|
"Rain"Written By: Karen The Huntress Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its
characters Rating: R Warnings: violence, angst, language, hopeful ending Pairings: 1x2 2x1 AN: The song "RAIN" is from the Cowboy
Bebop Red CD. "Rain "
"Slumber is the sister of death just like dreams are a foretaste of heaven."
I don't feel a thing and I've stopped remembering. ******
Earth
The waterfront warehouse had been abandoned. For a brief measure of time the vast vacancy resounded with deafening discharges. Voices shouted in anger and panic. Footfalls raced for cover among remnants of dust-shrouded shipping crates. Tinny pings of bullets ricocheted off cracked cinderblock walls.
Now thunder rumbles in deep baritone. Relentless rain pelts cracked skylights spasmodically lit by lightning. Overhead deteriorated metal roofing leaks cold droplets to mimic the rain.
Heero Yuy crouches behind salt-corroded machinery speckled with rust and blood. Moments ago muzzle flashes obstructed his vision until solid targets were reduced to ripples of movement.
Heero vaguely remembers being shot. Recalls in hazy details the initial searing pain. Dull aches radiate down his right arm. Numb fingers uncurl. 9mm Glock strikes the wet concrete floor with a hallow clang.
In deliberate degrees he raises an opposite hand to examine the entry wound in his shoulder. Jacket fabric is as red and ragged as the flesh beneath. Blood is oozing not gushing. Could be worse. He's better off than the dead or maimed men scattered haphazardly in the gloom.
Succumbing to rapidly fading adrenaline rush, Heero eases back against the wall. Alertness wavering, bygone memories flicker like flames buffeted by a phantom breeze.
Sensed rather than seen, Odin Lowe reiterates pragmatic
advice, "If you want something bad enough you'll find a way."
Heero didn't want this carnage—or did he?
He wanted Zechs Merquise bad enough to track his objective for weeks. Finally the gambit of cat and mouse ended in this forsaken warehouse while the Lightning Baron met with White Fang mercenaries.
Duo Maxwell tried to appeal to what raison d`etre remained. Heero was beyond listening. Bloodlust became the driving force. Hatred ruled head and heart and clouded sensibilities. Obsessive revenge is irrational but each person whores with fractured reality in their own way.
So absorbed in fixated pursuit Heero didn't notice he was also being trailed, not until Duo yelled out a warning seconds before all hell broke loose.
Dammit! Merquise must have nine lives. Once again the cunning bastard evaded a flurry of bullets. Murky silhouette and vicious soul vanished into the storm without a trace.
Aftershock slithers in. Heero trembles, not from wintry wind or physical pain, but the horrifying realization his lover's steadfast devotion to dance with him through fire showers almost got Duo killed.
****** I don't hear a sound, silent faces in the ground. ******
Heartbeats ago the warehouse was a battle zone. Now disquiet stillness offers mute testimony to the firefight that seemed to last a lifetime.
Wisps of blue smoke twirl in snaky coils. Pungent whiffs of gunpowder, sweat and piss swirl on irregular currents whistling though broken windows. Weathered double doors, bullet hole riddled and smeared with vivid streaks of scarlet, creak on stress-worn hinges.
Destruction, misery, merciless retribution are the Grim Reaper's calling cards. If Hell can be on Earth Duo Maxwell is certain Sheol was spawned here tonight
One man clings to a metal support pole, left leg dangling like a floppy-jointed ragdoll. Another contorted body, dusted in glass shards, stares with death-glazed eyes as Duo navigates a maze littered with debris and corpses.
Not much movement. Low moans accentuate anguish. Intermittent groans grow weaker.
Remorseless silence conveys more condemnation than any curses shouted out loud. Duo struggles to shut out the damn quiet, refuses to hear the haunting death throes forever etched on his conscience.
In the midst of this surreal nightmare Sister Helen recites sage wisdom, "The past is gone. The future is beyond your grasp. All you can do is live in the present."
Duo disputes the spectral counsel. "Life is just transient hallucinations. Dark dreams that once were real."
Only true paths to the soul, lassitude is mirrored in Heero's eyes. An exhausted sigh, "Wish I could wake up."
"Me too." Duo settles down beside his partner in war and life. "Why is the silence after a firefight so damn eerie?"
Heero shrugs.
"You're bleeding."
"Not bad."
Duo peels back soggy red fabric. He'd seen worse. "Can't do nothin' here. Let's get back to the safe house. Don't wanna be here when the cops arrive."
Glock is scooped up, tucked in Duo's belt beside an empty Beretta. One knee braces on damp concrete. A supportive arm encircles Heero's waist. Duo helps his lover to stand.
Gusty wind shivers through the open door. Two weary warriors step into the downpour.
"Fuckin' rain." Duo curses the crying sky.
****** Walk in the rain. ******
There's normalcy in nature. Ebb and flow. Daylight. Darkness. Circular seasons.
This night pounding rain has its own voice. Thunder pulsates in fitful vibrations. Lightning arcs in a similar cadence. Gray clouds reflect in dirty puddles. Rivulets slither away from horrid secrets sheltered inside a desolate warehouse.
Sirens blare. Thunder murmurs. Lightning glimmers. Storm retreats.
Seven blocks. Heero staggers. Duo shores up his grip. Round a corner. An ordinary brick house shimmers in the last traces of rain.
Duo knocks. Quatre opens the door and reaches out to
guide his returned comrades inside.
****** Outside.
Clouds dissipate, frees the crescent moon to float in a sea of stars.
Inside.
Moonlight casts dusky shadows over the darkened bedroom.
Two hours earlier injected anesthetics spared Heero agony when Trowa removed the bullet, disinfected and stitched then secured a sterile pad with gauze. Oral antibiotics countered infections. A sturdy dose of sedatives ensured recuperative sleep.
Clad in boxers, Heero slumbers between soft sheets topped with a quilted comforter. Duo, scrubbed clean, hair loosely braided, wearing sweatpants and tee shirt, keeps the night vigil.
Exhaustion tempts Duo to nod off. Drowsy perceptions fail to register movement until Wufei materializes through a portal of light from the hall.
Reflexes equally impaired Duo admits, "Glad you ain't OZ."
Always to the point Wufei states, "You should be sleeping with Heero."
"Don't want to wake him."
"A sonic boom won't wake him. Go on, both of you need the contact."
Clothes shed down to his boxers, Duo slips into bed, snuggles close and holds his lover's hand. Coaxed by contentment he drifts away into dreamless sleep.
****** There are no unhindered paths to peace. Warfare never promises unscathed bodies, minds or souls.
It will rain again.
But together, bolstered by love and tenacious determination, Heero and Duo can weather any storm.
OWARI
RAIN—Karen Hickman—November 2016
|
