Author: Drew Wilkinson
Pairings: implied 1x2
Rating: PG-13 for emotional thoughts and situations
Summary: No longer can hope be felt by a one Heero Yuy. No longer will angels linger in presents. No longer shall The Perfect Soldier be perfect, nor whole. Taking place in a small nameless cemetery in a nameless place at a nameless time, Heero is left to his thoughts.
Disclaimer and Author Notes: Well obviously I own nothing in here except the emotions. The emotions used to write this fic came solely from my heart. This is written in dedication to the three sources of inspiration, three or four actually. My aunt and grandpa that passed away this summer, and my best friend and the only one I truly love, even if he can no longer return that love. Also a AMV with this song to Gundam Stardust Memories. Thanks to whomever made that video, lestwise I would have never found Nightwish. But those emotions are hereby said as mine, but all characters, implied characters, lyrics, insignia, and other such objects are not mine. The lyrics belong to Nightwish, and the characters to Yoshiyuki Tomino and Bandai. Curse them for owning everything cool.
The Angels Fall First
An angelface smiles to me
Under a headline of tragedy
That smile used to give me warmth
The day is warm, much to my annoyance.
Annoyances.
I have a lot of those now. It's all because of him; though I could forgive him of these small niches in my life.
If only I could TELL him that. Just a small time with him to share all my new thoughts. It's not right that I should be standing here alone, but at the same time not alone. I am obviously with the one I love, but he is not with me.
I never used to be like this, as I'm sure you know. I was once a devoted machine fine tuned and well oiled for the mission, for the peace of the earth, the destruction it brought, the peace of eventuality, and the aftermath of pain my heart and mind would feel once my mission objectives were complete. However, along the way, I met Him; my first partner. The first one I knew of that was like me, the only true person who could see behind my icy shielded eyes.
How?
Simple. Because he felt the pain I felt. He felt just as much sorrow and pain as I had in my past. He was just like me. And so he helped me see what needed to be done, even if the reports and objectives where sitting right before my eyes. He went further than that, though. He went to my heart, behind my eyes, behind my soul. He held me so tightly, that I could almost choke in his presence.
But at the present, it seems that I'm just a lost puppy.
He smiles up at me, grinning wildly from the newspaper clipping tapped to his stone. I don't dare repeat the headline, lestley-1 -I will break down on the spot. I have to be strong. For Him and everyone else. But just this once, I wish to have someone there to be strong for me.
I let my fingers linger on the picture of him for a moment, feeling the smooth surface of the paper, wishing to grasp at more, but finding nothing but stone underlying the image of hope.
There are no words etched in the stone. No words of remembrance. There was not need. We couldn't think of the right phrase anyway. Nothing to fit Him. Nothing was good enough for my beloved.
I glance down at the earth under my feet. This isn't right. He was just my age, fresh out of the war, new into the peace we created with our own hands. And yet, he didn't die in the war. I can't express enough how truly ironic this is, and how much pain it brings.
Farewell - no words to say
Beside the cross on your grave
And those forever burning candles
I set a small MP3 player down on the dirt and grass, and set it to his favorite song, set it on repeat, and then stand back as it faintly starts playing from the headphones at full volume. A small breeze passes through my hair, but I listen only to the music, mouthing the words he had taught me so long ago.
Needed elsewhere
To remind us of the shortness of our time
Tears laid for them
Tears of love tears of fear
Bury my dreams dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The angels fall first?
I know that he is where he belongs. Back with the father and sister that had brought him up so lovingly. I thank Father Maxwell and Sister Helen in a small prayer for bringing him safely to me, and ask them to watch over him always until he would once again grace my presence.
Prayer.
That's something he also taught me. I never understood the meaning of praying. But now I see it's a way to ask a higher being for forgiveness, or health of others, or even your own selfish desires. This was a selfish desire. I knew that, but he had told me that that higher power didn't mind. He would listen no matter my plea, and answer without hesitation. Though I knew naught how I was to know. I wasn't there. But I trusted Him, and I trusted God. It was in there hands, not mine.
I realize that I'd been crying. Crying? Since when did I start that?
That ones quite simple too.
When he taught me how. I learned so many things from him, now my last lesson is being taught, even through his grave.
Pain.
I burry my head in my hands and fall to my knees. I will never see him again. I feel lost. There's an emptiness where he should be, a cold chill where his warm body once stood. I can't put into words the feeling in the pit of my stomach, that wrenching feeling that's twisting my very existence to shreds. The best way to paint a picture is to picture a black void, a hole if you will.
A pit in the center of my being. Nothing will ever fill it again. I will never truly find happiness in life. I may smile, or joke, or continue to live, but behind it all, there will be remorse. Evermore will I lie awake at night and cry, and curse, and pray, a curse some more.
Why? Dear Lord in heaven, how? Why did you choose this time? We all go. I know that. But did it have to be so soon? I was just discovering life. We had finally acquired what was meant of us, and now his time was up. Not mine, not Trowa's, or Wufei's or even Quatre's. No one else's but his; the only one of us that could bring a smile through all the gloom and blood and death in our lives.
I had realized after the war that I would feel pain, and I was prepared for it. I was not, however, prepared for love.
I fell in love with a one Duo Maxwell before I even knew what love was. I felt that love, and not that pain, and now I feel that pain, and never again that love. I was happy for a time. But it's been torn away from me.
I thought I had buried my memories, my fears and my pain, but I see now they've been dug up again. I can't really blame anyone but myself, however. I should have never fallen in love in the first place, but now it's too late, and all my dreams and aspirations for our future are gone. I will never again look to them for joy.
The music rises to my ears again, and I sing the words quietly to him. "'Bury my dreams dig up my sorrows, Oh Lord why, the angels fall first?'" I don't believe I will ever find that answer. My best guess is that they go before us to clear our path and to have someone to welcome us to our new home at the front door with open and warm smiles and breezy embraces.
But that's just my thoughts. But I guess they don't seem to matter any more.
Not relieved by thoughts of Shangri-La
Nor enlightened by the lessons of Christ
I'll never understand the meaning of the right
Ignorance lead me into the light
I had gone to church so many times after his death, our church. I found no solace in the preacher's words. I felt no emotion. Nothing filling my heart. Now the only emotions I feel are anger and turmoil and sadness. A deep ever growing always loathing sadness.
I could never understand exactly what right and wrong were. I don't believe anyone ever has. Murders are committed everyday, and only a few of the prosecuted deserve death. Many of the less fortunate peoples had done only what they thought right and I suppose on a moral level it was right. If they were protective loved ones or themselves, how can that be wrong? I don't see it. But their actions were of no use. It was thrown away when they were sentenced to death. That's what
He believed. I believed it after a while too.
I dread returning to my empty home to sleep. I will remain in my ignorance of my questions question, however, and let it guide me through life. Who said ignorance wasn't bliss? I think it's wonderful. But then….so was he.
Needed elsewhere
To remind us of the shortness of our time
Tears laid for them
Tears of love tears of fear
Bury my dreams dig up my sorrows
Oh Lord why
The angels fall first?
The main verse of his song returns to my ears and I bask in its melody. It's a sort of gothic rock, but nonetheless it's soothing. The lady who sings it has an attractive accent as she struggles with the English words. I believe he said she's Finnish.
He's not needed here anymore, I remind myself. I tell myself he's where he belongs, with whom he belongs with. He served his purpose here, and that was that.
I don't know when I honestly became a Christian, or at least a semi-believer, but it must have been his influence. I thank him from the bottom of my heart as I view his grave with sort of a melancholic depression, but at the same time I feel a sense of peace and understanding. I will still see him in my dreams again anyway, right?
A new round of tears start, and I let them fall. My tears are for him, tears of fear and love and hate and happiness. A mixture of emotions run through me and out into those tears. I give them to him freely.
"'Oh Lord why, the angels fall first'?
Sing me a song
Of your beauty
Of your kingdom
Let the melodies of your harps
Caress those whom we still need
I remember his voice and his face and his manner and everything about him. I hear him singing hymns in church. I hear him singing this song. I hear him everywhere. In my head, in my heart, in my body, in my very soul.
I smile.
My prayer was answered. He is safe. My tears are quickly changed to that of utter joy and I let my head fall to the ground, smiling and growing tired. I can let him rest, and I can finally rest. It's over. There will be an aching, of course, but as long as I know he is safe with his family I know that I will see him again someday.
Yesterday we shook hands
My friend
Today a moonbeam lightens my path
My guardian
As I walk away from his grave, leaving flowers and the MP3 player, which I will be back in a few days to change the battery for, I smile and think of the last day we were together. We were laughing and having fun, and we shook hands and kissed and parted, and I never knew it would end that day.
I realize it is night and I follow a small moonbeam through a grove of trees and smile as I hear an almost mischievous chuckle inside my head. That is his moonbeam I follow, and he knows I know. I humor him and look to the sky, through the trees.
"I, Heero Yuy, will forever love Duo Maxwell, my friend, my love, my partner in crime and war."
My Guardian Angel.
"'Oh Lord why, the angels fall first?' Of course." I whisper to the night. That will be his remembrance words.
A breeze of approval moves my hair once more as I whistle his song all the way home.
Fin
1- Not sure if that's a word. It sounds right, but I may have spelled it wrong. It's sort of one of those old English sounding words that I use. I can't really put a definition to it, but I suppose he's saying that if he looks at the words, he will break down, so he won't. It's as simple as that.