Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters
Author: Karen The Huntress
Pairing: implied 1x2
Feedback: Always appreciated
Heero rearranges his back against the tree. With a frown of puzzlement he cranes his neck to stare up through yellow-green foliage buffeted by the breeze.
Streaks of sunset play tag with iridescent shadows. Pictures and patterns and wiles of imagination tease his senses until the margins of reality fray around the edges.
The sun hovers above the horizon, a great scarlet sphere. Spikes of fire flare, liquefied radiance flickers and flashes then vanishes like a nebulous phantasm fleeing the forthcoming darkness.
Thirty yards across a wildflower meadow embraced by massive oaks, Wing Zero and Deathscythe Hell stand shoulder to shoulder. Silhouetted in rippling mirages of heat, with feathery wisps of crimson light shimmering over their Gundanium skin, the mock-human machines bring to mind twin sculptures of the Colossus of Rhodes.
Heero's shift in posture prods Duo from his own gazing. His head pillowed on Heero's lap, Duo studies nothing in particular. He's not apathetic, just more predisposed to allow his lethargy a free hand.
Unlike the Perfect Soldier's investigative analysis, the man christened the God of Death by countless blood-soaked battles is content to be bewitched by the illusions.
There's no black smoke to clog his lungs, no saber beams to blind his eyes, no deafening whines of failing engines to cause him to cringe.
There is a certain serenity borne by the breeze, conveyed by the fragrance of a thousand flowers and Duo relishes the calm.
"What are you thinking about?" Heero wonders as he notices the faraway look in Duo's violet eyes.
Duo redirects his attention from a bird attired in gaudy plumage perched overhead. He centers his sight on his comrade in their crusade to eradicate the brutal beasts of war.
"I was trying to recall a single second when I felt this peaceful."
Heero considers the answer then examines his own stormy existence. He's mastered the turmoil, muffed the screams, subdued the demons and for the sake of self- preservation has constructed impenetrable barriers around the tattered remnants of his humanity.
Or has he?
Damn the misery!
Damn the destruction!
Damn the hounds of Hades!
"I."Heero begins then remembers he's no longer shackled by his solitude, "We've known tranquility, if only for stolen moments."
Heero searches for the right words to define "we". Is it physical needs that he and Duo share? Is this insatiable hunger merely lust fueled by hormonal desire or is there a purer bond, that elusive link called love?
Duo sits up. "We," he repeats, taking pleasure in the way the sound rolls off his tongue, "are united by lost childhoods, a warrior's oath and no hope for the future if we're apart."
Heero sighs. "I wish we didn't have to go back."
"I know," Duo agrees. "but people are depending on us. Besides, Wufei will be pissed if you don't give him another opportunity to best you in fencing."
In those twilight moments when the sun slips from sight and the world turns black and white. Just before the veil of night shrouds the sky and the stars blink out one by one, there is a perfect state of tranquility.
Duo glances at their Gundams then fixes Heero's gaze. "Do you trust me?"
"With my heart and my life."
Duo offers his hand. "Are you ready to go?
"Kiss me and we'll go together." Heero vows steadfastly.
For two days Trowa, Quatre and Wufei have shared the same vigil. The Family Waiting Room at the hospital has become their watch station, the protracted passing of each hour their enemy.
Wufei checks his watch. The second hand hesitates then clicks off another fraction of time.
Trowa and Quatre sit side by side, absentmindedly watching the stream of doctor, nurses, attendants and ambulatory patients flow up and down the corridor.
Doctor Po steps through the door. Her expression is unreadable. Seconds stretch into forever then she finally speaks.
"The most extraordinary thing just happened." she announces, "Heero and Duo awoke from their comas at exactly the same instant and they're both remarkably lucid."
"SLUMBER IS THE SISTER OF DEATH JUST LIKE DREAMS ARE A FORETASTE OF HEAVEN"
Awake---Karen Hickman---March 2007
Thank you for reading!!!