Every night. There's no escaping it. No running and hiding
from it. 'Cause eventually sleep catches up with him.
And as soon as his eyes are closed, it starts. The images rushing
to his head. The memories. The nightmares. Of what was. What he
saw. And what he did. No matter how hard he tries to stay awake,
if only just to delay it a bit. It's useless, pointless…
stupid. How could he think that… Just because now his code
name is Preventer Wind, a peacekeeping agent. How could he think
it should set everything right? Erase all the horror. Ease his
conscience. No, it would take way more than that. In fact, maybe
it'll never really be ok. He'll never really be able to stop
blaming himself. Hating himself.
Every time he looks in the mirror, his father's eyes stare back.
Full of reproach. Impossible to forget. To ever believe again
that he deserves anyone's love. When his dead parents would be
horrified. No, Preventer can't redeem him. Nor can…
Lucrezia. Bright-eyed Lucrezia, his dearest friend in the whole
world. The only one who still believes in him. Thank God for her.
But even her… she can't know what it's like.
She's still innocent. Even though she saw almost as much as he
did. No, she's still good inside. Always has been, and always
will be. Positive, hopeful, loyal… and as stubborn as they
come. She refused to give up on him, even when he had. Even when
the world believed he was dead. She had always known he wasn't.
Somehow. And she fought to find him, then bring him back.
Convince him that there can be a second chance. That he deserves
it.
And she's still fighting for him to this day. Trying to get it
through his head that he was worth it all. The fighting, the war,
the pain. She who has always hated wars. And who, nonetheless,
stuck by his side through it all. Risked her own life countless
times for him. She wears the scars on her beautiful skin. But she
smiles and shrugs it all off, like it was no big deal. Like it
was the natural thing to do. Because he was worth it. His cause
was worth it. His kingdom. His sister and her ideals. It was all
worth fighting for.
If only he could believe that. He wants to so bad, because then
it would mean that all he had to do can be justified. That would
make it not quite as horrible. Easier to live with. If he could
only believe that deep down he's still a good person. Just like
her. Maybe a little more disillusioned, but still human and still
fundamentally good. He would give anything for that. To be worthy
of her friendship. And her loyalty, her sacrifices. And her…
No, that can never be.
Love is way out of his reach. After what he did, he cannot
possibly hope that she would… love him. Hell, it's bad
enough that he can't get it out of his mind… what he feels
for her can't be love. If he truly loved her, he would have never
gotten her mixed up in his personal hell. He wouldn't have
allowed her to follow him. Risk her neck for him. He would have
kept her away from the war, just like he did with his sister…
as much as possible. No, how dare he call it love? He just…
took from her. Everything that she had to offer. Clung to her
like an anchor. A guardian angel. That's neediness, not love. And
he should understand if, one day, she woke up and realized that
she's been used, and told him to go find himself another
babysitter.
His worst recurring nightmare. What he did to her. He never meant
for any of it to happen. He never meant to grow so attached to
her. So darn dependent on her good opinion of him. Her
encouragement. Her presence. He would have wanted to keep her
safe. But she didn't take no for an answer. She wanted to believe
in him. And she wanted to help. No matter how dangerous the
situation.
And now the nightmares never leave him. He tosses and turns in
his bed, all sweaty, his heart rate through the ceiling. Thinking
he just got a child killed. A little black-haired girl. No more
than five, maybe six. He rushes over to her, and when he turns to
see her face, he recognizes those eyes. Hers. He screams and
calls for backup. But he can't wake up and he can't be heard. His
voice stuck in his throat. Powerless to save her, her blood all
over him. Her eyes, clouded over, yet not leaving his face. All
grown-up, all of a sudden. Like he knows her today. Her lips
still wanting to say, "It's not your fault. Now complete the
mission. Go get your kingdom back."
He finally awakes. Stares at his hands for a while, sitting up on
his bed, as if he could really see the red stains on them. Then
he slowly surfaces to reality again. A nightmare. That's what it
was. She's not dead. She's sleeping in her quarters. Safe. For
now.
He has to get up because there's this… knot in his throat,
and he can't stop shaking, at the thought of all the times this
could have really happened. And that he would have to live with
the loss of her. If she had budged just an inch that time…
or all the other times she got this close to getting herself
killed. No, that he got this close to getting her killed.
He gets up and walks out of his room. Usually a glass of water
gets him to think straight again. But going back to sleep is not
an option. So he sits by one of the large windows and looks out
until his thoughts are all directed at the view. Space. So
peaceful. No wonder Lucrezia has always loved it. It's so…
soothing. Every night he goes back to that window after he wakes
up with her blood on his hands.
She knows. She hears him scream form her room. Every night. She
wakes up and feels her heart jump to her throat. He's having
nightmares again. If only there was something she could do for
him. During the day, she almost has herself convinced that he's
doing ok. That he's getting over his past. That he'll forgive
himself one day. He smiles at her. He cracks jokes with her and
the others. He seems to enjoy what he's doing. And he seems
almost happy with his new life. The way it's turning out.
And he tells her, every opportunity he has, that she's the one
who made it possible. And she replies, 'No, I didn't. I just
opened the door. You walked through it with your own legs."
Yet he still feels like she carried him on her shoulders. And she
knows that. And she's aware that he's not quite alright yet. Not
until he realizes it. That it was his choice to take that chance.
His choice to get back on his feet and fight again. Not hers. She
couldn't make that choice for him, and she couldn't get him out
unless he did most of the hard work. And he did. He's doing it.
She's just standing by, to help him up when it gets a little too
much to deal with. That's all.
If only there was a way for her to help him out now. When the
nightmares haunt him. That's when he would need it most. A friend
to lean on. She can't help lying awake when she hears him.
Wanting to be there for him. Sometimes she even walks out of her
quarters and into the piloting room with the big window. She
stands at the door and looks at him, feeling totally, utterly
powerless.
But she never works up the guts to let him know she's there. What
would he think? Would she be invading his privacy? And besides,
what can she really do to help? If only he'd let her hold him.
Just like she would a child. Let her stroke his hair until he
drifts off to sleep. And hold his hand. So he knows she's there.
Then the nightmares won't dare coming.
Just like when she was a child. Her own share of war horror and
her own share of nightmares. She's had so many that she has her
own theories on them. And she remembers they didn't come when her
adoptive mom or dad was there, by her bedside. She'd know they
were there. And the nightmares would stay away. Maybe if she
could be there… Maybe if she could be bold enough to let him
know she's there.
****
It took her many sleepless nights before she resolved to do it.
It took her a leap of faith like she'd never taken before. What
if… No, enough with the 'what ifs'. There's one thing left
to try. One thing she can do that may help him get over his own
ghosts.
Slowly, ever so quietly she slid out of her room. Opened his
door, careful not to make the least noise. He was there,
sleeping, all curled up like a child. The blanket pulled all the
way up to his chin. His hands clasping it nervously. He tossed,
then settled down again. But only for a brief moment. His eyelids
fluttered and his mouth stretched as if he was gritting his
teeth. He bit his lips, then tossed again. Turning his back to
her. She could see his shoulders shake underneath the blanket.
"Now what? What do I do," she thought. "How do I
make him better?" Her thoughts were interrupted by a gasp.
Her heart started racing and her hands began to quiver. He
mumbled something that she couldn't make out. Then something else…
louder, this time. "No… No, damn, no… Lucrezia,
no, oh God".
She stood back, confused, shocked. It was her name he had just
called. He always called her by her first name. One of the few
people that had actually taken the trouble to learn how to
pronounce it. "Don't you die on me. Stay with me! Look at
me!" he kept uttering confusedly, his voice broken, frantic,
his face buried in the pillow. Wet with tears.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. He quivered under her touch.
She sat on the bed and started stroking his back.
"I'm here. I'm not leaving." He must have heard her in
his sleep, because his breath became more even. He moved back so
he could feel her sitting by him. Burrowed against her lap with
his back. She ran her hand on his hair. His forehead all sweaty.
He called her again. "Lucrezia..." Did he know she was
there, or was it still from the dream? She kept stroking his
face, whispering words of comfort that she didn't even realize
she was uttering.
"It's alright… I'm here. I'm not leaving. Relax…"
His hand reached for hers and held it, first tight, as though he
was clinging to it for dear life. Then more and more gently, as
his muscles relaxed. She leaned on him and saw that his face had
also taken on a more natural expression. More peaceful. Almost
smiling. She couldn't help smiling herself, and she lowered her
face to kiss his cheek.
"Good night, Zechs." Almost ready to get up and walk
back to her room. Now that the nightmare was gone. But he kept
holding her hand captive. Not wanting to let go. She tried to
gently pry his fingers open. Ever so slowly, so he wouldn't wake
up. He wouldn't even know she had been there at all. He'd wake up
and think he didn't have nightmares that night. For the first
time. And he'd be alright.
But he felt her slip away from him. His eyelids quivered, and he
opened his eyes. Enough for him to see the silhouette of her
still sitting on his bed. He reached for her hand again and
whispered, "You said you wouldn't leave me…"
She took a deep breath, not knowing what to do next. He held her
hand tighter, and asked her again not to go just yet…
please. He must have known all along that she was in his room,
because he hadn't looked in the least surprised in finding her
there upon waking up.
"I won't go," she reassured him, "Not if you don't
want me to." He smiled, then mumbled a "Thank
you," and made room for her to lie down on the bed. Beside
him.
She blushed a deep shade of red. This was not the way she had
expected things to turn out. He saw the perplexed look on her
face. He apologized. For making her uncomfortable. For asking too
much of her. Again. "Will I ever stop?", he thought,
hating himself.
She looked at him in the darkness. Thank God she couldn't see his
eyes. The depth of that ice blue is usually enough to make her
mind go totally, completely blank. And now more than ever she
needed to know what the hell she was doing. She needed her head
to be there. Aware.
She squeezed his hand, looked the other way, and muttered,
"It's not true, Zechs. You never asked me for anything that
I wasn't already willing to give." She felt her cheeks go on
fire as she said that. She turned to face him, and continued,
"Heck, how many times did I have to convince you that you
needed my help? And, besides, it's not a matter of giving or
taking."
He knew the drill. She didn't want him to feel guilty for needing
her. Yet he couldn't help telling her he was sorry. For what
exactly he didn't even know. It was one of those all-inclusive
apologies. Sorry for everything. Sorry for me being me.
She touched her index finger to his lips and hushed him. No more.
He had to try and get some sleep. She stretched her legs on the
bed and pulled the blanket up on him. Like a child. She brushed
her fingers on his forehead, then his eyelids.
"Now keep them shut and don't think of anything, ok?"
Her voice so soothing. Almost motherly. He never knew his very
own best friend could… talk to him like that. She, so strong
and decisive, who, in her own words, "would not let him get
away with kicking his own ass… because that was her
job!" Lucrezia Noin the unflappable. The steadiest nerves on
Preventer. Miss Rational. Lying down beside him, stroking his
face and making him feel so overwhelmed he couldn't think. Only
feel her. And love her. Like he always had, right from day one.
A question. He had just one question before he could let sleep
catch onto him. "How come you are always there when I need
you?" he mumbled, his eyes still shut and his brain all
fuzzy, drifting off slowly but surely. She answered back with
another question, "How come I always have to guess it, when
you need me?"
How like her, he thought. Scolding him for not asking for help
enough. He felt her lips on his forehead. Soft, warm. "I
love you, Lucrezia," he thought, too tired to actually utter
it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd tell her.
