Title: Like the Wings of Michael

Author: Stacey-Marie

Part: 3/3

Pairings:  1+2

Warnings: hmm…well it’s odd, just odd. Heero POV, shonen ai..

Disclaimers: Gundam Wing, its chara, mechs and all other miscellaneous stuff doesn’t belong to me; they are the property of Bandai, Sunrise and

the Sotsu Agency. So don’t sue because you have a better chance of finding a live cabbit in my room than something of value unless of course you

like dirty socks… piles and piles of dirty socks…

Note: This was written for Under the Bridge’s The Color and Shape contest. Enjoy and wish me luck!

 

 

 

Like the Wings of Michael

Part Three:

 

 

            We got the car of course. We found a small, slightly decrepit three story apartment building on a hill in the part of town where people weren’t

inclined to ask about their neighbors. This wasn’t a big city or anything so there was no bad part where you might get shot for being out too late; our

section was just the indifferent lower end. There was no basement to the building so we converted the first floor to a garage and the top two for ourselves.

The building repairs and modifications kept us busy and our minds off of other things. The noise of it and the back drop of the city were enough to keep us

sane, but we still didn’t speak much. We continued to share a bed although we never did anything in it but sleep. He practically woke with the dawn while

I stayed in.

            For most of that year Duo did not leave the house. I don’t think he was afraid of getting caught, there was a warrant out for his arrest after leaving

the trial but it was just a formality and never made into an important issue. I think it was more he feared being recognized and having to face his memories

all over again. It’s hard work digging yourself out of that hole and the fear of being pushed back in is always over your shoulder. It was then that I started

the practice of getting coffee each morning for the two of us. I was not as recognizable and had more freedom in that sense, so I did all our errands. Over

time Duo seemed to regain himself, seemed to come back to where he was in AC 196: a bit more guarded to be sure, but not locked in a silent moral loop.

Eventually Duo fixed the car and redeveloped a passion for mechanics. My idea of working on the car together was a flop. He preferred to have the garage

to himself, and then solicit my idea later. My hands never actually touched that vehicle except to push it up the hill to the house.

            I think it was more the passage of time during the remodeling, triggered in part by the car, which helped the most. Physical work is something you

can lose yourself in if you don’t want to think or it can be mindless in the way that gives you lots of time to think. I want to say that my presence played a

role in bringing Duo back, I really do, but I don’t know if that’s true or not.

            I had never been a talkative person and probably never will be. That was probably a big factor in breaking the unnatural silence that had settled

itself around him. During the war I had thought that his constant chatter was more for himself than for the supposed listener’s benefit and over than year

I came to see that I was right. Duo liked and was comforted by the sound of human voices around him. His own voice brought him back to himself.

_______

 

            It was a full two days after we’d stared at the clouds before I finally brought it up. It was during one of our morning coffee times, and it was odd

that I was the one to brake our contemplative silence.

            “What was it you saw in those clouds the other day?”  He was caught off guard and blinked into his vanilla latté. I repainted the scene for him: how

the shades of grey, blue and white had melded, how he had been transfixed, and even the sort of peaceful thought quenching silence I had floated into. He

blinked again, his eyes questioning my passionate remembrance of the moment and the unusually long description of it. He was surprised at me; surprised I

had remembered and considered something like this important.

            “So,” I queried him again. “What did you see?” Still stunned he answers truthfully:

            “They were like I’d always imagined the wings of the Archangel Michael would be. They held the promise of rain and the storms he commands and

are also just a bit dirty with the blood of the angels he slew in the Great War.” It’s not enough, not for me.

            “But what did you say to them? As we left what did you say?” Again he is taken aback by my passion on this subject.           

            “Michael is the Angel of repentance and mercy, but supposedly he has not smiled since he led God’s angels against the army of Lucifer. He is like

me. Even though he helps others to repent for their sins and find forgiveness, in his own mind he still hasn’t washed the blood off of his hands. I just said

goodbye to an old friend.”

            “Goodbye? Why goodbye?”

            Maybe that was when…when…maybe it was then that he finally let the last of it go because at that moment he set down his coffee, reached out

and pulled me toward him in a kiss. It was slow and gentle, but firm and confident. My coffee fell to the floor unnoticed. I held on then and I still haven’t let

go. And maybe this story of ours doesn’t need a beginning or an end, maybe just the telling needs one. We haven’t let go, who knows if we ever will. We are

like the clouds’ many colors and hints melding yet separate. Like the clouds the future teases us with what it might bring, but we are ready. We will not let go.

 

END.

 

 

Author Notes:

             As promised here they are!  First off I want to discuss the clouds. Now I know they may not fully fill the theme of color, shape or elemental

symbolism so I want to explain how I got them. I was thinking of colors to base this around when I went outside. The clouds I described were the ones over

my backyard and I just plopped down in my driveway. Heero’s thoughts on them are exactly what went through my mind (see I didn’t just descend to weird drivel!...well at least for that part).

            Next I want to say that I actually dug out my tapes for this (by the way the 2nd one is missing and I am so pissed). I wanted the sequence in the

beginning to be correct, not just my recollection of what it should be. Really it started with the bullets. I couldn’t remember how many and when Duo shot

each one. Go me and my research!

            The town. The town was partially based on Delphi and partially this place where our bus stopped for coffee on Corfu (both of those are in Greece

if you didn’t know…Corfu is an island way up north, practically Albania). The town is really laid out like Delphi in my mind: there are the main streets (all

two of them) and then there’s a turn up a hill into God knows what of the residential district. All the shops, hotels, restaurants and the pharmacy are on the

main streets. The Corfiot town was all closed up “for winter.” It was on the way back down from the island’s highest mountain so buses went through it

fairly regularly in summer. It wasn’t a tourist trap type thing, but there were plenty of coffee shops which would close up in winter since there weren’t

enough people to keep them open. Seriously, Stathis told us the owner of the café we went to probably didn’t expect more customers than the two old guys

with a paper for the rest of the day.

            My comments on work as putting your mind off something or giving you space to check out = slow week in the lab.

I also want to thank Sarah’s Archangels:

(http://www.sarahsarchangels.com/archangels/michael.html)

which is where I got my information on Michael. This story wasn’t really going in that direction at all until I came up the stairs and saw my icon. That

prompted me to expand what I knew of Michael and one thing led to another *poof* my story!

 

Any other questions, comments, criticisms or grammatical corrections can be emailed to me at: sb1689@albany.edu

I promise to answer you. ^_^