The Unforgiven


Summary: Just Trowa, and a soliloquy in the dark.
Rating: PG-13 because I have disease that only allows me to write
angsty things.
Disclaimer: Oh, look. See all this? All these characters? Yes, well,
I don't own them. Savvy?

AN: Less than 24 hours after stumbling back into the Gundam fandom,
here I am at 12:42 a.m., having just had to write a Trowa/Midii
story. And my apologies if you could fertilize your garden with the
contents of this piece. I think it's something I just needed to
do to get me back in the swing of Gundam Wing.

Later: I've just realized that I am inadvertently writing part
two of "The Dangling Conversation". I suppose you don't
really have to read that to get this, however.


*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*

Six months. It's been six months. Six months since I left my
angel. Six months since I felt her soft, delicate body curl up next to mine
or saw her innocent smile.

And six months since I accepted that I possessed an empty, stone
heart.

I was brought up to be a soldier. What did I know of love? Love was
not taught by the militia.

Then my first lesson in love arrived, in the form of a small, scared
Midii Une, bearing a cross. "Now God will protect you," she
had said. That was before I learned that God had no place where I was.

After Midii left, the years passed in flashes of firefights and
blood. Until I saw something that I should not have. Trowa
Barton's murder.

Operation Meteor is, to this day, a haze of colors in my thoughts,
with a few distinct memories imprinted clearly against the blur in my
head. Meeting Quatre. Killing the pacifist leaders at New Edwards.
Heero self-detonating. They Vayeate exploding. I find I can no longer
remember details about White Fang, and the death of OZ and Treize.
And for all I can recall, Mariemeia might have been a dream.

And then she came back into my life.

Automatically now, those thoughts are pushed into the back of my
mind. It just wouldn't do to dwell on her. But tonight things are
different. Midii wants to be remembered, it seems.

Unbidden, but not altogether unexpected, the memory of that day
begins to unwind in my head, like someone playing a movie in my
thoughts.

Three weeks after I had destroyed Heavyarms, I was sitting in the
small park next to where I live, my mind an absolute void. People had
been passing in an almost constant stream all day, many of them
discussing the death of Dechim Barton and the heroics of the Gundam
Pilots. However, no one even gave me a passing glance. I liked it
that way.

Until…

She walked by alone. In all other circumstances or situations, I
would have paid her no attention. But something, something that I had
no control over, made me look up just as she was passing. And in that
second our eyes met, a flash of memory hit me so hard that it left me
quaking inside. Dove grey eyes widened in shock as they stared into
mine.

"Nanashi?" One whispered word brought me to my feet, made me
catch her hands in my own. Small, soft fingers gripped war-roughened ones
in disbelief. I could feel her trembling.

I nodded, my gaze never leaving hers. In an instant, she had thrown
her arms around my neck, and after a moment of shock, I pulled her
close, winding one hand into her hair and the other locking around
her waist.

Later, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours later, Midii
disentangled herself slightly from me and took a small step
backwards, opening her mouth to speak. Perhaps to tell me she was
sorry, perhaps to tell me what she had done in the war, it didn't
matter. The words never left her mouth. I pressed a finger to supple
lips and shook my head.

Her eyes widened, confused. I smiled slightly. "No words, Midii.
We all do things we'd rather forget during war. I should know. But
whatever it is, it bears no weight now."

At this, I felt a tremor slide through her body, and she offered me a
brilliant smile, her eyes unnaturally bright with tears. And as she
looked up at me, I felt something strangely like yearning in my
chest. So I did the only think I could think of to remedy it. I
leaned down and kissed her.

The months after that are a blur as well, but in this one there are
flashes of light, and peace and happiness. But never love.

I realize that now. Who can love with an empty heart?

Slowly, as much as I tried to resist, the soldier in me began to
reclaim my soul. And I began to understand that all I would ever be
able to do was hurt Midii.

So it became evident that the path for me was once again alone. And
so I walked away.

Months later, I find that when I try to recall Midii's face, the
only rendering of her that surfaces is of the night I left. Of an angel,
bathed in silver, moonbeams tangled in her hair. A pale face pressing
against my hand. And as much as I try to replace this picture with
one of happier times, this image will forever be burned into my
memory. A crystal clear memoir against a haze of vague ruminations.

Like I said, years ago, I am nothing more than a redundant soldier. I
acknowledged that fact a lifetime ago. So now, I accept it. And I am
beginning to see what soldiers like myself really are.

We are unforgiven.

**~**~**~**~**
*Dances* God, it feels good to finally write another one of those.
Long live angst!