At Last

by Liewe

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She entered the cemetery, thirteen roses clutched in pale hands, thorns biting through delicate flesh. The guard smiled at her, lifting his hat and giving her a small little bow. He had seen her many a year, always on this day, always clutching the thirteen roses of the purest white.

//Dig if you will the picture
of you and I engaged in a kiss
the sweat of your body covers me
can you my darling 
can you picture this//

He had remembered reading in the paper about this young woman and her late husband. He had admired the pictures of their wedding, and wished that he too could find such happiness in this new world. He envied her, her pain, her past. To have known a love so strong that even a decade later he could still see the evidence of it in her eyes.

Even now, most probably in her thirties she looked like the young woman being twirled across the dance floor on her wedding night. Smiles and laughter evident even through the picture taken on that day so long ago.

He loved her, in his own way. He had watched her, and he always made sure to work on this day; the anniversary of her husband's death. He followed her too. Followed her home. To work. Through her everyday life. And he could, he had the skill to do so, because he had known in her other life. The life of the spy she had once been.

He loved her with all of his twisted heart. And he relished in her pain, on this day, her anniversary. He relished in her pain, and wished to see her face contorted in agony as it suited her traitorous ways.

//dream if you can a courtyard
an ocean of violets in bloom
animals strike curious poses
they feel the heat 
the heat between me and you//

She knelt on the cold ground, tears falling down ivory cheeks as the memories assaulted her. His laughing emerald eyes as he swung her in the air. The promise of love eternal. She had known that it was too good to last. Too perfect. Too right. She was a traitor, and condemned to live her life alone. She was a shell of her former self. Functioning on automatic, waiting for this day. Always planning to end her own life, but never going through with it.

Her daughter needed her to remain. Needed to know that her mother hadn't left her. That she wasn't an orphan. That had been his last wish, as she held him in her arms. His blood staining the fabric of her wedding dress. Heedless of the chaos, which surrounded them.

She was glad, that her daughter had not been in the limousine with them when it crashed. That her shining star had acquiscesed to their request for privacy. She was glad that they had forgotten to take precautions that one night. She still had her daughter. She still had a part of him, even though he had been dead and gone for over a decade. She still had something.

But it was hardly enough to keep her alive. She remembered the happy times when he'd surprise her for lunch, dragging her to their courtyard, the mask of his youth long forgotten. An open caring man left in its place.

At twenty-three her world had shattered when he protected her that last time, giving his life to save her own. With his death, she had been left alive, but not living she became a lifeless marionette. Waiting for her turn to come; praying for her death.

//how could you just leave me standing
alone in a world that's so cold
maybe i'm just too demanding
maybe i'm just like my father, too bold
maybe i'm just like my mother
she's never satisfied
why do we scream at each other
this is what it sounds like when doves cry//

He watched as she whispered words of regret. Her head bowed. Platinum locks sweeping forward to hide her angelic face. Today he would carry out his plan, he would see his angel, his dove crying out in agony as he gave her the gift of his love. Her blood coating the delicate marble of her husband's grave.

It was late, no one would come to the cemetery now. People were ruled by superstition. The primal fear of the dark decreeing that they never venture into a graveyard at night. He grinned manically as he polished the wicked blade one more time, turning off the lights in his shed before venturing into the night.

She was taken by her grief. Soft sobs reaching his ears as he crouched. Waiting for the perfect moment to leap. He had planned for this moment, for years. Ever since they had first met. A startled comment about the color of his eyes falling from her lips.

He smirked. As he leapt through the air, the deadly blade slicing through her flesh, he thought he heard her whisper thank you. As the blood flowed from the wound in her side, he saw a smile fall across her features and he cursed. This was not his dream. Not his fantasy. She was meant to die railing against the truth of it, and the fairness of life. She wasn't meant to be content.

He backed away, arms held in front of him as she whispered thank you over and over. Tears of joy replacing the ones, which had fallen before. 

//touch if you will my stomach
feel how it trembles inside
you've got the butterflies all tied up
don't make me chase
even doves have pride//

Catherine slumped over the kitchen table, tears wracking her slight body as she reeled form the news. The man she had seen as a younger brother standing behind her, his back to the door as he mumbled inconsequential answers into the phone, tears falling down his cheeks as he struggled to accept the news.

"Yes officer," he croaked before gingerly replacing the phone in the cradle. Arms lifting to wrap around himself, a desperate attempt to reassure himself that all was well.

"She'll be happy now," he murmured to the distraught woman in front of him. "She'll be happy. She'll be with him. She couldn't do it herself. Her pride wouldn't let her. But she'll be happy now," he repeated, sinking to the floor, his head buried in his knees. "Midii will be happy now."

A teenager stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene before her. Struggling with herself. "Mama's dead, isn't she?" she asked softly. Emerald eyes filling with pain. Her father's mask held in suddenly boneless fingers.

"Last night," Christof said, trying to stand to comfort his niece.

"On papa's anniversary," she responded.

"Yes."

"She'll be happy now. At last."

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NOTE: An anniversary fic for the Spy and the Silencer's third year of existence. A thank you to Midii Une for keeping up the good work with her wonderful site ^_^

Standard disclaimers apply, the characters of Gundam Wing aren't mine, but Christof is, so please don't use him without my permission. Also, the lyrics are to the song, When Doves Cry by Prince, I don't own that either…