Minutes
Perhaps his own fear had dragged him towards the trap that lay before him. Perhaps his fear of living had drawn him towards taking the streets late at night. The depth of the night frightened him but he didn't care anymore. Fear meant nothing in his world. Fear would drive him back, back away from his mission. He had to complete the mission.
Snow touched his face on the cold winter's night. The frost had fallen for countless amounts of nights, the cold covering the happiness of summer with a blanket of sin. The grass surrendered to the power of winter, even the evergreens would fall to the power of the snow. No one would walk on an evening such as this one. No one would dare challenge the rathe of winter, no one but one young boy.
He seemed to have nothing to live for, nothing to loose. Why not take a nice stroll through the chilled cities of earth? His footprints sank several centimetres before stable ground was reached. The road was covered in the white sea, the trees, cars, buildings, everything had been sealed for the few months of frozen despair. The boy sighed, watching the cloud of his warm breath disappear ahead of him. He lay his clenched hands into his pockets, keeping them from the bitterness of outside. He continued to walk, watching the night close in around him. The wind picked up around his feet, throwing the snow into a tornado of ice. The boy shielded himself as he walked through the cloud, the cloud of frost, cloud of the past.
The only thing he could think of, the only thing he could remember at that point was the sound of a gun shot, the sound of the piercing streak as it rammed its way through the air. He felt the gun in his pocket, cringing as he touched the trigger.
The shot fired in his imagination, the boy flinching from the sound. He stared over his shoulder, looking at the tornado behind him. Snow and dust circled around him as the whiteout began to set in. He sighed, he'd have to get home soon.
The snow patted down on his jacket covering it with the sea of silk. He brushed his shoulder knocking the snow to the ground. He wasn't about to surrender, not to anyone, not even the snow.
Something streaked through his mind, cutting at his imagination and tearing at the fear that lay deep inside him. The boy stumbled to the side, landing in the snow against a building. He shook the white leaves from his hair, staring up at the snow landing around him.
"What's going on?" The boy muttered, still sitting in the cold. The memory of the gun shot flooded back into his mind. The sound that everyone will fear one point in their lives. The sound of a deadly weapon, a weapon that had sacrificed millions of lives, a weapon that could take out anyone, anywhere. It drove fear into the hearts of the population and at one point or another, he would feel this fear.
He stared down at Trowa, the boy rolling in pain, agony and sorrow. Still he felt nothing, no pity, mercy or respect. Trowa had nothing to offer him, why keep him alive? A life was a life. To him it had no meaning, no point, and no destination. Perhaps killing someone was an escape, but why then did the Latin plead for his life.
The pilot rarely felt pain. Pain was optional, fear was optional. Why then did Trowa feel so much?
Heero stood from his seat, shaking his head, preventing the memory from haunting him. Trowa's eyes, tears flowing like a river, pain creasing every bone in his body. The gun wound bleeding hate and disgust. Tears, pain and suffering's true form. Fear rapidly blazing his veins, burning him from the inside. The gun shot tearing at his skin, skidding through his flesh, scratching his insides. Heero had felt this many times before, gun shot wounds were never a hassle.
Perhaps Trowa had discovered something about life Heero hadn't. Maybe he had something to live for.
Heero removed the gun from his pocket, sliding several metal bullets into the barrel. He rolled it several times before sighing and taking several more steps into the snow. A weapon of mass destruction, threat to all man kind. Never had he felt like this before. Never had he really stared at the snow, blood soaking his vision from the white crisp sea, wondering what it would feel like to build a snow man. He drummed his fingers against the gun in his hand. Many times he had placed the gun to his head and wished it would take his life, remove him from this world and send him to the burning heaven below. Many nights he had waited, just to sink into his own world, hoping something would drag him down, away from this land.
Then again, he remembered Trowa's face before he shot him. The fear that had overcome him, the love he had wished for so long and no one was there to give it to him. The fear of the pain that was soaring through him, the cursing and hatred. The way he quivered in the cold, a victim of the gun in his hand. Death had grasped his soul.
Trowa wished for love, love that he could never have tearing apart oz infiltrations.
He heard the footsteps behind him several seconds before he dropped to the side of the building once more. He closed his eyes and for the first time, regret filled his lungs instead of air. He closed his eyes avoiding the visions, the shots, avoiding any form of the past he could.
"What happened?" An American voice sounded through the whiteout. He stepped into the clearing watching where the pilot sat against the building. He stared through the floating white particles and approached the pilot slowly. He gripped a gun simular to the one Heero held, loaded and ready to fire at any moment.
"What did you do?" Duo raised the gun towards the pilot but all he did was look up and smile.
"Perhaps now I'll know what Trowa learnt."
"What?"
The snow covered the scene for a minute and drowned out the sound of Heero's mumbling. The wind blew surrounding the pilots, the snow drifting in to their eyesight.
"Shoot me, Duo. Shoot me and let my life finish."
"No, you have your whole life to live."
"I have nothing to live for. Trowa had everything."
"What happened?" Duo lowered his gun but Heero gripped his. He raised it to his head feeling the cold metal against his hair. His blue eyes shut, tears rushing from them. Pain, pain in its true form. Heero's eyes opened and he wiped the water from his lashes. He stared at the cold water on his finger tips. His blue crystal eyes softened with regret and sadness. The tears flowed, slipping down the sides of his face.
Duo stared, shocked.
"Heero."
"What, what is going on?" Heero clenched his gun, removing it from his head. He dropped it into the snow below him, watching it sink beneath the sea of sorrow. Blood cursed the boy's vision creating an illusion in the snow. He leapt away from the trickling red river, tears dropping into the snow.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Trowa."
The boy broke down, running passed Duo and into the whiteout. Duo quickly attempted to reach for the boy but missed. He shouted out into the darkness for the boy but Heero couldn't hear anything but the sorrow inside of him.
Heero fell, his knees crashing to the ground soaking his pants. He slammed his hands down into the snow just like Trowa had done moments before his death. His tears feel into the snow, freezing and becoming one with the sea. Just like the dead, it disappeared without a trace and became like every other fallen crystal. It was forgotten resting among other like it. The boy gritted his teeth trying to throw back the darkness inside of him, trying to free everything he had hidden since he was born. Just like Trowa, fear crept over him like darkness against dusks light. The sun won't rise for him, not today, not tomorrow. He was lost in darkness forever. His soul locked in chains inside of him, a gun clasped in his hand. That's the only way he knew, the way of the gun.
Heero searched for it, the gun locked inside of him, the gun that was sinking in the snow metres away. He had to find the gun, the gun that had killed so many people and hidden reality from the boy's gaze. The wool had been pulled over his eyes for too many years. Now that gun was going to release him.
Release him from fear. Release him from pain. Release him from his past. Release him from the future. Release him from sorrow. Release him from hate. Release him others. And release him from himself.
A gun shot pierced the air, shattering the snow crystals as it punctured them. It scratched at the oxygen until it met its target. Silence fell over the town, nothing stirred. It was almost as if the snow itself froze to observe the scene. Nothing moved and for that moment everything, surrounding the pilots amongst the snow, stopped. Heero looked up at the enemy holding his gun.
"So I bleed again?" The boy said falling backwards into the snow, blood trailing down into the white blanket beneath him.
"I'm sorry but I have to get you back home." Duo walked through the forest of snow crystals until he reached the fainted boy lying on the ground. He lifted him from the cold below, holding him just high enough so that he could wrap his scarf around the boy's gunshot wound.
"Why don't you just leave me here Duo? I don't want to live like this anymore." Tears flooded Heero's vision as he gripped the American's shoulder. "I don't want to live a life of everlasting pain, like Trowa." The boy began to moan from pain and the guilt that scared him inside.
"Forget Trowa," Duo whispered comforting his victim. "Live the life he would have wanted. Live his life for him." Heero gasped at the air. He felt his heart begin to slow, overcome by the force of the bullet that narrowly missed. Heero's breathing scattered and he shut his eyes. His grip on the American's shoulder loosened before it fell into the snow below.
Duo smiled lifting the boy into his arms.
"You sleep well. You'll see the light again and you can start again. You won't have to live in the shadow of your gun."
Duo dropped the black gun into the snow, the crystals slowly covering it in white dots until it became part of the sea, part of the forgotten world, part of the past.
*I don't own Gundam Wing but I do own this fic. If you like then review, I always appreciate what people think. Thanks to all the people that have read this ad either reviewed or even thought about it.*
Perhaps his own fear had dragged him towards the trap that lay before him. Perhaps his fear of living had drawn him towards taking the streets late at night. The depth of the night frightened him but he didn't care anymore. Fear meant nothing in his world. Fear would drive him back, back away from his mission. He had to complete the mission.
Snow touched his face on the cold winter's night. The frost had fallen for countless amounts of nights, the cold covering the happiness of summer with a blanket of sin. The grass surrendered to the power of winter, even the evergreens would fall to the power of the snow. No one would walk on an evening such as this one. No one would dare challenge the rathe of winter, no one but one young boy.
He seemed to have nothing to live for, nothing to loose. Why not take a nice stroll through the chilled cities of earth? His footprints sank several centimetres before stable ground was reached. The road was covered in the white sea, the trees, cars, buildings, everything had been sealed for the few months of frozen despair. The boy sighed, watching the cloud of his warm breath disappear ahead of him. He lay his clenched hands into his pockets, keeping them from the bitterness of outside. He continued to walk, watching the night close in around him. The wind picked up around his feet, throwing the snow into a tornado of ice. The boy shielded himself as he walked through the cloud, the cloud of frost, cloud of the past.
The only thing he could think of, the only thing he could remember at that point was the sound of a gun shot, the sound of the piercing streak as it rammed its way through the air. He felt the gun in his pocket, cringing as he touched the trigger.
The shot fired in his imagination, the boy flinching from the sound. He stared over his shoulder, looking at the tornado behind him. Snow and dust circled around him as the whiteout began to set in. He sighed, he'd have to get home soon.
The snow patted down on his jacket covering it with the sea of silk. He brushed his shoulder knocking the snow to the ground. He wasn't about to surrender, not to anyone, not even the snow.
Something streaked through his mind, cutting at his imagination and tearing at the fear that lay deep inside him. The boy stumbled to the side, landing in the snow against a building. He shook the white leaves from his hair, staring up at the snow landing around him.
"What's going on?" The boy muttered, still sitting in the cold. The memory of the gun shot flooded back into his mind. The sound that everyone will fear one point in their lives. The sound of a deadly weapon, a weapon that had sacrificed millions of lives, a weapon that could take out anyone, anywhere. It drove fear into the hearts of the population and at one point or another, he would feel this fear.
He stared down at Trowa, the boy rolling in pain, agony and sorrow. Still he felt nothing, no pity, mercy or respect. Trowa had nothing to offer him, why keep him alive? A life was a life. To him it had no meaning, no point, and no destination. Perhaps killing someone was an escape, but why then did the Latin plead for his life.
The pilot rarely felt pain. Pain was optional, fear was optional. Why then did Trowa feel so much?
Heero stood from his seat, shaking his head, preventing the memory from haunting him. Trowa's eyes, tears flowing like a river, pain creasing every bone in his body. The gun wound bleeding hate and disgust. Tears, pain and suffering's true form. Fear rapidly blazing his veins, burning him from the inside. The gun shot tearing at his skin, skidding through his flesh, scratching his insides. Heero had felt this many times before, gun shot wounds were never a hassle.
Perhaps Trowa had discovered something about life Heero hadn't. Maybe he had something to live for.
Heero removed the gun from his pocket, sliding several metal bullets into the barrel. He rolled it several times before sighing and taking several more steps into the snow. A weapon of mass destruction, threat to all man kind. Never had he felt like this before. Never had he really stared at the snow, blood soaking his vision from the white crisp sea, wondering what it would feel like to build a snow man. He drummed his fingers against the gun in his hand. Many times he had placed the gun to his head and wished it would take his life, remove him from this world and send him to the burning heaven below. Many nights he had waited, just to sink into his own world, hoping something would drag him down, away from this land.
Then again, he remembered Trowa's face before he shot him. The fear that had overcome him, the love he had wished for so long and no one was there to give it to him. The fear of the pain that was soaring through him, the cursing and hatred. The way he quivered in the cold, a victim of the gun in his hand. Death had grasped his soul.
Trowa wished for love, love that he could never have tearing apart oz infiltrations.
He heard the footsteps behind him several seconds before he dropped to the side of the building once more. He closed his eyes and for the first time, regret filled his lungs instead of air. He closed his eyes avoiding the visions, the shots, avoiding any form of the past he could.
"What happened?" An American voice sounded through the whiteout. He stepped into the clearing watching where the pilot sat against the building. He stared through the floating white particles and approached the pilot slowly. He gripped a gun simular to the one Heero held, loaded and ready to fire at any moment.
"What did you do?" Duo raised the gun towards the pilot but all he did was look up and smile.
"Perhaps now I'll know what Trowa learnt."
"What?"
The snow covered the scene for a minute and drowned out the sound of Heero's mumbling. The wind blew surrounding the pilots, the snow drifting in to their eyesight.
"Shoot me, Duo. Shoot me and let my life finish."
"No, you have your whole life to live."
"I have nothing to live for. Trowa had everything."
"What happened?" Duo lowered his gun but Heero gripped his. He raised it to his head feeling the cold metal against his hair. His blue eyes shut, tears rushing from them. Pain, pain in its true form. Heero's eyes opened and he wiped the water from his lashes. He stared at the cold water on his finger tips. His blue crystal eyes softened with regret and sadness. The tears flowed, slipping down the sides of his face.
Duo stared, shocked.
"Heero."
"What, what is going on?" Heero clenched his gun, removing it from his head. He dropped it into the snow below him, watching it sink beneath the sea of sorrow. Blood cursed the boy's vision creating an illusion in the snow. He leapt away from the trickling red river, tears dropping into the snow.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Trowa."
The boy broke down, running passed Duo and into the whiteout. Duo quickly attempted to reach for the boy but missed. He shouted out into the darkness for the boy but Heero couldn't hear anything but the sorrow inside of him.
Heero fell, his knees crashing to the ground soaking his pants. He slammed his hands down into the snow just like Trowa had done moments before his death. His tears feel into the snow, freezing and becoming one with the sea. Just like the dead, it disappeared without a trace and became like every other fallen crystal. It was forgotten resting among other like it. The boy gritted his teeth trying to throw back the darkness inside of him, trying to free everything he had hidden since he was born. Just like Trowa, fear crept over him like darkness against dusks light. The sun won't rise for him, not today, not tomorrow. He was lost in darkness forever. His soul locked in chains inside of him, a gun clasped in his hand. That's the only way he knew, the way of the gun.
Heero searched for it, the gun locked inside of him, the gun that was sinking in the snow metres away. He had to find the gun, the gun that had killed so many people and hidden reality from the boy's gaze. The wool had been pulled over his eyes for too many years. Now that gun was going to release him.
Release him from fear. Release him from pain. Release him from his past. Release him from the future. Release him from sorrow. Release him from hate. Release him others. And release him from himself.
A gun shot pierced the air, shattering the snow crystals as it punctured them. It scratched at the oxygen until it met its target. Silence fell over the town, nothing stirred. It was almost as if the snow itself froze to observe the scene. Nothing moved and for that moment everything, surrounding the pilots amongst the snow, stopped. Heero looked up at the enemy holding his gun.
"So I bleed again?" The boy said falling backwards into the snow, blood trailing down into the white blanket beneath him.
"I'm sorry but I have to get you back home." Duo walked through the forest of snow crystals until he reached the fainted boy lying on the ground. He lifted him from the cold below, holding him just high enough so that he could wrap his scarf around the boy's gunshot wound.
"Why don't you just leave me here Duo? I don't want to live like this anymore." Tears flooded Heero's vision as he gripped the American's shoulder. "I don't want to live a life of everlasting pain, like Trowa." The boy began to moan from pain and the guilt that scared him inside.
"Forget Trowa," Duo whispered comforting his victim. "Live the life he would have wanted. Live his life for him." Heero gasped at the air. He felt his heart begin to slow, overcome by the force of the bullet that narrowly missed. Heero's breathing scattered and he shut his eyes. His grip on the American's shoulder loosened before it fell into the snow below.
Duo smiled lifting the boy into his arms.
"You sleep well. You'll see the light again and you can start again. You won't have to live in the shadow of your gun."
Duo dropped the black gun into the snow, the crystals slowly covering it in white dots until it became part of the sea, part of the forgotten world, part of the past.
*I don't own Gundam Wing but I do own this fic. If you like then review, I always appreciate what people think. Thanks to all the people that have read this ad either reviewed or even thought about it.*
