Book 2: New Life, Old Life
Part 8
19.43 HPN Day3 PT AC 4061
Trowa woke slowly as the first shimmer of sunlight crept down the ceiling of his tent. He swung out of his blankets, stood and walked to his chair, only to freeze in his tracks. The chair was empty. He stood, blinking, replaying the previous evening in his mind. Yes, he clearly remembered the clothes, he was certain he'd laid a set of clothes out before he'd gone to sleep the night before. It wasn't as if he could be thinking of another night, after all; this was his first morning out of the pod.
After a moment of flustered deliberation Trowa took a deep calming breath. There was a tension in the air, an energy he'd never before experienced. It hummed along his nerves, both invigorating and calming every fiber of his being.
Trowa's mind noted these reactions and began to search for an explanation. If this was simply an atmospheric anomaly of Earth, it was an odd one. Could he be ill? It was highly unlikely any contaigens still existed here, so he brushed this theory aside, as well. When no other solutions were forthcoming he shrugged and went about finding a fresh set of clothes.
Fully dressed, Trowa paused at the door of his tent. The ties, which he clearly remembered fastening, were hanging loose from the canvas. How had it taken him so long to notice this? There was no breeze to ruffle the loose flaps, but still . . . Sleepwalking. His scientific mind provided its rationale. This would account for the clothes, the open ties . . . and the vague set of footprints he now noticed leading from the chair to door. Yes, he must have been sleepwalking. It didn't account for the strange energy still floating through him, but it was the only reasonable explanation. There would be nothing unusual waiting for him outside his tent. The very idea was ludicrous. With a self-deprecating chuckle he stepped from his tent . . .
. . . and into another world.
Everything seemed exactly as it should be. The sand beneath his feet was still cool before the sunlight's morning kiss. The sky was a clear crystal blue, shifting to rosy gold just around the rising sun. The air was dry and crisp, thought perfectly still in the breathless silence. Indeed, everything seemed quite realistic, yet Trowa knew he must be dreaming, for sitting quietly on the dune before him, eyes closed in contemplation, was a boy, a human boy, and that was not possible.
He stood, mouth open in shock, staring at this vision of serenity. The boy appeared to be approximately his own age, with white-blonde hair, and the palest complexion Trowa had ever seen.
As these facts filtered into his rapidly recovering mind, a cacophony of thoughts began tumbling into motion. 'He has my clothes! Well, that makes sense, it certainly accounts for everything, but it's impossible. Heero scanned this planet yesterday, and there was no life. Yet here he is. Did we miss something? Is he a colonist? He could have come from a shuttle crash, but he still would have shown up in the scan, and how did he survive out here alone? Is he alone? How could anyone survive with no food source, or did we miss that too? Maybe he only arrived last night on a transport, but Wufei would have told me if another ship were in the area, so he must have been here before. Why didn't he show up on the scans?!?!?!?!? . . . Am I just going crazy?'
This confused garble was brought to an abrupt halt as the strange boy opened a pair of light ocean-hued eyes and smiled tentatively.
"Hello."
Trowa blinked, still staring, with his jaw hanging loosely. He watched the boy study him nervously, eyes darting over his frame, the rest of the camp, then back again. The friendly smile wavered and began to fall before Trowa could gather enough wit to form a reply.
"Hello," he finally stammered.
Relief swept over the other boy's face, but the uncertainty remained. He smiled again, shyly, and this time Trowa returned the gesture. He couldn't seem to help it. Even this tempered expression evoked such a strong echo of his own feelings he felt compelled to respond.
Somewhat regaining his composure, Trowa stepped forward carefully, watching every subtle movement of his 'subject'. Trained eyes took in every detail, from golden head, to pale bare foot.
The boy had short blonde hair, hanging in silky clumps before and around large, round, sky-blue eyes. Dark lashes outlined those brilliant eyes, but their faded golden tips seemed almost to glow in the clear morning light. His complexion was paler than Trowa had ever witnessed, and it seemed completely untouched by the sun. Noting that his own skin had burnt within a few hours and was quickly shifting to a deeper brown, lent this strange observation special significance in his mind.
The boy's face and arms were thin, and the way Trowa's light vest draped loosely around his torso suggested the same.
He wore no shoes, nor any visible shred of fabric that he had not lifted from Trowa's tent.
In every detail it appeared as though this boy had simply dropped from the sky.
Taking another small step forward, noting the distrust in the other's eyes, Trowa spoke again, quietly, refusing to let his excitement show.
"Who are you?"
The boy frowned, lowering his gaze to dart around the sand at his feet. This question seemed to have caught him off guard, though how that was possible, Trowa wasn't sure. Shouldn't the answer be simple? The moment of silence stretched on, and Trowa began to get suspicious. If the boy were trying to concoct a lie, this extended wait had more than given him away. What could he be thinking?
"I am here."
The quiet answer surprised Trowa. He'd been expecting any number of elaborate stories, all completely false, no doubt, but this was . . . curious. The boy wasn't lying, but clearly was not revealing the truth, either.
Trowa decided that directness would aid him in this situation.
"Obviously, but where did you come from? You were not in my camp last night, so where did you come from and how did you get here?"
"I walked across the desert to find you."
"That's ridiculous, you can't have just walked across the entire desert, where did you start from?"
The boy pointed out over the sand. "There." These ambiguous answers were becoming annoying.
"But where do you live?"
"In the desert."
"But we scanned. It was barren. Is there life we missed?" The golden head shook sadly.
"No."
"Then how do you survive?"
"I just continue."
Trowa paused. The boy seemed as though he was speaking with all sincerity, and it wasn't in his scientific nature to give up when frustrated, but this line of questioning was getting him nowhere. He decided to switch courses.
"You said you came to find me?"
"Yes." The boy nodded, his smile growing as his voice gained strength and confidence. "I saw your ship land and came to meet you."
Trowa was so confused by this point he simply blurted the first thing which came to mind.
"Why?"
The change brought about by this simple three letter word was astonishing. Trowa watched as the boy's whole demeanor, which, until now, had been rather upbeat and sunny, melted away to a heart of deep pain and melancholy. His glowing blue eyes sank to hide behind wispy bangs, as the rest of his already small frame seemed to collapse inward. The softly spoken response held far too much pain for a single being to withstand.
"I was lonely."
* * *
19.43 HPN Day3 PT AC 4061
Trowa woke slowly as the first shimmer of sunlight crept down the ceiling of his tent. He swung out of his blankets, stood and walked to his chair, only to freeze in his tracks. The chair was empty. He stood, blinking, replaying the previous evening in his mind. Yes, he clearly remembered the clothes, he was certain he'd laid a set of clothes out before he'd gone to sleep the night before. It wasn't as if he could be thinking of another night, after all; this was his first morning out of the pod.
After a moment of flustered deliberation Trowa took a deep calming breath. There was a tension in the air, an energy he'd never before experienced. It hummed along his nerves, both invigorating and calming every fiber of his being.
Trowa's mind noted these reactions and began to search for an explanation. If this was simply an atmospheric anomaly of Earth, it was an odd one. Could he be ill? It was highly unlikely any contaigens still existed here, so he brushed this theory aside, as well. When no other solutions were forthcoming he shrugged and went about finding a fresh set of clothes.
Fully dressed, Trowa paused at the door of his tent. The ties, which he clearly remembered fastening, were hanging loose from the canvas. How had it taken him so long to notice this? There was no breeze to ruffle the loose flaps, but still . . . Sleepwalking. His scientific mind provided its rationale. This would account for the clothes, the open ties . . . and the vague set of footprints he now noticed leading from the chair to door. Yes, he must have been sleepwalking. It didn't account for the strange energy still floating through him, but it was the only reasonable explanation. There would be nothing unusual waiting for him outside his tent. The very idea was ludicrous. With a self-deprecating chuckle he stepped from his tent . . .
. . . and into another world.
Everything seemed exactly as it should be. The sand beneath his feet was still cool before the sunlight's morning kiss. The sky was a clear crystal blue, shifting to rosy gold just around the rising sun. The air was dry and crisp, thought perfectly still in the breathless silence. Indeed, everything seemed quite realistic, yet Trowa knew he must be dreaming, for sitting quietly on the dune before him, eyes closed in contemplation, was a boy, a human boy, and that was not possible.
He stood, mouth open in shock, staring at this vision of serenity. The boy appeared to be approximately his own age, with white-blonde hair, and the palest complexion Trowa had ever seen.
As these facts filtered into his rapidly recovering mind, a cacophony of thoughts began tumbling into motion. 'He has my clothes! Well, that makes sense, it certainly accounts for everything, but it's impossible. Heero scanned this planet yesterday, and there was no life. Yet here he is. Did we miss something? Is he a colonist? He could have come from a shuttle crash, but he still would have shown up in the scan, and how did he survive out here alone? Is he alone? How could anyone survive with no food source, or did we miss that too? Maybe he only arrived last night on a transport, but Wufei would have told me if another ship were in the area, so he must have been here before. Why didn't he show up on the scans?!?!?!?!? . . . Am I just going crazy?'
This confused garble was brought to an abrupt halt as the strange boy opened a pair of light ocean-hued eyes and smiled tentatively.
"Hello."
Trowa blinked, still staring, with his jaw hanging loosely. He watched the boy study him nervously, eyes darting over his frame, the rest of the camp, then back again. The friendly smile wavered and began to fall before Trowa could gather enough wit to form a reply.
"Hello," he finally stammered.
Relief swept over the other boy's face, but the uncertainty remained. He smiled again, shyly, and this time Trowa returned the gesture. He couldn't seem to help it. Even this tempered expression evoked such a strong echo of his own feelings he felt compelled to respond.
Somewhat regaining his composure, Trowa stepped forward carefully, watching every subtle movement of his 'subject'. Trained eyes took in every detail, from golden head, to pale bare foot.
The boy had short blonde hair, hanging in silky clumps before and around large, round, sky-blue eyes. Dark lashes outlined those brilliant eyes, but their faded golden tips seemed almost to glow in the clear morning light. His complexion was paler than Trowa had ever witnessed, and it seemed completely untouched by the sun. Noting that his own skin had burnt within a few hours and was quickly shifting to a deeper brown, lent this strange observation special significance in his mind.
The boy's face and arms were thin, and the way Trowa's light vest draped loosely around his torso suggested the same.
He wore no shoes, nor any visible shred of fabric that he had not lifted from Trowa's tent.
In every detail it appeared as though this boy had simply dropped from the sky.
Taking another small step forward, noting the distrust in the other's eyes, Trowa spoke again, quietly, refusing to let his excitement show.
"Who are you?"
The boy frowned, lowering his gaze to dart around the sand at his feet. This question seemed to have caught him off guard, though how that was possible, Trowa wasn't sure. Shouldn't the answer be simple? The moment of silence stretched on, and Trowa began to get suspicious. If the boy were trying to concoct a lie, this extended wait had more than given him away. What could he be thinking?
"I am here."
The quiet answer surprised Trowa. He'd been expecting any number of elaborate stories, all completely false, no doubt, but this was . . . curious. The boy wasn't lying, but clearly was not revealing the truth, either.
Trowa decided that directness would aid him in this situation.
"Obviously, but where did you come from? You were not in my camp last night, so where did you come from and how did you get here?"
"I walked across the desert to find you."
"That's ridiculous, you can't have just walked across the entire desert, where did you start from?"
The boy pointed out over the sand. "There." These ambiguous answers were becoming annoying.
"But where do you live?"
"In the desert."
"But we scanned. It was barren. Is there life we missed?" The golden head shook sadly.
"No."
"Then how do you survive?"
"I just continue."
Trowa paused. The boy seemed as though he was speaking with all sincerity, and it wasn't in his scientific nature to give up when frustrated, but this line of questioning was getting him nowhere. He decided to switch courses.
"You said you came to find me?"
"Yes." The boy nodded, his smile growing as his voice gained strength and confidence. "I saw your ship land and came to meet you."
Trowa was so confused by this point he simply blurted the first thing which came to mind.
"Why?"
The change brought about by this simple three letter word was astonishing. Trowa watched as the boy's whole demeanor, which, until now, had been rather upbeat and sunny, melted away to a heart of deep pain and melancholy. His glowing blue eyes sank to hide behind wispy bangs, as the rest of his already small frame seemed to collapse inward. The softly spoken response held far too much pain for a single being to withstand.
"I was lonely."
* * *