31-Apr-2001
Title: Precipitation
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Angst
Pairings: 1+2 hints
Standard Disclaimer: All parts of Gundam Wing are Not Mine. It's all Theirs.
*sigh* Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything done *happy
hentai thought*. Anyway, not makin' any money offa this so dun sue me. You'd
only get some college debt, a few dogs, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers
anyway. Ya know... blood. Turnip. Do the math.
Rating: PG
Warning: Angst
Spoiler: None
Notes: entry for Tyr's Angst Fic Contest. Gomen for the cross-post.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome (although flames may be fed to
my dogs, who, since they have notoriously gassy intestinal tracts, will be
spending the night with the flamer afterwards)
They say that rain is nature's way of crying. Her tears cascade from the heavens and bathe the world in sorrow and solitude when the dark clouds roll over the horizon. Like Her funeral veil covers the land and hides us from the sun.
It makes me wonder if they've ever seen snow.
Rain... Rain at least will nourish the world. Feed the parched earth and wash away all the blood. There are places where we've fought where the ground is still stained, down to the bedrock it seems. Endless seas of iron oxide soil. It looks so harmless and innocent almost until you realize... that blood, when it dries, turns that same rusty brown.
Maybe it's just my eyes. I don't think so, though. I think Heero can see it too. The way the relief flashes into those cobalt depths when the rain starts to fall. The way he'll walk outside and stand under it, no matter how cold or hard. As if maybe Her tears can wash away the taint he sees upon what's left of his soul.
That bastard J. Try as he might, he never did manage to completely remove the last slivers of Heero's soul. I'm glad. As long as he can hang onto those last little shards, the others can save him.
Me? I harbor no illusions about myself. There's no saving Death. The rain won't do me any good any more. These stains run too deep. I'd say all the way through my soul, but I'd be lying, because I don't have one any more.
I can't.
They say that rain is nature's way of crying. She grieves for the world and the innocence lost when the cold winds blow in and the thunderheads blankets the earth. Like a Mother crying for her murdered Children.
I don't think they ever really *have* seen snow.
No matter how frigid the autumn rain, the way it caresses you as you stand under those weeping clouds is still so much more soothing that the impersonal drift of those hateful white flakes of spun ice. The soft patter of the water upon the needy soil fills the aching void within you that the silent whisper of even the most vicious of blizzards will only feed.
I wish there really were a God. If there were, I'd pray that he'd watch over Heero. Nourish those last diamond-strong wisps of his soul and protect him from the rage and fury of this war. He deserves so much more than the blood and the screams. The smell of singed and rotting flesh and the sounds of the widows and widowers and orphans wailing into the night as I spirit their loved ones away.
But there is no God. There is only Me. Death.
Shinigami.
So I guess I'll have to watch for the rain. For Heero, I mean. I don't deserve the rain any more. Nothing so pure. Nothing with so much potential. Don't waste that on me.
Heero's far worthier. The others can still save him. It's too late for me. Has been since the day I was abandoned... no. Before that. Since birth. That's why they must have abandoned me. Because they could already see what a soulless monster I would become.
They could already see Shinigami within me.
Leave me to the snow. Fitting, isn't it? Death... is so cold. The last thing you lose in life is your heat. Even when the heart has ceased it's trembling, you retain your warmth. It isn't until later that the cold settles in. Death steals even that last tiny shred of spirit.
I've given up caring what "they" say about the rain. "They" are wrong. The rain is our last great bastion of hope. Maybe that's why I always think of Heero when I think of the rain... and of rain when I think of Heero.
Wing isn't big enough to be the next Ark, though.
Everyone always wonders why I talk so much. Why I can't seem to stay still.
Death as the avatar of Ice. That's what I'm becoming day by hateful day. Another avatar of Ice. Another Messenger. Maybe, just maybe if I keep moving fast enough, keep talking loud enough... Maybe I can hold off the frostbite for another few moments.
Not that it matters much in the long run anyway. Not even Shinigami can stave off the chill kiss of it forever. I just wish the ice that I'm becoming wasn't so brilliantly crimson.
Funny how something that looks so pure, so pristine, can be so utterly damning. Endless fields of brilliant white. Rolling hills of shining, twinkling stars, shattered and scattered over the world.
It's white because it's empty. There's nothing within it to absorb the light, so it reflects it all. Just like me. There's nothing left within me now but the chill void of ice.
He's standing out there now. The rain is coming down so hard that I can barely make out the faint outline of his body not ten feet from the porch. The ground is slowly turning brown and green again. Not that sickening rust color, but deep brown, like the ever-tousled locks of his hair.
He's staring up at the sky, into those welcoming grey clouds, letting the rain fill him up from the inside out. Washing away the faintest traces of weariness within him.
At least I can content myself that my ice isn't so scarlet any more... I'm rusting out. Old blood seeping in to the core to join the rest of the stain, while the silent whisper of the snow filters down around me. Freezing me. Freezing Death.
God? If... If you... you know... really are out there... somewhere... please? Please... never let the rain stop. Please? Those tears... They're all that's keeping the spun glass splinters of soul within Heero safe. Are you listening? Are you there?
Please God... You have to... Please just let it rain.
Half of those splinters... are mine.
~owari~
RavynFyre
Please send comments to: ravynfyre@hotmail.com