Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Year of the Dragon ❯ Year of the Dragon ( One-Shot )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Flamika V 
A relationship that cruel Fate would not allow.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.26.2002 | Pages: 5 | Words: 4.7K | Visits: 694 | Status: Completed
A relationship that cruel Fate would not allow.
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.26.2002 | Pages: 5 | Words: 4.7K | Visits: 694 | Status: Completed
YEAR OF THE DRAGON
(For Wufei. Because it seems I love him more and more with every passing day. For Relena. Because she's great when she's not oogling Heero.)
----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
See it ain't nothing wrong with dreaming
Boy don't get me wrong
Cause every time I see you
I know just how strong
That my love is for you baby
But emotions just don't lie
Well I know I'm a lot of woman
But not enough to divide the pie
I guess I'll see you next lifetime
"Next Lifetime"
Erykah Badu
-------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
The first time she ever saw him, he had tearstains on his face.
It had been after the destruction of Libra by a valiant Heero Yuy. The wartorn but still operational Peacemillion managed to make it to the nearest colony for the crew to rest their weary souls and rejoice in their victory over Milliardo's "war to end all wars" - narrow victory though it was.
The Gundam pilots had been welcomed on the colony, of course, with arms wide open and a chorus of deafening cheers. First, Duo Maxwell, who happily embraced a joyful yet still recovering Hilde. Then Quatre Raberba Winner and Trowa Barton, their arms wrapped around each other, supporting and embracing at the same time. Quatre had a smile on his face despite the fact that he had very obviously been skewered through the belly, and the look of happiness on Trowa's face was genuine.
She had felt fleeting worry for the blonde-haired pilot who had been so kind and polite to her during his stay in the Sanq Kingdom. But the doctors soon flocked to Quatre's injured form, and she felt her concerns dissipate. She returned to waiting for Heero Yuy, her eyes fastened on the door with an eagerness that she found herself powerless to stop.
A dark figure had appeared in the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw a slight but strong male form begin to take shape.
But it wasn't Heero. It was him.
Sloe-dark eyes deeper than cold midnight, showing about as much emotion as obsidian. He had no smiles for anyone. No joy or relief on his bronze face. Ebony hair tied back into a tight ponytail, silken strands shining underneath the fluorescent lights in the room. His expression was cold and forbidding, his mouth a grim, hard line. Stiff nods were all he had to offer to those that congratulated him and embraced him warmly. Sally Po was one of these people, rushing up to him and hugging him firmly around his narrow shoulders, holding him briefly against her before releasing his unyielding figure.
And before she knew what was happening, Sally was guiding him to where she was standing. Rapid introductions fell from her smiling mouth, and then she was gone, as if she had never really been there in the first place.
Onyx eyes scathed her, burned her, pierced her like no one's eyes had ever done before. Impossible that such eyes were even possible of shedding tears. She saw no hint of a pupil in those depths, just complete, unbroken darkness. The glaring lights in the room only reflected off the obsidian surfaces, but failed to penetrate or enrich them. She was frozen by those eyes - a sort of burning freeze that consumed her heart even though her face remained impassive as they simply stood staring at one another.
Then he spoke.
"So you're the woman that made Heero Yuy into an emotional weakling. Not an easy feat, I must admit. I commend you for that, if nothing else."
And he turned on heel and walked away, leaving the scent of exotic spices and salty tears in his wake.
Relena wondered if he had even known about the tearstains on his face.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Chang Wufei. Pilot of Gundam 05: Altron. That was who he had been. The pilot from L5. The one who had killed Treize Kushrenada. The one who had given Heero Yuy the Buster Rifle, which he had used to destroy Libra.
Some people called him Dragon. The Solitary Dragon.
He was a loner, cold and aloof. The barriers he had around his heart were impregnable. He was stubborn as hell, and when he was in the wrong mood, there was nothing anyone could say that would penetrate his thick skull. A warrior at heart, he had great sense of integrity that was unmatched by anyone. He was snappish, short-tempered, downright mean at times. He was proud.
And he was beautiful.
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
You run, run, runaway it's your
Heart that you betray
Feeding on your hungry eyes
I bet you're not so civilized
Isn't love primitive a wild gift
You wanna give
Break out of captivity
And follow me stereo jungle child
Love is the kill your heart's still wild
"The Warrior"
Patty Smyth
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The second time she saw him, he was wearing a Preventers jacket.
She had heard fleeting rumors that Sally Po had managed to get him to join the war-preventing organization. The decimated remains of the Gundam Altron Custom had been found in a forest in China, his Fatherland. She had heard that he had fought on Mariemaia's side during the uprising, and that he had been the one to cause irreparable damage to Heero's Wing Zero Custom.
It had been nearly two years since she had seen him last, and now he was assigned to be her bodyguard.
Surprise was the first thing she felt when she entered the room to prepare for the press conference she and other world leaders were about to give. Dark and dangerous, he looked, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed. She had stopped short, her eyes widening slightly as the hustle and bustle in the room around her suddenly vanished.
He opened his eyes slowly, as if gradually becoming aware of her presence in the room. And for the second time, glittering obsidian eyes pierced her soul. Only this time, it was she who spoke first.
"So you're the one who virtually destroyed Wing Zero. I commend you for that, if nothing else."
She was given the immense honor of seeing his eyes widen in muted surprise. Not that she could blame him. She had even surprised herself by remembering his words. And for the first time, she began to wonder just why she had thought to recall such a thing, and then throw it back at him in such a fashion. How unlike her.
It never occurred to her that he had also remembered his words to her two years ago, and the possible significance behind it.
A small smile softened the normally rigid set of his mouth.
"I'm here to be your bodyguard," he stated outright. Cutting straight to the chase. The way he spoke was much like his style of fighting.
"I gathered that," she responded calmly.
He gestured offhandedly to the door at his side, the one leading out into the actual press conference room. "So," he said disinterestedly. "Go do your thing. I'm just here to make sure that you don't get shot."
"How kind of you," she said dryly, and started to walk towards the door, noticing that he still smelled of that intriguing mixture of spices and tears. She decided that she liked his scent.
She didn't know why she suddenly paused at the door, listening to the sounds of the reporters conversing with one another. All of the other world leaders were gathered out there already, positioned in front of their respective microphones. The only thing they were waiting for was her.
And for some reason, she glanced at him, to find those black eyes watching her with an intensity that made her heart pound.
Some odd emotion suddenly flickered in those abysmal depths. "Go ahead, Darlian. Go show them what you can do."
Of course, she saw through those hollow words easily. What he really meant was: Show me what you can do. Show me you're something worth protecting.
She squared her shoulders and marched out the door without a word to him, but she knew he heard her response very clearly. It was there in the thundering of the silence: I intend to. Just you watch, Chang Wufei, you who puts your faith in no one but yourself.
How ironic. That wasn't a far shot from what she did as well.
She gave one of her best speeches ever that day. The reporters rewarded her with a standing ovation, but that wasn't what she was concerned with. She had thrown herself into her words, letting her emotions flow through the syllables dropping from her lips. She had been in the political arena long enough to know that completely flinging oneself into a speech like that was dangerous and uncontrollable at times, but she had felt so good afterwards.
And all because she had known he was watching. She could feel his eyes on her. Those black, black eyes.
It was those black eyes that she met steadily as she exited the conference room, calm and collected, as usual. He was in his same position, leaning against the wall next to the door, arms folded across his toned chest. When his eyes met hers, a sly smile that she genuinely thought he had no control over suddenly came to his face, and the look in his eyes was appreciative and respectful, but there was still a bit of a challenge hidden there. There always was.
She brushed past him without a word or a second glance, but once she was certain he couldn't see, she returned his smile tenfold.
---------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
Eyes, black as obsidian.
What a touchy, prideful creature he was! She had encountered a great number of touchy people in her lifetime. She had encountered a great number of prideful people in her lifetime. They were usually easily provoked, and the pedestals they placed themselves on were so high that it made for a long trip down when someone toppled those pedestals of dreams of false grandeur. Good riddance to them.
But never before had she met someone like him. One who pretended to be so indifferent but whose heart bled even more freely than anyone else's…even hers. He was frustrating to talk to, frustrating to be around. His eyes issued a constant challenge to her, and even after he had ceased being her paid protector, the need - the burning desire - to meet those challenges was still there. Her speeches were more passionate because she knew he was watching, somehow, somewhere.
If she could prove herself to him, she could prove herself to anyone.
Eyes, black as obsidian.
She wanted to see him again.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
I am nothing, you are more
Than flesh and blood
A golden door
Let me come inside of you
Let me do the things I wanna do
Take me down to where you live
Take the things I cannot give
'Cause you dream in colors
My night comes in black and blue
I'll send a postcard
Oh, how I wish that I were you.
You are like the ocean
I'm a river that's run dry
If you cannot reach me
All my wild flowers they will die
"Wish I Were You"
Patty Smyth
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The third time she saw him, they spoke of many things.
It was during one of those painfully redundant dinner parties that never seemed to end. By the grace of God, she had managed to escape into the garden of the host's mansion. At most parties, only her face and title were needed. No one really desired her company as far as conversation went.
He was there in garden, his suit jacket forgotten on a stone bench as he sat on the rim of the fountain, silently watching the water spew forth out of the top of the abstractly designed stone structure to land in the moonlit pool at the bottom.
A dragon in the garden.
His scent filled the air as she drew nearer to him, making her footfalls purposely loud since she knew he wasn't one who appreciated being snuck up on. Not that she could have done such a thing even if she had tried her hardest.
He, of course, already knew that she was there. When she was a mere five steps behind him, he suddenly asked what she was doing here. And she answered that she was looking for a place to escape from the perfumed air of the party. All the different scents and voices were making her nauseous. He laughed quietly and said that the garden was as much refuge as she was going to get, as long as she didn't mind sharing it with him.
Naturally, she didn't. And she was pleased to find that he didn't seem to mind sharing it with her.
So harmlessly began the most wonderful night of her life, a time period that, though fleeting and brief, meant so much to her in its simplicity. She sat next to him on the rim of the fountain, the silk of her professionally tailored gown whispering all around her body as she settled herself down. She was close enough to feel the warmth from his body, but not so close that she was violating his personal space.
She remembered how he was that night, so relaxed and peaceful. The sleeves of his starched white shirt were rolled up, baring well-muscled arms and skin of taut bronze. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone so that she could see a strong collarbone that was almost always hidden by the shirt and tie he wore with his Preventers uniform. Moonlight danced on his hair and illuminated his black eyes, making him look otherworldly.
Yes, he was beautiful, and but it was a dangerous sort of beautiful. He drew her as most risky things tended to do. She should have been nervous around him, aloof, or maybe even afraid. But she wasn't. All she felt was a sense of absolute peace, a strange thing, considering she was sitting next to what could only be called a "warrior." Not a soldier, a "warrior."
She didn't know who began the conversation. She might have commented on the moonlight. He might have told her that she was getting her dress dirty. Either way, she found him to be an interesting individual to talk with. He wasn't always agreeable, true, but she knew that she wasn't either, at times. One topic of conversation lead to another, and their talk continued for an indeterminable amount of time.
But for them, time was standing still. Either that, or it just didn't exist.
Slowly, she learned very many things about him. His colony, whose occupants voluntarily destroyed it during the war, leaving the burden of keeping the family's honor on his shoulders alone. His Fatherland, China, whose beauty he had been amazed by when he had come to Earth for the first time. His Gundam, which he called Nataku, after his late wife, Chang Meiran.
Wife?
Nataku had turned a scholar into a warrior with the fire in her eyes. He had never thought that onyx could be so alive with passion. She had given him a purpose in life. Such a small, diminutive girl she had been, not what could be considered beautiful but with an undying zeal for justice that she passed onto him. The legacy of Nataku. She died on his shoulder, in a field of flowers, but she hadn't died in vain. His only regret was that he had never realized just how much he cared for her until her body turned cold in his arms. Chang Meiran - or rather, Nataku - dead at age 14, trying to protect a field of flowers.
Somewhere during the course of that strangely intimate conversation, she confessed to him that whenever she gave a speech, she felt that she was still trying to prove her worth to him. He said, quite calmly, that there was no need to.
"The hardest thing to do is prove your worth to yourself. Just focus on doing that. Don't mind what anyone else thinks."
He had spent three years trying to prove his worth to a ghost. A ghost that he had finally put to rest after Mariemaia's uprising, in the forests of China. On the wings of the explosions that destroyed the Gundam Altron, Chang Meiran's soul was finally set free to fly.
He asked her if she had set her father's soul free to fly.
She responded that her father wanted to stay close to her, to watch over her. To help her if she ever lost her way. His work had become hers.
He responded that it was good that she was doing what she was doing for herself, as well as for others. He was still waiting for the day when he could be free. He had died many times during the war, he said, and he felt that he was still waiting for a rebirth to give him his turn to fly.
So many things, so much rhythm emotion, passed between them that night in that wonderfully isolated garden. She didn't want it to ever end, but, of course, it had to.
Noin's voice suddenly drifted into the sanctity of the garden, calling out to her, telling her that her presence was needed once again. It was with great reluctance that she rose from the edge of the fountain and politely thanked him for his time. He smiled at her again, and this time she returned it when he could actually see her.
And poor Noin was left wondering why Relena Darlian had been sitting alone in a garden with Chang Wufei.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
Unknowing captor, you'll never know how much you
Pierce my spirit, but I can't touch you
Can you hear it?
A cry to be free.
"Ghost"
Indigo Girls
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The last time she saw him, he was lying unconscious on a pristine hospital bed, all sorts of strange machinery hooked into his bronze skin.
A failed swoop during a Preventers mission. The terrorist group hadn't wanted to go under without a fight. He had taken a bullet in order to save the lives of one of the hostages.
And now he was dying.
The false cheerfulness of the hospital room, the blinding whiteness of the sheets, the beep of the machinery, the weeping out in the hall, infuriated her. He would hate it! There needed to be red somewhere in the room. Red was fire. Red was blood, love, passion, fury. No more of this abysmal whiteness, this perpetual absence of color! No more gilded hopes that he would live, no more beeping of the monitors. It was folly that a man of such fire, such passion, would die listening to machines trying to keep him alive and people lamenting his plight out the hallway. He didn't want pity. He didn't want sympathy. He didn't want anyone to cry for him.
He knew his death wouldn't be in vain, and she knew it, too.
So she did something she had never done before.
She pulled rank.
Get those machines out of here! Get them to stop that horrible beeping noise! Yes, I'm telling you to unhook him! What? Heero told you the same thing? Duo, Trowa, Sally, and Quatre, too? Well, you should have listened to them the first time so you wouldn't have to listen to me now! Only family can make such a decision? Those pilots out there ARE his family! They've decided, and so has he! He was awake long enough to refuse a blood transfusion? Of course he refused! Good! This was his decision, too. Ask the Preventers for a copy of his will. He doesn't want to live in such a condition! Do as I say RIGHT NOW!
Silence, at last.
She sat alone at his bedside, completely composed, as she waited for him to awaken, if he ever did. She shed no tears for him. Just watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, fascinated by the flutter of his pulse on his slender throat. Things she had taken for granted would always be there. How long she waited, she didn't know, but her heart skipped a beat when those dark eyelashes of his began to flutter.
A second later, sloe-dark eyes pierced her heart for what she knew was going to be the last time.
Before she knew what she was doing, her mouth was open and she was talking.
I ordered them to remove the life-support systems.
A lifted eyebrow. A silent voice. I can see that.
Everyone is outside in the hallway.
A nod. I know.
Would you like me to call them in?
Pain in those onyx eyes. No, for my good and theirs.
Do you want to pass on alone? I…can leave, if that is what you wish.
Slender fingers edging towards her, shaking ever so slightly. Stay with me.
I…I…feel like crying right now.
A small smile. Silly woman.
……I don't know what to do…
Despite his condition, he moved over slightly on the bed, eyes beckoning. Come here.
And after a brief hesitation, she climbed carefully onto the bed with him, easing herself gently against him. His body was so warm. Yet, she was afraid. Afraid he was going to break if she did something wrong. But even with Death's fatal embrace an arm's length away, he was as persistent and stubborn as ever. He slipped an arm around her back and held her against his side. She laid her golden head on his shoulder and tentatively put arm over his stomach, feeling the trembling muscles underneath the hospital gown. She felt his pain, monstrous and terrible, lancing through him in sharp spikes of pure agony. Every breath was torture for him, and for her.
She began speaking again, very softly and slowly, telling him everything she had wanted to tell him when she thought she would have forever to do it. This was her first time holding or being held by a man. She liked the way he smelled. She loved his eyes, how dark and intense they were. Once, she had dreamed of - blush - having his children. She thought he had a beautiful smile. Altron had been her favorite Gundam.
He was silent, in too much pain to speak and loving the sound of her voice as she whispered to him things he had never thought anyone could feel for him. Every once in a while, he would say something in return, and she would simply relish the rumbling of his chest as the words fell from his lips.
It was only after she had run out of things to say and was sitting there in the silence, listening to the faint beat of his heart, that she realized that all those things she had just told him - they added up to something.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed down into his face. Black eyes met hers calmly.
She told him she loved him, and those fathomless eyes of darkness were suddenly alight with something that looked like happiness. In those depths, she saw rather than heard an answering cry.
I love you, too.
And when she lowered her mouth to his, he somehow found the strength in him to return her long-time-in-coming kiss. His lips were warm, as was the interior of his mouth. Her first kiss. When she pulled away slowly, he lifted his head off the pristine pillow and brushed another gentle kiss across her mouth before letting his head fall back again. Her eyes roved over his face as she memorized every detail before laying her head back onto his shoulder. He wrapped both of his arms around her in a tight embrace, his warmth soft and comforting.
Though she felt his mortal clock ticking away, she was lulled into a light sleep by the warmth and soothing scent of his body. He might have wept, but if he did, she didn't hear. His body was so warm.
It was the absence of this warmth that awakened her.
Her eyes drifted open to feel cold fingers still gripping her shoulders. No heartbeat in the silence. His chest had ceased to rise and fall. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. If the monitors had still been there, they would have been flat lining.
Still, she didn't cry. She kissed him one last time and carefully extricated herself from his frozen embrace, folding his hands over his heart.
Then she proceeded calmly into the hallway to tell those waiting that he had passed away.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Chang Wufei, agent for the Preventers and ex-Gundam pilot, dead at age 19. Known for his bravery and selflessness. Known for his honor and pride.
Rest in Peace. Peace…at last.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Find myself all alone
In darkness without you
Now I can't turn away
From what I must do
You know I'd give my life for you
More than words can say
I've shown you how to love someone
I know you'll find a way
Say goodbye, close your eyes
Remember me
Walk away, the sun remains
Remember me
I'll live on somewhere in your heart
You must believe
Remember me
"Remember Me"
Journey
--------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------
The next day, a memorial service was given for him before his body was to be cremated. The will had been rather fractured at this point.
My body is to be burned. As for the ashes - find a field of flowers and scatter them in the wind.
She, of course, attended this service, dressed in the customary black of mourning. Some of the others gave speeches, but she didn't really hear the words. Such things were unimportant. She paid her respects in silence. She offered her condolences to the distraught souls in silence. Hilde was weeping in Duo's arms. Heero and Sally, in the front of the room, were fighting tears. Noin and Milliardo's hands were interlocked tightly with one another's. Trowa had an arm around Quatre's shoulders. Dorothy quietly held Catherine's hand even as she daintily wiped away her own tears with a crumpled handkerchief.
Relena's heart went out to all of them.
She didn't know she had been crying until a hand suddenly nudged her elbow, and she looked to find Mariemaia meekly offering her a white handkerchief with a red border. The young girl's blue eyes were wet with tears, and Relena suddenly found herself wanting to say something to her, perhaps tell her about how the girl's late father Treize had held Wufei in such great respect that he had considered it an honor to be slain by him. Or rather, she wanted to say this, but her throat suddenly constricted, and she could say nothing. All she did was nod her thanks to the young girl and accept the handkerchief.
She didn't raise it to her eyes, though. She was sure Wufei wouldn't mind her crying. He had taught her years ago that tears were all right. A dark-eyed, bronze-skinned young pilot emerging from the cold battlefield had silently told her that he wouldn't mind if she cried. After all, he had wept as well, and she was now convinced that he had purposely left those tearstains on his face that day so many years ago.
So she allowed her tears to flow down her face and stain her cheeks, physical evidence of a soul purging itself of sorrow and heartbreak. She waited for the forbidden tears to wash away her pain. She waited for them to run dry so that she could be born anew.
Something that Fate hadn't given Chang Wufei to opportunity to do. But that didn't matter. Through her, through the pounding blood of her heart and the wavering of her soul, he would die and be reborn as many times as he needed.
The tearstains on her face were washed away when she bathed that night, but for her, they would always be there, as everlasting and perpetual as the dried tearstains on his cheeks the first day she saw him, and as eternal and immortal as the face of Chang Wufei engraved on the most tender region of her heart.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
Love won't cry yet
These memories I hug close
Are only transforming
Into the courage to live
I won't cry, however lonely I feel
Because you are here within my heart
"Love Doesn't Cry Yet"
~fin
Y2K
Year of the Dragon
(For Wufei. Because it seems I love him more and more with every passing day. For Relena. Because she's great when she's not oogling Heero.)
----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
See it ain't nothing wrong with dreaming
Boy don't get me wrong
Cause every time I see you
I know just how strong
That my love is for you baby
But emotions just don't lie
Well I know I'm a lot of woman
But not enough to divide the pie
I guess I'll see you next lifetime
"Next Lifetime"
Erykah Badu
-------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
The first time she ever saw him, he had tearstains on his face.
It had been after the destruction of Libra by a valiant Heero Yuy. The wartorn but still operational Peacemillion managed to make it to the nearest colony for the crew to rest their weary souls and rejoice in their victory over Milliardo's "war to end all wars" - narrow victory though it was.
The Gundam pilots had been welcomed on the colony, of course, with arms wide open and a chorus of deafening cheers. First, Duo Maxwell, who happily embraced a joyful yet still recovering Hilde. Then Quatre Raberba Winner and Trowa Barton, their arms wrapped around each other, supporting and embracing at the same time. Quatre had a smile on his face despite the fact that he had very obviously been skewered through the belly, and the look of happiness on Trowa's face was genuine.
She had felt fleeting worry for the blonde-haired pilot who had been so kind and polite to her during his stay in the Sanq Kingdom. But the doctors soon flocked to Quatre's injured form, and she felt her concerns dissipate. She returned to waiting for Heero Yuy, her eyes fastened on the door with an eagerness that she found herself powerless to stop.
A dark figure had appeared in the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw a slight but strong male form begin to take shape.
But it wasn't Heero. It was him.
Sloe-dark eyes deeper than cold midnight, showing about as much emotion as obsidian. He had no smiles for anyone. No joy or relief on his bronze face. Ebony hair tied back into a tight ponytail, silken strands shining underneath the fluorescent lights in the room. His expression was cold and forbidding, his mouth a grim, hard line. Stiff nods were all he had to offer to those that congratulated him and embraced him warmly. Sally Po was one of these people, rushing up to him and hugging him firmly around his narrow shoulders, holding him briefly against her before releasing his unyielding figure.
And before she knew what was happening, Sally was guiding him to where she was standing. Rapid introductions fell from her smiling mouth, and then she was gone, as if she had never really been there in the first place.
Onyx eyes scathed her, burned her, pierced her like no one's eyes had ever done before. Impossible that such eyes were even possible of shedding tears. She saw no hint of a pupil in those depths, just complete, unbroken darkness. The glaring lights in the room only reflected off the obsidian surfaces, but failed to penetrate or enrich them. She was frozen by those eyes - a sort of burning freeze that consumed her heart even though her face remained impassive as they simply stood staring at one another.
Then he spoke.
"So you're the woman that made Heero Yuy into an emotional weakling. Not an easy feat, I must admit. I commend you for that, if nothing else."
And he turned on heel and walked away, leaving the scent of exotic spices and salty tears in his wake.
Relena wondered if he had even known about the tearstains on his face.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Chang Wufei. Pilot of Gundam 05: Altron. That was who he had been. The pilot from L5. The one who had killed Treize Kushrenada. The one who had given Heero Yuy the Buster Rifle, which he had used to destroy Libra.
Some people called him Dragon. The Solitary Dragon.
He was a loner, cold and aloof. The barriers he had around his heart were impregnable. He was stubborn as hell, and when he was in the wrong mood, there was nothing anyone could say that would penetrate his thick skull. A warrior at heart, he had great sense of integrity that was unmatched by anyone. He was snappish, short-tempered, downright mean at times. He was proud.
And he was beautiful.
-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
You run, run, runaway it's your
Heart that you betray
Feeding on your hungry eyes
I bet you're not so civilized
Isn't love primitive a wild gift
You wanna give
Break out of captivity
And follow me stereo jungle child
Love is the kill your heart's still wild
"The Warrior"
Patty Smyth
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The second time she saw him, he was wearing a Preventers jacket.
She had heard fleeting rumors that Sally Po had managed to get him to join the war-preventing organization. The decimated remains of the Gundam Altron Custom had been found in a forest in China, his Fatherland. She had heard that he had fought on Mariemaia's side during the uprising, and that he had been the one to cause irreparable damage to Heero's Wing Zero Custom.
It had been nearly two years since she had seen him last, and now he was assigned to be her bodyguard.
Surprise was the first thing she felt when she entered the room to prepare for the press conference she and other world leaders were about to give. Dark and dangerous, he looked, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed. She had stopped short, her eyes widening slightly as the hustle and bustle in the room around her suddenly vanished.
He opened his eyes slowly, as if gradually becoming aware of her presence in the room. And for the second time, glittering obsidian eyes pierced her soul. Only this time, it was she who spoke first.
"So you're the one who virtually destroyed Wing Zero. I commend you for that, if nothing else."
She was given the immense honor of seeing his eyes widen in muted surprise. Not that she could blame him. She had even surprised herself by remembering his words. And for the first time, she began to wonder just why she had thought to recall such a thing, and then throw it back at him in such a fashion. How unlike her.
It never occurred to her that he had also remembered his words to her two years ago, and the possible significance behind it.
A small smile softened the normally rigid set of his mouth.
"I'm here to be your bodyguard," he stated outright. Cutting straight to the chase. The way he spoke was much like his style of fighting.
"I gathered that," she responded calmly.
He gestured offhandedly to the door at his side, the one leading out into the actual press conference room. "So," he said disinterestedly. "Go do your thing. I'm just here to make sure that you don't get shot."
"How kind of you," she said dryly, and started to walk towards the door, noticing that he still smelled of that intriguing mixture of spices and tears. She decided that she liked his scent.
She didn't know why she suddenly paused at the door, listening to the sounds of the reporters conversing with one another. All of the other world leaders were gathered out there already, positioned in front of their respective microphones. The only thing they were waiting for was her.
And for some reason, she glanced at him, to find those black eyes watching her with an intensity that made her heart pound.
Some odd emotion suddenly flickered in those abysmal depths. "Go ahead, Darlian. Go show them what you can do."
Of course, she saw through those hollow words easily. What he really meant was: Show me what you can do. Show me you're something worth protecting.
She squared her shoulders and marched out the door without a word to him, but she knew he heard her response very clearly. It was there in the thundering of the silence: I intend to. Just you watch, Chang Wufei, you who puts your faith in no one but yourself.
How ironic. That wasn't a far shot from what she did as well.
She gave one of her best speeches ever that day. The reporters rewarded her with a standing ovation, but that wasn't what she was concerned with. She had thrown herself into her words, letting her emotions flow through the syllables dropping from her lips. She had been in the political arena long enough to know that completely flinging oneself into a speech like that was dangerous and uncontrollable at times, but she had felt so good afterwards.
And all because she had known he was watching. She could feel his eyes on her. Those black, black eyes.
It was those black eyes that she met steadily as she exited the conference room, calm and collected, as usual. He was in his same position, leaning against the wall next to the door, arms folded across his toned chest. When his eyes met hers, a sly smile that she genuinely thought he had no control over suddenly came to his face, and the look in his eyes was appreciative and respectful, but there was still a bit of a challenge hidden there. There always was.
She brushed past him without a word or a second glance, but once she was certain he couldn't see, she returned his smile tenfold.
---------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
Eyes, black as obsidian.
What a touchy, prideful creature he was! She had encountered a great number of touchy people in her lifetime. She had encountered a great number of prideful people in her lifetime. They were usually easily provoked, and the pedestals they placed themselves on were so high that it made for a long trip down when someone toppled those pedestals of dreams of false grandeur. Good riddance to them.
But never before had she met someone like him. One who pretended to be so indifferent but whose heart bled even more freely than anyone else's…even hers. He was frustrating to talk to, frustrating to be around. His eyes issued a constant challenge to her, and even after he had ceased being her paid protector, the need - the burning desire - to meet those challenges was still there. Her speeches were more passionate because she knew he was watching, somehow, somewhere.
If she could prove herself to him, she could prove herself to anyone.
Eyes, black as obsidian.
She wanted to see him again.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
I am nothing, you are more
Than flesh and blood
A golden door
Let me come inside of you
Let me do the things I wanna do
Take me down to where you live
Take the things I cannot give
'Cause you dream in colors
My night comes in black and blue
I'll send a postcard
Oh, how I wish that I were you.
You are like the ocean
I'm a river that's run dry
If you cannot reach me
All my wild flowers they will die
"Wish I Were You"
Patty Smyth
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The third time she saw him, they spoke of many things.
It was during one of those painfully redundant dinner parties that never seemed to end. By the grace of God, she had managed to escape into the garden of the host's mansion. At most parties, only her face and title were needed. No one really desired her company as far as conversation went.
He was there in garden, his suit jacket forgotten on a stone bench as he sat on the rim of the fountain, silently watching the water spew forth out of the top of the abstractly designed stone structure to land in the moonlit pool at the bottom.
A dragon in the garden.
His scent filled the air as she drew nearer to him, making her footfalls purposely loud since she knew he wasn't one who appreciated being snuck up on. Not that she could have done such a thing even if she had tried her hardest.
He, of course, already knew that she was there. When she was a mere five steps behind him, he suddenly asked what she was doing here. And she answered that she was looking for a place to escape from the perfumed air of the party. All the different scents and voices were making her nauseous. He laughed quietly and said that the garden was as much refuge as she was going to get, as long as she didn't mind sharing it with him.
Naturally, she didn't. And she was pleased to find that he didn't seem to mind sharing it with her.
So harmlessly began the most wonderful night of her life, a time period that, though fleeting and brief, meant so much to her in its simplicity. She sat next to him on the rim of the fountain, the silk of her professionally tailored gown whispering all around her body as she settled herself down. She was close enough to feel the warmth from his body, but not so close that she was violating his personal space.
She remembered how he was that night, so relaxed and peaceful. The sleeves of his starched white shirt were rolled up, baring well-muscled arms and skin of taut bronze. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone so that she could see a strong collarbone that was almost always hidden by the shirt and tie he wore with his Preventers uniform. Moonlight danced on his hair and illuminated his black eyes, making him look otherworldly.
Yes, he was beautiful, and but it was a dangerous sort of beautiful. He drew her as most risky things tended to do. She should have been nervous around him, aloof, or maybe even afraid. But she wasn't. All she felt was a sense of absolute peace, a strange thing, considering she was sitting next to what could only be called a "warrior." Not a soldier, a "warrior."
She didn't know who began the conversation. She might have commented on the moonlight. He might have told her that she was getting her dress dirty. Either way, she found him to be an interesting individual to talk with. He wasn't always agreeable, true, but she knew that she wasn't either, at times. One topic of conversation lead to another, and their talk continued for an indeterminable amount of time.
But for them, time was standing still. Either that, or it just didn't exist.
Slowly, she learned very many things about him. His colony, whose occupants voluntarily destroyed it during the war, leaving the burden of keeping the family's honor on his shoulders alone. His Fatherland, China, whose beauty he had been amazed by when he had come to Earth for the first time. His Gundam, which he called Nataku, after his late wife, Chang Meiran.
Wife?
Nataku had turned a scholar into a warrior with the fire in her eyes. He had never thought that onyx could be so alive with passion. She had given him a purpose in life. Such a small, diminutive girl she had been, not what could be considered beautiful but with an undying zeal for justice that she passed onto him. The legacy of Nataku. She died on his shoulder, in a field of flowers, but she hadn't died in vain. His only regret was that he had never realized just how much he cared for her until her body turned cold in his arms. Chang Meiran - or rather, Nataku - dead at age 14, trying to protect a field of flowers.
Somewhere during the course of that strangely intimate conversation, she confessed to him that whenever she gave a speech, she felt that she was still trying to prove her worth to him. He said, quite calmly, that there was no need to.
"The hardest thing to do is prove your worth to yourself. Just focus on doing that. Don't mind what anyone else thinks."
He had spent three years trying to prove his worth to a ghost. A ghost that he had finally put to rest after Mariemaia's uprising, in the forests of China. On the wings of the explosions that destroyed the Gundam Altron, Chang Meiran's soul was finally set free to fly.
He asked her if she had set her father's soul free to fly.
She responded that her father wanted to stay close to her, to watch over her. To help her if she ever lost her way. His work had become hers.
He responded that it was good that she was doing what she was doing for herself, as well as for others. He was still waiting for the day when he could be free. He had died many times during the war, he said, and he felt that he was still waiting for a rebirth to give him his turn to fly.
So many things, so much rhythm emotion, passed between them that night in that wonderfully isolated garden. She didn't want it to ever end, but, of course, it had to.
Noin's voice suddenly drifted into the sanctity of the garden, calling out to her, telling her that her presence was needed once again. It was with great reluctance that she rose from the edge of the fountain and politely thanked him for his time. He smiled at her again, and this time she returned it when he could actually see her.
And poor Noin was left wondering why Relena Darlian had been sitting alone in a garden with Chang Wufei.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
Unknowing captor, you'll never know how much you
Pierce my spirit, but I can't touch you
Can you hear it?
A cry to be free.
"Ghost"
Indigo Girls
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
The last time she saw him, he was lying unconscious on a pristine hospital bed, all sorts of strange machinery hooked into his bronze skin.
A failed swoop during a Preventers mission. The terrorist group hadn't wanted to go under without a fight. He had taken a bullet in order to save the lives of one of the hostages.
And now he was dying.
The false cheerfulness of the hospital room, the blinding whiteness of the sheets, the beep of the machinery, the weeping out in the hall, infuriated her. He would hate it! There needed to be red somewhere in the room. Red was fire. Red was blood, love, passion, fury. No more of this abysmal whiteness, this perpetual absence of color! No more gilded hopes that he would live, no more beeping of the monitors. It was folly that a man of such fire, such passion, would die listening to machines trying to keep him alive and people lamenting his plight out the hallway. He didn't want pity. He didn't want sympathy. He didn't want anyone to cry for him.
He knew his death wouldn't be in vain, and she knew it, too.
So she did something she had never done before.
She pulled rank.
Get those machines out of here! Get them to stop that horrible beeping noise! Yes, I'm telling you to unhook him! What? Heero told you the same thing? Duo, Trowa, Sally, and Quatre, too? Well, you should have listened to them the first time so you wouldn't have to listen to me now! Only family can make such a decision? Those pilots out there ARE his family! They've decided, and so has he! He was awake long enough to refuse a blood transfusion? Of course he refused! Good! This was his decision, too. Ask the Preventers for a copy of his will. He doesn't want to live in such a condition! Do as I say RIGHT NOW!
Silence, at last.
She sat alone at his bedside, completely composed, as she waited for him to awaken, if he ever did. She shed no tears for him. Just watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, fascinated by the flutter of his pulse on his slender throat. Things she had taken for granted would always be there. How long she waited, she didn't know, but her heart skipped a beat when those dark eyelashes of his began to flutter.
A second later, sloe-dark eyes pierced her heart for what she knew was going to be the last time.
Before she knew what she was doing, her mouth was open and she was talking.
I ordered them to remove the life-support systems.
A lifted eyebrow. A silent voice. I can see that.
Everyone is outside in the hallway.
A nod. I know.
Would you like me to call them in?
Pain in those onyx eyes. No, for my good and theirs.
Do you want to pass on alone? I…can leave, if that is what you wish.
Slender fingers edging towards her, shaking ever so slightly. Stay with me.
I…I…feel like crying right now.
A small smile. Silly woman.
……I don't know what to do…
Despite his condition, he moved over slightly on the bed, eyes beckoning. Come here.
And after a brief hesitation, she climbed carefully onto the bed with him, easing herself gently against him. His body was so warm. Yet, she was afraid. Afraid he was going to break if she did something wrong. But even with Death's fatal embrace an arm's length away, he was as persistent and stubborn as ever. He slipped an arm around her back and held her against his side. She laid her golden head on his shoulder and tentatively put arm over his stomach, feeling the trembling muscles underneath the hospital gown. She felt his pain, monstrous and terrible, lancing through him in sharp spikes of pure agony. Every breath was torture for him, and for her.
She began speaking again, very softly and slowly, telling him everything she had wanted to tell him when she thought she would have forever to do it. This was her first time holding or being held by a man. She liked the way he smelled. She loved his eyes, how dark and intense they were. Once, she had dreamed of - blush - having his children. She thought he had a beautiful smile. Altron had been her favorite Gundam.
He was silent, in too much pain to speak and loving the sound of her voice as she whispered to him things he had never thought anyone could feel for him. Every once in a while, he would say something in return, and she would simply relish the rumbling of his chest as the words fell from his lips.
It was only after she had run out of things to say and was sitting there in the silence, listening to the faint beat of his heart, that she realized that all those things she had just told him - they added up to something.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed down into his face. Black eyes met hers calmly.
She told him she loved him, and those fathomless eyes of darkness were suddenly alight with something that looked like happiness. In those depths, she saw rather than heard an answering cry.
I love you, too.
And when she lowered her mouth to his, he somehow found the strength in him to return her long-time-in-coming kiss. His lips were warm, as was the interior of his mouth. Her first kiss. When she pulled away slowly, he lifted his head off the pristine pillow and brushed another gentle kiss across her mouth before letting his head fall back again. Her eyes roved over his face as she memorized every detail before laying her head back onto his shoulder. He wrapped both of his arms around her in a tight embrace, his warmth soft and comforting.
Though she felt his mortal clock ticking away, she was lulled into a light sleep by the warmth and soothing scent of his body. He might have wept, but if he did, she didn't hear. His body was so warm.
It was the absence of this warmth that awakened her.
Her eyes drifted open to feel cold fingers still gripping her shoulders. No heartbeat in the silence. His chest had ceased to rise and fall. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. If the monitors had still been there, they would have been flat lining.
Still, she didn't cry. She kissed him one last time and carefully extricated herself from his frozen embrace, folding his hands over his heart.
Then she proceeded calmly into the hallway to tell those waiting that he had passed away.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Chang Wufei, agent for the Preventers and ex-Gundam pilot, dead at age 19. Known for his bravery and selflessness. Known for his honor and pride.
Rest in Peace. Peace…at last.
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------
Find myself all alone
In darkness without you
Now I can't turn away
From what I must do
You know I'd give my life for you
More than words can say
I've shown you how to love someone
I know you'll find a way
Say goodbye, close your eyes
Remember me
Walk away, the sun remains
Remember me
I'll live on somewhere in your heart
You must believe
Remember me
"Remember Me"
Journey
--------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------
The next day, a memorial service was given for him before his body was to be cremated. The will had been rather fractured at this point.
My body is to be burned. As for the ashes - find a field of flowers and scatter them in the wind.
She, of course, attended this service, dressed in the customary black of mourning. Some of the others gave speeches, but she didn't really hear the words. Such things were unimportant. She paid her respects in silence. She offered her condolences to the distraught souls in silence. Hilde was weeping in Duo's arms. Heero and Sally, in the front of the room, were fighting tears. Noin and Milliardo's hands were interlocked tightly with one another's. Trowa had an arm around Quatre's shoulders. Dorothy quietly held Catherine's hand even as she daintily wiped away her own tears with a crumpled handkerchief.
Relena's heart went out to all of them.
She didn't know she had been crying until a hand suddenly nudged her elbow, and she looked to find Mariemaia meekly offering her a white handkerchief with a red border. The young girl's blue eyes were wet with tears, and Relena suddenly found herself wanting to say something to her, perhaps tell her about how the girl's late father Treize had held Wufei in such great respect that he had considered it an honor to be slain by him. Or rather, she wanted to say this, but her throat suddenly constricted, and she could say nothing. All she did was nod her thanks to the young girl and accept the handkerchief.
She didn't raise it to her eyes, though. She was sure Wufei wouldn't mind her crying. He had taught her years ago that tears were all right. A dark-eyed, bronze-skinned young pilot emerging from the cold battlefield had silently told her that he wouldn't mind if she cried. After all, he had wept as well, and she was now convinced that he had purposely left those tearstains on his face that day so many years ago.
So she allowed her tears to flow down her face and stain her cheeks, physical evidence of a soul purging itself of sorrow and heartbreak. She waited for the forbidden tears to wash away her pain. She waited for them to run dry so that she could be born anew.
Something that Fate hadn't given Chang Wufei to opportunity to do. But that didn't matter. Through her, through the pounding blood of her heart and the wavering of her soul, he would die and be reborn as many times as he needed.
The tearstains on her face were washed away when she bathed that night, but for her, they would always be there, as everlasting and perpetual as the dried tearstains on his cheeks the first day she saw him, and as eternal and immortal as the face of Chang Wufei engraved on the most tender region of her heart.
------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------
Love won't cry yet
These memories I hug close
Are only transforming
Into the courage to live
I won't cry, however lonely I feel
Because you are here within my heart
"Love Doesn't Cry Yet"
~fin
Y2K
Year of the Dragon