Drowning: Chapter 18
Pairings: 4xOC, 1xR, 2xH
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Quatre's POV
Notes: Woo, this one took a while to get out. I had to keep starting it over because everything I wrote was crap. I think I finally got it so it's decent.
Warnings: language, angst
Disclaimer: don't own
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 1
They now say that my father was one of the greatest pacifists of the age. His words of peace and fortitude carried the people of many colonies through the dark days of oppression and then war. Such a tragedy that he didn't live to see the new era, they say.
He battled against oppression with only his words and his heart, much in the way the great pacifists did; Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., our late great Heero Yuy. A man of great foresight and the warmth to nurture even the coldest hearts.
His death had been tragic, yes…but necessary. That's what they say anyway. A martyr was born the day the great man died. He would go down in history along with the other mighty pacifist families like the Peacecrafts. His death had brought about a new age, a new understanding. He awakened the hearts of all colonists with his final brave act.
I wonder what all of "them" would be saying now if it had been there father who was killed at the hands of the very people for whom he spoke so eloquently. I had not wanted my father to die. Better it should be me, a killer, than such a one as he. I had not wanted my father to die because for all my worldly experiences and maturity I was a fifteen year-old boy who wasn't ready to let his father go yet.
And now I'm a year older and still not ready to let him go. It isn't just that it was he who was my link to humanity, he who held the torrents of empathy at bay. He was my only parent. We laughed together and fought together and cried together.
I remember one morning very clearly. He woke me up early and took me down into our big kitchen with the wooden table. The floor was cold on my bare feet so he let me wear his old slippers. They were ancient and so beaten up that they were falling apart at the seams and much too big for my small feet. Because they were his though, they were the warmest slippers in the world.
We made pancakes for all my sisters that morning. My father and I worked for hours getting breakfast ready for them, and the whole time we never spoke one word to each other. We didn't have to. Occasionally I would smile up at his weathered face and he would smile back, perfect teeth showing a little behind his bushy mustache, his eyes dancing merrily with camaraderie. At eight o'clock he turned on the radio to catch the hour special of old Arabic tunes. My father had a beautiful voice. Before taking over the company from his father he had been a trained vocalist. He even made a recording once long ago.
The day I made pancakes in the kitchen and listened to my father sing along with the radio is one I'll never forget.
I did not want my father to die. I miss him so much.
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I don't think this day will ever end. I have been talking since early this morning and I'm getting tired of repeating myself. There are only so many times I can recount what happened to me so long ago without some outlet for release.
I haven't seen much of Sara since we've been here at the law firm. She's been busy with her own interrogators. I mean lawyers.
Trowa and the others have taken to exploring the city. They continue to stick by me even though this is one battle they can't fight. I know they feel restless and anxious about that. It just makes their commitment to me all the more appreciated.
"Mr. Winner? Mr. Winner we need to go back over some of your statements…"
Here we go again. I've told this particular person my story at least five times and she continues to knit pick!
I can't seem to focus on anything. I've had three episodes already today. The first two weren't very long or intense. In fact, I doubt the man I was talking to at the time really noticed. I can't remember anything he said to me. I hope it wasn't important.
The one I had in front of this woman though was much worse. After I came to, my mind still foggy with half-remembered images, she helped me sit up and gave me a glass of water. I didn't need to feel her pity, it was written all over her face. I hate pity.
I look at her face now and all I see is her mouth moving up and down and up and down. I'm really out of it today. I keep imaging everything that could go wrong tomorrow when I testify in the trial. Maybe they'll kick me off the stand because they won't believe me. The jurors will all laugh and then the bigots waiting out in the hallway will throw rotten eggs at me and my family and friends screaming "down with the freak!" or something like that.
And I can't stop thinking about my father.
More than anything else I can't get his face out of my head. It's the same as in the picture I have of him. He's a little younger in it than I last remember. I can't quite remember how he looked when he died. Was the little bit of grey in his hair noticeable from five feet? Ten? What was the exact color of his russet hair? I can't remember. It makes me sad.
"Quatre?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. I think we've rehashed this enough. Go home. Get some sleep, and try to relax. Tomorrow won't be as bad as you think."
"How has the trial been going so far?" I ask. Honestly, I haven't wanted to watch it. I didn't want to see him with his avuncular looks and smart black-rimmed glasses. He would be smiling that little kindly smile and beneath his chiseled looks his soul would be black and putrefying. I don't want to see him. After this is all over I don't want to see Dr. Azrael ever again.
"Well…it's going alright."
"You do realize that I can tell when people are lying, right?" I ask her with a smile.
"In all honesty then? Not so great. Without the lack of the hard evidence against Dr. Azrael himself we're going to be counting on your and Sara's testimony pretty heavily. That's why we've been grilling you two so hard."
"What do you mean lack of hard evidence? What about the labs? What about the information that Red Dog brought back to L4? Everyone in my colony knows what happened to all of us and they know that he was a part of it!"
"The labs were totally clean. Not even so much as a fingerprint to incriminate him. As for this information like the video tapes and documentation that was spread around L4? It was all destroyed within hours of being released. The rest of the world and near space haven't found out about this until now because of the lack of evidence and then the lack of communication between colonies during the Alliance's rule. There's nothing substantial to prove that Dr. Azrael is the one who did those things. The rumors fueled by your colony may be true, but we're having a hard time proving it."
I can't believe it. They can't prove it? What the fuck is that! He's guilty as hell! I know what he did!! I felt what he did. I've died more times than these people can even believe to understand. I died at his hands.
"Look, go home Quatre. Talk with that pretty Miss A'Mal and relax before tomorrow."
With that she ushers me out of her office and I'm left alone to deal with my emotions.
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"Quatre pass the popcorn, will ya?" Duo asks around a mouthful of something. Part of it's kind of leaking out of his mouth.
"Here," I say with a grimace, passing the bowl and napkin.
"Thanks bro!" And with that handfuls of the lightly buttered snack begin disappearing into Duo's mouth, the napkin lying discarded and completely unused at his side.
The five of us guys are lazing comfortably around the big tv in my hotel room. Sara took one…feel…of me and decided she was too tired to deal with all my pent up frustration and anger. I don't blame her, I wouldn't want to deal with me right now either. My sisters and the other girls took her out for an evening of deep relaxation at a spa that Relena frequents. So tonight turned out to be a boys' night.
I miss spending time with the guys. There's something so nice about not having to be a 'gentleman' at every moment. I can swear all I want (though I don't think I swear that much…well not compared to Wufei anyway. He could cow an army sergeant!). I can even burp whenever I want without some girl going "eww, Quatre you're disgusting!"
We're even watching a movie I want to watch. It's a horror flick. I love them! There's nothing like being scared in a safe environment.
Trowa and Heero appear to be enjoying it as well. Their eyes haven't left the screen since it started. Wufei looks bored but I can tell he doesn't like horror movies. His bland expression is just a cover for his nervousness. He really needs to loosen up and let out a good healthy scream. Duo has eaten me out of house and home. I don't mind though. I like that he's content with just a movie and some snacks.
I've been jumping at every remotely scary part and intermittently watching the movie through the small gaps between my fingers where my hands are covering my eyes. I am a big tough Gundam pilot. Yes I am.
"Little scared are we?" Duo asks with a chortle.
"Yes. Now leave me alone." I retort as I choke back a scream…er manly yell…as the evil demon child pops out of a closet.
All too soon the terrifying movie comes to an end. The tv is still on some random channel, playing softly in the background.
The feel in the room is definitely peaceful. I haven't been this relaxed in a while. Boys' night was definitely a good idea…what the? Ah…
--"'There are no reasons upon the Earth or above her in the colonies that could warrant violence of any type. We must look beyond our own human needs and desires and see humanity in it's entirety: scattered, alone, afraid. Peace is not a random dream thought up by the elite of society. It is a goal that we can all strive for because the only way that it can be brought to fruition is if everyone is of one mind. As colonists, we have learned the importance…no, the very necessity of banning together as one unified body in order to simply survive. I say to you, my people, that we must once again come together for the common good. Peace is right around the corner. Can you feel it? This peace is carried within our very selves: it resides within our children. This is a time in history when the mistakes of the past must not be repeated. Our children suffered at the hands of the Alliance. Why do you think that was? It was because our children were showing us the way out of darkness and into peace. I am saying to you now that in order to survive we must follow our children and have a great love and understanding of all people. We must empathize with one another…or the great people of the colonies whose hearts led them into the unknown, and who fought against all odds to merely exist in this beautiful desolate place we call our home, will not live to see the new era and neither will our children.'"--
--"'This last speech given by Mr. Winner, the former leader of the Winner Family and the civic leader of the L4 colonies, was an inspiration to us all and with the trial of Dr. Azrael some of the meanings in this speech are finally coming to light. Now on the day of his birth we celebrate this great man…'"—
"Hey Quatre?" Duo asks after tearing away from the screen.
"What Duo," I respond quietly still half listening to the tv show and watching the pictures of my Father show up sporadically.
"Did you know they were doing this special on your father? It's…well…it's really wonderful."
"No. I didn't," I say softly as I get up. Suddenly I don't want to be around anyone else. I need time to think.
"Quatre…?"
"It's ok Trowa. I just…want to be alone for a little bit."
"Sure Cat. Take as long as you need. Just remember that we're here for you. All of us…together." Heero states, his convictions shining through.
"Thanks, all of you," I say with a small smile and quietly go into the bedroom of the suite.
Flopping down on the huge bed with its silken sheets and fluffy comforter I'm assailed with thoughts of my Father. I didn't even remember that today was his birthday. How could I have forgotten? My subconscious must have known. I had after all been thinking about him all day.
I don't know when the tears started. Just a moment ago I was fine…and now this. I try to stay quiet, muffling the little sounds of grieving that are spilling out of my mouth. There's a boulder in my throat that won't go away and the shiny salt tears just keep coming, spilling into my cupped hand that rests below my cheek. It's like a miniature waterfall. Pity it's not enough to drain the torrent that welling up inside me.
I can feel sleep starting to come on. I can feel the visions starting to come…but this time I'm not afraid…that's so strange…to not be afraid for once…
Where…where am I? Is this a vision. No, it couldn't be, could it? I don't ever remember being this lucid. Maybe it's a normal dream. Do people talk to themselves in their dreams? I'm not sure…wait. Where am I? It looks like my Father's study. The one room of the house besides his bedroom that I've been afraid to enter ever since…that day.
There's a slight chill crawling up my spine, like the feeling I get when someone is nearby. It feels like my father. But that can't be! He died and now those people are exploiting that fact for this whole stupid tv show that's going on.
But it…! It feels just like him. Oh Allah. Don't let him be right behind me…all dead and rotting looking! Or maybe he'll be all burnt up and frozen from space…oh God oh God oh God…please someone help!!!
"Quatre." It's him. It's his voice, his inflection. His tone. But it doesn't sound eerie at all. It sounds like it did when he was still alive. And I'm not feeling anything bad from him. If anything…he feels warm and alive like he always did.
With cautious steps I turn around very slowly.
"Hello Quatre," he says with a sad little smile, the small hairs of his mustache brushing his nose. He looks just fine. Like nothing had ever happened to him.
"Fa…Father?"
"Oh, my little Quatre. How beautiful you have become. My son. My son." My dream Father or vision Father, whatever the case may be, steps forward and wraps his arms around me. Even full grown I only come up to his chin. I feel like such a little boy again, but it's ok because my papa is here…at least for a little while.
"Come Quatre. There are things I must tell you."
We settle together on the wide leather couch with the small coffee table in front of it. Two small cups of coffee are sitting on the glass top. My father reaches out and takes a cup, cradling it delicately in his large strong hands. Behind him are the big picture windows. Warm buttery light, so real it looks like true sunlight, is streaming in. And beyond the sunlight is the dark ocean, lapping at the ebony desert shores. I shudder a little.
"Quatre," my father says, a gentle command to turn away from the frightening scenery. This is no dream. "Why does the water terrify you so? You were always so happy to go for a swim or splash in the bathtub. Why I remember trying to give you baths and most of the time all the water would end up on me!"
"This is different," I say, trying to keep the little tremor of fear out of my voice. There's no need to hide though. My father knows me so well he can tell I am afraid. "You aren't there anymore to help me. Without you, I'm drowning."
"Drowning in what?"
"Drowning in…my own humanity I guess. It's sucking me down so I'm just like all the other souls in the world. That'st where they are you know. In the ocean." It sounds so logical to me and at the same time is like utter nonsense.
"Would that be so bad?"
"No…not if I was really like all the rest of them. But I'm not. I'm a freak."
"Ah, no. Of course not. You're unique, but only for a little while. Soon there will be many more like you, as there had begun to be years ago. There will be so many that no one will be able destroy you. You will be anyone and everyone. But I still do not understand, why are you afraid my son?"
"My empathy. Ever since you died I can't control it. I keep having these visions. Horrible ones that I can't remember when I wake up. When I'm here though, in this place, I remember everything. Sometimes they're about Dr. Azrael. Sometimes I'm dying again. Over and over. When I'm awake I can't control anything. I needed you to hold back the empathy until I was ready to handle all of it."
"But you've always been able to handle it. You're so strong. So much stronger than you would ever know. I see it in you. I helped you when I was alive but you could have reached your full potential any time. These visions of yours are what are holding you back. That…and I'm afraid to say that I am as well."
"I don't understand…"
"You must stop dwelling in the past Quatre. You are not made for the past. You are the future. You are what is to come. I left you before you could figure this out for yourself, so now I must make amends. No one person is the keeper of your soul Quatre. You love so many people and through that love they know you and love you too. It isn't your humanity that is holding you back. It's your fear of yourself. You will always have a bit of humanity within you, because that's what allows you to empathize with people. You can see a little of yourself in every person.
"You're strong enough to swim through this…ocean that you have created," he says with a wave of his hand toward the window, "but you must want to reach the distant shore. It isn't what you imagine it to be. Not this black desert or pain. It's the beyond. The place you know so well because you went there hundreds of times. Every time Azrael took your life you got something in return. A glimpse of what is to come. You have forgotten this my son, and so you have forgotten yourself. This is your ability. This is who you are."
"Then how do I reach it?" I ask a little desperately. So much of this isn't making sense but it rings of truth.
"You have to stop fighting within yourself and holding everything inside. You can't do this alone. You were meant to feel others' and by doing so help them. Open yourself up Quatre. There are so many right at your side who love you. Share yourself with them and then you will be able to feel yourself again. Only when you do this can you find what you have misplaced. I don't say lost because you've never really lost anything. It's been within you, just buried so deep under your fear of being without me that you can't feel your own strength. Take courage and strength from the people around you. Rely on them. They won't let you drown."
"I'm still confused."
"I know," he says with a chuckle, "Just follow your heart and it will guide you to the people who love you. You'll find your peace there. Now, my son I must leave you-"
"No! Not yet! I…I miss you so much."
With a gentle hand he pushes my wayward bangs from my face and tilts my chin up to look him in the eye.
"This is goodbye my son, but not forever. I am in a good place now. Take care of your sisters for me, and take an honest look at yourself. You're much more than you seem. Even to yourself. I love you Quatre and I am so very proud of you."
"Goodbye Father. I love you." With hands shoved carelessly in his pockets and another kindly smile thrown over his shoulder, he walks out the door.
It's morning in Geneva. I'll see how strong I can be.
Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter and for waiting so patiently for this one!
-NostalgieMalaak
1 "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas