Fic: maybe one day
Feb. 11th, 2005 04:43 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
virgnsacrifice.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
picfor1000Fandom: Gundam Seed / Gundam Seed Destiny
Pairing: gen. Athrun-centric.
Spoilers: end of GS + up to ep 8/9 of GSD (i'm not sure which)
Rating: G
the picture:
(i'm not really sure what this is called so i just referred to it as a tricycle)
-
Watch as the stars hang frozen in the sky. Watch as the sea comes to you, calls to you, cries to you. Night has fallen, and cloaks the island. Your feet press into the still-warm sand, and your fingers curl into your palm. Around you, the muggy equatorial air forms itself into a soft wind that brushes at your hair.
There is a sort of eternity hidden in each splash of sea on shore, whispering in each rustle of palm leaves. Long before you existed, there was the sea, there was the sand. Long after you exist, there will be the sea and the sand. These were here since the dawn of time, and these will persist until its end.
You stand, with half-lidded eyes, a speck of a man on a speck of an island, on a planet hurtling through vast infinite space. You smile. Some things last forever.
-
Life is easy on the islands of Orb. Days slip past like sand through your fingers, and in the light is it easy to forget the darkness. You don’t think of what has happened before, because you don’t have to. Memories of another life are pushed to the back of your mind and there collect dust – in paradise there is no need to think of hell.
You think you will never leave. Here in Orb nobody knows you, nobody judges you, and you slip easily into the crowd. You are nobody, just Alex Dino, whose sole claim to fame is being the deputy director of the Internal Security Division. Living here is like going for a spa retreat that never ends.
You learn how the currency works and how to buy groceries. You make friends with your neighbours, a nice family with a young son of about five. For his birthday, you give him a shiny red tricycle, and the excitement in his eyes makes your heart glow.
Your office faces the sea. On slow days – and all of the days are slow – you like to open the windows and breathe in the air. It smells of salt and sounds like seagulls, and if you close your eyes you can pretend that you are flying with the birds.
Sometimes you wonder if things have always been this way, in Orb. Sometimes you wonder if things will always be this way. It is not hard to imagine that it has been so, and will be so.
Your secretary pokes her head round your door. “Mr. Dino, the Director on line two,” she says.
You take the call. “Sir?”
“Ah, Alex. Good job on the report. I hadn’t realised how much intellectual property was being transferred with the Coordinator emigration. In fact, nobody had. I’ve sent a copy down to the Attorney-General’s Chambers – I think they’re going to draft a new set of confidentiality laws soon. Anyway, Representative Athha read your report too, and she feels it’s high time she paid the PLANT chairman a little visit. A friendly reminder, so to speak.”
You make little noises of agreement. You worked hard on the report, and it’s nice to know you’re appreciated.
“About her visit… it’s a low-key thing, and I don’t think there are any major safety issues. Can you work on the security detail for the trip?”
As you agree, an inexplicable sense of dread drops into your chest.
Outside, the sea birds cry as they wheel past.
-
You sit high up on the cliff, shoulder to shoulder, watching the waves spin onto the destroyed beach below.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Kira says, as he notices the direction of your stare. “You did all you could. What happened next couldn’t be helped.”
You shut your eyes and you can see the battle unfolding again across the remains of Junius-7, lit by the twilight nightmare of dim fire and black muted frenzy. You see yourself trying so hard to protect the meteor breakers, trying so hard not to cry as the terrorists in your uniform speak the same words your father did.
For two years you have tried to bury yourself in the light, building for yourself a new identity and a new country and a new life. In the depths of Genesis, Athrun Zala died along with his exploding gundam. What returned to Earth was Alex Dino, native citizen of Orb.
But the moon waxes and wanes, and the tides rise and fall, and the waves throw up the flotsam of history. The past is the present is the future, and things that have died arise again to haunt you. The world once more heads into a season of war, and you once more have to fight for what you believe in.
“What are you fighting for?” Lacus once demanded in a ruined concert hall, a long time ago. You had no answer then and you have no answer now.
You thought you did, when you came to Orb, when you heard the laughter of the children at the orphanage. You thought you did, when Cagalli told you that you had started smiling in your dreams.
Abandoned on the beach, with the detritus of lives, is a red tricycle with no child to ride it.
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I am going back to PLANT,” you tell Kira. “There must be something I can do.”
“Then what will you fight for?” Kira asks.
You shake your head as you trace the shape of the tricycle with your eyes. There was once a dream, you think, a dream of light and sun and bright sparkling waves, a dream of peace and belonging, a dream belonging to Alex Dino.
“I must go,” you say. “I am Athrun Zala.” You feel the music cresting, the story rising to its climax, the ship launching, and you know you cannot resist what is inevitable.
A wave slams into the shore, dragging the tricycle into itself, swallowing the toy into the sea.
There was a dream, but it is over now.
fin
(x-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
gundamseed)
Pairing: gen. Athrun-centric.
Spoilers: end of GS + up to ep 8/9 of GSD (i'm not sure which)
Rating: G
the picture:
(i'm not really sure what this is called so i just referred to it as a tricycle)
-
Watch as the stars hang frozen in the sky. Watch as the sea comes to you, calls to you, cries to you. Night has fallen, and cloaks the island. Your feet press into the still-warm sand, and your fingers curl into your palm. Around you, the muggy equatorial air forms itself into a soft wind that brushes at your hair.
There is a sort of eternity hidden in each splash of sea on shore, whispering in each rustle of palm leaves. Long before you existed, there was the sea, there was the sand. Long after you exist, there will be the sea and the sand. These were here since the dawn of time, and these will persist until its end.
You stand, with half-lidded eyes, a speck of a man on a speck of an island, on a planet hurtling through vast infinite space. You smile. Some things last forever.
-
Life is easy on the islands of Orb. Days slip past like sand through your fingers, and in the light is it easy to forget the darkness. You don’t think of what has happened before, because you don’t have to. Memories of another life are pushed to the back of your mind and there collect dust – in paradise there is no need to think of hell.
You think you will never leave. Here in Orb nobody knows you, nobody judges you, and you slip easily into the crowd. You are nobody, just Alex Dino, whose sole claim to fame is being the deputy director of the Internal Security Division. Living here is like going for a spa retreat that never ends.
You learn how the currency works and how to buy groceries. You make friends with your neighbours, a nice family with a young son of about five. For his birthday, you give him a shiny red tricycle, and the excitement in his eyes makes your heart glow.
Your office faces the sea. On slow days – and all of the days are slow – you like to open the windows and breathe in the air. It smells of salt and sounds like seagulls, and if you close your eyes you can pretend that you are flying with the birds.
Sometimes you wonder if things have always been this way, in Orb. Sometimes you wonder if things will always be this way. It is not hard to imagine that it has been so, and will be so.
Your secretary pokes her head round your door. “Mr. Dino, the Director on line two,” she says.
You take the call. “Sir?”
“Ah, Alex. Good job on the report. I hadn’t realised how much intellectual property was being transferred with the Coordinator emigration. In fact, nobody had. I’ve sent a copy down to the Attorney-General’s Chambers – I think they’re going to draft a new set of confidentiality laws soon. Anyway, Representative Athha read your report too, and she feels it’s high time she paid the PLANT chairman a little visit. A friendly reminder, so to speak.”
You make little noises of agreement. You worked hard on the report, and it’s nice to know you’re appreciated.
“About her visit… it’s a low-key thing, and I don’t think there are any major safety issues. Can you work on the security detail for the trip?”
As you agree, an inexplicable sense of dread drops into your chest.
Outside, the sea birds cry as they wheel past.
-
You sit high up on the cliff, shoulder to shoulder, watching the waves spin onto the destroyed beach below.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Kira says, as he notices the direction of your stare. “You did all you could. What happened next couldn’t be helped.”
You shut your eyes and you can see the battle unfolding again across the remains of Junius-7, lit by the twilight nightmare of dim fire and black muted frenzy. You see yourself trying so hard to protect the meteor breakers, trying so hard not to cry as the terrorists in your uniform speak the same words your father did.
For two years you have tried to bury yourself in the light, building for yourself a new identity and a new country and a new life. In the depths of Genesis, Athrun Zala died along with his exploding gundam. What returned to Earth was Alex Dino, native citizen of Orb.
But the moon waxes and wanes, and the tides rise and fall, and the waves throw up the flotsam of history. The past is the present is the future, and things that have died arise again to haunt you. The world once more heads into a season of war, and you once more have to fight for what you believe in.
“What are you fighting for?” Lacus once demanded in a ruined concert hall, a long time ago. You had no answer then and you have no answer now.
You thought you did, when you came to Orb, when you heard the laughter of the children at the orphanage. You thought you did, when Cagalli told you that you had started smiling in your dreams.
Abandoned on the beach, with the detritus of lives, is a red tricycle with no child to ride it.
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I am going back to PLANT,” you tell Kira. “There must be something I can do.”
“Then what will you fight for?” Kira asks.
You shake your head as you trace the shape of the tricycle with your eyes. There was once a dream, you think, a dream of light and sun and bright sparkling waves, a dream of peace and belonging, a dream belonging to Alex Dino.
“I must go,” you say. “I am Athrun Zala.” You feel the music cresting, the story rising to its climax, the ship launching, and you know you cannot resist what is inevitable.
A wave slams into the shore, dragging the tricycle into itself, swallowing the toy into the sea.
There was a dream, but it is over now.
fin
(x-posted to
gundamseed)
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