Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Dreams ❯ On Black Waves... ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Title: A Chance To Dream
Author: Shy Apocalypse
Date Finished: July 8th, 2005
Series: Gundam Wing
Warnings: Character Death, sad almost, gritty reflections on life.
Type: One Shot
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Gundam Wing, their franchise or merchandise. I write this only for enjoyment purposes, and I do not receive any money for my work. This series belongs to its respective owners, and should be treated as such when reading.
Dedications: To those who dream their silent dreams, and to those who wake me with their screams. To those who love and yet fear to sleep, I write this for you, for you to keep. Also, to Dave, who wakes me during my own nightmares, and comforts me in the dark, when nothing seems right.
Babe, I’d be lost without you.
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‘Sil ver light beckons,
Life’s momentum and hours slow,
Pearls stained on black waves.’ - Shy Himura
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Author: Shy Apocalypse
Date Finished: July 8th, 2005
Series: Gundam Wing
Warnings: Character Death, sad almost, gritty reflections on life.
Type: One Shot
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Gundam Wing, their franchise or merchandise. I write this only for enjoyment purposes, and I do not receive any money for my work. This series belongs to its respective owners, and should be treated as such when reading.
Dedications: To those who dream their silent dreams, and to those who wake me with their screams. To those who love and yet fear to sleep, I write this for you, for you to keep. Also, to Dave, who wakes me during my own nightmares, and comforts me in the dark, when nothing seems right.
Babe, I’d be lost without you.
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‘Sil ver light beckons,
Life’s momentum and hours slow,
Pearls stained on black waves.’ - Shy Himura
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A Chance To Dream
A chance to dream.
The moonlight, so weak and cold, fell across the room like whispered dusk. What had been, in warm beautiful daylight, softly burnished steel and wood now became skeletal ice, gripping at the shadows. Alien shapes and nightmares grounded in reality sprang forth, all I know, suggested images of my subconscious, my imagination.
That didn't lessen the fear at all though. Weird, that I can feel this fear at all.
In the old days, this kind of fear was unimaginable, and impossible. Before I could be fearless, ruthless, cunning, and horrible in the worst ways that humanity could produce. Yet, at 16, I've experienced more changes than I have had for nearly my entire life, not all for the good.
One year since the war ended. One year since it had started.
I never dreamt before a couple of months ago. I had heard about it, even researched it while attending one school or another, looking for answers to a friends screams in the night. It had been so long, since when I was small, I don't remember the images in my mind, which I must have had. I even read that some serial killers did not dream at all, their minds empty once their eyes closed, that people who don't dream could go insane.
How could I make myself believe that? I knew what I was. A killer, a murderer, but also a soldier, with orders for every kill to soften the moral blow. But why couldn't I dream? I wanted to, if only to prove that bit of pop - psychology wrong. I even started to read fantasy books, in the hope that I could produce a spark in my imagination, to start to gather material for it. They never came. And I was, odd at the time, disappointed. I wanted to know what dreaming felt like.
It's gotten so bad now I've had to soundproof my room, to hide my screams in the late midnight air. I wake up with bruises, cuts and scrapes from tossing and turning violently. And images that I want to burn from my mind.
Not all of them are nightmares. I have some odd surreal dreams, weird dreams, but pleasant. The nightmares are frequenter though, causing panic to etch at my heart like acid, fearful patterns in the night.
I swallowed the caffeine pills dry, not feeling up to having water rolling in my stomach just yet. I could barely function, only getting one or two hours of solid sleep a night, before I woke myself up screaming. My eyes hurt, my back hurt, my whole body hurt, and I can't cure it with training or exercise. It only made it worse.
My joints creaked as I rocked to my feet, the edge of the bed a stable support for my suddenly buckling legs, and I had to try three more times before I could get to my feet. Dressing was simply torture, pulling on a now baggy sweatshirt and jeans almost too much to bear. I went without shoes, choosing instead to pad silently down the empty halls in stockinged feet, silent as the moon itself.
My heart began to pound as the pills took effect, my veins suddenly crackling with nervous energy, bringing my head up sharply, my throat fluttering with my pulse. I chose to ignore the black lump on the couch, who was avidly staring at a flickering TV screen, sitting stiffly in a wing armed chair, staring out into the dark grounds.
It was nice of Relena to house us, after the war ended. The way I had treated the poor girl, I wouldn't be surprised if she had put me in front of a firing line, cackling madly as she gave the order to fire. Instead, she had grown up a little, now taller than me in body and a little more adult in her mind. She didn't trouble me with her childish crush, instead focusing on a new target, a bodyguard who would treat her with the respect she deserved, but taking time out of her hectic life to talk to me at any time of the day. She once even called me her friend, a good listener, a nice person. I couldn't believe her at the time.
One show ended, another began, the black shape laughing a little when something funny happened on the large screen. I listlessly glanced at Duo, curled sans priest outfit but with added fuzzy blanket and black pyjamas, braid hectic with loose strands, before my eyes wandered back to the window, dawn approaching like a slow comet in the sky.
He left when it was barely light, a touch on the shoulder and a smile as he made his way past me, and I wanted to lean into that touch, which surprised even me. I couldn't do it though, giving only a slow nod to acknowledge him, and he sighed before slipping silently away, obviously headed for the kitchen.
"Want something to drink?"
I paused, eyes still staring at the mist gathering at the edge of ancient pine trees, black shadows in silvery light, and said softly, "Coffee, please." He nodded, my eye catching it at the edge of my vision, and he was gone, leaving me in the now silent room.
I curled my knees beneath me, hands resting slightly on the arms, energy pumping in my nerves. My heartbeat was erratic, slowed, my breath laboured though unnoticeable, and I slipped another caffeine pill into my mouth from my bottle in my pants pocket. Duo returned some time later, two steaming mugs in hand, and he silently handed one to me, sitting on the chair next to me, also staring out the window.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmured, slow sips from the enamel mug slipping past his lips like whispers. I nodded, my own drink disappearing fast, the steaming brown liquid draining down my throat, hot and sweet.
"Want to go somewhere today? The beach, maybe? It's even beautiful in winter. And besides, you are in serious need of a tan..." He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows, mouth a quirky grin. I felt a momentary flash of panic, thoughts of collapsing from the strain, allowing my secret to be known, and shook my head, still staring, pink light creeping across frosted grass, pearls stained on black waves. He looked slightly disappointed, causing a flash of guilt, before it cleared, saying cheerfully, "Maybe another day then."
A small smile, a tiny nod, and he looked satisfied. How could it be so easy to satisfy another persons needs with something so small, so ineffectual? I studied him for a moment, slightly pale skin and luminous cobalt eyes, swinging his legs a little as he gazed through the cold glass, before I followed his gaze, the sun now peeking shyly from behind the pine grove, tongues of flame in a translucent sky.
I sighed, the sound thunderous in the quiet, and I ignored his curious glance, curling up on myself, eyes wide and staring. I hadn't slept last night, hadn't slept 10 hours the whole week, and the strain was beginning to show, even with the aid of the pills. Duo started talking about the shows he had watched, trying to fill the silence, and I lent half an ear, looking at him expectantly in all the right places, small nods and shakes of my head answers.
My mind was spinning, though sluggish. I kept thinking about the last dream, the beast in the ground and the bird in the sky, the beams of light, and then darkness, as the bird was struck down. I had no idea why this scared me so, why it made me wake up screaming not one hour into sleep, why I hadn't slept since it had occurred. Duo's voice slowly drained away, the octaves of his voice no more than drifting noise, white noise, a silence to the dawn.
He left some time later with another clap on my shoulder, and a ruffling of my hair. I glared at him, as was expected, and he walked away with a grin, braid swinging a tempo as his feet swayed across the polished wood floor, dim reflection in the now bright light. I watched him go silently, face emotionless and still, before I took the pills from my pocket and took another two, crunching one and letting the bitterness dissolve in my mouth.
Time became faster, the sun rising almost inches at a time, shadows lengthening and then retreating, people not noticing me in my chair as they went about their daily business. I watched a maid clean with almost astonishing speed, spinning from space to space like she was jumping through the ether, flickering hummingbird that she was. She finished as soon as she started, and I almost made a point to get up, to let her clean in peace, but she left before I could move.
Reality closed with a snap as Quatre sat in front of my chair, blonde hair tickling the edges of my socked toes, sketching the scene outside. I leant a little over his shoulder, saw the astonishing detail he infused into his work with only a stick of charcoal and a small artists knife, before I looked to where he was gazing, eyes toxic blue in an almost frilly room.
"Hi, Heero", he murmured, glancing up to smile at me, and my eyes crinkled in response. You could almost never refuse Quatre a smile, something that had caused me great puzzlement before I realised that you could never want to hurt him, never could disappoint him, because you felt so bad you never did it again. I could have ignored those feelings of shame, but I liked him, small quiet artist that he was, and I didn't want to hurt him.
"Do you feel alright? You're looking a little pale." I was becoming noticeable? I couldn't refuse an answer, so I said, my voice creaking, "Duo says I need to go to the beach. Desperate need of a tan." He laughed, the sound trickling into the room like glimmering water, and I smiled a little, making his own smile stretch.
"Just be sure you get some sun, alright? Vitamin E's good for you." I nodded, eyes closing tiredly as he went back to his picture, and I carefully took another pill, one I had hidden in my hand, and crunched it slowly.
Some time later he stood up, and I felt disappointed from his lack of warmth against my leg, but I didn't show it. "Time for lunch. You coming?" I nodded, saying slowly, "In a minute", my gaze enraptured by the light glancing off the bevelled edges of the glass windows, tiny ripples against bright polished steel. He looked worried for a moment, but left, and I watched clouds gathering at the edge of the horizon, tall purple thunderheads that crackled in the light, sunshine bouncing tiredly off of its twisted mass.
He came back, in my time, almost instantly, looking even more worried. I ignored him though, the way the clouds shifting captivating, tidal destruction in an otherwise clear sky, and gave no sign of noticing him. I think I heard his voice call mine, my name a repetition, a cool dry hand sliding against my forehead shocking me from my reverie.
"A little warm." His voice, quiet and concerned, and I pulled away from him a little, letting a little energy go to make my mouth move, to form words. "I'm fine. I told you I'll be there in a minute."
"Heero." Now he looked upset, and a little nervous. "Lunch finished ages ago. Are you sure you're fine?" I nodded firmly, and he left again, brow creased into a frown, almost matching the nervous flickering in the clouds, sunlight dimming from the first wash of rigid water.
My heart beat was strange, slow one second and pulsating furiously the next, its own small dance in my chest. My breathing slowed to a trickle, my eyes at half mast, head drooping a little forward as the first roll of thunder shook the mansion, upsetting the air. Another hand slid gently across my forehead, and I looked up slowly, watching Duo move in slow motion as his mouth formed words, a slow drone in the silence.
My eyes narrowed in query, and his voice suddenly snapped back to normalcy. "-warm, yeah. Heero, you've got a pretty bad fever. Are you feeling sick?"
I shook my head, looking past him back to the window, the clouds now completely covering the sky, thunder furious yet slow, far apart in the restless afternoon. Without thinking I drew the pills from my pocket, all my attention on the muttering sky, slipping four into my mouth before the bottle was taken from my hand by another’s. I chewed slowly before swallowing, not even noticing the taste, bitter grindings on shallow teeth. I didn't even glance to see where the bottle had gone, gasping as another blast of energy straightened my neck, my eyes becoming clearer, yet my thoughts ground to a near halt, not focusing on anything in particular.
"-taken? Heero? How many have you..." Lightning struck, far away, blue and purple ruptures against the dark and windy sky. A hand slowly turned my chin, and I looked into worried black, Wufei's face pinched with concern. I jerked away from him, and he frowned, reaching forward to grasp my chin again as my neck slowly turned back to the window.
"Heero, listen to me. We need to know what these are, and how many you've taken. Can you understand me?" Of course I could understand him, who does he think he's talking too? Brushing his hand away irritably, I muttered, "I'm fine, they're nothing, I'm okay." I gripped the ends of the arms with both hands, knuckles whitening as they tensed around the soft fabric and underlying wood, before pulling myself forward, intending to get to my feet.
My legs were locked beneath me, and I sighed, reaching back to unhook my ankles, shifting the creaking joints. How many times have I had to do this lately? It seemed every time I stopped everything would seize, gentle coaxing and pleading the only antidote. "Come on, move" I said softly, pulling on the knee until they popped back into place, screaming pain ripping down the left side of my right leg as it shifted to stick out in front of me. I repeated the process with the left, brushing away another irritating hand as it tried to seize my forehead.
My whole leg cracked, startling away those nervously trembling hands, and I listlessly dug a hand into my pocket, expecting to find the smooth surface of the bottle. I instead found some loose pills, undoubtedly fallen from the improperly replaced lid, and I tossed another one into my mouth, ducking from hands that wanted me to stop. "They only keep me moving, they're okay" I whispered as I rocked gently to my feet, like a motionless boat being swept away by the waves. Another pill crunched, another flash of lightning.
"Jesus Heero, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Zech’s? What was everybody doing, standing around, and watching me like that? These people were getting stranger by the day. I shook my head slowly, casting one glance more out of that window, dark and mysterious and powerful. I started to walk, listing to the side a little before I straightened my hip with a pop, stretching my arms above my head in a slow arc.
A chance to sleep, a chance to dream.
My arms fell back to my sides heavily, hands crashing against my outer thighs, and I felt again for the bottle, feeling panicked when I couldn't locate it. "Where is it?" I said softly, patting both pockets nervously, before rediscovering the loose pills in the right, digging out three and lifting them towards my mouth. Another hand, slim and long, slapped them away, and I almost moaned as they cascaded to the floor, white stones upon the shore of umber wood.
"What'd y'do that for?" I slurred, staring at them as the sound of them hitting the floor continued to rattle fiercely in my ears. Those spiteful hands, those who had taken away my pills, gripped my upper arms hard, pulling me around to face scared green. Trowa? When had he gotten here?
"Are you trying to kill yourself Heero?" he asked, searching my eyes intently, face pale and scared and suddenly very young. I was so astonished by the idea I gaped at him, mouth opening by itself, jaw loose, before I snapped it back and glared. "Why would I'd do sum'thin st'pid like tat?" I asked, blinking my eyes rapidly as they blurred, thunder a cacophony adding to the sound of the rattling from the pills.
"What the hell are these pills?" Duo cried, and I winced, flinching away from his scared anger, cobalt eyes spitting fiery ice. I swayed in Trowa's grasp before I found my balance again, weakly trying to pull his arms away from me, though they stubbornly closed tighter, a vice grip.
"I tol' you, they nothin'" I whispered, head suddenly too heavy to hold up properly any more. "Only pills, caf'ine pills, keeps me aw'ke, stops teh dreams, can I hav' 'em back now?" I was surprised at how needy I sounded, how desperate, and I was slightly disgusted with myself. I looked back up, and was surprised to find them all standing there, looking at me, fear in their eyes. When had they gotten here?
"Trowa? Why you holdin' me?" I asked, wrenching one hand loose to pat in my pocket, searching for the bottle, suddenly panicked to find it missing. "Where did the' goes?” I asked slowly, patting again, feeling smooth bumps from other pills, nestled in my pocket like robins eggs. I pulled some, little pebbles cusped in the palm of my curled hand, before they were knocked away, a slim hand curling around mine, ready to stop me. My head fell forward, lightning flickering along the shadows like an eager cat at play.
"God Heero, are you okay?" I looked up, and they were all there, everybody, their faces full of concern and worry, fear and desperate stillness.
"When did you guys ge' her'?" I asked, puzzled. Hadn't Quatre just been drawing near my feet, sketching the beautiful day outside? But there was a storm now, flickering attitudes heaved at the heavens in anger, thunder licking the air with great rolls of sound.
"Quick, go call an ambulance!" Why was Duo running so fast? Why was Trowa holding me up, even as I sagged into his embrace, legs giving away with a solid crack, making Quatre gasp? What was going on?
"H've you s'n me pills?" I gasped, looking into Trowa's dead white face, eyes flickering like twin insults in the rapid crescendo of light and sound.
“Stay awake Heero, just for a little while.” Awake? Awake is conscious. Dreams are subconscious. Dreams…
“I don’t want to dream!” I screamed, twisting wildly in Trowa’s grasp like an eel, slithering from his arms only to be caught again. “I don’t want to, please don’t make me, I don’t want to dream, I wanted to before, but not now, never now, please don’t make me go to sleep….please…”
I fell, dragging Trowa down on top of me, and I felt trapped, felt like sleeping, felt like dreaming. “No…” I moaned, thick and low in my throat, a counterpoint to the thunders fury. “I need my pills, please, they keep me awake, don’t make me sleep, I don’t want to sleep…”
“Heero, it’s okay, we won’t let you go to sleep, we won’t!” I moaned again, cheek pressed to the floor, before a sound like a gunshot cracked the surrounding noise into a molasses thick silence. It came again, a few seconds later, and again, and I dimly realised my eyes were burning, and that noise was coming from me.
“H-Heero?”
I was crying?
Trowa pushed, his hands on the floor, and he was off me, and I could breathe again. But the sobs came again, thicker and faster, and my eyes closed, my will pushed to breaking point.
“I can’t stay awake” I whispered between chokes, noise strangling in my throat and making my eyes water. “I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t, and it’s killing me. Please don’t let me…d-don’t let m-me…”
“Heero, shh, it’s okay.” Someone gathered me up in their arms, my forehead nestled into a shoulder, skin soft and cool against my burning face. Long corn silk strands brushed in front of my eyes, waving gently in my muffled breaths, tickling my neck as they curled around me. “It’s okay.”
Zech’s arms closed around my back, loose, not constricting, and smaller hands smoothed hair away from my forehead. Wufei’s? And Quatre’s?
“How long has it been since you’ve slept? A couple of days?” Zech’s asked, voice low and warm and comforting. I shook my head slowly, breath shuffling in my chest like a mini spinning wind, not content on which way to go. “Three days? Four?”
“A c-couple of…a c-couple o-of…” I trailed off, eyes closing without my permission, before hands gently shook me and them awake, glittering comfort on a storm lit floor. “How long, Heero? Was it a couple of weeks?”
“Months” I said numbly, lips feeling like crushed ice on blacktop. “A couple of months, I think. Not sure. It all just…blurs together. I might get an hours sleep a night, if I’m l-lucky, but…I need my pills. Please? They keep me awake.”
“Oh Jesus, Heero…” Zech’s whispered, looking at me with such pity in his eyes I had to look away, towards the window, the storm building itself into an even bigger frenzy, gales ripping like knives through the fabric of the air.
“The bird died, in my dream. I c-couldn’t stop myself s-screaming, couldn’t, can’t, couldn’t. Have you seen my pills?” I whined, deep in my throat as my heart fluttered wildly again, flapping in its empty cage, before it slowed almost to a stop, making me gasp once. Twice. Three times. Then it started fluttering wildly again, caged bird, bird in the sky, storm outside and beast down below.
“Heero? Heero? Come on; stay awake, just a little while longer, they’re almost here.” A chance to dream, to sleep, to feel, to create, to destroy, to dream. My hand lifted slowly, rising from where it rested in Zech’s lap, and I pulled away to press it against my chest, felt the beating of the wings, caged lightning confined to mortality in a human body.
“My chest h-hurts” I whispered, picking up Zech’s hand in both my own, spreading the fingers wide and flat, and pressing it to my heart. “Can you feel it? I think it’s the bird from my dream. How did it get inside me?” Zech’s eyes grew impossibly wide, held lightning in their grasp, and he felt as my heart sped and slowed, sped and slowed, slowed, slowed, fluttered wildly, slowed, slowed.
“Do you think the bird is dying?” I asked quietly, scolding tears slipping down my cheeks, saltiness on the tip of my lips and tongue. “Oh, hell no” Duo moaned, crouching beside me, braid slithering to the floor like a dead snake. “Don’t say shit like that buddy, please don’t.”
Sirens grew in the distance, like the wailing of birds, caused fright by the storm and the gale, victories of the glamorous afternoon. I didn’t feel my head cracking against the floor as I slipped back, didn’t hear their muffled screams, and I only saw Zech’s hair fluttering like a banner, from a war torn field long ago, when gold was beauty and not wealth. Never wealth.
Sped. Slowed. Sped. Slowed. Sped. Slowed. Slowed. Slowed. Slowed.
Stopped.
A hand, fisting above me, glorious in the electricity filled air, and then rumbling as it shifted downward, thumping against my chest, the bird inside protesting feebly.
Started. Slowed. Sped up, frantically trembling. Slowed. Slowed.
Stopped.
Again, and again, like the beating of drums, turning my chest into a percussion table, again and again and again.
Started. Stopped.
Started. Stopped.
Started.
“D-dreams?”
Stoppe d.
Stopped.
Stilled.
A chance to rest? A chance to sleep?
A chance to ... dream?
Oh God...a chance to dream...
(Sniffles, and blows her nose) ;_;’’’’
Warned you.
Please don’t steal the poem written by me at the start...I debated for a long while about using it, but decided to share a bit of my other works, the ones that inspire most of the stories I write. So please, God, don’t steal it. I work too hard on these for them to be used for flippant purposes.
However...if you wish to use it in one of your own works, or have a story you need a poem for...just ask me. I’ll probably let you. Or write for you.
Acknowledge me when you do, eh?
Love always, Shy Himura.
The moonlight, so weak and cold, fell across the room like whispered dusk. What had been, in warm beautiful daylight, softly burnished steel and wood now became skeletal ice, gripping at the shadows. Alien shapes and nightmares grounded in reality sprang forth, all I know, suggested images of my subconscious, my imagination.
That didn't lessen the fear at all though. Weird, that I can feel this fear at all.
In the old days, this kind of fear was unimaginable, and impossible. Before I could be fearless, ruthless, cunning, and horrible in the worst ways that humanity could produce. Yet, at 16, I've experienced more changes than I have had for nearly my entire life, not all for the good.
One year since the war ended. One year since it had started.
I never dreamt before a couple of months ago. I had heard about it, even researched it while attending one school or another, looking for answers to a friends screams in the night. It had been so long, since when I was small, I don't remember the images in my mind, which I must have had. I even read that some serial killers did not dream at all, their minds empty once their eyes closed, that people who don't dream could go insane.
How could I make myself believe that? I knew what I was. A killer, a murderer, but also a soldier, with orders for every kill to soften the moral blow. But why couldn't I dream? I wanted to, if only to prove that bit of pop - psychology wrong. I even started to read fantasy books, in the hope that I could produce a spark in my imagination, to start to gather material for it. They never came. And I was, odd at the time, disappointed. I wanted to know what dreaming felt like.
It's gotten so bad now I've had to soundproof my room, to hide my screams in the late midnight air. I wake up with bruises, cuts and scrapes from tossing and turning violently. And images that I want to burn from my mind.
Not all of them are nightmares. I have some odd surreal dreams, weird dreams, but pleasant. The nightmares are frequenter though, causing panic to etch at my heart like acid, fearful patterns in the night.
I swallowed the caffeine pills dry, not feeling up to having water rolling in my stomach just yet. I could barely function, only getting one or two hours of solid sleep a night, before I woke myself up screaming. My eyes hurt, my back hurt, my whole body hurt, and I can't cure it with training or exercise. It only made it worse.
My joints creaked as I rocked to my feet, the edge of the bed a stable support for my suddenly buckling legs, and I had to try three more times before I could get to my feet. Dressing was simply torture, pulling on a now baggy sweatshirt and jeans almost too much to bear. I went without shoes, choosing instead to pad silently down the empty halls in stockinged feet, silent as the moon itself.
My heart began to pound as the pills took effect, my veins suddenly crackling with nervous energy, bringing my head up sharply, my throat fluttering with my pulse. I chose to ignore the black lump on the couch, who was avidly staring at a flickering TV screen, sitting stiffly in a wing armed chair, staring out into the dark grounds.
It was nice of Relena to house us, after the war ended. The way I had treated the poor girl, I wouldn't be surprised if she had put me in front of a firing line, cackling madly as she gave the order to fire. Instead, she had grown up a little, now taller than me in body and a little more adult in her mind. She didn't trouble me with her childish crush, instead focusing on a new target, a bodyguard who would treat her with the respect she deserved, but taking time out of her hectic life to talk to me at any time of the day. She once even called me her friend, a good listener, a nice person. I couldn't believe her at the time.
One show ended, another began, the black shape laughing a little when something funny happened on the large screen. I listlessly glanced at Duo, curled sans priest outfit but with added fuzzy blanket and black pyjamas, braid hectic with loose strands, before my eyes wandered back to the window, dawn approaching like a slow comet in the sky.
He left when it was barely light, a touch on the shoulder and a smile as he made his way past me, and I wanted to lean into that touch, which surprised even me. I couldn't do it though, giving only a slow nod to acknowledge him, and he sighed before slipping silently away, obviously headed for the kitchen.
"Want something to drink?"
I paused, eyes still staring at the mist gathering at the edge of ancient pine trees, black shadows in silvery light, and said softly, "Coffee, please." He nodded, my eye catching it at the edge of my vision, and he was gone, leaving me in the now silent room.
I curled my knees beneath me, hands resting slightly on the arms, energy pumping in my nerves. My heartbeat was erratic, slowed, my breath laboured though unnoticeable, and I slipped another caffeine pill into my mouth from my bottle in my pants pocket. Duo returned some time later, two steaming mugs in hand, and he silently handed one to me, sitting on the chair next to me, also staring out the window.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmured, slow sips from the enamel mug slipping past his lips like whispers. I nodded, my own drink disappearing fast, the steaming brown liquid draining down my throat, hot and sweet.
"Want to go somewhere today? The beach, maybe? It's even beautiful in winter. And besides, you are in serious need of a tan..." He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows, mouth a quirky grin. I felt a momentary flash of panic, thoughts of collapsing from the strain, allowing my secret to be known, and shook my head, still staring, pink light creeping across frosted grass, pearls stained on black waves. He looked slightly disappointed, causing a flash of guilt, before it cleared, saying cheerfully, "Maybe another day then."
A small smile, a tiny nod, and he looked satisfied. How could it be so easy to satisfy another persons needs with something so small, so ineffectual? I studied him for a moment, slightly pale skin and luminous cobalt eyes, swinging his legs a little as he gazed through the cold glass, before I followed his gaze, the sun now peeking shyly from behind the pine grove, tongues of flame in a translucent sky.
I sighed, the sound thunderous in the quiet, and I ignored his curious glance, curling up on myself, eyes wide and staring. I hadn't slept last night, hadn't slept 10 hours the whole week, and the strain was beginning to show, even with the aid of the pills. Duo started talking about the shows he had watched, trying to fill the silence, and I lent half an ear, looking at him expectantly in all the right places, small nods and shakes of my head answers.
My mind was spinning, though sluggish. I kept thinking about the last dream, the beast in the ground and the bird in the sky, the beams of light, and then darkness, as the bird was struck down. I had no idea why this scared me so, why it made me wake up screaming not one hour into sleep, why I hadn't slept since it had occurred. Duo's voice slowly drained away, the octaves of his voice no more than drifting noise, white noise, a silence to the dawn.
He left some time later with another clap on my shoulder, and a ruffling of my hair. I glared at him, as was expected, and he walked away with a grin, braid swinging a tempo as his feet swayed across the polished wood floor, dim reflection in the now bright light. I watched him go silently, face emotionless and still, before I took the pills from my pocket and took another two, crunching one and letting the bitterness dissolve in my mouth.
Time became faster, the sun rising almost inches at a time, shadows lengthening and then retreating, people not noticing me in my chair as they went about their daily business. I watched a maid clean with almost astonishing speed, spinning from space to space like she was jumping through the ether, flickering hummingbird that she was. She finished as soon as she started, and I almost made a point to get up, to let her clean in peace, but she left before I could move.
Reality closed with a snap as Quatre sat in front of my chair, blonde hair tickling the edges of my socked toes, sketching the scene outside. I leant a little over his shoulder, saw the astonishing detail he infused into his work with only a stick of charcoal and a small artists knife, before I looked to where he was gazing, eyes toxic blue in an almost frilly room.
"Hi, Heero", he murmured, glancing up to smile at me, and my eyes crinkled in response. You could almost never refuse Quatre a smile, something that had caused me great puzzlement before I realised that you could never want to hurt him, never could disappoint him, because you felt so bad you never did it again. I could have ignored those feelings of shame, but I liked him, small quiet artist that he was, and I didn't want to hurt him.
"Do you feel alright? You're looking a little pale." I was becoming noticeable? I couldn't refuse an answer, so I said, my voice creaking, "Duo says I need to go to the beach. Desperate need of a tan." He laughed, the sound trickling into the room like glimmering water, and I smiled a little, making his own smile stretch.
"Just be sure you get some sun, alright? Vitamin E's good for you." I nodded, eyes closing tiredly as he went back to his picture, and I carefully took another pill, one I had hidden in my hand, and crunched it slowly.
Some time later he stood up, and I felt disappointed from his lack of warmth against my leg, but I didn't show it. "Time for lunch. You coming?" I nodded, saying slowly, "In a minute", my gaze enraptured by the light glancing off the bevelled edges of the glass windows, tiny ripples against bright polished steel. He looked worried for a moment, but left, and I watched clouds gathering at the edge of the horizon, tall purple thunderheads that crackled in the light, sunshine bouncing tiredly off of its twisted mass.
He came back, in my time, almost instantly, looking even more worried. I ignored him though, the way the clouds shifting captivating, tidal destruction in an otherwise clear sky, and gave no sign of noticing him. I think I heard his voice call mine, my name a repetition, a cool dry hand sliding against my forehead shocking me from my reverie.
"A little warm." His voice, quiet and concerned, and I pulled away from him a little, letting a little energy go to make my mouth move, to form words. "I'm fine. I told you I'll be there in a minute."
"Heero." Now he looked upset, and a little nervous. "Lunch finished ages ago. Are you sure you're fine?" I nodded firmly, and he left again, brow creased into a frown, almost matching the nervous flickering in the clouds, sunlight dimming from the first wash of rigid water.
My heart beat was strange, slow one second and pulsating furiously the next, its own small dance in my chest. My breathing slowed to a trickle, my eyes at half mast, head drooping a little forward as the first roll of thunder shook the mansion, upsetting the air. Another hand slid gently across my forehead, and I looked up slowly, watching Duo move in slow motion as his mouth formed words, a slow drone in the silence.
My eyes narrowed in query, and his voice suddenly snapped back to normalcy. "-warm, yeah. Heero, you've got a pretty bad fever. Are you feeling sick?"
I shook my head, looking past him back to the window, the clouds now completely covering the sky, thunder furious yet slow, far apart in the restless afternoon. Without thinking I drew the pills from my pocket, all my attention on the muttering sky, slipping four into my mouth before the bottle was taken from my hand by another’s. I chewed slowly before swallowing, not even noticing the taste, bitter grindings on shallow teeth. I didn't even glance to see where the bottle had gone, gasping as another blast of energy straightened my neck, my eyes becoming clearer, yet my thoughts ground to a near halt, not focusing on anything in particular.
"-taken? Heero? How many have you..." Lightning struck, far away, blue and purple ruptures against the dark and windy sky. A hand slowly turned my chin, and I looked into worried black, Wufei's face pinched with concern. I jerked away from him, and he frowned, reaching forward to grasp my chin again as my neck slowly turned back to the window.
"Heero, listen to me. We need to know what these are, and how many you've taken. Can you understand me?" Of course I could understand him, who does he think he's talking too? Brushing his hand away irritably, I muttered, "I'm fine, they're nothing, I'm okay." I gripped the ends of the arms with both hands, knuckles whitening as they tensed around the soft fabric and underlying wood, before pulling myself forward, intending to get to my feet.
My legs were locked beneath me, and I sighed, reaching back to unhook my ankles, shifting the creaking joints. How many times have I had to do this lately? It seemed every time I stopped everything would seize, gentle coaxing and pleading the only antidote. "Come on, move" I said softly, pulling on the knee until they popped back into place, screaming pain ripping down the left side of my right leg as it shifted to stick out in front of me. I repeated the process with the left, brushing away another irritating hand as it tried to seize my forehead.
My whole leg cracked, startling away those nervously trembling hands, and I listlessly dug a hand into my pocket, expecting to find the smooth surface of the bottle. I instead found some loose pills, undoubtedly fallen from the improperly replaced lid, and I tossed another one into my mouth, ducking from hands that wanted me to stop. "They only keep me moving, they're okay" I whispered as I rocked gently to my feet, like a motionless boat being swept away by the waves. Another pill crunched, another flash of lightning.
"Jesus Heero, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Zech’s? What was everybody doing, standing around, and watching me like that? These people were getting stranger by the day. I shook my head slowly, casting one glance more out of that window, dark and mysterious and powerful. I started to walk, listing to the side a little before I straightened my hip with a pop, stretching my arms above my head in a slow arc.
A chance to sleep, a chance to dream.
My arms fell back to my sides heavily, hands crashing against my outer thighs, and I felt again for the bottle, feeling panicked when I couldn't locate it. "Where is it?" I said softly, patting both pockets nervously, before rediscovering the loose pills in the right, digging out three and lifting them towards my mouth. Another hand, slim and long, slapped them away, and I almost moaned as they cascaded to the floor, white stones upon the shore of umber wood.
"What'd y'do that for?" I slurred, staring at them as the sound of them hitting the floor continued to rattle fiercely in my ears. Those spiteful hands, those who had taken away my pills, gripped my upper arms hard, pulling me around to face scared green. Trowa? When had he gotten here?
"Are you trying to kill yourself Heero?" he asked, searching my eyes intently, face pale and scared and suddenly very young. I was so astonished by the idea I gaped at him, mouth opening by itself, jaw loose, before I snapped it back and glared. "Why would I'd do sum'thin st'pid like tat?" I asked, blinking my eyes rapidly as they blurred, thunder a cacophony adding to the sound of the rattling from the pills.
"What the hell are these pills?" Duo cried, and I winced, flinching away from his scared anger, cobalt eyes spitting fiery ice. I swayed in Trowa's grasp before I found my balance again, weakly trying to pull his arms away from me, though they stubbornly closed tighter, a vice grip.
"I tol' you, they nothin'" I whispered, head suddenly too heavy to hold up properly any more. "Only pills, caf'ine pills, keeps me aw'ke, stops teh dreams, can I hav' 'em back now?" I was surprised at how needy I sounded, how desperate, and I was slightly disgusted with myself. I looked back up, and was surprised to find them all standing there, looking at me, fear in their eyes. When had they gotten here?
"Trowa? Why you holdin' me?" I asked, wrenching one hand loose to pat in my pocket, searching for the bottle, suddenly panicked to find it missing. "Where did the' goes?” I asked slowly, patting again, feeling smooth bumps from other pills, nestled in my pocket like robins eggs. I pulled some, little pebbles cusped in the palm of my curled hand, before they were knocked away, a slim hand curling around mine, ready to stop me. My head fell forward, lightning flickering along the shadows like an eager cat at play.
"God Heero, are you okay?" I looked up, and they were all there, everybody, their faces full of concern and worry, fear and desperate stillness.
"When did you guys ge' her'?" I asked, puzzled. Hadn't Quatre just been drawing near my feet, sketching the beautiful day outside? But there was a storm now, flickering attitudes heaved at the heavens in anger, thunder licking the air with great rolls of sound.
"Quick, go call an ambulance!" Why was Duo running so fast? Why was Trowa holding me up, even as I sagged into his embrace, legs giving away with a solid crack, making Quatre gasp? What was going on?
"H've you s'n me pills?" I gasped, looking into Trowa's dead white face, eyes flickering like twin insults in the rapid crescendo of light and sound.
“Stay awake Heero, just for a little while.” Awake? Awake is conscious. Dreams are subconscious. Dreams…
“I don’t want to dream!” I screamed, twisting wildly in Trowa’s grasp like an eel, slithering from his arms only to be caught again. “I don’t want to, please don’t make me, I don’t want to dream, I wanted to before, but not now, never now, please don’t make me go to sleep….please…”
I fell, dragging Trowa down on top of me, and I felt trapped, felt like sleeping, felt like dreaming. “No…” I moaned, thick and low in my throat, a counterpoint to the thunders fury. “I need my pills, please, they keep me awake, don’t make me sleep, I don’t want to sleep…”
“Heero, it’s okay, we won’t let you go to sleep, we won’t!” I moaned again, cheek pressed to the floor, before a sound like a gunshot cracked the surrounding noise into a molasses thick silence. It came again, a few seconds later, and again, and I dimly realised my eyes were burning, and that noise was coming from me.
“H-Heero?”
I was crying?
Trowa pushed, his hands on the floor, and he was off me, and I could breathe again. But the sobs came again, thicker and faster, and my eyes closed, my will pushed to breaking point.
“I can’t stay awake” I whispered between chokes, noise strangling in my throat and making my eyes water. “I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t, and it’s killing me. Please don’t let me…d-don’t let m-me…”
“Heero, shh, it’s okay.” Someone gathered me up in their arms, my forehead nestled into a shoulder, skin soft and cool against my burning face. Long corn silk strands brushed in front of my eyes, waving gently in my muffled breaths, tickling my neck as they curled around me. “It’s okay.”
Zech’s arms closed around my back, loose, not constricting, and smaller hands smoothed hair away from my forehead. Wufei’s? And Quatre’s?
“How long has it been since you’ve slept? A couple of days?” Zech’s asked, voice low and warm and comforting. I shook my head slowly, breath shuffling in my chest like a mini spinning wind, not content on which way to go. “Three days? Four?”
“A c-couple of…a c-couple o-of…” I trailed off, eyes closing without my permission, before hands gently shook me and them awake, glittering comfort on a storm lit floor. “How long, Heero? Was it a couple of weeks?”
“Months” I said numbly, lips feeling like crushed ice on blacktop. “A couple of months, I think. Not sure. It all just…blurs together. I might get an hours sleep a night, if I’m l-lucky, but…I need my pills. Please? They keep me awake.”
“Oh Jesus, Heero…” Zech’s whispered, looking at me with such pity in his eyes I had to look away, towards the window, the storm building itself into an even bigger frenzy, gales ripping like knives through the fabric of the air.
“The bird died, in my dream. I c-couldn’t stop myself s-screaming, couldn’t, can’t, couldn’t. Have you seen my pills?” I whined, deep in my throat as my heart fluttered wildly again, flapping in its empty cage, before it slowed almost to a stop, making me gasp once. Twice. Three times. Then it started fluttering wildly again, caged bird, bird in the sky, storm outside and beast down below.
“Heero? Heero? Come on; stay awake, just a little while longer, they’re almost here.” A chance to dream, to sleep, to feel, to create, to destroy, to dream. My hand lifted slowly, rising from where it rested in Zech’s lap, and I pulled away to press it against my chest, felt the beating of the wings, caged lightning confined to mortality in a human body.
“My chest h-hurts” I whispered, picking up Zech’s hand in both my own, spreading the fingers wide and flat, and pressing it to my heart. “Can you feel it? I think it’s the bird from my dream. How did it get inside me?” Zech’s eyes grew impossibly wide, held lightning in their grasp, and he felt as my heart sped and slowed, sped and slowed, slowed, slowed, fluttered wildly, slowed, slowed.
“Do you think the bird is dying?” I asked quietly, scolding tears slipping down my cheeks, saltiness on the tip of my lips and tongue. “Oh, hell no” Duo moaned, crouching beside me, braid slithering to the floor like a dead snake. “Don’t say shit like that buddy, please don’t.”
Sirens grew in the distance, like the wailing of birds, caused fright by the storm and the gale, victories of the glamorous afternoon. I didn’t feel my head cracking against the floor as I slipped back, didn’t hear their muffled screams, and I only saw Zech’s hair fluttering like a banner, from a war torn field long ago, when gold was beauty and not wealth. Never wealth.
Sped. Slowed. Sped. Slowed. Sped. Slowed. Slowed. Slowed. Slowed.
Stopped.
A hand, fisting above me, glorious in the electricity filled air, and then rumbling as it shifted downward, thumping against my chest, the bird inside protesting feebly.
Started. Slowed. Sped up, frantically trembling. Slowed. Slowed.
Stopped.
Again, and again, like the beating of drums, turning my chest into a percussion table, again and again and again.
Started. Stopped.
Started. Stopped.
Started.
“D-dreams?”
Stoppe d.
Stopped.
Stilled.
A chance to rest? A chance to sleep?
A chance to ... dream?
Oh God...a chance to dream...
(Sniffles, and blows her nose) ;_;’’’’
Warned you.
Please don’t steal the poem written by me at the start...I debated for a long while about using it, but decided to share a bit of my other works, the ones that inspire most of the stories I write. So please, God, don’t steal it. I work too hard on these for them to be used for flippant purposes.
However...if you wish to use it in one of your own works, or have a story you need a poem for...just ask me. I’ll probably let you. Or write for you.
Acknowledge me when you do, eh?
Love always, Shy Himura.