Rusty Story
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed, but I suppose I own Rusty's personality since it never is mentioned in the books or show.
Ok, I had fun writing my one-shot, Ultimate Sacrifice, and I got some good reviews. I decided to do another Rusty story, but this one going more into his background (that I invented since, again, it wasn't mentioned in Gundam Seed. Please read and review!
Character: Mostly Athrun and Rusty, though it has a few others. I'm going from Athrun's POV, the last one to actually sit down and think about it, all the way down to Miguel's before Kira kills him. (Damn Kira…got Rusty killed; killed Miguel, Nicol, and Raw Le Klueze (or however you spell it); gave Yzak the scar…etc, etc…)
Also, from now on, any memories are going to be in the character's point of view.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dreading this very moment in time where he had to go through the memories of those that have died in the war, instead of tucking them away and never thinking back, Dearka still knew that it was a necessary thing in moving on; and he knows that if there is one thing he needs to do, it is move on. Thinking a bit more cynically than he normally allows, a morbid thought echoes through his mind. 'Out of the six of us in Le Klueze's squad, only three of us lived. Not even Le Klueze himself made it out…'
The death that hurt him the most had to be the little red-head's. Unlike what most people thought, the two of them had been quite close, almost as close as Dearka is with Yzak. They had met at the academy; it was hard not to talk to the boy. He was so charismatic; he drew everyone towards himself like flies to honey. But Dearka has never argued that the meeting was one of the best things that happened in his life; Rusty understood him so well…and was such an amazing person; it would kill Dearka if he had lived his life without ever meeting that tiny red-headed orphan.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sniggering softly as my best friend had gone off in a huff about being second-best to 'that Zala', I can't help but refuse to pay attention to my history teacher. Why did we have to learn history anyway? It's not like we're going to be doing anything other than following orders to, quote from my own father, 'Kill the Natural-scum'. And I couldn't even bug Yzak, he had weapons training!
"What do you have to say for yourself?" the teacher, Mr. What's-it's-face, hollered at a small red-head. The silence after the teacher's outburst gained my attention most effectively.
A small red-headed boy stood at the door, his pinky stuck into his ear like the way people do when someone is too loud and that they're just not interested in what the yeller has to say. Frowning softly, the boy blinked in a seriousness that didn't suit his looks. "I was goofing off with my roommate and completely and utterly neglected to watch the time. Of course, it is also my fault that our clock was stuck an hour late due to me changing the hands backwards. I deeply apologize for having to waste your time with this explanation, but all I can think up at the moment is either the truth, or that I missed the bus. But seeing as we live here at the academy, the latter won't work…" he had said in a monotone voice, his face unchanging.
Expecting to hear the teacher snap, I didn't have to wait for long. Poor kid looked so smug even as he took the teacher yelling right in his face. The boy's eyes were lit with an amusement that clearly didn't fit someone as young as him. It's like he is pitying the man for acting that way; that he has faced it so many times that it doesn't bother him, only makes him feel amused, yet sad for the person yelling at him. Like I said, it doesn't suit someone that young. He's 17, if he's in this class. He actually looks like he's 15.
"Drop and give me fifty, Mackenzie!" Mr. What's-it's-face cried, pointing to the ground at the front of the class.
Grinning, the boy…Mackenzie, shrugged and his eyes lit up with amusement once more, but this one seemed as if he was amused at the punishment. He was one strange kid, I could tell you that, as I watched him kneel on the ground and start his push-ups with surprising ease for someone as tiny in stature as him.
When Mackenzie finished, he bowed to Mr. What's-it's-face and saluted him, a grin playing on his lips. "Thank-you, sir. It was an honor to do push-ups on the same floor as you had when you were in this academy…" Whoever this Mackenzie was, he sure had guts. He didn't seem worried the least-bit of what happened to trouble makers at this place.
Dumb-founded, Mr. What's-it's-face looked at Mackenzie with a blank expression on his ugly mug (suiting him more than anything, if you ask me) before laughing and clapping Mackenzie on the shoulder. "Get to your seat, kid…" was all he could fathom to say to the boy's attitude, chuckling softly. "I haven't had a kid like you since…since…" Eyes widened; the teacher turning to get a closer look at the boy. "…I-I see…" he said, shaking his head in bewilderment. "So you're his son; no wonder about that attitude of yours. Get a seat, Mackenzie…"
What it had meant, I hadn't known at the time. What it was, though, was the fact that Rusty was the orphaned son of Caleb Mackenzie, the War Hero, and that Caleb had the same personality. I had seen picture's of Caleb before; the only thing similar between the two of them was the strange, smoky, yet silver eyes that seemed to have a sort of mist-like quality to them. It seemed as if Rusty got his looks from his mother; the red-head beauty that caught and tamed Caleb's wild heart. She was tiny, as well.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dearka smiles softly, still remembering his own look of shock at how easy Rusty had gotten off from Mr. What's-it's-face. Yes, that's right; he still doesn't remember the teacher's name. Never will, most likely, even if Mr. What's-it's-face screamed it into his ear over an over again. He never did listen to that teacher; why start now?
Gently removing a photo from the book Rusty had given him in his will, he looks at the photo Mrs. Mackenzie, Rusty's mom. Rusty had kept it in this book, a mystery novel that seemed rather interesting; he would have buried it with Rusty, but instead put in the photo of Caleb and Marie (his mom's name) instead.
Tiny, the same size as Rusty had been in the academy, the woman has a soft, sad look in her light green eyes. From what Rusty had told him, the photo had been taken a year after Caleb's death; almost five months since Rusty had been born. It was the last photo ever taken of her before her death three months after. She had committed suicide, no longer strong enough to live without Caleb's love. 'She met him in the otherworld' was what Rusty had always insisted. Rusty's own hair color came from Marie. Her long hair, easily to her waist, if not longer, was perfectly straight and soft; even from just looking with a picture. She wore a black dress, running from her shoulders to her ankles, hugging her regained curves gently. The dress was sleeveless. It was the very dress that she wore when Caleb had proposed. He promised her that he'd come back alive and marry her; he never did. She died in that dress.
Tears sting Dearka's eyes as he remembers the streaks running down Rusty's cheeks when he talked about it, a soft smile on his slips; too sad to look compatible with Rusty's personality. "R-Rusty…" he chokes out, rubbing at his eyes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Rusty turns to me and smiled a thin, sad smile. "It seems like we're in much the same boat, huh, Elthsman-san?" the boy whispered, his arms moving to wrap around his small form. Tears glisten in his smoky eyes as he held the photo gently in his hands. "I don't have any parents, and I hate my guardian…and you only have you're dad, and you hate him…" he said, shutting his eyes. A lone tear slid down his cheek. "We're alone, huh?" He wiped his face and smiled brightly at me; smiling through his tears. "B-but we have each other…we have friends…we have people who love us, just not family…we can survive…" he told me.
"R-Rusty…" I whispered. At the time, I had thought he was an idiot; a sentimental idiot. Now I could say without a doubt that those words were the wisest I'll probably ever hear.
Twirling in a circle, Rusty embraced the chilly breeze from the ocean. The sea spray splashed his face, erasing all evidence of the tears that had slipped down the porcelain cheeks. His smoky silver eyes glowed with life stronger than I had ever seen before, and a grin played out gently on his lips. That boy…he had the world all figured out, I think. He knew about death, and life; he knew about sadness and joy. He knew that you can't dwell on the past like his mother had, and you can't focus on the future only, as well. He knew that to live life was to take things as they come; and he did just that every single day to the very second before he died.
"Life…it's hard, either way. You need someone to care about you; you need a friend who will care about you no matter what you do. I have you, Jule-san, Zala-kun, Amarfi-kun, and a bunch of others. I have this attitude that attracts people, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world…" he admitted, sitting on a rock and staring as the sun started to lower on the PLANTs. He raised a hand towards the sun and fisted the light still there. "Grasp life…and live without regret!" he murmured, smiling a soft smile.
"D-don't act older than you are, Rusty…" I argued, sitting beside him and grabbing him into a headlock. I laughed as he cried for mercy in a joking way. "Live life your own age, Rusty…you told Yzak the same thing once…"
Rusty smiled a hidden smile; I couldn't tell the meaning behind it, but I knew that it wasn't anything bad. Rusty was just a closed off person at times.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Smiling a sad smile, Dearka places the photo back onto his surprisingly uncluttered desk. Wiping a tear from his eyes, Dearka grabs the green ZAFT coat from the back of his chair. Sliding the low-class coat over his arms, he smiled a content smile. "Athrun thought that Rusty allowed himself to die…Yzak thought he hesitated. He didn't. He took everything in stride and embraced death, knowing he couldn't do anything to stop it. He didn't allow himself to die…he just didn't have the ability to avoid it…" Dearka says, needing to hear it from his own lips. He pulls open the front door of his house. "Rusty must be happy up there…he really must be…" The door shuts behind the blond just as his voice fades into nothing; a click marks the point where it cut off. He's now shutting the door on his past and is going to live in the present…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ok, Dearka's chapter is done. Hope you enjoyed. Next time I sit to write about this, it will be in Yzak's POV.
Please review!