Disclaimer: Chrono Cross rocks, so I'm afraid I do not own it. But I do own the sad side to Grobyc. Right? Maybe?
Oh, never mind...
WARNING: Sad stuff for poor Grobyc, and, well, I could say shounen ai, but I dunno...
Authoress' Notes: Wow. I've had Writer's Block for almost a month now. It's sad, but I was sitting there, playing
FF8 and saw...a Chrono Cross guide book sitting right next to the FF8 one! So I snatched it up and read it, remem-
bering my wonderful journeys that I had with Glenn, Serge, and Grobyc. *tear tear* That was until I beat the game.
THAT was sad. So, I got to thinking about who has the most problems in the game. Yeah, of course, Serge. And Glenn
definately. But what about poor Grobyc, whose thoughts may not even be his own? Here's my fic.
-
--
---
Behind My Eyes
Chapter One
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--
-
There is a word I've heard of, a word that is almost as enigmatic as our journey itself. Does it bring pain, and
sorrow? Or does it bring warmth and happiness? I myself shall never know, my existence all on it's own should have
been forbidden from ever becoming, ever learning what this "life" is all about. As I am only known as myself, I
begin to wonder what my "comrades" truly think of me. Am I an exceptional asset, or a bother that they pity so much
that they can't let go? Am I nothing but a mere nonentity, or do I bring recognition to their hearts? As if I myself
would ever know.
Are all my thoughts simply programmed as well?
As it is, I am who I am. Nothing can change that. I hope nothing can change that. I was a weapon at one time. They
defeated me, and showed me that I do have the ability to make my own choices. Yet, I chose to fight on. But did I
really choose, or did THEY choose for me? All of this I wonder as I battle along side them, not fully aware of my
existence, if I really exist at all. How should I know? I'm nothing but an inorganic being. World's most intelligent
cyborg? I would think not, that is, if I could think at all. I'm just more confused than I ever was. I had never
questioned my existence before, not until they proved their strength, and my own. Then again, is it really my own
strength?
Do they want to keep confusing me?
Why can't I just be human? Like everybody else. One day I fear I will just be shut down, like any other computer.
What will my partners do then? Will they mourn me, attempt to avenge me, or just cast me aside in a pile of garbage?
No, these people are more honorable and respectful than that. Even if I was only a tool for their fighting needs, they
would still properly bury me, or properly mourn me. Right?
This is the me on the inside. Not in literal meaning, but, if I could feel for my own, this would be the inner Grobyc.
Pathetic, weak, defenseless, pitiful Grobyc who can't think for himself. A fighting machine? How simple. That must be
it. A pathetic machine, soon to be completely shut down. Then would they search for the people behind my eyes, behind
my thoughts, and my skill? Would they try to repair me, or attempt to fix me so I could be with them once again? Rather
than being trapped in the eternal darkness of my empty mind? It ends up, for somthing so reliable as myself, that I end
up relying on them?
Is it so unusual to want to be human?
Obviously, it must be too much to ask for from anybody.
There is this word I've heard of, one as mysterious as my inorganic being, one as puzzling as my violently quiet dem-
eanor. Is this word a cover-up as well? I struggle onward with my inner being, the people who created me, and may be
controlling me to this very moment, walking on incognito with my limbs clanking together, as a reminder of what I truly
am. A machine. A simple, mechanical being of empty nothingness.
I fear that once I close my inorganic eyes, they will never open again. But would that really be such a bad thing?
Maybe that way, I would stop doubting my existence. Maybe that way, I will never have to think again. So I strive to
close my eyes, and my mind will be wiped clean of my sorrow, my non-existent tragic lack of self-control.
I close my eyes, and they open no more.
__________________________________________________________
Hieica: Yes, I know it's short. But it's only a prologue, really. Maybe more will come later, seeing as the weekend
starts today. Is this the only fanfiction with Grobyc in it?
Swissy: *tear tear* It's so sad!! Review, you stupid people that DO exist!!
Oh, never mind...
WARNING: Sad stuff for poor Grobyc, and, well, I could say shounen ai, but I dunno...
Authoress' Notes: Wow. I've had Writer's Block for almost a month now. It's sad, but I was sitting there, playing
FF8 and saw...a Chrono Cross guide book sitting right next to the FF8 one! So I snatched it up and read it, remem-
bering my wonderful journeys that I had with Glenn, Serge, and Grobyc. *tear tear* That was until I beat the game.
THAT was sad. So, I got to thinking about who has the most problems in the game. Yeah, of course, Serge. And Glenn
definately. But what about poor Grobyc, whose thoughts may not even be his own? Here's my fic.
-
--
---
Behind My Eyes
Chapter One
---
--
-
There is a word I've heard of, a word that is almost as enigmatic as our journey itself. Does it bring pain, and
sorrow? Or does it bring warmth and happiness? I myself shall never know, my existence all on it's own should have
been forbidden from ever becoming, ever learning what this "life" is all about. As I am only known as myself, I
begin to wonder what my "comrades" truly think of me. Am I an exceptional asset, or a bother that they pity so much
that they can't let go? Am I nothing but a mere nonentity, or do I bring recognition to their hearts? As if I myself
would ever know.
Are all my thoughts simply programmed as well?
As it is, I am who I am. Nothing can change that. I hope nothing can change that. I was a weapon at one time. They
defeated me, and showed me that I do have the ability to make my own choices. Yet, I chose to fight on. But did I
really choose, or did THEY choose for me? All of this I wonder as I battle along side them, not fully aware of my
existence, if I really exist at all. How should I know? I'm nothing but an inorganic being. World's most intelligent
cyborg? I would think not, that is, if I could think at all. I'm just more confused than I ever was. I had never
questioned my existence before, not until they proved their strength, and my own. Then again, is it really my own
strength?
Do they want to keep confusing me?
Why can't I just be human? Like everybody else. One day I fear I will just be shut down, like any other computer.
What will my partners do then? Will they mourn me, attempt to avenge me, or just cast me aside in a pile of garbage?
No, these people are more honorable and respectful than that. Even if I was only a tool for their fighting needs, they
would still properly bury me, or properly mourn me. Right?
This is the me on the inside. Not in literal meaning, but, if I could feel for my own, this would be the inner Grobyc.
Pathetic, weak, defenseless, pitiful Grobyc who can't think for himself. A fighting machine? How simple. That must be
it. A pathetic machine, soon to be completely shut down. Then would they search for the people behind my eyes, behind
my thoughts, and my skill? Would they try to repair me, or attempt to fix me so I could be with them once again? Rather
than being trapped in the eternal darkness of my empty mind? It ends up, for somthing so reliable as myself, that I end
up relying on them?
Is it so unusual to want to be human?
Obviously, it must be too much to ask for from anybody.
There is this word I've heard of, one as mysterious as my inorganic being, one as puzzling as my violently quiet dem-
eanor. Is this word a cover-up as well? I struggle onward with my inner being, the people who created me, and may be
controlling me to this very moment, walking on incognito with my limbs clanking together, as a reminder of what I truly
am. A machine. A simple, mechanical being of empty nothingness.
I fear that once I close my inorganic eyes, they will never open again. But would that really be such a bad thing?
Maybe that way, I would stop doubting my existence. Maybe that way, I will never have to think again. So I strive to
close my eyes, and my mind will be wiped clean of my sorrow, my non-existent tragic lack of self-control.
I close my eyes, and they open no more.
__________________________________________________________
Hieica: Yes, I know it's short. But it's only a prologue, really. Maybe more will come later, seeing as the weekend
starts today. Is this the only fanfiction with Grobyc in it?
Swissy: *tear tear* It's so sad!! Review, you stupid people that DO exist!!