Goodbye LJ...
Feb. 20th, 2006 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windandwaterThis is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.
So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;
Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!
♥
So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;
Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!
♥
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"...tell me Heero... did we win?"
The armor-clad warrior struggled to his feet and wielded his blade, driving away his attackers. He did not look down again.
In uncounted nanoseconds it was all over; it almost took more time for the explosions to die down, for the remaining pieces of the Mobile Dolls to break apart and settle on Heero's restored monitors into non-threat categories, than it had taken the Perfect Soldier to break them.
Once the moment of indecision had past, relegated to just another win against the odds, Heero took stock of himself. He was back in control once more, but most of his external sensors were shot to holy hell. Still he was alive, and his suit could still function, and that was all that mattered. But things never stood still in space, and no sooner had Heero classified this sector as free of Dolls than a summons came from across the field, from the other side of the ship. Chang was fighting there and Barton, and they needed backup. His external sensors showed him sunfire and starlight reflecting off of metals. Useless, that. He had to route his radar screen through the external camera controls before he could see. There were enemies in the way, too many, glowing bright red among the wispy gray matter that signaled wreckage, signaled the losers. Heero fired his thrusters.
Duo saw his own Gundam, hanging still and soundless in space, before the clouds closed over the gap. He was alone in the field, and the sun was going steadily dark. Abruptly a wind began to blow, tearing through the grass, tearing through *him.*
"Maxwell." The voice ripped over the speakers, audio only, video out. "We don't have time for you to idle about uselessly. Chang and Barton are requesting backup in sector kappa-five. Dolls are scattered in the space along the translation vector. Clean it out."
"Saa, Heero," the response hissed faintly back, "did we win?"
"We haven't won anything, idiot. Get moving." Heero cut off the communicators. He was in no mood to listen to Duo's usual battle chatter, the useless tangents he went off on when there was work to be done.
"I'm right behind you, captain." The response was too breathless for cheer, but nobody heard it.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"The main force of Dolls is destroyed, Quatre-sama," one of the Maguanacs reported, from the bridge of the ship. "They set up an ambush around the southwest side, but it seems to have failed. Gundams 01 and 02 are moving to rejoin the others now."
Quatre nodded his acknowledgment and thanks. "It's too soon to say if the battle is won yet. They may yet have real pilots, hiding behind the smokescreen of dolls. Be careful."
"Hai, Quatre-sama," someone responded. "The enemy carrier is hailing us," another cut in. "They are demanding immediate surrender. They claim to have twice as many Mobile Dolls as we've already seen. What should our answer be?"
The words seemed to come a little slower than usual, as though he were hearing them through molasses. "They may be bluffing," Quatre heard himself say, even as his own hand moved absently up towards his chest. His Spaceheart felt so very strange. "It could be a ploy to distract our attention away from... backup troops, or it could... be..."
One hand slipped through his shirt, to touch the skin of his chest. "It could be..."
--soft--
--white--
"Quatre-sama?" someone asked him. He slowly turned to face them.
--so very, very cold. Snow?--
"Quatre-sama, they're demanding an answer."
"Tell them..."
--lying in a field, looking upwards into white as wool... snow... falling on him. Gently. Quietly. It was so hard to move, when he could just lie here and let the soft, white, pile up --
"...tell them that we..."
--the snow was talking to him, with a voice of cold white ice. White. White --
"Quatre-sama!"
He blinked reality back into place, and removed his hand from his chest. "We have more than enough strength to counter any forces they have left. We will not surrender."
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)--White, cold... it was so easy to let it cover him, and take away all the fighting and pain.
He blinked, once, and that simplest of action seemed to take a hundred years to complete. Everything seemed so hard, every thought came slowly and movement was out of the question. The field was so silent, even the soft breathing of falling snow could be heard. Staring up at the sky, at the white swirling against white in endless, secret patterns... if his heart beat it was too loud a sound.
*Stay,* the snow whispered to him. *You aren't needed. You can do nothing. Stay here and do nothing. There is no pain here, there is no mission. You cannot fail here. Stay and fall...*
...but...
The voice was so cold. And behind its promise of soft, soft fleece, every drop of snow was sharp, rigid ice. White ice. White metal. White Gundam. Cold snow. Cold voice. Cold eyes.
There was nothing but snow. It weighed him down -- weighed him down, and he could not move. Could not breathe. Could not feel his own heart beat.
Panic. *Where am I? What's happened? WHAT --*
-- PAIN! Dark and hot and PAIN threw him back into his body so sudden like a jolt of lightning left him twitching hurt hurt hurt so bad every motion even breathing heart beating stabbed through his insides *Oh God! I can't feel -- I can't feel --*
Sparks electric cracked and spat from the consoles around him but his hands were still on the controls, practically glued there by blood and burn. A whimper escaped his chest but even that was so hard to get out. He heard noises; hiss and fizz and the pounding of his own blood in his body -- oh God! He was hurt bad, real bad, he could feel it. He didn't have to look down to know it. Every fiber of his being was screaming, screaming in protest to the intruder burning hot something shouldn't be there no get it OUT! But he couldn't. No, he couldn't. First aid or even common sense said that when wreckage was lodged in a wound you couldn't pull it out without making it so much worse that might even kill him.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)Kill him.
He was going to die.
That thought calmed him, suddenly, eerily, stilled his uncontrolled struggling and steadied the air in his lungs. *I'm gonna die.* He knew it. It was too strange, too bizarre, and the first thing that came to his mind was to laugh. He didn't dare laugh, though; he didn't dare move. But the God of Death was dying, how was that not funny? *I guess it's payment time for all the lives I've taken... but who would've thought it would be a machine to kill me?*
Kill him --
He was going to die.
The coldness resolved, separated into two parts. One was an arms length away of broken Gundam; space burned with a coldness that would blister snow. The other was much, much more real, because it was inside him. So, too, was the darkness that was so much more than a lack of light. He let his eyes slip closed, his head fell back against the chair as his breathing calmed; the darkness around the edge of his vision was too much to bear. *Father. Sister. I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Solo. Ne, it's not so bad, this dying... I'll get to see so many people again. Funny, that, how everyone I loved is dead now...*
Heero.
His eyes slit open, and his hands cracked off the controls, fumbling around on the consoles. Heero was still there, still alive. And all the "somedays," all the "laters," all the time he thought he might have had narrowed down to the next few beatings of his heart. And if nothing else, he would not die with that weight of forever on his soul; he would not die before telling Heero how he felt.* What's the worst he can do to me, anyway? Kill me?
Kill me.*
He was going to...
His hands shook, as the fingers played over the control panel. A sudden aching terror gripped him, that the communications would be broken, and he would die unconfessed. Relief flowed through him, cool and sweet, as the video screen hissed and then flared briefly to life, showing the face that he adored. Heero. I'm coming.
The white-clad warrior rose above the battlefield, and he did not look down again.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)There was very little that Heero could effect in the way of repairs from inside his Gundam, but with the firefight over, and the carrier in full retreat, Heero could take a minute to try and patch some of the critical systems. He was half-out of his chair, prying at a hopelessly fused transistor, when the communications screen sparked to life. Sparked, flared, and died; the image of Shinigami only hung in the air for an instant, and as soon as the wires slipped from Heero's hands the viewscreen died once more. "Heero?" the voice crackled, through the smoke to his ears. "Heero, can you read me?"
Fury, frustration, glared through Heero Yuy's body, and he gripped it with all his remaining control not to lash out. "Hai, Duo, I hear you. What is it?"
There was a heartbeat of silence, during which Heero ruthlessly yanked the wires out of the danger zone, so that their intermittent current couldn't do any more damage inside the consoles. They burned his hands. "I need to tell you something, Heero."
He climbed back into his chair and tried the scanners again. Nothing. Kuso! "Now is not a good time, Duo. Whatever it is, can't it wait?"
"No." Duo's voice sounded rather strange, the clinical part of Heero's mind observed. Muffled, almost, hollow. Clearly, he would have to adjust the com systems again. Even his engineering skills winced at the sheer amount of repair work he would have to do. "It can't wait... not really. I-I need to talk to you..."
A steady background hissing sound suddenly expanded with a soft wumph, and Heero bit off a sharp curse as a small fire suddenly sprang up in his cockpit. "Duo! Damn it, I don't have time for this nonsense! Just follow your orders for a change without any clowning around, and you can tell me whatever great secret you've got cooped up later, when I don't have important things to do! Now leave me alone!" The fire went out on its own, but left behind choking, reeking smoke.
Another pause, and then Duo's voice came back, so soft, so faint. "...All right, Heero... I'll leave you alone. If that's what you want."
"Do that," Heero growled, and snapped off the communications screen and resumed his work. A few minutes later the hailing signal came again, but Heero ignored it. Wing, his partner, was not cooperating with him; it took all his control and skill as a pilot to keep his Gundam on the right heading. The buzzer sounded again, more insistently, and again Heero refused to answer.
Abruptly, a buzzing alarm went off, the nerve-wracking noise filling the cockpit. Duo's voice sounded over the noise of the buzzer, much, much louder now. "Invoking Priority Code One --"
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"Shimatta!" Heero snarled, and slammed his hands back over on the com button. "Maxwell! That code is not to be used lightly! You only use it in the case of extreme emergency, not to satisfy whatever juvenile notion or idiotic need for conversation that fills your head!"
"Heero, listen to me, *please* -- I need h --" but Heero was beyond listening.
"For the last time, start acting like a soldier!" With that, Heero pressed out the code sequence that would emit a burst of radiation into the immediate area, rendering radio communication impossible. It was against all regulations, Heero admitted to himself, but anything was worth it to recover silence.
He did not look down again.
"No!" Duo screamed, pounding at the traitorous console. "Don't cut me off, goddammit, Heero please I'm in trouble I need help..."
Shock, merciful shock, was completely gone, and in the absence came pouring in cold fear. Trembling hands struck against the controls, again and again, reaching out for the ship, for Wufei, for Trowa, anyone. Useless, useless. The radiation had doomed any hopes he might have cherished for communication. The blackness was covering his vision, too quickly, and he couldn't see to pilot his suit into the hangar bay. He could only guess which direction the ship lay, a bright speck of oasis in the cold dark. If he ever reached it it would be too late.
The taste of metal filled his mouth, and nose, burned at the bottom of his eyes. Oh God, it hurt, it hurt! "Someone -- anyone -- help me! I'm dying, I'm dying, somebody help me please I don't wanna die!"
*I don't want to die!*
Nobody heard. Nobody cared.
"No, no! I can't die now, I can't die yet! I can't die before I finished fighting the war. I can't die before I tell him. I can't die alone!"
But you will, Duo Maxwell.
You will die alone, because nobody cares about you. No-one ever has. It was a lie, all a lie, surely you understand that no-one could care about a filthy murderer like you.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"Shimatta!" Heero snarled, and slammed his hands back over on the com button. "Maxwell! That code is not to be used lightly! You only use it in the case of extreme emergency, not to satisfy whatever juvenile notion or idiotic need for conversation that fills your head!"
"Heero, listen to me, *please* -- I need h --" but Heero was beyond listening.
"For the last time, start acting like a soldier!" With that, Heero pressed out the code sequence that would emit a burst of radiation into the immediate area, rendering radio communication impossible. It was against all regulations, Heero admitted to himself, but anything was worth it to recover silence.
He did not look down again.
"No!" Duo screamed, pounding at the traitorous console. "Don't cut me off, goddammit, Heero please I'm in trouble I need help..."
Shock, merciful shock, was completely gone, and in the absence came pouring in cold fear. Trembling hands struck against the controls, again and again, reaching out for the ship, for Wufei, for Trowa, anyone. Useless, useless. The radiation had doomed any hopes he might have cherished for communication. The blackness was covering his vision, too quickly, and he couldn't see to pilot his suit into the hangar bay. He could only guess which direction the ship lay, a bright speck of oasis in the cold dark. If he ever reached it it would be too late.
The taste of metal filled his mouth, and nose, burned at the bottom of his eyes. Oh God, it hurt, it hurt! "Someone -- anyone -- help me! I'm dying, I'm dying, somebody help me please I don't wanna die!"
*I don't want to die!*
Nobody heard. Nobody cared.
"No, no! I can't die now, I can't die yet! I can't die before I finished fighting the war. I can't die before I tell him. I can't die alone!"
But you will, Duo Maxwell.
You will die alone, because nobody cares about you. No-one ever has. It was a lie, all a lie, surely you understand that no-one could care about a filthy murderer like you.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"No! I did what I had to!"
You lie. But you said you never lie. That just goes to show how much of a pathetic charade your life has been. Everyone else saw right through you. The only one you managed to lie to, Duo, was yourself.
"Help me..."
No-one can help you, Duo Maxwell. No-one would.
"NO! Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, Dr. G, Howard Trowa Quatre Hilde Wufei Solo HEERO!"
Quatre shivered.
"Snow?" he murmured to himself, slowing his walk to a halt in the corridor. "Why do I keep seeing snow?"
Duo, and then snow...
Duo. The snow had something to do with Duo. But what? Quatre closed his eyes, and caught the moment of the vision by its hem. Reaching out, he caught a handful of the swirling white flakes. "But what does it mean?" he whispered, cupping the snow in his hands.
Against the heat of his skin, the white began to melt, dripping down between his fingers.
It was blood.
His eyes shot open, and a strangled sound escaped his throat as if for a moment he could still see his hands stained red. Without a thought he stumbled to the nearest access panel, where he slapped on the com system. Frantically he punched in the tight-beam signal and waited -- nothing. Nothing but static, white noise. He tried again. It took his shaking hands two tries to punch up the right code, to reach one of the Gundams. "Pilot 05. Come in, pilot 05. Dammit, Wufei, *answer me!"*
After an eternity, the voice hissed back over the com. Audio only. No visual. "I read you, 04. What is it?"
"Wufei! Where's Duo?"
A moment of silence when, heart in his mouth, he was certain that he had lost signal.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:05 am (UTC)"No! I did what I had to!"
You lie. But you said you never lie. That just goes to show how much of a pathetic charade your life has been. Everyone else saw right through you. The only one you managed to lie to, Duo, was yourself.
"Help me..."
No-one can help you, Duo Maxwell. No-one would.
"NO! Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, Dr. G, Howard Trowa Quatre Hilde Wufei Solo HEERO!"
Quatre shivered.
"Snow?" he murmured to himself, slowing his walk to a halt in the corridor. "Why do I keep seeing snow?"
Duo, and then snow...
Duo. The snow had something to do with Duo. But what? Quatre closed his eyes, and caught the moment of the vision by its hem. Reaching out, he caught a handful of the swirling white flakes. "But what does it mean?" he whispered, cupping the snow in his hands.
Against the heat of his skin, the white began to melt, dripping down between his fingers.
It was blood.
His eyes shot open, and a strangled sound escaped his throat as if for a moment he could still see his hands stained red. Without a thought he stumbled to the nearest access panel, where he slapped on the com system. Frantically he punched in the tight-beam signal and waited -- nothing. Nothing but static, white noise. He tried again. It took his shaking hands two tries to punch up the right code, to reach one of the Gundams. "Pilot 05. Come in, pilot 05. Dammit, Wufei, *answer me!"*
After an eternity, the voice hissed back over the com. Audio only. No visual. "I read you, 04. What is it?"
"Wufei! Where's Duo?"
A moment of silence when, heart in his mouth, he was certain that he had lost signal.
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:06 am (UTC)"Find him. Find him *now!*"
"Quatre, you know how hellishly effective his ECM is. I'm not going to be able to -- what in all the hells?"
"What is it?" Quatre demanded, wishing he could see.
"His cloaking system is down. Why in the name of Nataku would he take it offline? I see him -- but I have no idea what he thinks he's doing."
Panic gripped Quatre by the throat, and he placed both hands on the panel, as though by doing so he could bridge the gap of space. "Get his suit, Wufei. Bring him into the hangar bay."
"Quatre, I'm running a search pattern for remaining live Dolls. I can't --"
"NOW, Wufei!" He practically screamed into the speaker, causing it to buzz and whine in feedback. "There's no damn time to waste!"
This time, Wufei didn't dare to argue. "Acknowledged, Quatre. 05 out."
Another heartbeat and Quatre was running, running towards the hanger bay.
By the time he got there, all four Gundams had docked, Trowa and Wufei were already on their way out. Heero was just emerging from his cockpit, dark brown stains testifying to his own wounds in battle.
But Deathscythe... just stood there, still and silent. Heart pounding in his chest, Quatre stumbled over to the Gundam and called for his friend. "Duo! Duo, can you hear me?"
Heero heard him. He stopped, across the way, and turned to watch, but made no move to close the distance.
Hearing no response, consumed with fear, Quatre turned aside and accessed the Gundam Deathscythe by remote; it wasn't something he could do often, it was something he hoped he'd never have to do. As the hatch screamed and reluctantly crept open, the black paint of the Gundam seemed to writhe, to melt. Quatre put out one trembling hand and touched the black. His hand came away red, bright spreading red.
"Allah! Duo, NO!"
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:06 am (UTC)Heero, standing off to one side, with no more movement or expression than a exquisitely beautiful statue. Quatre, standing beneath the Gundam Deathscythe with its hatch open, and a crimson stain rapidly spreading across his skin and clothes. And Duo.
The gun clattered to the floor as Trowa moved forward as if in a dream, or a nightmare. His comrade, fellow pilot, ally soldier. Duo Maxwell. The outrageous, the reckless, the vain. The one that never stopped making jokes, never stopped talking, never stopped moving, never stopped smiling...
Stopped.
From the chest up, he looked almost normal, almost beautiful; he could almost be unconscious, but for the blue-gray of his skin. Barely a bruise marred his skin, not a tear disturbed the white collar or the black shirt. Only the blood trickling from his nose and mouth gave any indication of what had happened.
What *had* happened --
The Gundanium Mobile Suit's cockpit, the bubble of enclosed space buried deep within the killing machine's heart to carry the fragile scrap of life within. The indestructible shell collapsed, inwards and upwards, pinning and crushing the pilot it was supposed to protect. The lower half of Duo Maxwell's body was barely identifiable as human, crushed and shattered and violated by splinters, shreds of Gundanium driven by forces that didn't recognize human flesh. The other pilot found himself almost mesmerized by the sight; the familiar, familiar Gundam cockpit just like the one he himself sat in, warped and twisted out of recognition. An impossible quantity of blood pooled in the cockpit floor, flowing and flooding out over the black Gundanium exterior to drip brilliant scarlet on the ground.
Duo Maxwell was dead, there could be no question as to that. From the moment the structure collapsed, not a force in the universe could have saved him. "Why didn't he tell us he was hurt this badly?" Trowa breathed, unable to accept the concept that anyone could remain conscious, even for a little while, much less pilot after that. Surely, surely he would have at least been granted the mercy of an instant death!
This was war; death happened. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this, drenched in blood and mangled flesh. Their bright energy weapons were supposed to cook everyone neatly, like eggs in their shells; people were supposed to die in clean fire and explosions, not like this, not like this! "How could this happen?" Wufei grated out,
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:06 am (UTC)Heero, standing off to one side, with no more movement or expression than a exquisitely beautiful statue. Quatre, standing beneath the Gundam Deathscythe with its hatch open, and a crimson stain rapidly spreading across his skin and clothes. And Duo.
The gun clattered to the floor as Trowa moved forward as if in a dream, or a nightmare. His comrade, fellow pilot, ally soldier. Duo Maxwell. The outrageous, the reckless, the vain. The one that never stopped making jokes, never stopped talking, never stopped moving, never stopped smiling...
Stopped.
From the chest up, he looked almost normal, almost beautiful; he could almost be unconscious, but for the blue-gray of his skin. Barely a bruise marred his skin, not a tear disturbed the white collar or the black shirt. Only the blood trickling from his nose and mouth gave any indication of what had happened.
What *had* happened --
The Gundanium Mobile Suit's cockpit, the bubble of enclosed space buried deep within the killing machine's heart to carry the fragile scrap of life within. The indestructible shell collapsed, inwards and upwards, pinning and crushing the pilot it was supposed to protect. The lower half of Duo Maxwell's body was barely identifiable as human, crushed and shattered and violated by splinters, shreds of Gundanium driven by forces that didn't recognize human flesh. The other pilot found himself almost mesmerized by the sight; the familiar, familiar Gundam cockpit just like the one he himself sat in, warped and twisted out of recognition. An impossible quantity of blood pooled in the cockpit floor, flowing and flooding out over the black Gundanium exterior to drip brilliant scarlet on the ground.
Duo Maxwell was dead, there could be no question as to that. From the moment the structure collapsed, not a force in the universe could have saved him. "Why didn't he tell us he was hurt this badly?" Trowa breathed, unable to accept the concept that anyone could remain conscious, even for a little while, much less pilot after that. Surely, surely he would have at least been granted the mercy of an instant death!
This was war; death happened. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this, drenched in blood and mangled flesh. Their bright energy weapons were supposed to cook everyone neatly, like eggs in their shells; people were supposed to die in clean fire and explosions, not like this, not like this! "How could this happen?" Wufei grated out,
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:06 am (UTC)"Why?" Quatre sobbed, sunken to his knees in the rapidly spreading pool of blood. "Why didn't he contact the ship... or... or..." His gentle face twisted in anguish, and he clenched his hands into fists. "*Why?* Why Duo, why did it have to be Duo, why not someone else...?"
How could the God of Death let this happen?
Heero knew.
Why didn't he tell anyone?
Heero knew.
Why Duo, not someone else...?
Heero knew.
He did not look at the body of his best friend. He turned and walked out of the hangar bay without ever having spoken a word.
owari
Re: The Boy That Didn't Cry
Date: 2006-02-21 08:06 am (UTC)"Why?" Quatre sobbed, sunken to his knees in the rapidly spreading pool of blood. "Why didn't he contact the ship... or... or..." His gentle face twisted in anguish, and he clenched his hands into fists. "*Why?* Why Duo, why did it have to be Duo, why not someone else...?"
How could the God of Death let this happen?
Heero knew.
Why didn't he tell anyone?
Heero knew.
Why Duo, not someone else...?
Heero knew.
He did not look at the body of his best friend. He turned and walked out of the hangar bay without ever having spoken a word.
owari