Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wasurenai yo - I won’t forget ❯ Chapter 3
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: priscel 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Drama / Action / Shounen | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.12.2006 | Updated On: 09.26.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 595 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Drama / Action / Shounen | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.12.2006 | Updated On: 09.26.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 595 | Status: Completed
Disclaimers: I garner no profit from this fic. I own nothing but the clothes on my back and Bobo, if the g-boys were mine, I’d be in heaven.
Warnings: Angst, spoilers in first part- Endless waltz alternate end- so AU, Shounen ai, character death
Pairings: 1+2, 1+R, 5xS, eventual 1x2, 3x4
AN: Editing frenzy ^_^
Wasurenai yo
by priscel
Three
Crosby beach. ‘I never thought I’d see another sunset or take another breath without the constraints of training.’ The messy haired speaker kneeled in the sand and pushed his hands in deep. He brought up two hands full and let the warm, sparkling grit flow through his fingers.
‘Live, to live. To feel, to show what I feel . . . what, I felt.’ He snorted humorlessly to himself at the thought of a long-haired fool running off at the mouth with a million easy smiles and an open heart. His nose flared at the heat building in his eyes. He had always thought that if anyone would make it through these wars, the hell they fought to live through . . . it would have been him. He had counted on that whenever the baka got captured or was sent on unpredictable missions that they’ve all had on various occasions, which could have been their last. He never asked himself why Duo did it, because he knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same. Actually, he had done the same thing, but the odds were in his favor.
‘What I feel.’ He stared over the bay and into the sea without moving, the salty sea breeze blew sand across his feet. He blinked up at the setting sun, the waves lapping at the shore and the marina’s song filling the air. He watched the sky as the orange gave way to red, then mixtures of red and blue. ‘Purple, violet, indigo, blue violet, amethyst . . . amethyst.’ He thought they all were an adequate way of describing Duo’s unique eye color, especially the last. He reached into his pocket and felt the cool metal there. He took it out and flipped it over in his hand as the fading sunlight glinted off its golden surface. He had found it the day after he left the hospital. Duo always kept it with him, and it not being on him meant something he would not accept or even consider true of the self-proclaimed God of Death.
“He~ero?” He heard her coming before she’d pronounce the first vowel of his name. He shivered, no matter what he did, the girl had an uncanny ability in finding him.
This little time alone he had, he relished and he had time to think and be proud of his accomplishment without her annoying prattle. Today, he had narrowed down the location of the impact sites from the large chunk Duo had blown up to the west coast of North America. He caught himself repeating the words that followed him from the restless dream that drove him on, ‘hold on . . . ‘ Two mornings ago, the dream came back to him during his drug-induced slumber. His friends had put it in his food, not that he ate much, but they had seen his failing health as he overworked himself and the Preventer Aid Unit (PAU) entrusted to him. He had agreed to stay in Sanc only because he couldn’t stand for longer than 15 minutes, if he pushed it 20. But there were terms to his staying, he wanted to be in contact with the other PAU’s and kept abreast on the survivors. He could guess the kinds of injuries Duo would have and looked through the critical patients list that Sally Po kept updated on the Preventer web page. Each pilot oversaw a unit in a different part of the world and made the Peacecraft manor in Kirkby their base of operations, while Zechs oversaw the aid in Sanc.
He would’ve dismissed the dream, but this time its was more compelling than before and laced with pain. He checked, the pain he felt wasn’t from any of his injuries, but something else. He sought out Quatre, who he found looking pale in his lover’s arms, for he had felt it too. Duo was awake. He didn’t stop to think how he could feel so certain about something like that from a dream he was already forgetting, Quatre had felt him too and that was proof enough. They had come up on dead ends, empty leads that had the Preventer units questioning the pilots for their misuse of them when they had so many others to help. Thankfully, Quatre stepped in and switched over the search to the Maguanacs. They were leaving tomorrow for Nevada and Heero wanted to be as far away from Relena as he could get, but the beach was not far enough it seemed.
“Heero, you silly boy, you’ll catch a cold out here. Especially with the way-”
“I’m fine.” He rose smoothly, easily avoiding her outstretched hand centimeters from his shoulder and brushed his hands off on his jeans.
She held her outstretched hand by the wrist before clasping them together. A sad look crossed her face as she took in Heero’s drawn, blank face - he still suffered from his injuries, though healing, were severe enough that even the doctors wondered how he was moving around and lucid. Despite her protests and the doctor’s threat to have him committed, he left the hospital with Quatre on the fourth day shouldering on a Preventer’s jacket.
That was one of the things she loved about him, his determination. He would find Duo. He completely ignored what Wu Fei told him about the hours he had searched for any indication that their comrade was still living. He ignored her when she strongly suggested he return to the hospital, but to her surprise he stayed at the Peacecraft manor. It frustrated her how he was so close but never around her and he hardly left the office that Millardo had made out one of their largest guest rooms. She, herself, had been out helping the wounded and opened up many of the rooms to house the large numbers of survivors from around the Kingdom when temporary shelters were too packed to hold any more people.
Yet, he barely acknowledged her efforts with a grunt. He barely saw her. She couldn’t see why they missed him, he was rude, obnoxious and an undignified person who had done one glorious thing in his short life. She could see the value in that, she had suggested a memorial to him alone, even though it would be selfish for her to endorse only his death when others more deserving should receive such a tribute. But again, Heero refused and Quatre thanked her for her thoughtfulness, waving her away.
She had fumed at that, no one dismissed her so commonly. He was the one other person Heero might have listened to, but she couldn’t reason with him that it was illogical to waste precious resources to find a dead comrade when so many were suffering. She swallowed nervously at the memory replaying in her mind, there was a peculiar glint in Quatre’s gentle eyes when he gave her a glare that made Heero smirked. Earlier on, Quatre had admitted that he couldn’t feel anything and that Duo could be just unconscious. Whatever that meant, but the possibility that Duo was dead was there in Quatre’s voice and Heero seemed to slouch at those quiet words. If she could get Quatre to stop being foolish and accept it like Wu Fei then . . . then. She sighed, now, however, there was no swaying either of them. A couple of days ago she found Heero back at it with renewed vigor, talking to Rashid and then off without a word to her to find Wu Fei. They were going to meet Trowa in Nevada and go from there. They hadn’t let her in on what had prompted their rushing off to the west coast.
But she already knew why and chose to ignore it.
“Heero, did you walk here?”
“...” Well that had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was better. The walk helped him gauge his endurance and when he would have to take breaks. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had passed out the moment his butt touched the sand and that it was dangerous considering the erratic weather and temperature was expected to go higher than the 93 degrees it was today.
“Heero!”
He cringed at the sound of his name being screeched by her again. ‘Damn, was that not a good enough answer?’
“Please, you need to take care of yourself. At the very least, let the doctor look at you . . .” she bit her lip, the doctors were prepared to drug him if she could get him to agree to see them. He looked as though he was considering it but then shook his head no. “Heero, it’s been nearly a month. Wu Fei had said it himself that Maxwell must have used his internal explosives for there to be nothing left of his Gundam.”
‘Nothing left.’ Heero smiled, squeezing the crucifix in his hand, letting the small biting pain from its edges fill him with hope in the tangible, hard proof that he and Quatre weren’t wrong. He’d shown Wu Fei the cross a couple of days ago and laughed at the crumbling disbelief on his face. Wu Fei had admitted right there that he was not without fault or so perfect he was infallible. He was grieving too, and fell back into the rhythm of doing it stoically with quick acceptance. He also admitted that before he met the other pilots, dead was dead in most cases and the SDD guaranteed it. That was until he had met one Heero Yuy with his SDD happy thumb and who had managed to do the impossible: he lived through it. He told him what he learned and came to value the others as more than necessary accruements to win the war but reminders that he was not alone, that his losses were felt by his new family and that they were there for him time and time again.
Heero was shocked, to say the least, that his friend would reveal so much of himself as he held Duo’s cross. But Duo had that effect on people even though this cross was the only affect/reminder of his presence. He identified greatly with his Chinese comrade. Absolutes set by others had ruled his life, left no margin for error only acceptance and the importance of completing the mission but not any longer. He gripped the necklace and bravely turned his attention back to the pink wildebeest that had followed him.
She frowned prettily at him. “Heero don’t foolishly go throwing your life away and endangering your health on such a search. Besides, I saw and felt that explosion . . . you seriously can’t think he’s-”
“I did.” He didn't want to hear this.
He glared as Relena did the fish thing. He would've smirked if it wouldn't lead her to questioning his sanity. “Not everyone can be you, Heero. Maxwell wasn't-”
“Damatte!”(1) He had always respected Relena, but he would have Quatre’s doctor look him over once they got on the plane, but this again. He could describe the feeling as hurt mixed with the anger he felt when she spoke of Duo with such disregard. Somehow it just made him angrier when he heard it from her. He didn’t know why she continued to insist that Duo was dead. Why couldn’t she understand?
“You need to accept it, Hee-”
“There is nothing to accept, Relena. Would you just give up so easily if your brother had gone missing?” He stared at her evenly.
Relena's cornflower blues widen iin their disbelief, somehow Heero knew that she'd used Commander Une to covertly locate and tend to her brother. She lowered her eyes as color rose to her cheeks, when Une had told her that it was a fruitless endeavor after several months of searching, she had a royal fit and ordered her to continue the search. So... maybe she was a hypocrite.
“I won’t be staying here any longer.” She met his eyes again, what a picture he made with his tank top in one hand, his hair being blown to and fro by the building icy breeze. Relena couldn’t stop her eyes from tracing the shiny, pinkish scar that ran from his right shoulder to the center of his chest, the brace on his right arm and the bandage around his waist. She couldn’t stop the small sound of displeasure she made when he pulled his tank top back on; he looked good despite the injuries. “He is alive.”
“And what if all you find is a dead body?”
Heero glared, that didn’t sound anything like a question. A threat? No, not Relena. “Hn. Are you going back?” He wouldn’t answer her question and if he had to he’d walk back.
She stood there and stared at him, then blinked when his back seemed to be getting farther away. “Heero, wait!” Her teeth chattered as the wind picked up. ‘Heero couldn’t seriously be thinking about walking home in this?’ Her eyes went round as her hair was whipped forward by a stronger gust of wind and Heero stumbled. “Heero! Get in the car, you stubborn-”
“Baka?” He offered knowing that it and the mirthless chuckle that followed were lost in the wind.
“I asked.” He tried again, his wariness and hunger catching up to him as Relena came up on his left side. She slid her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans so she wouldn’t hurt his bandaged sides. Her response was cut off by another gust of wind and Heero smirked at her pouty expression. He'd got the last word in.
tbc...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(1) Be quiet
SDD - self-detonation device
this is a view of the beach Heero escaped too, http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/08/Crosby_Beach_ship.jpg
Warnings: Angst, spoilers in first part- Endless waltz alternate end- so AU, Shounen ai, character death
Pairings: 1+2, 1+R, 5xS, eventual 1x2, 3x4
AN: Editing frenzy ^_^
Wasurenai yo
by priscel
Three
Crosby beach. ‘I never thought I’d see another sunset or take another breath without the constraints of training.’ The messy haired speaker kneeled in the sand and pushed his hands in deep. He brought up two hands full and let the warm, sparkling grit flow through his fingers.
‘Live, to live. To feel, to show what I feel . . . what, I felt.’ He snorted humorlessly to himself at the thought of a long-haired fool running off at the mouth with a million easy smiles and an open heart. His nose flared at the heat building in his eyes. He had always thought that if anyone would make it through these wars, the hell they fought to live through . . . it would have been him. He had counted on that whenever the baka got captured or was sent on unpredictable missions that they’ve all had on various occasions, which could have been their last. He never asked himself why Duo did it, because he knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same. Actually, he had done the same thing, but the odds were in his favor.
‘What I feel.’ He stared over the bay and into the sea without moving, the salty sea breeze blew sand across his feet. He blinked up at the setting sun, the waves lapping at the shore and the marina’s song filling the air. He watched the sky as the orange gave way to red, then mixtures of red and blue. ‘Purple, violet, indigo, blue violet, amethyst . . . amethyst.’ He thought they all were an adequate way of describing Duo’s unique eye color, especially the last. He reached into his pocket and felt the cool metal there. He took it out and flipped it over in his hand as the fading sunlight glinted off its golden surface. He had found it the day after he left the hospital. Duo always kept it with him, and it not being on him meant something he would not accept or even consider true of the self-proclaimed God of Death.
“He~ero?” He heard her coming before she’d pronounce the first vowel of his name. He shivered, no matter what he did, the girl had an uncanny ability in finding him.
This little time alone he had, he relished and he had time to think and be proud of his accomplishment without her annoying prattle. Today, he had narrowed down the location of the impact sites from the large chunk Duo had blown up to the west coast of North America. He caught himself repeating the words that followed him from the restless dream that drove him on, ‘hold on . . . ‘ Two mornings ago, the dream came back to him during his drug-induced slumber. His friends had put it in his food, not that he ate much, but they had seen his failing health as he overworked himself and the Preventer Aid Unit (PAU) entrusted to him. He had agreed to stay in Sanc only because he couldn’t stand for longer than 15 minutes, if he pushed it 20. But there were terms to his staying, he wanted to be in contact with the other PAU’s and kept abreast on the survivors. He could guess the kinds of injuries Duo would have and looked through the critical patients list that Sally Po kept updated on the Preventer web page. Each pilot oversaw a unit in a different part of the world and made the Peacecraft manor in Kirkby their base of operations, while Zechs oversaw the aid in Sanc.
He would’ve dismissed the dream, but this time its was more compelling than before and laced with pain. He checked, the pain he felt wasn’t from any of his injuries, but something else. He sought out Quatre, who he found looking pale in his lover’s arms, for he had felt it too. Duo was awake. He didn’t stop to think how he could feel so certain about something like that from a dream he was already forgetting, Quatre had felt him too and that was proof enough. They had come up on dead ends, empty leads that had the Preventer units questioning the pilots for their misuse of them when they had so many others to help. Thankfully, Quatre stepped in and switched over the search to the Maguanacs. They were leaving tomorrow for Nevada and Heero wanted to be as far away from Relena as he could get, but the beach was not far enough it seemed.
“Heero, you silly boy, you’ll catch a cold out here. Especially with the way-”
“I’m fine.” He rose smoothly, easily avoiding her outstretched hand centimeters from his shoulder and brushed his hands off on his jeans.
She held her outstretched hand by the wrist before clasping them together. A sad look crossed her face as she took in Heero’s drawn, blank face - he still suffered from his injuries, though healing, were severe enough that even the doctors wondered how he was moving around and lucid. Despite her protests and the doctor’s threat to have him committed, he left the hospital with Quatre on the fourth day shouldering on a Preventer’s jacket.
That was one of the things she loved about him, his determination. He would find Duo. He completely ignored what Wu Fei told him about the hours he had searched for any indication that their comrade was still living. He ignored her when she strongly suggested he return to the hospital, but to her surprise he stayed at the Peacecraft manor. It frustrated her how he was so close but never around her and he hardly left the office that Millardo had made out one of their largest guest rooms. She, herself, had been out helping the wounded and opened up many of the rooms to house the large numbers of survivors from around the Kingdom when temporary shelters were too packed to hold any more people.
Yet, he barely acknowledged her efforts with a grunt. He barely saw her. She couldn’t see why they missed him, he was rude, obnoxious and an undignified person who had done one glorious thing in his short life. She could see the value in that, she had suggested a memorial to him alone, even though it would be selfish for her to endorse only his death when others more deserving should receive such a tribute. But again, Heero refused and Quatre thanked her for her thoughtfulness, waving her away.
She had fumed at that, no one dismissed her so commonly. He was the one other person Heero might have listened to, but she couldn’t reason with him that it was illogical to waste precious resources to find a dead comrade when so many were suffering. She swallowed nervously at the memory replaying in her mind, there was a peculiar glint in Quatre’s gentle eyes when he gave her a glare that made Heero smirked. Earlier on, Quatre had admitted that he couldn’t feel anything and that Duo could be just unconscious. Whatever that meant, but the possibility that Duo was dead was there in Quatre’s voice and Heero seemed to slouch at those quiet words. If she could get Quatre to stop being foolish and accept it like Wu Fei then . . . then. She sighed, now, however, there was no swaying either of them. A couple of days ago she found Heero back at it with renewed vigor, talking to Rashid and then off without a word to her to find Wu Fei. They were going to meet Trowa in Nevada and go from there. They hadn’t let her in on what had prompted their rushing off to the west coast.
But she already knew why and chose to ignore it.
“Heero, did you walk here?”
“...” Well that had seemed like a good idea at the time. He was better. The walk helped him gauge his endurance and when he would have to take breaks. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had passed out the moment his butt touched the sand and that it was dangerous considering the erratic weather and temperature was expected to go higher than the 93 degrees it was today.
“Heero!”
He cringed at the sound of his name being screeched by her again. ‘Damn, was that not a good enough answer?’
“Please, you need to take care of yourself. At the very least, let the doctor look at you . . .” she bit her lip, the doctors were prepared to drug him if she could get him to agree to see them. He looked as though he was considering it but then shook his head no. “Heero, it’s been nearly a month. Wu Fei had said it himself that Maxwell must have used his internal explosives for there to be nothing left of his Gundam.”
‘Nothing left.’ Heero smiled, squeezing the crucifix in his hand, letting the small biting pain from its edges fill him with hope in the tangible, hard proof that he and Quatre weren’t wrong. He’d shown Wu Fei the cross a couple of days ago and laughed at the crumbling disbelief on his face. Wu Fei had admitted right there that he was not without fault or so perfect he was infallible. He was grieving too, and fell back into the rhythm of doing it stoically with quick acceptance. He also admitted that before he met the other pilots, dead was dead in most cases and the SDD guaranteed it. That was until he had met one Heero Yuy with his SDD happy thumb and who had managed to do the impossible: he lived through it. He told him what he learned and came to value the others as more than necessary accruements to win the war but reminders that he was not alone, that his losses were felt by his new family and that they were there for him time and time again.
Heero was shocked, to say the least, that his friend would reveal so much of himself as he held Duo’s cross. But Duo had that effect on people even though this cross was the only affect/reminder of his presence. He identified greatly with his Chinese comrade. Absolutes set by others had ruled his life, left no margin for error only acceptance and the importance of completing the mission but not any longer. He gripped the necklace and bravely turned his attention back to the pink wildebeest that had followed him.
She frowned prettily at him. “Heero don’t foolishly go throwing your life away and endangering your health on such a search. Besides, I saw and felt that explosion . . . you seriously can’t think he’s-”
“I did.” He didn't want to hear this.
He glared as Relena did the fish thing. He would've smirked if it wouldn't lead her to questioning his sanity. “Not everyone can be you, Heero. Maxwell wasn't-”
“Damatte!”(1) He had always respected Relena, but he would have Quatre’s doctor look him over once they got on the plane, but this again. He could describe the feeling as hurt mixed with the anger he felt when she spoke of Duo with such disregard. Somehow it just made him angrier when he heard it from her. He didn’t know why she continued to insist that Duo was dead. Why couldn’t she understand?
“You need to accept it, Hee-”
“There is nothing to accept, Relena. Would you just give up so easily if your brother had gone missing?” He stared at her evenly.
Relena's cornflower blues widen iin their disbelief, somehow Heero knew that she'd used Commander Une to covertly locate and tend to her brother. She lowered her eyes as color rose to her cheeks, when Une had told her that it was a fruitless endeavor after several months of searching, she had a royal fit and ordered her to continue the search. So... maybe she was a hypocrite.
“I won’t be staying here any longer.” She met his eyes again, what a picture he made with his tank top in one hand, his hair being blown to and fro by the building icy breeze. Relena couldn’t stop her eyes from tracing the shiny, pinkish scar that ran from his right shoulder to the center of his chest, the brace on his right arm and the bandage around his waist. She couldn’t stop the small sound of displeasure she made when he pulled his tank top back on; he looked good despite the injuries. “He is alive.”
“And what if all you find is a dead body?”
Heero glared, that didn’t sound anything like a question. A threat? No, not Relena. “Hn. Are you going back?” He wouldn’t answer her question and if he had to he’d walk back.
She stood there and stared at him, then blinked when his back seemed to be getting farther away. “Heero, wait!” Her teeth chattered as the wind picked up. ‘Heero couldn’t seriously be thinking about walking home in this?’ Her eyes went round as her hair was whipped forward by a stronger gust of wind and Heero stumbled. “Heero! Get in the car, you stubborn-”
“Baka?” He offered knowing that it and the mirthless chuckle that followed were lost in the wind.
“I asked.” He tried again, his wariness and hunger catching up to him as Relena came up on his left side. She slid her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans so she wouldn’t hurt his bandaged sides. Her response was cut off by another gust of wind and Heero smirked at her pouty expression. He'd got the last word in.
tbc...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(1) Be quiet
SDD - self-detonation device
this is a view of the beach Heero escaped too, http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/08/Crosby_Beach_ship.jpg