Revelation
A/N: I can't believe it. I actually did the second part for this. I thought I would abandon it for forever and ever just like all of my other fics ever! But no, I actually pulled through this time. can you belive it? It was strange; I just got in the mood to write it and then I sat down and did it. In one sitting. Six pages of Liquid ranting and angsting and freaking out in one sitting. You know I'm gonna have some problems after this. HAHAHA, looney bin for me!
I'm okay, really. All right, what I'd like to point out is that... the title of this fic, Revelation, I actually came up with before I knew that the tattoo on Liquid's arm read "Temptation Revelation". I was actually rather surprised when I found out, and was glad that it fit in so well. XD; Also, I do realize that all of the dialogue is the same, but what do you expect? It's the same scene, just from a different perspective. oo; Oh, and the two chapters titles? One is from a song by Seal, and the other is the name of a song from the anime Hellsing. LOOK HOW VERY ORIGINAL I AM. Oh well. They fit nicely.
Last warnings: Shounen-ai and heavy angst. Possible sappyness. Oh, and thanks to Erin for beta-ing. (If there are any typos, I kill you. ...just kidding, dear. 3)
2: Requiem for the Living
I never really hated him.
It was more that I hated who he was, and what he made me. His existence, the fact that he even lived and breathed, all of that was my own death sentence. Right here, right now... I'm not really dying. No, not really, since I've been dead to the world since the day I was born. Does it sound hackneyed? Perhaps it does, perhaps I sound overdramatic. But it is true. When people looked at me, they never saw anything of worth. Maybe initially, but when they learned the truth about me, about who I am... or rather, who I'm not... then I was simply discarded, thrown to the side. Pushed away so that he could take any place of respect I may have had in their eyes.
How can I blame them for it? I wonder what I would have done, if I was one of them, and it would have been the same. I'm just like them, all the same. It's human nature to be drawn to the better one, after all. To be attracted to the one that has a better chance at survival. Who wants to befriend someone that is quite simply inferior? What is the point of associating with someone that is weak, prone to death? Someone that has reeked of death since they first knew life? As I said, I'm dead. I'm dead. This isn't death, right now, laying here and feeling my heart stop. It's just the transportation to yet another place where I will no doubt be shunned. If I go anywhere at all. Maybe I'll be greeted by blank space.
Darkness. Darkness doesn't mock you, does it? No, darkness always stays the same. Just an empty space, with no depth, full of black. Or the absence of light, if you will. Darkness hides you away from all of those people that want to tear your soul into pieces. No point in hiding anymore, though, is there? My soul was stripped from me the first time my father told me I was useless, a failure in comparison to my beautiful brother. My amazing brother. My unerring brother. My perfect brother.
It should be over by now, but this worthless body of mine seems to want to stretch this out for as long as possible. Kind of a hindrance, really. I'd rather it was just short and sweet at this point. Although maybe the Fates believe that in order to earn my due punishment, I should suffer before I die. I'm hardly suffering that much, however. My eyes are opening, I'm staring up at the sky, and I know that there is pain present, that my chest is aching and working in an inexorable effort to keep my heart beating. I suppose that's what it's made for, though. Your body, it's designed to do all it can to keep you alive. For once, however, it isn't going to work. This is it. He knows it, I know it. We all know it. Finally, Snake, you have won. How does it feel? Wonderful? Or empty?
I'm sure he's gone by now, gone to celebrate. Actually, probably not. He never seemed that eager to see me dead. Maybe he was intrigued by me, by the fact that there was someone else so similar to him. I'm sure he was rather disappointed when he met me face to face. After all, I'm not what I chalked up to be, am I? He probably expected a lot more out of someone that is his supposed equal. Though I suppose I did give him a hell of a fight. How many times did he have to fight me? Four, five? And it wasn't even him that spelled out my loss of life in the end. FoxDie gets that honor.
Still, it doesn't defeat the fact that in the end, I am the one in the snow, by myself during my final moments. Who could I expect to be here for me? I wasn't really waiting for someone to come here, to cry as I died, to beg me not to, to tell me to 'wake up' as it always is in those movies, but... alone? It's what I get, isn't it? What I did was wrong, wasn't it? No, I don't deserve to be so greedy, to want to kill him and take the rest of the world with me while I'm at it. A monster such as myself should never have had such freedom, such power. We were made to kill, to fight, and weapons should never be allowed to think for themselves, should they? Yes, that's what they want us to believe. And Snake was a perfect example of following these orders, carrying out their tasks just like they wanted him to, running about at their very beck and call, never truly questioning what was going on. Even I was able to manipulate him, although he did get the last laugh in the end. When it comes to me, that is.
I have to wonder now, was I really looking to kill him... or just to see if all they said was true? It was, of course. He was unnatural, the way he fought, his complete disregard for what he was doing as he shed so much blood. All of my comrades sent to Hell at his hand, save for Ocelot. And countless others, I'm sure. And he hardly seems to care. As I told him, he probably even enjoys it. But he's supposed to. That's what he was made for. To be a fierce soldier that kills with no mercy, cares not that the people he's wiping the floor with had lives just as he does, families and people that care for them.
Not that I ever cared, either. These people, all of them... they all deserve death. With their meaningless lives, these fake dramas they live out day by day, moving on through life by never really accomplishing anything important. We're a wasteful species. We live to destroy, no matter how people will deny that humans are sympathetic creatures. We still have that built-in need to survive, a need so strong that we will decimate anyone that threatens that need. Despicable, though I've bought into it just like everyone else. It can't be resisted. It's written into the genetic patterns that define us. And though people believe you can deny what made you, created you, it's not possible.
And how can a species that sees it appropriate to put down its fellow man be serene and good? No, we're monsters. Not just us experiments, every single human that thinks they're good enough to suck up the Earth's oxygen when none of us are. We're all just tearing the planet apart, smearing the world and ruining it, damning the generations that will come after us, condemning our offspring, writing their wills before we realize our own. Pathetic.
Yes, now that I have the time to really think about it, my mind cleared oddly in this close-to-death experience, it seems like I was merely running head on into a quick damnation, suicide at the hands of my brother. I never truly thought I could beat him; how would it ever be possible, if he was exponentially better than me in every aspect, I merely his leftovers? There were times when victory seemed so near, close enough that I could taste it, sweet in my mouth, but it was never really there. Only an imitation of it, a good enough mimic that it managed to fool me for a few seconds here and there, I was tricked into thinking that I actually might triumph when I was destined to die, had come here to die.
Even if I had won, by some chance of luck, a blunder by the Gods, it would not have been what I was searching for. There would be those initial moments of fulfillment, and maybe it would even last for a bit, me drowning in the giddy feeling that for once I had actually succeeded at something, but that would fade away eventually, and then there would be nothing. The object of my very life, the one person I had to meet, confront for myself, test with my own deft hands, would be gone, and I would have no reason to go on, no other purpose. I had stupidly attached myself to him in such a manner that if he dies, I, in a sense, wither away as well. What I said was that I wouldn't die as long as he still lived. What I really meant was that I would die the minute he no longer lived.
Everything seems to make so much more sense now.
It's getting worse. Some of the pain is beginning to set in now, but my body seems to be shutting down. My breathing is soft and gentle, my chest not even moving with the small intakes. My eyes at some point decided to close, though I don't feel there's much need to make any effort to open them again. Nothing to see but a cloudy sky, and darkness is much nicer. It's attacking me, attacking my heart, and it hurts. I've always had a surprisingly good tolerance for pain, as I'm sure Snake does as well, but this... this hurts. It's Fate giving me yet another kick in the ass. How many is that now? I've lost count.
I don't think I can move much anymore. I feebly make an attempt to drag my fingers through the snow which doesn't even feel cold anymore, most other sensations blocked out by this pain, but it doesn't respond to the order, lays there limply and lifelessly. Maybe I've died and I didn't realize it. Maybe this is one of those out of body experiences, and I should be watching from somewhere else, but my soul refuses to remove itself from my self. Oh, wait. I don't have a soul, do I? Father killed it, yes. That's right. Maybe...
Someone's there. Someone or something. Somehow I can still tell, still have that semi-alert sixth sense that lets me know when danger is nearby. It's hardly going to do me any good now, seeing as I can't move and all. I consider opening my eyes, but I figure there's not much of a point. No matter who or what it is, nor what it plans to do with me, I'll have to accept it either way. I don't feel like making the effort to will my eyes to open. Just leave me in peace, for once. Leave me be... this one last time. All of you. I don't want to be bothered any more.
It's touching me, it's grabbing me, it's... holding me? Everything is a bit distorted now, not all of it processes, but it seems that now I'm laying on something warm rather than the wet snow. Something... human. But who? Who could be here, who could find it suitable to come and mourn over a man that never did anything good for the world? My mind rakes through a list of people, quickly checking people off through process of elimination, but I can't seem to put any pieces of such a deranged puzzle together. No one fits the description, to do such a thing, something like this.
They're... running a finger over my chest. My injured chest, and it should add to the pain, but somehow, it makes it a little more bearable. It's as if this person, whoever it may be, has a slightly healing touch, that just their contact with my dying form gives my body a little more of a drive to... live. People have done this before, have caressed my skin in a similar manner, during the many sexual encounters I've managed to stumble into during this sad existence, but... it never amounted to feeling like anything close to how this does. Why? Why is this so different? Is it because I'm so close to death?
My arm, they're grabbing my arm? Oh... my tattoo is on that arm. That's something I've always been proud of. I got it when I was eighteen, sat down and watched ever pinprick of the needle as the ink was marked onto my skin, left there to last until the day I died. I doubt that back then I had thought it would be so soon. Heh. Temptation revelation. A snake and a sword. How very witty of me.
Things blur for a while, I feel the thump-thump of my heart weaken by just a fraction, and then a bare hand being run through my hair places me back in this half-reality. One foot in Hell, the other still on Earth, and I can't seem to decide which way to go. His hand--when did 'they' become a 'he'?--through my hair, it makes me... warm. That doesn't make sense. We're in the middle of an island in Alaska, there's snow all over the place, I have no shirt on... I should be freezing by now, damn near close to frostbite. And yet I feel warm. This unknown person, this stranger of a hand, this enigma, he's making me feel better than I ever have before. And I don't know why. Everything seems so much nicer when you're about to die.
Finally, I need to know. It eventually occurs to me that I can open my eyes rather than keeping this a mystery, and so I steel myself, prepare, and then put all of the energy I have left into opening my eyes. They comply rather quickly, surprisingly enough, though they only open halfway, but all I need is a second to see who it is, who this person is that has come to see me off.
I must be seeing things. I must be going insane. Who I see, or rather, what my eyes are telling me, is that the man who is doing this, coming here and giving me these wonderfully comfortable feelings... is my brother. He should be long gone by now, he should be chuckling at his latest triumph, not here, not now... not with me. Why would he come here, what reason would there be? It's a completely ridiculous concept, my mind's playing tricks on me. Forcefully, I close my eyes and then open them again, expecting my vision to clear, but it's still the same thing. One more try, and still no change.
He came here, he came here, he stayed here... to say good-bye. To a brother he never knew. To a brother that forced him to kill him. I hate myself sometimes. Wait, no. All the time. Everything everyone said is true. So true. He's so much better than I am, and now, I can really say that I agree with them. I kept telling everyone that they were wrong, that I could be just as good as we was, even better, but now I realize that I was just trying to avoid it all so that I could stay sane. It appears that hasn't worked out like I wanted to. I'll die young and crazy.
Oh well.
His hand lingers upon my chest again, and I faintly wonder why. It seems so uncharacteristic for him, so out of place. He loved that Meryl girl, didn't he? Yes, and I killed her. Her... and his best friend as well. Fox. I took everything from him, just as he took everything from me, and yet... here he is. There are arms around me, arms around me--he's hugging me. Why? Why? I don't understand. I can't complain, it feels blissfully comforting, but... I'm just confused. It doesn't fit in with all that's happened, he's opposing the general order of things. Though I suppose he did like to do that, didn't he? He's hugging me, and it seems so loving--no one has ever held me like this. It's as if he really gives a damn. I almost want to return the embrace, but I can't... I can't.
Instead, I open my eyes again, and I make myself think. They escape my purple lips before I can even organize them in my head. "You're nobler than I thought." I watch him carefully, search hopelessly for his reaction, and I notice that he seems to be in a state of disbelief. He thought... I was already dead. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do. Maybe that rumor that twins have a sort of psychic bond when it comes to certain things is true. It doesn't matter, I just know. And I have to show him that I'm still real. Gritting my teeth, I first ball my hand into a fist, and when I see that I'm able to do that, able to move that much, I tell myself, convince myself, that I can do this as well. That I can reach up, slowly and carefully, but reach up nevertheless, and... touch him. I smile. He feels good.
Obviously, however, my body wasn't very pleased with the fact that I was denying that state of paralysis I was supposed to be in, and a cough bubbles up from my lungs, causing blood to splatter everywhere. I wince at how messy it is, but Snake cleans it up for me. How considerate of him. Strange; I don't know if I meant that sarcastically or sincerely. I stare at him expectantly; now that he knows I'm alive, he has to tell me exactly why he's doing this, since it still doesn't make sense, no matter now hard I think about it.
It takes him a while, but he speaks. "...I figured I could tie up loose ends, now that I had the chance. I didn't expect you to talk back, though." And then he laughs. I blink... I don't think I'd ever heard him laugh before, and it sounds nice, filling. He has the type of laugh that makes you want to smile when you hear it, or laugh along with him. I would if I had the strength. Talking is hard enough, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice, cut down the time I have left to have this last talk with him. I didn't want to spend ages laying here waiting to die, anyways. This'll shorten it quite a bit, and I'll possibly get something out of it. I already am; everything feels so good. Even with the pain, I almost feel... happy. Nostalgic? I can't think of the right word to describe it.
"And I thought I was going to be left here to die on my own..." I'm surprised that I can keep my sentences so clear, not having to take pauses yet to work through the pain. It hurts, but not enough yet that it's cutting me off. That will come soon enough, and I'll have to stop to breathe, but not yet. For now I can keep up this wall that I'm still okay, still strong enough, even though I'm not and we both know it. Just playing out the part for the hell of it. Why not?
"You probably would have been better off that way, but I figure that this might make me feel a little better about myself later. I can say I bonded with my older brother right before he died. I won't even have to mention the fact that we were hell-bent on killing each other." The way he says this, the smile he gives, it's rather endearing, and I want to be closer, I want to feel him. I want to make sure that both of us are human, that both of us are really... real. We aren't monsters, we aren't monsters. We aren't dirty little secrets. We're people. We can smile, we can hurt. We're not just weapons, we can think. We can feel. Not machines, people. Men. Two men; brothers. We're brothers, brothers. I wish I could have known you before. I wish I could have known you. I needed you, back then.
My vision is getting worse, I can't see him so well anymore. "You can act like we were the best of friends…" I say softly, preserving what's left of my voice. It's what I wish we could have been, if only things had been different. They tore us apart for their research, their own selfish needs and wants; we were tools for them to dote upon, pets for them to examine. They didn't think we had hearts just as they did, that we also needed people to speak to, people to... love. And to love us.
"I'm no better than you." I don't know what he's talking about, my mind is starting to fade. I grunt, but it's hardly audible, it's more to make myself snap back into a state of clarity. I can't lose it now; not yet. The words he spoke process a bit slowly, and I frown lightly. I'm not quite sure why he said it, if he feels I need to hear it, but I don't. I've come to terms with the fact that he is the best, hands down.
I shake my head, but it's a weak attempt, and all it does is cause it to ache a bit. "Don't say that just to make me feel better. You are better. Anyone would say so. Look at who's the one that's dying in the end." It's true, it's true, and he can't deny it. He can try, but I know better than him. I was told all my life, I know. I know very well. But he goes on, makes the argument, and I want to laugh at him. Genes don't matter anymore. Even if he was recessive and I were dominant... he would be better. I know it, and he doesn't understand. He can't understand, and I can't explain it to him. Not with the time I have now.
My mind, it's moving away, and I make feeble grabs at it, chase after it, but I'm losing it. Words come out of my mouth, and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Gibberish, perhaps. Or things I don't want to say. I run, I chase, I fall. I can't catch it. He's shaking me, and I'm a little scared myself; I'm pretty sure he's yelling--is he angry? I don't want him to be mad at me. I don't want him to hate me anymore. I don't... want to hate him anymore. I'm done with all that. Can't I just die feeling sated, feeling at ease? Please. Someone. He keeps talking, I keep talking, and yet the words don't really get through to me. I've fallen over, I'm on the floor, and I'm scared. I finally have seen it as I should have seen it all my life, and now I have to die. Do I want to die? I don't know anymore. I'm... scared. The pain is still there, festering, and eventually it's going to consume me. Will I be ready? Where will I go? I'm scared, I'm scared.
Finally, I get it out. I can't explain it properly, but I make it known to him: "I envy you, Snake… You didn't need genes to be a better person. Even if you were the… inferior one, you still would have beaten me." My eyes start to shut, but he shakes me, and I keep them open, if only for his sake. He gives me some more words of assurance, but they mean nothing. I know he's trying to be sincere, but it makes no difference now. It's fine, Snake. I don't need it. I just need you here right now, that's all. Just stay here, stay with me until the end, and... I'll be okay. I think I'll be okay.
"...So close..." I mumble, and I'm not sure what I mean. So close to him, so close to dying, so close to having killed him? I'm not making sense now, either. I remember my hand is still at his face, there's blood flowing under my fingers, beneath his warm flesh, and drag the digits across his skin a little. My eyes somehow manage to catch his cheeks flushing, and I have to smile. It's so unlike him, it's so desirable. Cute, even. Oh, my dear little brother... "I never thought I'd see the great Solid Snake blush."
He seems a little perplexed, embarrassed, even, and I want to give him a hug. It's such a strange feeling, but I just want to hug him. "Don't say that. I'm not great. I'm no legend. No one seems to understand that. What kind of legend kills people without caring?" There he goes on again with the killing. I've done the same, doesn't he understand? At this point, we're on the same level in that aspect. Everything bad that he's done, I've done ten times worse. But he's still better. He is.
"But you're here, aren't you?" I ask softly; my tone seems so changed from the maliciousness it almost always possessed before. I think I like myself better this way. Too bad I'll be gone soon, hm?
"That's just because--" The same old meaningless protests. I'm getting sick of it.
"Don't lie." There, that'll shut him up a little. Yes, it does. He seems taken aback, he gives me a strange look, but I like it. But I'm losing it, more and more, things are slipping away. As if my body realizes this, it listens, my arm appropriately 'slipping' off of his face and falling into the cushioned snow again. I didn't mean anything by this action; in fact, I was forced to perform it, and yet somehow, he seems very affected by this. He tries to cover it up, but I know him too well. Unlike him, who has only known me for this one day, I've known him my entire life. "I feel honored. Snake shows his soft side for me...?"
He doesn't answer, but I don't mind. Suddenly, he seems so much... more like me. We seem equal, and I know that a large part of me is telling me that no, he's better, but Snake has been saying he isn't, and...
I purse my lips. What is it, then? Does it even matter? Why is it so important, who is better than who? Why must everything become some petty competition, pitting two people against each other for some sort of sick enjoyment? This is how the human race has a field day. I feel sick. "Maybe..." It's hurting, it's hurting. I want to curl up, get away from the pain, hide inside of myself, but I can't... move. Please, I just want to go. I just want the pain to go away. "…maybe neither of us is as great or as bad as everyone's told us." I'm still talking. I don't know how, but I am. It seems to be the only part of me that's still functioning, as if that's all I still need to do before I leave. Talk with him here; now. Settle things.
My eyes are still open, but I can hardly see anything anymore. I'm just keeping them open for him. I don't want to scare him. He's talking, and I do my best to listen. "Maybe we should stop listening to what everyone tells us we are. If anything, we're equal, okay?" He's touching me, I think. I shiver, but I'm not cold. "Don't worry about genes. Or fate. Or any of that."
"It didn't get me very far… did it…?" I question. I cough again, even though I don't want to, and I ignore the blood gathering in my mouth. Soon I won't be able to speak, but I have to. I have to finish. Just a little more time...
I force my way through the pain, to get the last important things said, get them out in the air, and then I'll leave. I promise I will, I can't stay here anymore. I'm scared, I'm not sure I want to go, but I have to. It's the only way, right? Yes, I'll go. Just let me say this, let me make this final request, and I'll go.
"If we're equal, then… Snake…" I look at him, wonder if I can still see him. Sort of, he's there... an outline, bits of color, but hardly anything with a form. I know he's there, though, and that's all I need to know. Just to know he's there, he's with me, close-by, finally... that's enough. "…live to be better than I ever was. And if they ever ask about your brother…" My eyes close even though I didn't tell them to, but I don't try and open them again. They won't listen, even if I try, and there's no point. I can't see him now, anyways, and he knows it's near, he can't deny that now. "…tell them the truth."
Almost there, almost there. Just one more thing. I begin to speak, but then I feel his arms around me, really around me, in an actual hug, and he means it, he's doing it because he wants to, because he chose to. I have to give it back, let me give it back. That's all I ask. Clenching my teeth, I take in a deep breath at the pain that comes with my arms lifting up and enveloping my brother. It feels so right. God, I needed you so bad. Why weren't you there for me? I needed you.
I needed you, brother. One more thing, then I'll go. I promise. I even say it out loud, in case they can't hear me. "One more thing..." It wants me now, it wants me to go now, but I rebel, get out that last bit. "Call... me..." No more. That's all they'll allow me, but I have faith that he understands. Hurry, Snake, before I can't hear you anymore.
First a little more strength is put into that hug, which helps with the pain, which is clogging my thoughts. Then he says it. He says it. "Sleep well... brother."
I want to cry and smile and laugh all at the same time. I can't do any of those things, though. I'm just... happy. Scared, perhaps, but happy. At least, I think this is 'happy'. I can't be all too sure, but it feels wonderful.
He has to help me, I can't take it any longer. I nod, to say good-bye, and I hear him shifting through the snow, know he realizes what I want from him. This is the end.
... And I think I might just love you, bro--
Bang.