Circles

Circles
"Highlander"/"Gundam Wing" crossover
Persephone

Dying hurts like hell.  No matter how many times I go through it, it's always the same. 

Some people wonder about a light and a tunnel.  All I've ever seen is black nothingness.  No flight of angels, no heavenly music, or funky lighting.  Just endless night.  If there's anything there, then I've never seen it, which only leads me to conclude one of two things: either A.) there is nothing else and you just die or B.)  there is something else but I'm not allowed to partake of it.  Either way, I'd long ago decided that miserable as it was, existence was preferable to nothingness. 

That being said, the first thing I noticed on my return trip to reality was the fact I was naked and flat on my back.  Under different circumstances (i.e. several centuries earlier) this might have been a pleasurable discovery.  Right now, it was disconcerting.  I was dead.  Or at least everyone should have been under the impression I was. Guess not.  Damn, I hate loose ends.  I opened my eyes, wondering how I was going to explain this.

The second thing I realized as I opened my eyes was that I was staring down the barrel of a gun... No, staring would mean I had a choice in the matter.  It was more accurate to say that I had a gun barrel resting lightly against the tip of my nose.  I stilled, lifting only my eyes to meet a pair of crystalline hard green eyes belonging to a boy about my age--my apparent age that is.  Although there was a weariness, perhaps a sickness of the heart, that convinced me that on the inside this boy was far, far older than he had any right to be.

At least I had the excuse of my immortality. 

"What the hell are you?" 

I blinked, more at the steady tone in which the words were spoken than the words themselves.  The boy sounded for all the world as if he were asking me what the weather was like outside or if page forty-two was the homework assignment.  It was not the sort of tone one used to discuss the miracles or curses of existence in.

It was probably pointless to try and pretend I didn't know what he meant.  Still, why should I make things easy?  I never had before and I was far too old to learn new tricks now.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied mildly.

Big mistake.  The barrel of the gun which had been resting lightly against my skin moved and was suddenly digging into the flesh of my forehead.  I didn't flinch though I did wonder if he'd pull the trigger.  There was nothing to indicate that he wouldn't.  It would hurt like hell if he did but it wasn't like it would kill me.

"You self-destructed your Gundam and took most of the force of the blast.  You were thrown several feet," he catalogued monotonously.  "You had injuries that would have killed a normal human several times over.  Even an enhanced human being would have had difficulty walking away from that.  Lift up the sheet."

The command came so abruptly that I was startled.  My hesitation caused the nub of the gun to cut into my skin as pressure was renewed.  I moved slowly, turning down the sheet, never letting my eyes leave my captor.

"Look down."

I didn't bother to resist.  It wouldn't do me any good.   I knew what I was going to see without being told or having to see it again but disobeying was more than likely to earn me a bullet in the brain and that wasn't something I was eager to jump into again.

Healthy pink flesh filled my line of vision.  It never ceased to amaze me how well my preternatural abilities did in healing me.  Looking at me, you would never know I'd been in an explosion that would have leveled several city blocks. 

"So, now," the boy was speaking again, "Maybe you'll understand why I'm thinking that you're not exactly human, are you?"

I studied him then laughed.  If sound could cut, then that's what my laugh would sound like.  I've been told it's bitter, almost to the point of being brittle.  Most people flinch or freeze at the sound of it.  This boy never moved a muscle.  He might have been a statue for all he cared.  It raised my opinion of him a notch.

"What's your name?"  I asked.

He blinked.  "Answer my question."

"You answer mine and I'll answer yours," I raised my arms slowly for him to see that I meant no harm by it and crossed my arms.

He hesitated.  Probably wondering if it was altogether wise to give something that could survive the destruction of Gundaminum without a scratch his name.  Then he shrugged.  "Trowa."

I leaned back into the pillows, feeling a weariness that had nothing to do with the wounds I should have sustained.  Call it more a heaviness of the heart.  "Well, Trowa.  My name is Heero Yuy and I am Immortal."

***End