<<Do you remember
The things we used to say?
I feel so nervous when I think of yesterday>>

War fingers. . . the fingers of a million deaths. . . a thousand stares and stained in blood for all eternity. He sighed and slowly sank to the ground. The rain beat down from the sky. Weeping for the loss of its precious children no doubt. He didn't seem to mind. He stopped feeling emotion so long ago. . .

His knees settled in the mud, the brown goo climbing and weaving its way to stain his clothes. It didn't matter; they would be burned at dawn. Everything would be gone forever. Material and physically everything was pardoned and would disappear from memory. . . yet the mental images. . . blood and death. They would remain. Even a hundred years from now, the ruins of civilization that he made would still whisper their haunted tunes. The soft depressing songs of those innocents whom he had killed.

Fingers slowly reached out and touched the stone. It was something he had to do. Her monument would be destroyed tomorrow with the rising sun. Disappearing forever. That so hated and loved monument that he couldn't stand the sight of anymore. If he could, he would have shredded it by hand. How could one do that to a child?

Fingers slid along the characters in the wet limestone. She deserved so much more than a decaying corpse and a cheap limestone marker. She deserved to be standing here not him. . . well at least in her own thoughts.

After all, she was more innocent than he was. She never knew the hardships and trials war was. She never had to face the destruction of a nation by her own hands, pretend not to notice the glares and the stinging words of hate. She never was betrayed. . .. She never betrayed. She never had to force herself to eat when everything tasted like the copper swirl of blood.

Never watch your mistakes kill hundreds of innocents. Never had to feel the guilt and self-loathing. How could she? She never understood her own words either. . .. He blindly looked to her guidance. . . the blind leading the blind.

Now he knew. He knew with every breath his actions and their consequences. . . how easy would it be to say it never happened. . . but the fate of so many replied on learning from his actions. Years from now, he would be scoffed at by men three times his age. . . they don't know. . . they could never understand. . .

She was lucky. . .. He was not. He now was an old man in a child's body. Sick of living and wanting to leave this plane of living. . . yet, he had so long before then. . . they never would understand the most important lesson that should have been learned. . .

Men using children as pawns. . . never thinking about the souls they would crush, lives they were ruining. . . he was a pawn and always would be. . . separated from so many. . . never knowing childhood. . . it was ripped so unfairly away from him. Oh, she would laugh now. . . calling him weak. . . childish. . . he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted to be a child; he wanted to relive his life. He wanted to be that innocent and naïve child. He wanted to crawl back into his shell. . .

He wanted to be heard. . . he didn't want to be hated. . . he wanted to be held and told that everything would be fine. . . but it would never happen. He lost that chance before he even realized it. Life was good to some people and harsh to others.

<<How could I let things
Get to me so bad?
How did I let things get to me?>>

Out of all of them. . . he was the baby. He was least prepared hiding behind so many masks he couldn't even remember now who he was. . . like trying to grasp at bits and pieces that were so smashed it could never be worth the effort. . .no was left who really cared. . . well. . .

One cared. . . and taught him the others cared as well. And slowly opening up. . . they were a family. A haphazard family held together by fear and self-loathing. . .

It wasn't much. . .

But he was holding on the last threads of hope. He leaned forward and touched his head against the stone. Cool and hard, like her in every aspect. . . a horrid analogy to make of someone but it would seem so true of her. Harsh of soul and words. So sure of herself.

He loved her. . .
He loathed her. . .
He wished her hell. . .
And then overall he wished she felt the same of him.

Hell was his life. . . everyday he lived he remembered all those faces. . . claiming every waking minute. . . and slipping to haunt his mind the moment his eyes slipped shut. Not that he deserved silence and pity; he deserved the harsh torment. . .

Black cell walls that absorbed his screams of pain and violation. . . the tears that fell at the weakness of his spirit as he bit his tongue against the whip of the man... men... it never mattered.

Pain was all his memories brought. . . voices commanding him. . . controlling him. He would do it for her. . . for the colonies. . . because after awhile. . . after a while he couldn't stop it. . . he was his rage, his anger. . . his pain and his agony. They became his force to live. . . to stand and fight when limbs were tired. . . he became everything he ever hated. Self-hatred grew to the point. . . mirrors. Mirrors bothered him. His sense of self worth became nothing and he spiraled down deeper and deeper. . . he couldn't stop. It was easier to escape emotion than to deal with it. Killing wasn't for peace it was a escape. . . only to later creep back to him in ravishing flesh clawing nightmares. . . then he would kill just to dull the senses. . . didn't they say that after a while death and killing seemed natural?

So he killed with out thinking it was easier to kill that way. They weren't people. . . they were hindrances. . . not worthy of life. He was a person and they were not. So killing them was perfectly all right. . .if they weren't human. . ..

But they were. . .. Deep in the recesses of his mind he knew what he was doing. . . he would someday have to deal with it. . . someday was coming quickly. . . he tried to deal with it in one aspect. . . he was a soldier wasn't he? And what do soldier's do once the war is done? What then. . .

Betrayal. . . he betrayed their trust and friendship. . . he. . .gods he nearly killed them. . . listening to lies they feed him. . . though they weren't to blame. He was. It was his stupidity that got him again. He never was the smartest nor the best at anything. Never having something worthwhile to claim as his own. . .

<<Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying. . .
Like dying. . .>>

He would be haunted by screams ringing in his ear. Cries of pain that only got released when he was hurt. . . but he was suppose to be hurt. He was to be punished. But now. . . no. . . they rewrote history for him. For his sake. For his sanity, they said. He had to eat. . . they understood. He never betrayed them.

Oh he betrayed them. . . they lied to make him stop hating himself. . . stop hating everything he was. . . try to make him feel again. Lies they spun were so intricate. They kept telling him it would be fine. So, why wasn't it?

Why was he sitting in front of some grave of the person he wanted to fight for?
Why was he crying in the rain at the ends of his sanity?

When was the last time. . .?
The last moment he felt anything but guilt. . .

The war he started fighting began with guilt and it ended with more guilt than one person should have. But he deserved every discomfort life had to offer him, didn't he?

Isn't that what she wanted. . . to make him feel worthless and stupid and naïve and useless?

Wiping rain and hot tears on soaked sleeves he stared without emotion at the grave.

<<Will you hold on to me
I am felling frail
Will you hold on to me
We will never fail>>

Steps came from behind him and he ignored them. He knew who it was. . . or more who it could be. He almost laughed at that. . . why would he ever come to look for the whelp that he was. . . he deserved the world not some brat. . ..

"Wu. . .God. Your soaked. . ." soft words came to his ears. . .

The voice sighed and an umbrella was placed on the ground next to him. . .. A moment passed in an eternity and a half was shared between them.

He whimpered. . . he couldn't even ask. . . but _he_ understood and warm arms wrapped around him. With a sigh he leaned back. . .

"Wu. . . it isn't your fault, understand that right?" the smiling boy asked. . .

Lonely eyes looked up into bright violet orbs, filled with emotion while his reflected nothing but death. Isn't that what he deserved. . . not a wonderful and caring boy who looked out for him all too often. . .

But. . .

He didn't deserve love then why would fates tempt him with it. . . why would they dangle it in front of him. They knew sooner than later he would try and hold that ray of hope only to see it whither and melt away. Burning in his touch. . .

Wasn't the world cruel enough without teasing him with what he wanted more than anything. . . to be held and loved. . . be told it was all right. . . to cry to someone who would understand. . .

But. . .

Those eyes never wavered. . .

They never showed anything but patience and love. Love?

Love.

It was time to stop wasn't it? He would loose everything but his physical body if he didn't stop.

He let it go. . . he let the masks go and see the world through the eyes. . .
The eyes he had had before the war, only this time with a lifetime of experience behind them. . .

Fragile eyes, full of dreams and hopes. . . sorrows and pains. . . hate and love. . .

And the arms tightened around him. He didn't. . . he wasn't losing that wonderful happiness in those eyes was he?

<<I wanted to be so perfect you see
I wanted to be so perfect>>

He sighed and leaned back. . . eyes closing and the rain beating harshly down on both of them. He needed to stop this self-hatred. . . soon. And maybe this was going to have to be the reason to stop.

Slowly, almost slower than the normal pace of time he touched her grave. And muttered the first words of getting back his sanity. . . "I forgive you."

It seemed awful to move away from that grave. . . lonely among the ruins of a home he had once destroyed. But it was her monument. It was her philosophy at work and she deserved no great peace monument.

She wanted to fight and she did. . . through him. Now all the pain and anguish she never realized was going to be there. . . it was hers.

Let her see what her ideals brought. He had tried to see it her way. . . and it didn't work. . . but he had no ties left did he? No colony of elders. . .. No traditions. . . only wisps of phantoms trying to control him. . .

He wanted to be perfect. . . in her eyes. But he already was perfect. . . and maybe. . . it would take time. . . and those violet eyes could have him.

"Wufei?" those words whispered through the thunder and rain and wind.

His throat was sore from his crying but he looked one last time at the grave then turned and took that first leap back to the land of the living. It was his time to live and she. . . she was dead. Her philosophy killed her, not him. It was her choice, not his.

"You okay, Wu. . .?" worry reflected to him as strong arms pulled him close and lips covered his. . . and he let them. . . passion he wanted to feel was his. . . even for only a moment. . .

Those lips slowly pulled away. . . almost sadly. . . violet eyes shining with more inner strength then he ever had possessed. "You'll be okay, now?"

Black eyes warmed to the way they were before the war. . . warm chocolate brown and with a attempted smile he gazed back, revealing all pain and torment that was always hidden. . .

"Love you. . ." the boy with the golden cross-whispered into black silk.

And for the first time. . . in forever it seemed those golden exotic features smiled and beamed and almost seemed to be free. . .he couldn't say those words yet. . . but soon. And maybe this time. . . well, maybe the fates were giving him a chance at happiness. . .

And a small limestone grave. . . it had only the tears of the dead to mourn for the body who laid their now. . . cold and harsh and abandoned. . . rather like she had left him. And how he was leaving her. . . and her precious monument. . . her Gundam. . . she would know what it was like to be dying. . . dying in the sun.

<<Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying in the sun
Like dying. . .
Like dying. . .>>

'Dying in the Sun. . .'
Cranberries, "Bury the Hackett"
Lyrics by: O'Riordan and Hogan