Pairings: 2+1 mild (actually, very mild)
Disclaimers: I own nothing in the wonderful anime world, especially any series that goes by the name Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing. The characters aren't mine for the taking, so I am merely borrowing them for my own enjoyment. I promise that nothing bad will ever happen to them while in my keeping. ^-^
Notes: Yes, I wrote once more. and yes, I am still alive (barely, but still alive). I would like to thank all those who have reviewed my other works though I haven't updated in oh. (looks at a calendar. Wow! It has been soooo long!) close to a year. Hope this little work does you some itty bit of justice. Just consider this an exercise at my rusting abilities. ^-^
There is a certain idea in this story that was inspired by Meiran Chang, after reading her fic "Those Eyes Were Killer". An interesting piece if I say so myself. If anyone wants to read it, check it out at: .
Tears
A sound reaches my senses, and I stop wandering around immediately, trying to find the source. The mist that wraps the dark night, enfolds me, caresses me, blinding me from having any sense of direction. For a moment, I wonder at the place I was in. Then, it escapes my thought as that same sound reaches me once again.
Hmm. was that someone. sniffling?
It was as if just the thought, suddenly moves me, and I find myself inside a large building, that I hadn't realized earlier I was standing in front of. The hazy objects slowly resolve themselves into some sort of solidity, as the door leading to the outside closes behind me, cutting of any more mist from entering. The outline of some couches - stiff backed and ancient looking, was revealed to be alongside numerous tabletops and counters, clinical in its emptiness. A somewhat odd contradiction of dark planes and glaringly white surfaces.
As if knocking some sense into me for my brief distraction, that sound comes to me once more, closer this time. Much closer.
I whirl around, and somehow, despite the dark interior that seems to seep into every corner of this building, I could still see clearly the boy hunched into a miserable human ball in one corner.
I approach quickly and yet slowly at the same time, making sure that my silently treading feet, make scuffing noises to avoid startling him.
Sure enough, he immediately quiets down and a big Prussian eye peeked at me from between the crossed elbows that hugged his knees. I kneel in front of him, and scrutinize the boy despite my limited view.
He was scrawny, thin yet not malnourished enough. A sign that while he might have had regular food, they must have been not enough for his growing body. He was barefoot, the tops of his toes peeking out of his shadowed form, the white of his nails calling attention briefly to them. And he was wearing clothes - a pair of tight-fitting shorts, I assume, and some loose top that was tucked into the shorts. While they looked a little worse for wear and scruffy, they were not horribly ripped or mangled to pieces. Maybe he just had a rough day today for that sort of damage.
But what hit me, and took my breath away, was the realization that there were crystalline streaks falling from his eyes, tracing a path down his cheeks, then dripping silently off his pointed chin. There were tears in those too big eyes, hazy and dilated because of some secret pain. There were tears in that face, one that now looked hauntingly familiar to me.
Who was this kid? I wonder silently, as we stare at each other, him with his chin propped on top of his elbows, warily watching me for any sign of movement, and me, just remaining unmoving, as still as a statue for the moment.
The sound of my voice breaks the tableau that we had become, and I wince at the harshness of the tone, as it cuts through the silent-thick fog and drops between the two of us.
"Are you alright?"
The boy looks startled for a moment, before self-consciously nodding his head.
I cock my head to the side at this, staring at him some more, judging the truth behind that action. "Then why were you crying?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but winces and looks away from me, as if in shame. He mumbles something, but I couldn't hear it enough to make any sense of the words.
"What did you say?"
He glares at me briefly, and I am suddenly struck by the awful familiarity of the action. As I try to remember where I had seen it last, and most importantly *who* did it, he speaks again, I was forced to abandon that trail of thought.
"I couldn't fix this. And it hurts." His voice was succinct and precise, though rough from his earlier bout of tears. Then, to my horror, he shows me exactly *where* he hurt.
It was his fingers. All his ten fingers. They were meticulously broken, and some of them were bent at an angle that looked incredibly painful to me. I try to desperately dampen the anger bubbling within me, at who could commit such an atrocity to a *child*, nonetheless this sweet-looking one who looked far too innocent to me.
Instead, I calmly hold out my hand, and tenderly examine his fingers, filing away his winces and aborted movement to take his hand away from my probing ones. After determining that they were cleanly broken, and could be healed by popping them back into place, I let go of him, and his hands dangle limply in the air before he withdraws them and tucks them once again in the groove of his elbows.
"I can fix that, if you want. Do you know what that means?"
He nods once more, and I know by his look that he indeed did know what had to be done. He looked determined for the moment, his eyes burning in me with some inner fire, before abruptly looking shamed once more. He averts his eyes, and whispers. "I. was supposed to do this alone. It is for my training, but I couldn't do it. I. thank you."
The anger gnaws at my inside, but I push it away, to smile at the boy briefly. "It will be alright. I will help you."
The young one nods at my words, accepting them. He takes out his hands once more and holds it up to me. "I am ready."
Instead of words, I merely grasp a finger, then looking deep into his eyes, pull it quickly, before guiding it back into its proper place. A pop could be heard, echoing impossibly loud in the room.
The boy winces, wavers in his gaze, before his eyes close and his brow furrow in pain. No sound escapes him.
I continue resetting all the tiny bones of his fingers, and the only outward change in the appearance of my young companion are the silent tracks of tears that pour from his tightly clenched shut eyes.
Finally, it was over, and I bind them with pieces torn from my shirt, and of cardboard that I only now realized was by his side. He doesn't seem to notice, too deeply into his well of pain to realize the fact.
With a sigh, I enfold him into my warm embrace, tucking his head below my chin. He makes a sort of strangled sound before burrowing into me trustingly. I just hold him for a while, until I am certain he has calmed down. Lifting his head, I am once again ensnared by his powerful gaze, his sight now wonderfully clear and beautiful. I wipe away the telltale signs of his tears and smooth his brows from its crease.
I smile and ask him once more. "Are you alright now?"
He stares at me longer, before cautiously nodding his head.
"Hai."
Without waiting for permission, I hug the boy once more, taking as much comfort as I am giving. A faint thought wisps through my mind, and I smile once more even as I snuggle closer to him.
"Heero."
*************************
"Duo?"
The faint question reaches my ears, effectively breaking me free of my own thoughts and dreams. Groggily opening tear-crusted eyes, I am relieved to see your face, much the same as before - the hardened planes and angles, the smoldering blue glare that in this faint morning light easily bores through my own and holds me captive.
I reach one hand to touch that chiseled façade, wonderingly, adoringly. One finger traces the line from eyes, that should tears ever fall, would leave tracks right there. Just as I had seen on the young Heero of my hazy sleep.
"Daijoubu?"
I smile, and gaze into your dark blue depths once again, thinking just for a moment, when the last time you cried was. I shake my head, and answer.
"Hai. Daijoubu."
~ Owari ~
A/N: I had pretty much given up, on ever having a decent schedule for finishing my fics, since I NEVER seem to follow them anyways. Rest assured, now that my writing spree is beginning once more, you will be seeing some more chapters (hopefully decent enough) of my other fics (most likely in Wired). Gomen for being so slow! I literally just stopped writing and focused on my studies for the moment (yeah right!) Hope no one's THAT mad at me. *peeks*
Disclaimers: I own nothing in the wonderful anime world, especially any series that goes by the name Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing. The characters aren't mine for the taking, so I am merely borrowing them for my own enjoyment. I promise that nothing bad will ever happen to them while in my keeping. ^-^
Notes: Yes, I wrote once more. and yes, I am still alive (barely, but still alive). I would like to thank all those who have reviewed my other works though I haven't updated in oh. (looks at a calendar. Wow! It has been soooo long!) close to a year. Hope this little work does you some itty bit of justice. Just consider this an exercise at my rusting abilities. ^-^
There is a certain idea in this story that was inspired by Meiran Chang, after reading her fic "Those Eyes Were Killer". An interesting piece if I say so myself. If anyone wants to read it, check it out at: .
Tears
A sound reaches my senses, and I stop wandering around immediately, trying to find the source. The mist that wraps the dark night, enfolds me, caresses me, blinding me from having any sense of direction. For a moment, I wonder at the place I was in. Then, it escapes my thought as that same sound reaches me once again.
Hmm. was that someone. sniffling?
It was as if just the thought, suddenly moves me, and I find myself inside a large building, that I hadn't realized earlier I was standing in front of. The hazy objects slowly resolve themselves into some sort of solidity, as the door leading to the outside closes behind me, cutting of any more mist from entering. The outline of some couches - stiff backed and ancient looking, was revealed to be alongside numerous tabletops and counters, clinical in its emptiness. A somewhat odd contradiction of dark planes and glaringly white surfaces.
As if knocking some sense into me for my brief distraction, that sound comes to me once more, closer this time. Much closer.
I whirl around, and somehow, despite the dark interior that seems to seep into every corner of this building, I could still see clearly the boy hunched into a miserable human ball in one corner.
I approach quickly and yet slowly at the same time, making sure that my silently treading feet, make scuffing noises to avoid startling him.
Sure enough, he immediately quiets down and a big Prussian eye peeked at me from between the crossed elbows that hugged his knees. I kneel in front of him, and scrutinize the boy despite my limited view.
He was scrawny, thin yet not malnourished enough. A sign that while he might have had regular food, they must have been not enough for his growing body. He was barefoot, the tops of his toes peeking out of his shadowed form, the white of his nails calling attention briefly to them. And he was wearing clothes - a pair of tight-fitting shorts, I assume, and some loose top that was tucked into the shorts. While they looked a little worse for wear and scruffy, they were not horribly ripped or mangled to pieces. Maybe he just had a rough day today for that sort of damage.
But what hit me, and took my breath away, was the realization that there were crystalline streaks falling from his eyes, tracing a path down his cheeks, then dripping silently off his pointed chin. There were tears in those too big eyes, hazy and dilated because of some secret pain. There were tears in that face, one that now looked hauntingly familiar to me.
Who was this kid? I wonder silently, as we stare at each other, him with his chin propped on top of his elbows, warily watching me for any sign of movement, and me, just remaining unmoving, as still as a statue for the moment.
The sound of my voice breaks the tableau that we had become, and I wince at the harshness of the tone, as it cuts through the silent-thick fog and drops between the two of us.
"Are you alright?"
The boy looks startled for a moment, before self-consciously nodding his head.
I cock my head to the side at this, staring at him some more, judging the truth behind that action. "Then why were you crying?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but winces and looks away from me, as if in shame. He mumbles something, but I couldn't hear it enough to make any sense of the words.
"What did you say?"
He glares at me briefly, and I am suddenly struck by the awful familiarity of the action. As I try to remember where I had seen it last, and most importantly *who* did it, he speaks again, I was forced to abandon that trail of thought.
"I couldn't fix this. And it hurts." His voice was succinct and precise, though rough from his earlier bout of tears. Then, to my horror, he shows me exactly *where* he hurt.
It was his fingers. All his ten fingers. They were meticulously broken, and some of them were bent at an angle that looked incredibly painful to me. I try to desperately dampen the anger bubbling within me, at who could commit such an atrocity to a *child*, nonetheless this sweet-looking one who looked far too innocent to me.
Instead, I calmly hold out my hand, and tenderly examine his fingers, filing away his winces and aborted movement to take his hand away from my probing ones. After determining that they were cleanly broken, and could be healed by popping them back into place, I let go of him, and his hands dangle limply in the air before he withdraws them and tucks them once again in the groove of his elbows.
"I can fix that, if you want. Do you know what that means?"
He nods once more, and I know by his look that he indeed did know what had to be done. He looked determined for the moment, his eyes burning in me with some inner fire, before abruptly looking shamed once more. He averts his eyes, and whispers. "I. was supposed to do this alone. It is for my training, but I couldn't do it. I. thank you."
The anger gnaws at my inside, but I push it away, to smile at the boy briefly. "It will be alright. I will help you."
The young one nods at my words, accepting them. He takes out his hands once more and holds it up to me. "I am ready."
Instead of words, I merely grasp a finger, then looking deep into his eyes, pull it quickly, before guiding it back into its proper place. A pop could be heard, echoing impossibly loud in the room.
The boy winces, wavers in his gaze, before his eyes close and his brow furrow in pain. No sound escapes him.
I continue resetting all the tiny bones of his fingers, and the only outward change in the appearance of my young companion are the silent tracks of tears that pour from his tightly clenched shut eyes.
Finally, it was over, and I bind them with pieces torn from my shirt, and of cardboard that I only now realized was by his side. He doesn't seem to notice, too deeply into his well of pain to realize the fact.
With a sigh, I enfold him into my warm embrace, tucking his head below my chin. He makes a sort of strangled sound before burrowing into me trustingly. I just hold him for a while, until I am certain he has calmed down. Lifting his head, I am once again ensnared by his powerful gaze, his sight now wonderfully clear and beautiful. I wipe away the telltale signs of his tears and smooth his brows from its crease.
I smile and ask him once more. "Are you alright now?"
He stares at me longer, before cautiously nodding his head.
"Hai."
Without waiting for permission, I hug the boy once more, taking as much comfort as I am giving. A faint thought wisps through my mind, and I smile once more even as I snuggle closer to him.
"Heero."
*************************
"Duo?"
The faint question reaches my ears, effectively breaking me free of my own thoughts and dreams. Groggily opening tear-crusted eyes, I am relieved to see your face, much the same as before - the hardened planes and angles, the smoldering blue glare that in this faint morning light easily bores through my own and holds me captive.
I reach one hand to touch that chiseled façade, wonderingly, adoringly. One finger traces the line from eyes, that should tears ever fall, would leave tracks right there. Just as I had seen on the young Heero of my hazy sleep.
"Daijoubu?"
I smile, and gaze into your dark blue depths once again, thinking just for a moment, when the last time you cried was. I shake my head, and answer.
"Hai. Daijoubu."
~ Owari ~
A/N: I had pretty much given up, on ever having a decent schedule for finishing my fics, since I NEVER seem to follow them anyways. Rest assured, now that my writing spree is beginning once more, you will be seeing some more chapters (hopefully decent enough) of my other fics (most likely in Wired). Gomen for being so slow! I literally just stopped writing and focused on my studies for the moment (yeah right!) Hope no one's THAT mad at me. *peeks*