Don't Fear the Reaper
Rain will, for as long as mankind is, seem appropriate at a funeral. The people in attendance all choose to allow the rain to get into them. The cold within their hearts and souls finds refuge with the physical chill, and people sink that much deeper into sorrow.
And yet…
And yet some will always view the rain as a tribute to those who lie before them. Each drop glistens, pristine and beautiful from the moment it is conceived. As it has been duly noted, birth is but the beginning of one's countdown toward death, and with the rain it is no different.
Yet it is a physical symbol of the person- their beauty and greatness in an all-too short physical life. Each drop will return in some form. Some will be part of a budding flower, some another raindrop, some an ocean, and some a river. Each drop, 'living' for only a short time eventually dies, smashing to the ground, and yet is reborn as something beautiful, a lasting tribute to both its own mortality and that of man.
Thus it was only fitting that it rained at the funeral of Duo Maxwell.
The mourners- and there were many- gathered around his coffin. His service was an outdoor one and, per his instructions recorded three years ago, he had an outdoor service that was both his memorial service and the lowering of his body. And it was open casket.
He always seems to have the last laugh, that baka… Wufei Chang thought to himself, clinging to the secondary name he had given the man, incapable of bringing himself to accept that the man he'd used it to whip was dead.
He lay upon his back in a Funeral Jacket and tie, starting to bob slightly from the amount of water filling the casket.
His face almost looks normal, now. The embalming process had removed any and all traces of the three bullets that had entered his face and made him look, for all biological purposes, as though he were alive.
And yet he isn't. There was neither brightness nor the personality quirks that he had known in Duo when the man was alive. He simply looked as though he were sleeping like a normal person.
Suppressing a shiver Wufei smiled at how he'd caught the man on board Peacemillion, among other places, sleeping with his head propped up against a circuit board he'd been fixing, using his long braided hair as a pillow.
As more and more water pounded downward Wufei became slightly aware that a minister was speaking on the podium set up in front of Duo's rapidly-filling grave.
Doesn't matter. Ignore it. Wufei forced mourning out of his mind. The man was a preventer, now. There was no way he could allow himself to let a mere death throw him into sadness. That would make him a fool. Would make him weak.
He glanced over at Hilde, the woman's purple hair damp and obscuring her face which had become a mess of cosmetics.
Would make me like a woman.
For nearly an hour he stood, completely unwavering and unprotected in a black suit and tie watching as Duo's hair slowly slipped free of its braid from the relentless rain, as his grave filled to the brim and a sewage company had to be called to pump the excess water out and as everyone around him disintegrated into tears. Even Heero.
And yet he did not cry. Did not allow himself to.
Slowly, deliberately, he walked to the coffin along with Quatre, Trowa, and Heero to act as the coffin bearers. One last time they gazed at the dead face before them, and right before the coffin was shut Wufei could have sworn that he saw the corners of his friend's lips raise in a smile.
He's a baka. He isn't worth it. Limit yourself from this baka!
He lifted the casket with no small effort as it was still veritably overflowing and walked to his position with slightly faltering legs as rain continued to pound down.
Slowly, silently, the coffin was lowered into its final resting place and each friend poured a spade full of dirt onto the lacquered wood.
Goodbye, baka, Wufei thought, walking around behind the tombstone toward the church.
It was really a rather stupid tombstone. As per instruction it was that of those he had killed, and read "Duo Maxwell" with "The God of Death Finally Meets His Subjects" embroidered bellow.
Nothing to think about. Think not of some baka's tombstone. Think of your next mission, and do not allow these events to ruin your ability to think. Do not allow some baka's death to run your life. Do not shed tears, do not let yourself be hurt. Be a warrior. You are not one to cry, and certainly no for a baka.
"Wufei…. Wait."
Quatre had followed him, the young man's sodden blond hair plastered against his face in much the same way as his clothing had adhered itself to his body.
Wufei turned to look at the man and found him kneeling behind the tombstone looking at something. He gestured Wufei over and the man grudgingly complied.
When he got to the tombstone Quatre motioned for him to kneel beside him and pointed at a spot near the base of the tombstone.
There, in the untidy scrawl of Duo Maxwell was written, "Here lies the baka."
Wufei snorted at the reference, a last tribute to the man he'd tried to hate as much as possible.
He always seems to have the last laugh, that baka…The laugh more than anything broke him. Wufei fell against the tombstone, trying to support himself as he cried and laughed all at once.
He lay there until the rain stopped, then promptly stood, hobbling away. The rain was gone. Nature no longer mourned Duo Maxwell and neither would he.
Glancing at a puddle Wufei added in his mind, He is no longer mourned. But by no means is he forgotten. Evidence of his having been here still exists. The man was a storm… It will be long ere we forget this one…
-Lesser God