Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the characters. However, the "poem" in italics is mine.
Note: A very short one-shot. Kind of AU.
Ravens
By: Lost-Remembrance (Red Tail)
One by one, the ravens fall…
I didn't understand why I was shipped off simply because of dreams. I had researched on the place I was being sent to. A frown had crossed my features—everything had been so bright and cheery. Did I deserve something like this? What the hell did I do for this punishment? I all but want to scream, collapse, fade away from this world...
Am I losing my mind? Is my sanity fleeting away from me just like my family? I don't know... I close my eyes, hateful words echoing in my mind. I'm such a pain; just another stupid person to worry about in the world.
The Reaper, points his finger to me next, making my skin crawl…
Dreams had been haunting me—stealing into my mind and attacking me every night. I always woke up screaming, my mother rushing in with a pale and worried face to see what the problem was. Heavy footfalls soon ensued each and every time—my father entering the room. A weapon of some sort—a baseball bat, a lamp, a gun even one time—clutched in his hands. He was, after all, a former military officer.
We were a prominent family and had our honor—the Yuy clan was one of the most proud families in Japan. I was a disgrace—pale now and withdrawn, dark circles under my eyes. Was it my fault that my dreams were so vivid? So descriptive in showing death, blood, and the gore of war?
I was a murderer—at least in my dreams.
Mother had thought that it was from reading too much of those mecha comics. In her worried frenzy, she took all my manga as well as any models and action figures and locked them tightly away. I know she was worried about me—but it didn't stop the dreams.
Terror spasms rock my frame, making me coil into a protective ball.
So here I was, placed from my roots and dropped carelessly into a facility that didn't look as cheery as the pictures. Mentally, I snorted—did these people think that they knew me well enough to solve my problems as my father hoped.
I narrowed my eyes and squared my shoulders. People moved away from me—could they sense that foreboding power emitting from my aura? I closed my eyes, thinking the answer yes.
A body moved against mine, making me snap my eyes back open. Though somewhat pale and tired, I suppose I looked intimidating enough. My hand tightened, closing into a powerful fist. My flashing eyes stared at the person that wasn't cowardly enough to shrink back in fear like the rest of the student body.
Laughing violet eyes were what greeted me first. He looked my up and down at the same time that I did to him. He had long hair, tightly woven into a rope of braided chestnut hair. He wore all black and his body looked to be as lithe and powerful as mine.
"So, what brings you here?" He languidly questioned, leaning back on his heels as he crossed his arms over his chest. He waited for my answer, even though the bell rang during his question.
Students went quickly to their classes or therapy sessions. The teen in black didn't bother, simply staring at me with that crazed grin still plastered on his face.
Bodies fall all around, eyes glazed and skin colored black and blue from a brawl.
The hall was quiet; only the two of us remained where we were standing. Instead of answering his question, I just returned the stare. I wouldn't answer some nosy kids stupid quest—
"I figure that you're like Quat, Tro, and Wu." He added next, "And like me." I stared at him, not comprehending what he was talking about. Maybe he had some kind of disorder and thought he knew me?— "You have dreams too. You're a murderer, just like the rest of us."
The smile fell and I saw behind the mask, for a brief instant. I let my own defenses slip, nodding my head at what he had said. Murderer? Yes.
He turned, looking back in a gesture that suggested I follow. He reminded me of one of the other people in my dreams—he was the one that was smiling. The one that was smiling and crying with stained hands.
Perhaps, just by a miracle, I had found someone who understood my emotional turmoil and pain. "Perhaps," I whispered, voice soft and barely audible down the halls, "perhaps…"
Louder this time, I say to him, "I'm not insane." People stared at me in the manor like a mentally unstable person--a monster that needed to be sent away, to be hidden somewhere dark and vacant.
He tilts his head in my direction, pausing in his steps for a moment. I almost run into him. His eyes shimmer with a gleam of understanding, "I know."
…And one by one, the ravens fall…
OWARI