His eyes stayed empty, fixed on the folds and valleys of the blanket on the bed. Heero hadn’t moved an inch since stumbling, like a blind man or a cripple, back into his quarters and landing heavily in his chair. The sun filtered through the slits in the roof as it always had; no more warm air escaped the canvas walls than ever did. That was not what made the tent so dark, so cold. It was the stillness -- the emptiness of the bed he hadn’t slept in for weeks that leeched the heat and light from the world.
It was as though he were slowly turning to stone; through the flap that opened onto the world, he could see soldiers coming and going, as the busyness of life and the war went on. It was the only business, the only world Heero had ever known -- but he could not say that the war had been his life, for he’d had no life at all, nor even known what he was lacking. But to have had that life, to have had a soul, just for a little while, and then to lose it? It hurt, more than anything he’d ever imagined.
He had lost. That was all there was to it; the precious thing that had fallen into his life had been torn away just as abruptly, and he just had to learn to accept it. Duo would go south with Hilde, the girl that he loved, and leave Heero behind. It was all for the best, really... it was best for Duo. Hilde had been right; Duo needed peace and quiet to get better. He deserved a peaceful life with the woman he loved, not shackled to a cold-hearted soldier and surrounded by reminders of his pain. For Duo’s own good, Heero would let him go... then, at least, he could dream of the Duo that Hilde had described. Duo as he should have been.
His hands moved to clench at the tabletop; muscles protested the sudden movement after too long spent motionless, but his eyes narrowed as his body tensed. Hilde had just passed by on the road, hurrying and uncertain. Alone.
His body stood abruptly from the chair, moving without conscious will or desire. A new kind of coldness had settled in his gut, itching along his nerves. If Hilde had returned, then where was Duo? He strode quickly out of the tent and grabbed the nearest soldier, demanding if he had seen the missing boy.
Nobody had seen him. The cold feeling intensified. He rewound and replayed his memory; had Duo had his crutches with him? It wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t travel the uneven ground safely, crutches or no. He would never have been able to get out to the forest clearing without Hilde’s help... but she had abandoned him. Heero clenched his jaw against the cold twitching in his nerves, and set out double-time back into the darkness beneath the trees.
Re: Spoil of War, prologue
Date: 2006-02-28 01:25 am (UTC)His eyes stayed empty, fixed on the folds and valleys of the blanket on the bed. Heero hadn’t moved an inch since stumbling, like a blind man or a cripple, back into his quarters and landing heavily in his chair. The sun filtered through the slits in the roof as it always had; no more warm air escaped the canvas walls than ever did. That was not what made the tent so dark, so cold. It was the stillness -- the emptiness of the bed he hadn’t slept in for weeks that leeched the heat and light from the world.
It was as though he were slowly turning to stone; through the flap that opened onto the world, he could see soldiers coming and going, as the busyness of life and the war went on. It was the only business, the only world Heero had ever known -- but he could not say that the war had been his life, for he’d had no life at all, nor even known what he was lacking. But to have had that life, to have had a soul, just for a little while, and then to lose it? It hurt, more than anything he’d ever imagined.
He had lost. That was all there was to it; the precious thing that had fallen into his life had been torn away just as abruptly, and he just had to learn to accept it. Duo would go south with Hilde, the girl that he loved, and leave Heero behind. It was all for the best, really... it was best for Duo. Hilde had been right; Duo needed peace and quiet to get better. He deserved a peaceful life with the woman he loved, not shackled to a cold-hearted soldier and surrounded by reminders of his pain. For Duo’s own good, Heero would let him go... then, at least, he could dream of the Duo that Hilde had described. Duo as he should have been.
His hands moved to clench at the tabletop; muscles protested the sudden movement after too long spent motionless, but his eyes narrowed as his body tensed. Hilde had just passed by on the road, hurrying and uncertain. Alone.
His body stood abruptly from the chair, moving without conscious will or desire. A new kind of coldness had settled in his gut, itching along his nerves. If Hilde had returned, then where was Duo? He strode quickly out of the tent and grabbed the nearest soldier, demanding if he had seen the missing boy.
Nobody had seen him. The cold feeling intensified. He rewound and replayed his memory; had Duo had his crutches with him? It wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t travel the uneven ground safely, crutches or no. He would never have been able to get out to the forest clearing without Hilde’s help... but she had abandoned him. Heero clenched his jaw against the cold twitching in his nerves, and set out double-time back into the darkness beneath the trees.