Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This 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!

♥

Comments

Re: Pocketful of Ashes

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The room was silent, silent, giving him no answer, and his mouth tasted dry as ashes as he reached out and took the cold metal into his trembling hands. "Why can't I stop hearing you scream?"



A week passed.

And another.

Twice, in that time, Heero (along with the others, but always the last to be called) went out-ship to fight space battles like the one where Duo died. To his own disbelief, his piloting was slow, uncharacteristically clumsy. Only the fact that he was never assigned to any important position in the battles kept him alive, for he had no partner to fight with. He could sleep no more than half an hour at a time. In his off hours, he took to endlessly, obsessively maintenancing his weapons and Gundam. It was no use -- his piloting skills continued to degrade.

Almost the entire crew, along with the other pilots, now reviled him. Every face would now curl with disgust when he walked by, and those who he was forced to interact with went out of their way to inconvenience him. Tensions aboard the transport were rising to nearly unbearable levels; the pilots, especially, were taking on a stressed and haggard look. Only Trowa, in the midst of all the conversations denouncing Wing's pilot, sometimes looked at him with a shadowy, indecipherable expression on his face.

He wondered, sometimes, if maybe Trowa did understand him after all. Just a bit.

At the end of the second week, Hilde showed up. She was driving a small, two-person shuttlecraft, and she crashed it into the docking bay. The medics came along with the technicians to dig her out of the wreckage, and when they did, it was obvious that she was well on her way to a nervous breakdown.

Quatre flew down to the medical bay as soon as he heard the news, and the other pilots were not far behind. Only Heero was not invited inside, and he paused, one hand on the wall of the corridor outside the medical bay as they brought her in. She was crying and ranting, and the medics were anxiously discussing the possibility of sedating her.

"I don't understand," he heard Quatre say to Trowa. "Hilde's one of the most sensible people I know."

"She and Duo were close," Trowa said quietly. "It's understandable that she'd be distraught."

Re: Pocketful of Ashes

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

"Distraught, I could expect!" Quatre exclaimed. "But listen to her -- it sounds as though she's having hallucinations..."

Heero listened.

And then, oddly numb, he turned and walked back down the corridor.

He felt very strange -- as though his head was light, but incredibly heavy, at the same time. He half-expected to stumble over, top-heavy, and it was only the mechanics of walking that kept him on his feet as Hilde's incoherent ravings replayed in his mind.

"Make him stop... make him stop... I hear him all the time now... in my head... even when I sleep, I hear him... make him stop screaming... I can hear him... screaming... all the time... I don't want to hear him... make it stop..."



It was impossible.

Why should Hilde hear the same thing, the exact same thing, that Heero did? Hilde hadn't been anywhere near this place at the time of Duo's violent death. She never saw the recording, she never heard Duo screaming her name. She never heard it.

But she heard it now. All the time. In her sleep.

And so did he.

So what if --

He opened the door to his room, and stumbled inside. He didn't turn the light on. Instead, he dropped into the chair and stared into the darkness. One hand reached out of its own accord and dragged across the desk, entangling with cold metal. He raised his hand, letting the chain slither down his arm.

What if Heero wasn't going crazy after all?

Carefully, precisely, Heero reached for his gun and began to take it apart. Because if Hilde was hearing the same thing that Heero was, the exact same thing, then that meant that it was really Duo he was listening too, and not the punishing fictions of his own mind.

And that meant that somehow, Duo was still hurting. That somewhere, he was still screaming, and for the last two weeks Heero had closed his ears and done nothing.

Again.

Re: Pocketful of Ashes

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Which meant that Heero had been wrong. He had been wrong when he told Quatre that he couldn't help Duo now.

He had failed.

Again.

His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, in the faint light that leaked into the room from the hallway. But he didn't need the light for his fingers to complete the familiar task, sliding the perfectly oiled components back into place, chambering the bullet with quick, efficient motions.

Duo needs me. And I didn't help him.

Unacceptable.

And this time he kept on going, sliding the gun into his hand in the natural extension. There was a kind of joy in at last allowing his hands to make the movements they had wanted to make all along. Bringing his arm up and inwards, resting the barrel against his temple. Finger on the trigger and squeeze, squeeze --

His eyes lit on the cross, hopelessly entangled with his left hand. "Ninmu ryoukai, Duo. I won't abandon you again."

Squeeze --



~owari~

(not really)

Re: Pocketful of Ashes

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

Which meant that Heero had been wrong. He had been wrong when he told Quatre that he couldn't help Duo now.

He had failed.

Again.

His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, in the faint light that leaked into the room from the hallway. But he didn't need the light for his fingers to complete the familiar task, sliding the perfectly oiled components back into place, chambering the bullet with quick, efficient motions.

Duo needs me. And I didn't help him.

Unacceptable.

And this time he kept on going, sliding the gun into his hand in the natural extension. There was a kind of joy in at last allowing his hands to make the movements they had wanted to make all along. Bringing his arm up and inwards, resting the barrel against his temple. Finger on the trigger and squeeze, squeeze --

His eyes lit on the cross, hopelessly entangled with his left hand. "Ninmu ryoukai, Duo. I won't abandon you again."

Squeeze --



~owari~

(not really)