I loved him. There's no other way to say it, to express it. No other way to show the depth of this feeling. No mere mortal could understand, and that includes myself.
Nought can deform the Human Race Like the Armour's iron brace. When Gold and Gems adorn the Plow To Peaceful Arts shall envy Bow, A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry Is to Doubt a fit Reply. The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
I found out what the poem meant. I discovered its title, and, when I read it again, aloud to myself, I realised what he had meant. I realised why he was so sad, and why he thought I would never understand. The poem symbolises life -- its simple yet complex meaning eluded many and yet . . . . . . embraced many. It preaches that life should be enjoyed, that every day counts, that beauty can be found everywhere, even in a grain of sand. Its title pertains to me particularly -- "Auguries of Innocence". He knew this. He recognised the inner innocence, he saw past the blatant disregard for life, even when I did not. He was striving to show me I was different, that I could change, that I could choose to be someone, a person, not a machine programmed to obey orders.
He who Doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you Please. If the Sun and Moon should doubt They'd immediately Go out. To be in a Passion you Good may do, But no Good if a Passion is in you. The Whore & Gambler, by the State Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
Its inscribed on my headstone. The poem. Well, the first four lines. He asked for it, because he knew that I had discovered its meaning. He knew. He knew because, although I had given up my life, I had done it trying to save a child, another little girl in a blue summer dress with a blue silk ribbon in her hair and a puppy yapping at her heels. He realised that I had found my innocence, and that I valued life. And as I gazed at his stricken yet awestruck face, I found my World in the tear sliding down his cheek, my Heaven in the wild violet of his eyes, my Infinity in the expression on his face, and my Eternity in the single second in which he blew a kiss.
The Harlot's cry from Street to Street Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet. The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse, Dance before Dead England's Hearse. Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn & every Night Some are Born to Sweet Delight.
Every year, he comes and places poppies on my grave. Every year, he recites the poem. Every year, he presses a kiss to the headstone. And every year I watch, silent and smiling. And then, every year, he leaves without looking back, and I copy him, my wings snapping wide and lifting me off to the Heaven I know will never be mine until he is there.
Some are Born to sweet Delight, Some are Born to Endless Night. We are led to Believe a Lie When we see not Thro' the Eye Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light. God Appears & God is Light To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night, But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day.
Heero Yuy
180-200
Who found his inner innocence
"To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
Ai shiteru, Tenshi
RATING : R (slash - m/m)
PAIRING : 2x1 strongly hinted at
WARNING/AUTHOR'S NOTE : Deathfic! First time, constructive criticism wanted (needed - not my best work!) Poemfic - kinda my favourite poem, by William Blake.
SUMMARY : Not really much of a story, just introspection. Heero's thoughts at a very important time in his life.
DISCLAIMER : Gundam Wing not mine! Belongs to Bandai and someone else, I think.
*********************************************************************** ********************************************************************
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.
A person once told me to follow my emotions. The trouble is, I forgot what they were. I had them beaten out of me. It was a blessing in a way -- I forgot about the pain in my life, and believe me, I've had a lot of it. I no longer cried myself to sleep every night. I no longer felt the urge to get close to someone, to experience comfort of any kind -- I was no longer in any danger of getting hurt. And I liked that. For a while.
A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Hose misus'd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human Blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre of the Brain does tear. A Skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing.
It was the little girl. . . . . . . .and her dog. She gave me a first glimpse of the key that would open the cage around my heart. She gave me a flower -- a simple thing. "Are you lost, Niisan?" she asked, another simple thing. But those simple things nearly unravelled the steel cords that bound my emotions, nearly made me feel again. For a single moment in time that seemed to last an eternity I could feel my body, my mind and soul, my caged heart reaching for . . . . . . . something. But it slipped out of my grasp as the little girl's cornflower blue eyes released me, and she turned around and skipped away, the blue ribbon in her hair bouncing up and down and the little dog yapping at her heels. I almost screamed for her to come back, just so I could find out what it was I yearned for. But my training pulled me back, back into the numbing void of emotionless being that was my world.
The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight Does the Rising Sun affright. Every Wolf's & Lion's howl Raises from Hell a Human Soul. The wild deer, wand'ring here & there, Keeps the Human Soul from Care. The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.
I forgot about the little girl and her dog, just as I forgot about my . . . . . . . . . . . . . family. That is, until the mission.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little Wren Shall never be belov'd by Men. He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd Shall never be by Woman lov'd.
That mission nearly killed me -- enemy mobile suits everywhere, surrounding me. But I didn't panic, I wasn't programmed to panic. No, I calmly shot a mobile suit that was blocking my way. The beam cannon sliced through it like it was constructed out of paper, not out of the incredible metals that I knew it was. The suit fell backwards, crashing into a civilian building. My mind registered the fact, and stored it away in a computer-like fashion, tucking it into the file entitled "Necessary Casualties".
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly Shall feel the Spider's enmity. He who torments the Chafer's sprite Weaves a Bower in endless Night. The Caterpillar on the Leaf Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief. Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
After I had completed the mission, I was ordered by Dr.J to investigate the civilian building and the surrounding area for any evidence of my presence. I complied and began searching the rubble along with the emergency crews, posing as a desperate son trying to find his parents. On the near side of the building, I lifted a particularly large piece of metal -- the arm of the enemy mobile suit -- and searched under it for any trace of gundanium. There was none, but as I turned away I caught a flicker of blue. I bent down to take a closer look, and found it to be a blue silk ribbon fluttering in the sudden breeze.
He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar. The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat, Feed them & thou wilt grow fat. The Gnat that sings his Summer's song Poison gets from Slander's tongue. The poison of the Snake & Newt Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.
At that moment, something stirred inside me, a steel cord snapped. I remembered the ribbon -- I had seen it last bouncing up and down in time to a little girl's skipping steps. It had matched her cornflower blue eyes, and her pretty blue summer dress. I leaned forward and desperately pulled at the rubble holding the ribbon down.
The poison of the Honey Bee Is the Artist's Jealousy. The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy & Woe.
A few hours later I found the puppy. It matched with the little girl and her blue silk ribbon. I picked them all up and buried them not far from the city, in a meadow filled with poppies. Appropriate, that it was poppies. Poppies have always symbolised remembrance, and I was destined to remember the little girl and her dog . . . . . . . and her blue silk ribbon, forever.
And when this we rightly know Thro' the World we safely go. Joy & Woe are woven fine, A Clothing for the Soul divine; Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The Babe is more than swaddling Bands; Throughout all these Human Lands Tools were made, & born were hands, Every Farmer Understands.
After that, the emotions kept bursting through the bars of the cage. And I wanted them to. I was tired of living without them. Each day, the ice melted a little more, the cage lost a few more bars, another steel cord snapped, and the walls built against my emotions got less and less high, easier and easier to scale.
Every Tear from Every Eye Becomes A Babe in Eternity. This is caught by Females bright And return'd to its own delight. The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore. The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath Writes Revenge in the realms of death.
And scale them someone did. He exploded into my life with a big . . . . . bang. He dominated me right from the start. At first I tried to ignore him. Tried to ignore his cheerful chatter and smiles. His casual touches and searching looks. He never went any further, but I could tell he wanted to. Hell, I wanted him to go further, needed him to go further. I needed to feel his touch, his caresses, needed to hear him say my name in an intimate tone.
The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air, Does to Rags the Heavens tear. The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun, Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun. The poor Man's Farthing is worth more Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore. One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands Shall buy and sell the Miser's lands:
Every time he was near me, I could feel something inside me growing. No matter how many touches he gave, I found myself wanting more. I wanted him, with every cell in my body, every fibre of my soul, every emotion in my heart.
Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole Nation sell & buy. He who mocks the Infant's Faith Shall be mock'd in Age & Death. He who shall teach the Child to Doubt The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out. He who respects the Infant's faith Triumph's over Hell & Death.
Every now and then, he recited sections of a poem to me -- one of William Blake's. I remember every single word. I was confused by it at the time, so I asked him what it meant -- he merely smiled and closed the book. I asked him what it was called and he shook his head and replied, "You would never understand, Heero,". And I didn't. I didn't. Until now.
The Child's Toys and the Old Man's Reasons Are the Fruits of the Two seasons. The Questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to Reply. He who replies to words of Doubt Doth put the Light of Knowledge out. The Strongest Poison ever known Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.
He became my whole world. He was what I found in my 'Grain of Sand' and my 'Wild Flower'. When I was with him, I knew Eternity and Infinity. I no longer wanted or even needed him. No, I had finally mastered the most complicated emotion of all -- I loved him. There's no other way to say it, to express it. No other way to show the depth of this feeling. No mere mortal could understand, and that includes myself.
Nought can deform the Human Race Like the Armour's iron brace. When Gold and Gems adorn the Plow To Peaceful Arts shall envy Bow, A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry Is to Doubt a fit Reply. The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
I found out what the poem meant. I discovered its title, and, when I read it again, aloud to myself, I realised what he had meant. I realised why he was so sad, and why he thought I would never understand. The poem symbolises life -- its simple yet complex meaning eluded many and yet . . . . . . embraced many. It preaches that life should be enjoyed, that every day counts, that beauty can be found everywhere, even in a grain of sand. Its title pertains to me particularly -- "Auguries of Innocence". He knew this. He recognised the inner innocence, he saw past the blatant disregard for life, even when I did not. He was striving to show me I was different, that I could change, that I could choose to be someone, a person, not a machine programmed to obey orders.
He who Doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you Please. If the Sun and Moon should doubt They'd immediately Go out. To be in a Passion you Good may do, But no Good if a Passion is in you. The Whore & Gambler, by the State Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.
Its inscribed on my headstone. The poem. Well, the first four lines. He asked for it, because he knew that I had discovered its meaning. He knew. He knew because, although I had given up my life, I had done it trying to save a child, another little girl in a blue summer dress with a blue silk ribbon in her hair and a puppy yapping at her heels. He realised that I had found my innocence, and that I valued life. And as I gazed at his stricken yet awestruck face, I found my World in the tear sliding down his cheek, my Heaven in the wild violet of his eyes, my Infinity in the expression on his face, and my Eternity in the single second in which he blew a kiss.
The Harlot's cry from Street to Street Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet. The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse, Dance before Dead England's Hearse. Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn & every Night Some are Born to Sweet Delight.
Every year, he comes and places poppies on my grave. Every year, he recites the poem. Every year, he presses a kiss to the headstone. And every year I watch, silent and smiling. And then, every year, he leaves without looking back, and I copy him, my wings snapping wide and lifting me off to the Heaven I know will never be mine until he is there.
Some are Born to sweet Delight, Some are Born to Endless Night. We are led to Believe a Lie When we see not Thro' the Eye Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light. God Appears & God is Light To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night, But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day.
Heero Yuy
180-200
Who found his inner innocence
"To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
Ai shiteru, Tenshi