Time of Their Lives
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Title: Time of Their Lives
Author: Genji
Warnings: Weirdness, definite weirdness, confusion...much
confusion....um....angst?
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Song Disclaimer: Good Riddance by Green Day...I think it sums up the
series nicely, much better than my poor writing does...
Notes: I was bored, the radio was playing and I had internet access.
Very bad combo.
//lyrics//
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//Another turning point;
A fork stuck in the road//
It was the end of it all. The last mobile suit had been self-
destructed, the last bottle of champagne had been opened and
finished, the last of the celebrations was over. Still, it seemed as
if any moment there would be an ominous beep and it would be back
into the cockpit of a machine that had been eliminated from
existence. It was time to move on, time to find one's place in a
world unsure of its future.
It was time to part ways.
Such a thought was inconceivable to the five that had spent there
waking hours worrying about the fate of mankind. They had done this
a year prior, and then it had been with jokes and smiles, promises to
keep in touch--promises that were never kept.
However, with the destruction of the gundams, there was a certain
finality about this time. They had all had their taste of the real
world outside of the missions and the bloodshed. And still, the
taste was strange to those that were used to the sharp flavor of
their own sanguine fluid.
They had been caged their entire lives, and now the door was open--
gone was the comfort of routine and certainty that they were needed
in this world after all. They parted ways, giving parting words to
each other and walked away to their own corners of the universe.
North. South. East. West. Hell.
//Time grabs you by the wrist;
Directs you where to go..//
It wasn't as if they had a choice about their future. No formal
education, no formal training in how to survive outside of the war--
the war, it was in their blood, in their very beings. Like cannibals
they had tasted the forbidden, and now, once brought into
civilization, they could no longer indulge their darker desires.
They had eaten War, drunk War, lived War, slept War. Every atom of
their being knew nothing but War. War--a harsh and jealous lover
that does not yield once the peace negotiations have been agreed
upon. War--that visits the dreams of Her minions every night and
ravages them without mercy until morning.
But no one outside knows the torment that She causes when the lights
go out. No one speaks the truth, as no one wants to relive the
past. The past has passed, and still it remains lurking in the
shadows.
However, during the day, the Present rules, and guides the livings
according to the customs of the day, regardless whether or not they
pass a sweet, dreamless nights, oblivious to the world, or not.
Those that are actually living have very little say about their
actions during times of Peace--mild Peace that is affrighted of the
domineering War, fragile Peace that runs when all Hell breaks loose,
while War revels in the ensuing chaos.
//So make the best of this test
and don't ask why.//
Nightly, wherever they lay their head, the five were visited, nightly
the bore the torments of their deeds, nightly the five cried out for
something that was not there. Daily they awoke more tired than the
night before; daily they went about their lives, pretending that
nothing was wrong; daily they told themselves that nothing was the
matter.
Oh the lies they would tell themselves!
But they would survive, and did, as all the warriors do once the
battle is over. They say Time heals all. They say Time eases the
pain. This is true, if they refer to Time in tens and hundreds of
years.
Nightly the five are broken when their own weapons--memory,
conscience, love, hope--turned upon them, daily they mend their
wounds, mend their wings and wait for the next encounter, knowing the
outcome before it has even begun.
They don't bother to ask, 'Why is this happening to me?' or 'Didn't I
earn the right to peace as well?' They know the answer and take
their punishment in stride.
//It's not question
But a lesson learned in time...//
Sometimes, when War has left them bare, they wonder why they
continue. They question their reasons for surviving and the need for
their very existence. They look to the phone, to the times when
there were others who understood the pain and nod to themselves. If
the others can do it without their help, they can too.
If War has taught them one thing, it is that the end could be just
around the corner. Therefore, one should be strong and not give up
at what could be the Gates of Freedom, the Doorway to Release.
//It's something unpredictable
But in the end it's right//
During their self-inflicted exile from the others, they will find the
reason of it all. Maybe in a warm summer's day, maybe in the sound
of a child laughing, maybe the absence of the screaming shrapnel, or
a moment of pure Peace, when War is the farthest thing from their
mind for a mere moment.
In that instant their sacrifices seem valid, despite the sea of blood
they see nightly, despite the accusations in the dark, despite the
promise of revisiting the carnage they caused after twilight.
Then their minds drift back to the other four, wondering if they have
found a moment or two of consolation from their own tortures.
//I hope you had the time of your life.//
Maybe one will pick up the phone and dial a number, only to get a
recording saying that that number has been disconnected. They'll
return to the battlefields--those that they can. For, they seek
closure to their past so that they might move on--embrace the feeling
of Peace for all time.
Perhaps they'll run into each other, each trying to recreate their
own moment in time--their own instant of happiness for the time
being. They'll stop and stare, unsure if the one across the way is
truly the one that has been remembered for all these years. Maybe
one will let a grin flicker over his face; maybe the other will
realize that he has found the moment he's been seeking for so long.
Maybe they'll walk away under the pretense of getting something to
drink or eat, but instead they'll feed on each other for support.
But they don't.
//So take the photographs
and still frames in your mind//
Perhaps they'll part, return silently to their own private Hells,
revitalized, ready to take what their lover dishes out to them.
Invigorated with the knowledge that they are not completely alone--
that there is someone, somewhere out in the starry sky that suffers
just as much as they do.
They'll wipe off the dust on their thin photoalbums, and reminisce,
doddering in the reality of their memories, facing their fears in the
daylight as they page through the few sheets of photographs. Perhaps
then they'll become acquainted with Peace.
But no one makes that fateful trip.
//Hang it on a shelf
of good health and good time.//
Even though they have yet to traverse to that far off place of
embattlement where another might be waiting to give them strength,
they turn to their memories as solace, reach out for a time when they
were not completely unhappy. They collect their scraps of war
memorabilia, touch it as if it's a sacred object, as if a breath of
wind will turn it all to dust.
Then they laugh at their own stupidity, realize that these objects
are indestructible, as they have survived the 'War To End All Wars'.
Some return these objects to the bottom of their drawers, while
others keep it on hand, a beacon of strength in a sea of despair.
//Tattoos of memories
and dead skin on trial.//
There are documentaries about the war on TV, but they change the
channel, knowing that the true horror cannot be captured in actors
prancing about in make-up and fake blood, that no model of a mobile
suit can capture the terrifying magnificence of the metal creature.
They close their eyes and view the war as it really was--hopeless
though expectant, bloody but with honor, brute strength but with
tact, needless yet necessary, restrained but free. No, nothing could
capture the contradicting experience that war itself embodies, nor
the display of raw courage each participant portrayed--risking their
own lives for the betterment of humanity.
//For what it's worth,
It was worth all the while.//
They reflect on the way life was before and after the war. Some
grinning, some smiling wistfully, some letting a flicker of something
flit over their still withdrawn façade, they reach out for the phone,
to contact someone else who would know the sentiments coursing
through their veins without even saying a word. First information,
and then, shakily, an unfamiliar number.
A busy signal--someone's on the other end. Could it be? Or is it
just a trick? A coincidence? Is it worth the risk?
Most definitely yes.
//It's something unpredictable,
But in the end it's right//
An uncertain 'Hello' and quick exchange of words.
A date? As soon as possible.
When? Now.
Where? Wherever is closest.
Goodbye.
//I hope you had the time of your life.//
They meet, for the first time in five years--each having grown
considerably since their last meeting, each bearing their own private
scars. A furtive glance to the left and right, a nod to the other
three exchanging their own greetings quietly on this forgotten street
corner.
Some one cracks a joke, another a witty comment, a pun. Groans all
around, and the offender pretends to be insulted. They walk off to
some private corner in a café to lightly discuss their lives after
the war--pretend that everything's A-OK, taking small comfort in the
others' hidden innuendos of a lifestyle somewhat less that perfect.
And when the day is over, they smile, joke, and make promises they
will never keep, parting once more.
~owari~
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©2001 by Genji. Please do not remove without permission.
