Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Church in the Fog ❯ Chapter 1

Church in the Fog

 

 

The darkness which encompassed the night was softened by the light twinkling of the moon, reflected in the thick, dense fog that crept through the quite town. To the edges of the city, the fog wound its way, as if searching for something; it flowed through a grove of trees, and out into the open. The church, old and permanent in its ways, stood out like a glowing beacon of hope, offering safe haven to the thin form of a boy that wandered in to escape the night.

Duo pushed back the heavy oak doors, inlayed with carvings of the ascension, angels reaching down to take the hand of Jesus as he ascended to his throne in Heaven. Tracing his fingers over the rough wood, Duo gingerly shut the door behind him, images flickering through his head.

He heard the sound of laughter, haunting him from years gone by, as children long dead raced up and down the rows of pews. Ghostly priests, dredged up from years of repressed memories, chased the ill-mannered children around the place of worship, steering them away from the more valuable and breakable objects with years of practice.

Remembering his own ill-conceived escape attempts from the clutches of his daily schooling from the priests, it was all Duo could do to suppress a grin. He sighed inwardly as he crept through the silent chapel realizing that it would not do to have someone find him grinning at images from long days gone by.

He slowly made his way to the front of the chapel, his feet making no noise on the cold stone floors. Sitting in a pew in the front row, Duo reached under his shirt, extracting the cross to hold it in the light of the candles. Cradling it in the palm of his hand, he watched the flicker of the candles cast disfigured shadows on both the cross and himself, completely oblivious to the new presence that had entered the chapel.

Staring at the pulpit in front of him, Duo could picture Father Maxwell, tall and noble as always, standing in front of the meager congregation of children and nuns, giving his sermon every Sunday. His smile had never lessened, despite the dwindling contributions of those few regular attendants. And everyday, he'd thank God for everything He had given them that day.

A cynical half smile found its way onto Duo's lips as he thought back to the day the church had been destroyed. At breakfast that morning, Father Maxwell had asked God to bless the day, protecting them all from evil and making them prosperous in everything they did. Protect them all indeed.

“Fucking liar,” Duo mumbled as the acrid taste of ash and smoke rose in his throat, threatening to make him gag.

A muffled cough behind him caused Duo to jump up, reaching instinctively for the gun he always carried at his side.

The wizened old priest just stared at him, his eyes full of concern for the little lost lamb that had somehow found its way to him. “Is there something I can do for you my boy?”

Realizing he was still reaching for his gun, Duo relaxed a little and looked at the man in front of him. The sparkling green eyes flashed with worry and the laugh lines on the man's face were crinkled into a frown. Being shorter than the priest, Duo found himself looking up at him and quickly averted his eyes.

“No thanks, Father,” Duo said with a brush of his hand, “just wondered in here on accident. I'll get out of your hair now.”

A hand was placed gently on Duo's shoulder as he tried to leave. Turning, he saw the man's eyes full of concern. “No one ever comes here on accident young man. You were led here by God.”

Duo's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the man, remembering ten years ago when similar words had struck a chord in his heart. He remembered being brought to the Maxwell Church. He had glared at Father Maxwell, saying he wasn't supposed to be there. It was an accident that he had gotten caught.

Father Maxwell, with Sister Helen standing behind him, had just smiled at Duo as he's held the boy's hand. “You weren't brought to us on accident Duo. You were led here by God.”

Sensing a change in the boy, the priest carefully removed his hand from Duo's shoulder and was prepared to run, should the boy turn violent. He was completely unprepared for what happened next.

A tear, crystal clear and beautiful, dropped to the floor from Duo's bent face. He turned to face the priest, his characteristic smile pasted on, but his eyes held a maniacal gleam that was very rarely seen outside of his gundam.

“God? If He's the one who has been controlling my life, he's been doing a shitty job so far.” He chuckled to himself as more tears traced their way down his rosy cheeks.

Duo jerked suddenly, becoming aware of the tears falling on his clenched fists, and furiously rubbed at his leaking eyes in defiance of their behavior.

`Boys don't cry,' he thought to himself as the tears ignored his silent protests.

The priest was greatly disturbed. The young boy's behavior was completely irrational and unpredictable. “Son, whatever trials you have been put through in your life, I'm sure God had a reason. If you have suffered, it has not been without reward. Your sufferings have made you stronger and you have learned from the hardships your years have had to offer. God does not want his children to be unhappy, but sometimes it is in their best interest to learn through trial and error.”

Knowing that the wizened old man would never understand the things he had been exposed to in his few years, Duo was content to just shake his head.

“So that's why they had to die? So I could be stronger? Sister Helen and Father Maxwell died so that I could learn from my hardships? If that was God's reasoning, then he is one sadistic bastard.” His head fell, his chin resting on his chest, as he continued to curse the God that had ruined his life.

In the corner of his vision, hanging round his neck, shone the symbol of his hypocrisy, and Duo reached up a tear-dampened hand to grasp its cool metal surface.

“Father,” Duo asked, bringing his eyes up to meet the other man's, “what is your name?”

Seeing the sincerity in the boy's eyes and the gold cross gripped tightly in his left hand, the priest wondered what he was thinking. “Robertson. Father Robertson. What is your name?”

“I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell. I may run, and I may hide, but I'll never tell a lie.” Duo chuckled to himself as he repeated the phrase he had coined for himself. “I always tell people that about myself Father, but I guess that's not true. I've been lying every day of my life. My life in itself is nothing but one big lie.” Reaching behind him, he fumbled with the clasp of the necklace until the gold chain finally fell from its constant place on his shoulders into his waiting hand.

“Father, you've helped me tonight more than you'll ever know. You've helped me realize who I am. Here,” Duo said, taking the older man's hand. “I want you to have this.”

Placing the priest's hand palm up, Duo allowed the gold necklace to fall into it, the chain slipping through his fingers to coil around the cross itself.

Unsure of how to answer the obviously tormented boy, Father Robertson merely stared at the necklace that he had been given. He looked at the boy called Duo, seeing a look of peace come over his features.

“I've been lying to everyone, Father, even myself, and I never even stopped to think about it. But now that I've realized it, I guess it's time to change. Thank you Father, for helping me to learn who I truly am.”

And with that, Duo turned and made his way to the doors of the church, opening them slowly. His fingers traced back over the image of the perfect angels, their wooden fingers interlaced with the wooden fingers of Jesus, whose face held a look of pure satisfaction and eternal calm.

With a sigh that was almost heart breaking to Father Robertson, Duo closed the doors of the church, leaving the holy man to wonder what exactly had transpired right in front of him. Holding the cross in his hand, he turned and made his way to the back of the church, the look of hopelessness in the boys eyes forever burned into his mind.

The church was once again quite and devoid of people. The town continued its peaceful slumber. No one even took notice of the sharp crack of a gun shot in the open field, nor the muted thud of the body that fell onto the wet, dewy grass. The smoke from the muzzle of the gun floated up from the ground, dispersing into the air and with it the life of one young boy, shrouded by the church in the fog.

 

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Hope you enjoyed this little one-shot! I love positive feed back and constructive criticism alike! Thanks for reading!

 

~Winged Scribe