Unsung Requiem

By M o o n M y s t

Start 10.9.03

The quiet fire, licking at the wicks of innocent candles, flickered as the rough wind ravished a figure huddled upon the hard ground. The flames smiled sadly at him, their comfort discarded in the young man's own pain. He hid stealthily in the darkness, preferring not to be seen by any, fearing the repercussions they would face from seeing Death.

Duo was alone, kneeling before the presence of the God that he had never fully known, but had somehow had a connection with, even if it had only been by his long passed foster guardians. The silent church had a sudden foreboding sense that scared the Shinigami, his body shaking from fright and cold.

Something about coming back to this place had haunted him for years, and had long since been forgotten in the intense life of a soldier. But the distressing thoughts started to gain the Gundam pilot's attention once again.

Hushed memories of the past always came back when he saw the faces of other orphaned children, their scrawny bodies and tousled hair, as they stared in awe at the tremendous power of the God of Death. He thought of how he had lived – how he had changed and been given so many chances. Only those old reminisces were always attached with the pain and sorrow he had felt – the cold loneliness that now inhibited his empty body always surfaced when he recalled his younger years.

Sister Helen and Father Maxwell, his surrogate family, the people he had loved to no extent, and revered for their strong faith, even if he had never been able to believe.

He twisted his long braid absently, its soft tresses coming undone as he pulled off the binding that had for so long tied back his unruly hair. He fingered it gently, his hands parting each strand smoothly. It had been so long since he had released his brunette locks – so long since they had been free.

~*~

Duo squirmed ferociously in the nun's firm grip; her one hand holding him while the other clutched a pair of scissors. The sister seemed on the verge of just cutting it all off, but the tangled mess shook violently, as to deter her from cutting his so treasured mane.

Father Maxwell entered the chaotic room, a knowing smile lighting his face as he saw the youth that reminded the priest of himself.

Sister Helen noticed his entrance and looked up at him, pure exasperation evident on her kind face, "This boy . . . he won't let me cut his hair!" she said frustrated with the young boy. Duo squirmed some more, hoping she would just leave him and his hair alone.

"Well, duh!" came the indolent boy's reply, "It's bad enough I gotta wear these weird clothes, I can't let you cut my hair as well!" he said and stared down at the priest's robe he had so reluctantly agreed to wear.

Sister Helen, distressed at the youngster's uncouth actions and speech, restrained the urge to end such as silly argument with the swift chopping of such dinginess right there and then, but instead, with strained benevolence said, "But it's all scraggly and tangled. It's unhygienic."

"I like it like this!" He said and tried to pull away from her domineering grasp.

"Sister Helen, let Duo have his way." Said the sympathetic priest as he approached the struggling boy.

"But…"

Father Maxwell simply sighed and nodded his head, choosing to give-in to his favorite orphan's demands rather than to make his miserable heart even more unhappy than it already was.

The Sister smiled as she placed the scissors down and moved her hands methodically. She twisted Duo's long brown hair into a three separate parts and began to intertwine them into a long sweeping braid.

"So . . . there you go," she said happily as she admired the miracle of art at taming the young orphan's unruly mane. "No complaints, right?"

Duo beamed at her, his gracious smile warming the hearts of his foster family, his smile that would soon become an installment to the Maxwell Church and not only teach him, but also teach others, the truth behind familial love.

~*~

How things had changed . . . whether they be for the best or worst – these memories followed him everywhere, keeping the flame that Sister Helen and Father Maxwell had ignited in his heart. And now everything was different. He had gone through many conversions in his life – but something about the things he had learned in this very place of love and friendship had a certain affect on who he had become.

And now, the new church, with fresh strength had been revived - and so it lived on through others like the Father and Sister. Only something didn't really sit well with Duo. They were damaging the memory of them – they were destroying the monumental death that had shaken the young man's life. Somehow it just wasn't right.

He knew that his surrogate parents did not rest in peace – he knew that something had almost awakened them from death itself. Or perhaps it was only memories that troubled his dreams – but they seemed so real – so alive. And their message was always the same – Peace.

~*~

The quiet nun looked into her favorite orphan's eyes and questioned, "You say there's no God?"

An amused grin adorned the child's face as he said, "Yeah. If there really was a God, then wouldn't he make it so there weren't any more wars?" he asked and looked over at Father Maxwell as he climbed on the priest's lap comfortably, "And if there were no wars, there wouldn't be any war orphans like me."

Father Maxwell sighed meaningfully, trying to find the words to describe such a powerful and complex answer to a tiny child, "Duo... wars aren't started by God ... But by people. What people begin . . . people must end for themselves." He said, hoping that his reason would be enough to satisfy the youngster's curiosity.

"Hmm.... So it doesn't matter if God exists or not?"

"Th-that's not so!" cut in Sister Helen a bit sharply, attempting to support her own beliefs.

"Then the only god in the world is the god of death." Said Duo pleasantly – a bit too pleasantly for such a grave matter.

"Duo... You don't believe in God, but you believe in the god of death?" she asked, quite perplexed by his innocent logic.

The young orphan smiled, "Yeah! I've never seen any miracles, but I've seen lots of dead people!"

~*~

And again, a subtle smile graced the face of the Shingami as he recollected that day he had supposedly solved the problems of the universe and out-smarted even God. How long ago that had been – how naïve he was of the world – if only he had seen the truth – the bigger picture behind all this war. Maybe then he would have been able to save them.

But blaming himself for their deaths had given up its grip on the young man years ago, and had been replaced with a distinct hatred for the God who hadn't saved his loved ones – the God they had trusted so dearly and who had let them down.

Duo looked down at the priest's attire and frowned deeply. Why did he wear this old thing? Was it the memories? Or the symbolism? Or perhaps just the connection to his past that left him with a sense of pride and strength. What difference did it make if he wore it? Everything, he just didn't feel right without it – just like he didn't feel right without his foster parents.

To clear the tired thoughts from his head, Duo looked up at the highly arched ceiling. It reminded him of the sky – pure without the fears or dangers that now inhabited it. It was limitless and yet there were boundaries.

Somehow, the shadowy church, its beauty and grace surpassing even the twinkling stars that shone in through the beautiful stained glass windows. Something about those stars always kept him entranced. Maybe it was that stars were only orbs of gas – maybe it was that they could be explained. Who really knows? But his subconscious answered his question almost before he had asked it. God knows.

And somehow he fell back into the pit of despair. He was getting nowhere – not that he knew where to go – it was just that he had hoped that maybe some sort of restitution could be reached if he had come back to the spot of their death. But instead he had come upon this church- this new church full of knew people and knew orphans. There was no peace of mind for him here – only dead memories of the past.

~*~

Duo stood, a mass of rubble at his feet, cobalt eyes searching the place fearfully. This was wrong – this couldn't be Maxwell Church – it just couldn't be. He had gotten them what they had wanted – now he wanted his family, "No... this...can't be..." he said, his voice trailing, all hope of convincing himself that this was not reality when he saw the feeble form of Sister Helen.

"D...Duo..."

The fatigued nun lay in the ruin, blood trickling slowly from her mouth as she said the words, "I'm glad... You're safe."

Duo stared, a horrified look adorning his usually sweet face, "Sister!" he cried into the darkness, as if willing everything to be imaginary.

A weak smile graced the worn-out sister, her little orphan had come back for her after all – and he was alive and safe, too. "Don't make us worry like that. Father was.... worried about you.... even to the end..."

"I-I'll go get a doctor!" he said, his mind spinning violently as he looked about for something – someone – somehow.

Sister Helen let out a tired sigh as she tried to speak, silently praying that someday he would understand, "Th-the alliance came and attacked. But we couldn't leave... the church."

"W-was it my fault?! Because I stole the Mobile Suit from the alliance?" he asked fearfully, he had caused the death of his family, he had just about killed them.

The weary nun tried to smile with what little energy she had left, maybe she would be able to let Duo know that the world wasn't all war and pain – that there were some things worth fighting for "F-father was so noble. H-he kept.... preaching peace..."

Duo, his blue eyes scanning the wreck turned back to look at Sister Helen – was this what she really thought? That being righteous would save the world? That being honorable was more important that being alive? "That's not noble! That's just dumb! What's the point if he's dead now?!" he asked, outraged, but not quite sure with whom.

"Duo..." she started, her hand moving touch the young orphan's filthy face with her own dirty hand. There was no time left to teach him anything – just to leave him with the best gift she could give. " May you.... have God's blessing..."

Her last words – her very last words – and they were to him. Helen's hand dropped gracefully to the ground. This couldn't be happening – it just couldn't be.

Duo watched her eyes close, the last faint breath of air escaping through her lips. He screamed, as if his shouts to God would persuade to return her breath to her. But it could not be so – for in this moment, his future was forever changed – and Duo Maxwell was no longer just a filthy orphan – he was the god of Death.

~*~

He cried even as he remembered – he cried the tears he hadn't been able to. Quiet streams of heaven flowing ominously down his cheeks. Duo looked at the church, thinking of what had happened that day – of the transformation within his soul. The strange ways in which fate created miracles.

Perhaps if they hadn't died, there was a definite possibility he would be a priest – not a pilot. But then where would the world be? What would have happened to all the good he'd done over the years as well as the bad? He was sure things wouldn't be the same – he was sure the great things he had accomplished would pale to things he could have done as a minister.

Maybe this was God's way – a way so cosmic and incomprehensible that even Death had no means to discover its true significance. Maybe, his life had meaning – a real value to it. Was this what his foster parents had tried to teach him? That he was more than an orphan or pilot or boy or even Death?

The tears stopped and Duo's mind cleared. Truth, he finally had something he believed in. Something more that right or wrong or life or death – he had truth. The young man stared up at the ceiling, acknowledging the presence of a being with more power than he would ever fathom.

He stood up quietly, "Do I still have your blessing, God?" he asked to the celestial sky.

There came no answer, but something in Duo's heart sighed, almost relieved. He was sure restitution had been reached – that now his nurturing parents now rested in the peace they had worked so hard to keep.

A faint glimmer from the side of Duo's eye caught his attention – it was his mind teasing him. There was no way Sister Helen and Father Maxwell could be standing there – watching him. But then again, who was he to say what was truth?

A small smile graced his lips, sending waves of needed contentment upon his heart. Love. Truth. Peace. He had finally obtained it all. He finally knew his life had meaning. His cobalt eyes glistened with moisture – he was Duo Maxwell, no longer god of death, but a child of Hope.

A/N- I just decided to take the time to edit most of my fics and upload a few that have been wasting away in my harddrive, so voila! here is the edited version of Requiem (now Unsung Requiem - I changed the title since there is another awesome story called Requiem by Moriavis) Yeah, this is a bit on the sad/sappy side and, yes, this is very philosophical. I just put into use some of the stuff I learned from life and decided to share it with Duo. I always thought of Duo as having a constant struggle with God and truth - so here it is *sigh* this took SO long to finish – but its finished (yea!) Thanx three million! Loves

Disclaimer – I don't own GW or anything for that matter!

Oh and thanks to this real cool website (which is, for some reason, not showing up in the story) for supplying me with the quotes from Episode Zero that I so painstakingly tried to remember!