Title: The Other Side of Faith
Author: tkmaxwell777
Category: Shonen Ai
Pairing: 1+2 (friendship)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, Biblical References, Duo POV
Archived: Yep! Thanks Lev :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or its characters. Bandai, Sotsu, Sunrise, and the original Japanese creators do. This story is a parody of their defined universe and is in no way an official continuation of the original story. I consider all underage characters engaging in sexual activity to be Emancipated Minors or the social equivalent under military service. This story is for entertainment purposes only. It is a fantasy and should not be read as a realistic representation of actual romantic relationships. Content is not intended to condone or condemn any of the lifestyles or viewpoints portrayed through the characters. I make no money at this. I write only for the pleasure of feedback!
He glared at the sight before him, the anger coursing through his being like the fires of battle. His hands gripped his artist sketchpad tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort of keeping Shinigami from exacting his own form of justice against this last testament of irreverence. He'd come there to set his memories free - to make sure his gift for those who had died would be something that would cause them to never be forgotten, but it seemed he was too late. The chorus of an old Earth song went through his mind, "They paved paradise and put up a parking lot". It was apt, since asphalt covered a good portion of the ground where the orphanage used to be. Of course, Maxwell Church hadn't truly been paradise, but for a street kid like him, it had been as close as he'd ever get.
His mind kept providing him with images of what used to be, overlapping them with the current view he was being afforded. He wanted to scream out - wanted to demand what kind of bastards would desecrate a place that he held sacred in his memory. Instead, his violet eyes took in the building and parking area with unabashed horror, feeling the tears trying to escape even as he reminded himself that boys didn't cry. His heart took the opportunity to remind him that he wasn't a boy any longer at nineteen, so Solo's creed didn't apply to him anymore. He decided to go with his heart and let his grief flow freely.
The blacktop was fairly new, glinting in the artificial light of the colony. He couldn't help but wonder how long it had been there. If he had come last year, would he have still seen ruins or the opening ceremonies for the complex gleaming in front of him? Had the construction crew still been completing the building at the end of Mariemaia's Insurrection two years ago? It had been almost four since he'd last walked that street. Four years since he'd stood there alone, mourning the losses of his second family before leaving to take on the responsibility of avenging every single one of them by becoming a Gundam pilot. Four years since he'd vow to make his life a continual expression of vengeance for those who never would have even defended themselves.
He had always planned to return and erect some kind of memorial when the first war had ended, but he hadn't been able to face the ghosts of his past yet, deciding to wait for a while. After the second war, he'd become Heero's partner at Preventers, and they had worked together for the past two years to maintain peace. His own had eluded him, however, and he'd finally returned to L2 to see if he could find it at last. Now, it seemed a corporation had taken away his last hope of redemption. A tall metal and glass structure stood there defiantly, and he suddenly wished for some explosives. How could they build on a gravesite? Did they have no shame?
He felt desolation fill him as his eyes once again focused on the parking lot. A small church had once stood on that ground. Orphaned children had once played in that dirt. A gentle nun had once sung 'Jesus Loves Me' on that soil. A kindly priest had once preached about the evils of the world and the love of God in that spot. All of them to be forgotten - except by him. It wasn't what they deserved, and he refused to fail them in this, not when he'd failed them in everything else. Outraged and anguished, he hardened his resolve and walked towards the entrance. He couldn't help but be glad that Heero had decided to stay at the hotel and not come along with him after all. Although his Japanese partner sometimes understood him better than he did himself, he couldn't be sure he'd understand this.
The secretary who greeted him was courteous. When he asked to speak with the person responsible for building on the site, she gave him a strange look, but made a call anyway. It turned out that the woman was actually there, on the fifteenth floor, and the secretary seemed rather surprised when 'Mrs. Turner' allowed an impromptu meeting with him despite his abrupt arrival. He thanked the secretary and made his way up to the office indicated, not exactly knowing what to expect. When he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked, keeping the image of the burning church in his mind to give him the courage to do this as he entered.
The office was comfortably decorated. Wooden bookcases lined the walls, matching the tan and brown carpet as well as the upholstered furniture. As he looked around, he spied many items that puzzled him - a finger-painted drawing, a misshapen ashtray, even a half-finished wooden shoe. They were displayed like works of art, and it made him wonder at the kind of person who would see such simple things as precious yet would build an office building on top of the ruins of a church. He forced his attention to other room's occupant, turning to the woman seated at the wooden desk a few feet away. When she smiled at him, he froze.
She looked like...
"Hello, Mr. Maxwell. I don't usually take meetings with people off the street, but when Mrs. Clemens said you were asking about the site, I had a feeling that I needed to speak with you. What did you want to know?"
Duo felt all of his anger dissolve at the familiar face staring back at him, and he suddenly felt like a seven-year-old again. "Sister Helen?" He breathed, even though he knew that was impossible.
The look he received was one of painful remembrance. "No. I'm afraid you have me confused with my aunt. She died quite a few years ago in a fire at the church that used to be here." The woman gave him an appraising look and then got up and came around the desk, holding out her hand to him. "I'm Rachel Helen Turner. My mother was Helen's sister. Did you know my aunt? Who are you?"
He took the hand, noticing how similar it felt to the one that had soothed his scrapes and bruises, washed and braided his hair, held him when they made fun of him and bathed his fevered brow when he was sick. It was almost too much for him to take. "She was someone... very special to me. I'm... Duo. Duo Maxwell."
"Duo?" She gasped, he face stunned yet full of hope. When he nodded, she continued, "Aunt Helen used to write to my mother about the children here. Although she mentioned all of them, a child with that name was always spoken of. You... you were that child, weren't you?"
Duo felt the tears again and could barely choke them back. "Yeah, I was." He didn't know what her reaction would be, but he wasn't expecting the embrace he found himself in only a moment later. He tensed, not understanding how could Sister Helen's niece betray her like this. It didn't make any sense.
"I used to tell my mother that I was going to adopt you when I graduated from college. Aunt Helen's stories about you made me want you to be my little boy." She pulled away and gave him a tearful smile. "You were such a handful, but Helen loved you so much. It made me love you just as much. I only had one more year to go but then the fire happened, and we thought you'd died with everyone else."
Duo felt more tears slide down his cheeks. "I... she was the only mother I ever had... I never knew..." He was trying to grasp all of it.
"If I had known you survived, I would have searched for you," Rachel told him, reaching over to get a tissue from her desk, offering him one as well. "Where did you go? How did you make it out?"
Duo blew his nose, contemplating what he should say. Should he tell her the truth? That he'd only survived because he'd disobeyed them? That he'd tried to do something to protect them but had been too late to save them? What good would it do to shatter her illusions about the little orphan boy that Sister Helen had loved so unconditionally? He was tempted to lie for the first time in his life, but when he looked into her blue eyes, the same kind eyes that he'd missed for the past twelve years, he knew he had no other choice but to tell her. Maybe... maybe this would be almost as good as a memorial.
"I went to steal a mobile suit for the rebels before the attack. The Alliance... burned the church... while I was gone. It was too late when I came back. I found her but... she died soon after. I became a soldier to avenge her death... all of their deaths. I... I killed hundreds, maybe even thousands during the first war. It was all I could do... I... I know she wouldn't have wanted me to do it, but I... it was all I could do for them..."
"To ease the guilt of being the only one to escape," Rachel finished, understanding evident. "Duo, it wasn't your fault. You were a child. No matter what you would have done, it would have ended the same way."
Duo's breath hitched; he couldn't believe she wasn't yelling at him or throwing him out. "That's not true," he whispered. "I should have been there with them. I could have done something..."
"It's not uncommon for survivors of disasters such as fires, earthquakes, and tornados to feel that way, Duo. When war is involved, it just becomes worse. It wasn't your fault. You need to forgive yourself for being the one to live."
"I can't!" Duo almost shouted. "Sister Helen was a much better person than I am. She could have helped so many people where I've only destroyed them. Even though I've tried to do good by defending the colonies, my hands will always be stained with blood. It's not fair. It's just not fair..."
Rachel gripped his shoulder. "Your life is worth just as much as hers, Duo. She would have given hers to see you live in her place. Don't degrade her love for you by refusing to believe you deserve it."
"But I've failed her. I promised to make sure people wouldn't forget, but who will remember her now?"
Rachel gave him a smile. "Lots of people, Duo. This building isn't just another office complex. We're a non-profit organization that helps orphans from all over the Earth and colonies to adjust to living without parents and siblings. We have built several orphanages over the past year and have plans for many more. The local churches run them after they're completed. Each time children are taken in, Aunt Helen's dream is fulfilled."
Duo just stared at her for a moment. They helped orphans? The building he'd wanted to blow up only minutes earlier was doing what Sister Helen had once done? He suddenly felt ashamed at his presumption. Hadn't Sister Helen and Father Maxwell taught him to not jump to conclusions? Hadn't they told him that sometimes the greatest blessings came from unexpected places? How appropriate for Sister Helen's niece to make this place the center of something the nun had believed in so strongly. He realized then that even though the lives of Maxwell Church had been taken before they could see their dreams come true; someone else was carrying out their dreams for them. It was being done in a different way, but the goal was still the same, and Duo knew Father and Sister would have been there to support it with all of their hearts. He certainly could do no less.
"Maxwell," Rachel suddenly said, "You took the name of the church. That's why it sounded so familiar. It was the Father's last name, wasn't it?"
Duo nodded sheepishly. "I wanted to remember. I wanted them to live, even if only in my memories. I wanted..." He shook his head, overwhelmed by everything. "I'm sorry. There were a lot of things I wanted, but it appears that it isn't needed. Thank you for doing this for her... for all of them." He turned away, but her hand stopped him.
"What did you want? Tell me, Duo."
Duo gripped his sketchpad. "You've already given them the best memorial. Mine seems selfish in comparison."
Rachel seemed to put two and two together and reached out to slip the sketchpad from his fingers. Before Duo could protest, she opened it and looked at the page. It was a simple picture of the church, drawn from a child's memory. A man stood on the front steps, his priest garb apparent, and he was waving in welcome. A woman who was obviously a nun was walking across the grounds, a child in her arms, and several at her skirts, her face showing joy and laughter. Duo knew the moment Rachel saw the rendition of his younger self, because she glanced at him with a soft expression on her face. He was trailing behind the rest of the group, but his small hands were holding securely to the woman's habit.
"It's not selfish, Duo. In fact, I think it's perfect."
He was surprised when she motioned for him to sit at the desk with her. He was shocked even more when she pulled out the plans outlining the building site. He was completely stunned when she began planning where the memorial would be placed... right in front of the building by the parking lot. Everyone who came there would know they were standing where a church used to be, and even though the new building didn't have an altar, or a baptismal, or a sanctuary, it was no less a sacred place now, because it would honor the people who had shed their blood for their faith.
It would keep their dreams alive.
It was close to an hour later when he stepped outside again. He was to return the following day to redraw his sketch to scale for the builders to reproduce as an engraved granite monument. It was the chance he had been waiting for, and as he made his way down the sidewalk, he thought about how he couldn't wait to tell Heero when he got back to the hotel. Part of him was sad that Heero hadn't come there with him now that this had happened. Maybe Heero would have understood. He decided to bring his partner there sometime in the next couple of days to share his memories with him now that he felt they might not be filled with quite so much regret.
He stopped suddenly and turned his violet eyes back to the building he'd just left, closing them as he dared to see if he was right. For once, he didn't hear the breaking glass as the fire ravaged the vestibule. He didn't smell the smoke that charred the pews. He didn't see the pained eyes of Sister Helen as she blessed him with her dying breath. What he heard was the laughter of children as they played in the yard. What he smelled was the fresh-baked bread cooling in the window that they would have for supper. What he saw was Sister Helen sitting on the steps, reading the story of Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection, her eyes shining with tears and yet no less joyful as she passed out the rare treat of chocolate to them.
"Happy Easter, guys," he whispered and then opened his tear-filled eyes, letting the visions fade as something finally let go inside him.
This time, when he looked at the parking lot, he saw paradise again.
The End
(:./tk/easter3)
