25-Oct-2003
Warnings: Um... supernatural stuff? Possibly OOC, depending on whether you think Duo's actually Catholic.
Disclaimer: Oh, please, like anyone thinks I own these guys...
Notes: Inspired partly by the thread on GWA asking about psychological supernatural epics, and partly by the comment in Duo's Episode Zero where he says that the only god he believes in is Shinigami.
I love Halloween. Not for the reason that most people do, for the candy and costumes, the parties and trick-or-treaters, but for its real reason, its old reason.
All Hallows Eve, Samhain, whatever you want to call it, it is the night when the barriers between the living and the dead are the thinnest. On Halloween night, those barriers can be breached, by those who know how, those who have the power and the awareness.
I am Shinigami's priest. I know. And on this one night, out of all nights, I am at my peak.
If anyone had asked me before I left the safehouse tonight, I would have told them that I was on a mission. It would have been true, but that mission had little to do with the war, and everything to do with those who fell in it.
People have wondered, those few who know my history, how I can be so cheerful, how I can stay strong when so many that I loved have died.
Halloween is the reason.
On this one night, we are reunited. On this one night, there is no sorrow, only joy. On this one night, I am no orphan, but surrounded by my kin, those of heart if not of blood.
On this one night, as well, I am not a rebel, nor a soldier, for my task is one of peace. Rebel or Alliance, Oz or White Fang or civilians who were merely in the way, we are all merely human in the end, and so I do what I must for them to rest easy, what will allow my conscience to be appeased.
It begins, as it always does, with the candles. Four of them in various colors - green for the north, yellow for the east, orange for the south, blue for the west. Two more, black and white - black for Shinigami, white for the ones who I will be calling. There are far too many of them for me to light a candle for each. All made of pure beeswax, expensive but worth the time and effort I put into making them. In times past I would make due with scraps of candles that others had discarded and I had managed to make useable.
I am aware of the hulking mass of Deathscythe behind me, sensors watching over me to ensure that I won't be interrupted, and it crosses my mind idly that it is both ironic and appropriate that I should perform this ritual here in the presence of a machine which both deals death and was designed to provoke an image of it. But that matters little right now, and I dismiss it from my mind. I need to concentrate on what I'm doing.
Next comes the battered silver offering plate - salvaged from the ruins of the Maxwell Church, it is only fitting that it be used once more, to help provide spiritual sustenance to those who it served when they still lived. Upon its wide surface, I place a meal I bought at one of the finer restaurants in the city fifty miles away, still steaming hot as I remove it from its insulating box. Another just like it remains boxed - I'll eat it afterwards. I'll need the grounding it will provide to strengthen the bonds between my body and soul, after.
I look around and make certain that I've placed everything correctly, then frown as I realize that I almost forgot my scythe. A miniature version of Deathscythe's thermal scythe, it will both serve the mystical purpose of helping me to focus my energies and the practical one of lighting the candles. I place the scythe before the black and white candles, and then settle down to meditate.
It's almost time. Tradition says that one should wait until midnight, but I'd rather trust my intuition than an old legend, and anyway, I rarely bother with a watch. And in truth, that kind of technology can actually mess up a ritual like this. It's the kind of thing that makes you conscious of the wrong things, of time and people and all the rest. For this, you want to place yourself outside of time, to cast aside convention and logic and all the cold sanity of logic, to get away from the skeptics and the naysayers and let your heart lead you where you need to go.
Heero could never do this, I think idly, then push the thought out of my mind with the ease of long practice. This isn't about Heero, or any of the others. It isn't about anything but me, my god, and the souls of the dead.
Time. NOW.
I rise from my meditations and walk to the first candle, to the north, and light it with the tip of my scythe. "I call upon you, Earth, elemental of the North, to aid me on this night. Guard against any who would do me harm, and lend me thy strength that I may not falter." The green candle lit, I pace along the circle, dragging my scythe's blade along the ground, until I reach the second. "I call upon you, Air, elemental of the East, to aid me on this night. Guard me against any who would do me harm, and lend me thy knowledge that I might find the right path." Another quarter-circle walked, another candle. "I call upon you, Fire, elemental of the South, to aid me on this night. Guard me against those who would do me harm, and lend me the passion to do what I must." Orange candle lit, I moved on to the blue. "I call upon you, Water, elemental of the West, to aid me on this night. Guard me against those who would do me harm, and lend me the wisdom to do what is right." Walking to the north again, I completed the circle. "The circle is cast, the shield is strong. May only good come of this night's working." As I brought the scythe's thermal blade to meet the circle's other end, it flared up brightly, and the path I'd carved through the earth with it blazed up in green fire to form a sphere that completely enclosed the area I'd marked.
Walking to the center of the nine-meter circle - and believe me, that was a bitch to mark out - I settle down before the two center candles again. Normally, a circle wouldn't be a third this large, but, well, I'm expecting a lot of company. Just because they won't be physically present doesn't mean that I shouldn't give them plenty of room.
I catch my breath for a moment, settling myself down a bit after the work of creating such a large circle, and preparing for the ordeal which is to come. I am always happy to see my friends and family again, but I know that in the end I must stay and they must go, no matter how much it hurts us all. There is a place for the living and a place for the dead, and to cross that border on either side is a risky matter. Only here, in a place that properly belongs to neither side, can interaction be relatively safe for us all.
Ready, I touch the fiery tip of my scythe to the black candle, and it flares up obligingly. "Shinigami, I call you. Strengthen me, guide me, aid me, on this night and all the nights to come. Open the gate, my lord, I am ready." With the final sentence, I light the white candle.
Before me, green fire, so like my own, carves a door in thin air. The door swings open, and black light and bright shadows pour forth. Yes, I know that sounds weird, but that's what they were. You didn't expect death to obey the laws of the living world, did you?
In any case, with the door open, I can now send out the Call. First, always, is Solo, followed by the rest of the gang. We embrace in the macho style of the streets, with much cursing, grinning, and mutual back-thumping.
After the gang, comes the Maxwell group, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, and all the other kids and adults who didn't make it out of the church alive. The first year, some of them were pretty pissed at me, but now they're trying to tell me it wasn't really my fault that they died and they're glad I didn't. It hurts, to be reminded of that, and I still can't let go of the guilt, but it eases somewhat every year. Maybe some day I'll accept it.
After that, I call up some of the Sweepers who died during my training. I don't call up the people I've killed as part of the training this year, though - I've already made my apologies, and seen to it that they found their way through the door.
No, this year's task is far more difficult. I have to send my senses to every site of every Gundam battle and call forth any souls who died during those battles. It's not easy, we've been very busy killing people all year, and I'm cleaning up the messes left by all four of the others plus the retaliatory strikes that the Ozzies launched against us. And then there's L5 and L4... there weren't actually that many casualties from L4, Quatre warned the colonies before attacking - he was at least sane enough to do that - but L5 is without a doubt the biggest job I've ever had to tackle. I see now why Shinigami had me doing the whole L2 cluster last year, it was practice for now.
I scour the place where Wufei's clan once lived and died and make sure that they are all safely gone on to their rest before I collapse. This is why I call the quarters, even though I'm not really an elemental mage, the elementals' help means that I don't have to put my own energy into sustaining the shield once I've put it up. It's also why I call my loved ones up first - so that not only can they help protect me from any pissed-off spirits I have to try to send through the door, but so that I don't have to worry about running out of strength before I get to them. The essence of the food on the offering plate is enough to sustain them for a bit while I get my strength back.
Lying on the ground, hair loose and undoubtedly picking up dirt and grass and who-knows-what from the ground I'm lying on, I soak up the energy pouring through the gate. It's a risky power source for most, but I am Shinigami's, and he'll grant me this since I'm serving him tonight. Tomorrow I'll worry about my hair. Right now, now that I've gotten my breath back, I have a party to attend. I'm the one who sent out the invitation, after all, I should be a good host.
For the rest of the night, the circle is filled with laughter and singing and dancing, the wild dances of the streets combined with the more sedate ones that Father and Sister and some of the others do. All my cares are set aside, all my sorrows laid to rest, and I cut loose and enjoy the freedom of being in a place where I know I am loved unconditionally and that those I love are with me.
And then, Solo clears his throat. I look up and see the first lightening of the sky and feel the knowledge that the barrier is strengthening again, that the door must soon be closed, and it's like having my guts ripped out. I don't want them to leave. I don't want to stay behind. I just want to be with them forever and never have to part from them again, but the fact is that it needs to be done. I have a job to do, one that Shinigami tells me is essential. And they would be in torment if they stayed in this world, seeing and yet unable to interact with anyone.
Through the gate is my true and final home. From there I came, to there I'll return. But I can't go yet, no matter how much I want to, and I know when the gate closes and the sun is up that I won't really want to. There's too much life left to be lived, and even Shinigami's priest doesn't know for certain what goes on across that threshold, or if we ever return.
One by one, I approach my family and friends, and release them to go back to where they belong. One by one, they hug me and walk into that shining darkness, until I am left alone in the middle of a small valley, in a circle nine meters across marked only by the tiny flames of guttering candles and a green light that can't be seen with the eyes, but only the mind. When the last of my beloveds cross, I put out the white candle. "I will always remember you, but we must now part. Yet though we are separated, we are always together. Gladly met, gladly part, and gladly we'll meet again."
I face the gate and watch as it closes, that unearthly radiance cut off completely. "Lord Shinigami, I thank thee for this chance to meet once more with those I love. Let me not forget them, or the gratitude I owe you. My blessings upon you, as yours have been upon me. Many thanks." I put out the black candle, and sigh as the feeling of a hand on my shoulder makes itself known. I always feel like putting out the candle means that he'll go away, and he always reassures me that he is always with me - for isn't Death always a part of life?
Going to the north, I begin to walk the circle again, this time in the opposite direction. When I come to the western candle, I speak to the Water elemental who guards it, unseen but strongly felt. "I thank you and I bless you, oh Water, for the aid you have provided this night. Stay if you will, go if you must." I put out the candle, and then proceed around the circle, repeating my thanks to each of the elementals before snuffing the candles. "The circle is open, but never broken," I say at last, as the green fire dies away to nothing. Only a slight singeing on the ground where my thermal scythe cut is evidence of its existence.
Wearily, I pick up the implements of the ritual, the candles and the scythe. The food on the offering plate I leave for the wild animals who call this place home. I open the box of food that I'd held aside and eat it hungrily, feeling myself come back to earth. Already the birds are looking curiously at the food I left in what remains of the circle, and as I sit on my Gundam's foot, a fox slinks out from under cover to sniff at the unexpected bounty. It casts a wary eye in my direction before it grabs the steak in its jaws and runs under a bush.
I finish my meal and trigger the rope lift to my Gundam. I can climb up 'Scythe's side, but as unsteady as I feel right now, I don't want to risk it. Better to just take the easy way up.
In the cockpit, I make sure that Deathscythe's systems are still all green and take it out of standby mode, then start on my way back to the safehouse. G knows that I won't take a mission today, and why. He doesn't like it much - that whole scientific mindset tells him that he shouldn't encourage my 'superstitions', even if I can do things he can't quite explain - but he knows it's something that I won't compromise on, and that it really takes a lot out of me. The others don't know - hell, the only one who might care is Quatre, and I'm not sure how strict a Moslem he is, or if he is at all, really. They'll just assume that I was on a mission when I stumble in and head straight for bed, but that won't matter. If I don't tell them, then they won't push it.
It's over again, for one more year. And who knows, maybe next year, someone will light a candle for me.
I don't know if I want that or not.
The End
(:./rt/samhain)
