Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Death Personified ❯ Chapter 1

 

Author: Tami Veldura

Title: Death Personified

Status: One-Shot

Part: 1/1 Complete

Pairing: 1+2 if you squint through a beer bottle.

Rating: G/PG (violence)

Summary: Heero's in trouble. Duo saves him and nearly kills himself in the process.

Archive: By all means! But please send me a cursory message. ^^

Feedback: Please! tamiveldura@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em... I'm not stealing, just... borrowing.. *shifty eyes* without permission... *cough*

A/N: I had a thought. This is where it went.

Beta: Nope.

 

--//--

 

Shinigami. The God of Death. What he calls himself in the privacy of his own mind or otherwise doesn't bother me, but its clash with his personality has never been so stark as right now. His eyes are alight, his smile genuine, his hands a gentle curve of innocence holding a burden more precious than any of our lives.

 

He must think so to risk such a blatant display in so public a place.

 

His back is to the crowd, I keep mine at the wall while he coos over a box of kittens with a scrawl proclaiming 'Free!' I'm his backup. His only backup with oh-three across the field in the big tent and the other two long since out of communication.

 

But he doesn't care, he's caught up in the mewling fuzzy thing while I scan women and children for knives, fathers for holsters, carnies for garrets in pockets or wrapped around wrists. It would take only a moment of inattention, a blink of an eye, a sniper from behind the Carmel Apple stand.

 

I draw my gun. Aim. Fire.

 

People scream. Duck. Run like chickens. The danger has already passed and he gives me a slight frown over a fuzzy head with large green eyes. My aim is perfect, just like my scowl.

 

He's impervious to my expression. He returns to cooing at the kitten. I roll my eyes back to the people, still panicked, ducked under benches, tables, stands.

 

I am Death personified and he is my God. Why else would I stand here? I could threaten him. I could drag him off to the big tent where oh-three is no doubt waiting for a report. I could curse his indulgence, but I don't.

 

As much as he is my God, it is better to see him this way. Illuminated with wonder at such a small thing. A trifle. A kindness.

 

"Aw, Heero. I want to keep it!"

 

"No."

 

And as much as I prefer this veneer of wonder, it will inevitably fall away and revel something more sinister. Something darker.

 

His eyes are suddenly hard, sharper than glass. He sets the kitten down with a negligent drop of his wrist. It lands haphazard among its littermates with a small cry. Neither of us blink. His attention is already gone, skipping over hesitant people and landing on the corpse of a man behind the Caramel Apple stand. He nods. Once.

 

Because only the God of Death can remain in Death's company and live.