Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, Gundam. Blah, blah, don't own. Blah, blah, blah, don't litigate.
AN/ Warnings: Shonen ai. 3+4/4+3, mention of 3x4. Quatre's POV
Genre(s):Super Furry Angst, dark, mention of attempted suicide (semi-graphic). Philosophy.
Setting: the colony Quatre and Heero were on right after the battle in which Trowa sacrificed himself
Legend: /. . ./ indicates italics
"Hell is oneself;
Hell is alone, the other figures in it
Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from.
And nothing to escape to. One is always alone."
-T. S. Elliot (1888-1965) US-born British poet and dramatist. /The Cocktail Party I:3/
The universe is an immense and ever-expanding limitless void. The cosmos is continually swelling, a hundred new worlds being born every minute. The heavens are a wondrous place, an infinite sea of black dotted with tiny diamonds that sparkle in stunning brilliance. The universe is endless. So, how can it feel this small?
I had once dreamed about this place. I dreamed about its unfathomable depths, about the worlds waiting to be born and waiting to be discovered. Of adventures waiting to happen. Of dreams waiting to come true. But now I know the truth. Outer space is none of these things. It's all just an illusion. There's nothing mystical, or magical about it. It's just a big black void between planets and stars.
A void between planets that are as cold as the abyss itself. Planets like the earth. Earth too, was all an illusion. I had thought it once so warm and wet and inviting. But it's not. It's cold, it's so cold.
I remembered so many nights of boyish longing, of staring out of a window at the synthetic landscape and wanting to see the real thing. The colonies were just a mirror of the Earth, but it wasn't the same. Like in a mirror, everything on the colonies seemed to look so two dimensional. Like a reflection, the slightest touch obscures it. I guess that's why I wanted to fight for the colonies. As much as I hate feeling suffocated and claustrophobic inside the imitation of the colonies, I hated Earth more.
Sure, sometimes I can forget what a horrible place it is and enjoy the scenery. Nature is so beautiful. There is something so innocent and carefree about wild animals, and yet so wise. Everything about their world is in perfect balance. They only take what they can give and use everything that they acquire. Through it all, their world has been one of love and understanding. A rabbit may die to feed a fox, but in the end it is the fox who ultimately feeds the rabbit as well. But what about the human world? What about all that we have done?
I've so seen many amazing things that people have created over time. And yet all people seem to want to do is kill and destroy. They've started to worship beauty and money, and the only things on their minds is sex and power. And it is only the humans that have tried to systematically drive another species to extinction. [1]
And I've seen the worst of them. Many times I was prodded into going to Father's dinner balls and parties. Everyone wanted to see Master Winner's only baby boy and future heir. They'd get drunk and engage in silly little conversations, trying to influence me, so that in the future perhaps I would be a powerful ally to them. Power. Beauty. Wealth. Youth. I had it all, didn't I? Perhaps I didn't want all those. I just wanted freedom. And my father's respect.
I know he had an idea of what kind of a man he wanted me to grow up into well before I was born. I know he was disappointed when I grew into a small, pale, girlish little boy. And I know he knew which way my sexual preferences ran, and of course he was ashamed of me for that. Imagine. Master Winner, ashamed of his only son, the boy he used to go on and on about. Until I was born, that is. Hmpf. Alexander the Great was gay, and look what he accomplished. [2]
So I had thought, maybe if I went out to fight to protect my family, maybe if I showed him how strong I could be, he'd accept me. How wrong I was. But deep down, I think he was proud of me for standing up to him. He was a great man who accomplished so much for so many people, and I guess deep down, I love him too. I just wish we both could have said it. But I guess it doesn't matter much now.
I sit here now, with Heero, trying to keep him warm and alive. You always hurt the one's you love, right? Unbidden, my mind strayed back to Trowa. To that night in San Francisco we shared. [3] I loved every minute of it, and I'm not ashamed. I know we're young, but inside I feel so much older. I remember that night well. It was the first time I'd ever seen any expression on his face. How warmly he looked at me. How concerned he looked when I yelped in pain at first. And the first smile I'd ever seen on his face. I'm sure we both didn't mean it to go that far, but neither of us regretted it, and it felt too right to pass up. I hope he thought of me as much as I thought of him. But no, that doesn't matter anymore, either, does it?
I want to believe he's in a better place now. But I'm not so sure. I don't even think I believe in a Supreme Being anymore. I haven't prayed to Allah since the war began. And if there was a God, how could he let me do that to Trowa? I thought He was supposed to be all-loving. But if evil exists, how can He be all-loving? Or maybe He just can't stop evil. But then He wouldn't be omnipotent, then right? One of my sister's was really pious. But I haven't seen her in so long, I wonder if she still is.
She used to tell me how powerful and loving and forgiving Allah was. I remember when I was ten or so, I asked her once that if Allah intended to prevent evil, and was capable of doing just that, then how could evil exist? [4] Her face contorted in rage, and she back-handed me in a resounding /whack/. She told me never to question Allah or his ways, because then I would go straight to Hell. When I was around thirteen, I started thinking that maybe Hell was better than where I was currently.
During that year I attempted the act of suicide, but I'm here now, so I guess I failed then, huh? There was something so morbidly fascinating about it. I did my homework, I guess I'm just too methodical for my own good. I lay in my bed that night, faking a stomach ache so I wouldn't have to go to another one of my father's parties. The house was nearly deserted, just a few servants to do my bidding when I rang. If I didn't call for them, they were told to leave me alone. Perfect.
I have found one of my father's razor heads used for replacement when the other one wore down. It didn't take much to pull out one of the blades. I admit I had second thoughts, but soon my resolve was hardened. You don't understand how scared I am to grow up in a world like this. Scared? I was terrified. Look at what we do to each other on a daily basis. There will always be killers, rapists, thieves, and not enough saints. I sometimes wonder if this is just some screwed up planet Allah messed up on and forgot about.
Most of the details of that night were blurred by the blood loss. I remember feeling around for my pulse, the digging the razor into my skin and yanking it down the entire length of my arm, nearly to mid-elbow. Things went fuzzy after a while, and I woke up in a pool of my own blood, the blade still clenched in one hand. The angry face of one of my sister stared back at me. She (her name escapes me at the moment), slapped me yet another time in my life and jerked me out of bed, telling me to wash up and conceal the wound. She promised to take care of my bloody sheets. As I started for the door to the adjacent bathroom, she grabbed me by my sore wrist and turned me around, hissing in my face that if I ever did something so selfish and stupid again, for sure Allah would condemn me. To this day, no else knows.
Well, except Trowa, but I guess he doesn't count anymore. And for some reason I'm so numb, I still can't believe he's really gone. To know that I'll never see his face again, that secret smile he always saved for only me, hear that hard-to-entice laugh, or his deep green eyes....... It's unfair! It's not right..... As he spoke his last words to me, as he floated farther and farther away from me, Heero holding me back.... I begged Allah to take it all back. I begged him to take me instead of Trowa. I guess he never heard my prayers. Maybe that's why I don't believe in him anymore.
I look down at Heero now, wondering if he'll ever wake up. Imagine, Little Quatre. Innocent Quatre. Angelic Quatre, doing this to his friends. Doing this to the one he loved. I run a hand over Heero's feverish brow as he murmurs something in his sleep. And I feel so powerless. Trowa's dead, Heero may be dying, Allah how could I?
I turn my gaze to one of the viewing portals, staring out. Out into that big black void. Out into that shattered dream, that graveyard. And I wonder. I wonder how can it feel this small?
How can it feel this wrong?
Notes:
[1] In France, about 800 A.D., the Emperor Charlemagne founded an order for the killing of wolves, called the Louveterie. In the second century B.C., the King of Scots decreed that anyone killing a wolf was to be awarded a whole ox. In 985 A.D., King Edgar of England demanded a tribute of three hundred wolf skins per year from the King of Whales.
(Excerpt from The Wolf Almanac, Robert H. Busch.)
There were several other attempts to exterminate the wolf in many other countries, including the United States. They almost succeeded. Several species of wolf went extinct and the survivors are on the Endangered Species list.
But are still continuing to be killed.
[2] Didn'tcha know?
[3] Actually, I don't think Trowa and Quatre shared much besides a room and a conversation in San Francisco. It just seemed to fit in this fic.
[4] There are several disputes about the existence of a God, not just these few:
1. If God can prevent evil, but doesn't, then He isn't all loving.
2. If God intends to prevent evil, but /cannot/, then He isn't omnipotent.
3. If God both intends to prevent evil and is capable of doing so, then how can evil exist?
There are also several arguments protesting the existence of a God, one of the most insisted ones is that nothing can come from nothing. Time is infinite, so there had to be a time when nothing existed. So, who created the universe?