~ To save your world you asked this man to die: Would this man, could he see you now, ask why? * 'Epitah for the Unknown Soldier' {1955}, W. H. Auden ~
It's very familiar to me, this feeling of being caught between reality and fantasy. I always prefer the fantasy because reality hurts more.
Or is it the other way around? I always forget.
I rest my head back; I feel such a headache coming. Oh, yes. The pain in my head is great. It's not unusual.
It's raining outside. I wish very much to feel the rain on me, falling and cleansing. I've tasted the rain before. It's pure, the rain, sweet, and so beautiful. Iclose my eyes and imagine the glorious taste.
Something cold brushes lightly on my cheek, my eyes reopen. He's standing in front of me, arms crossed, smirking lips, hollow eyes. My lips curve into a half smile. "Hello," I say; "do you remember?"
He nods. I nod.
"The Ghost of Never," I whisper.
The Ghost of Never ...
He stared at me with the familiar impassiveness. I raised my eyebrow at him. "Did you hear me?" I ask.
He nods curtly. "I did."
"What do you say?"
"I understand."
I sighed my frustration. "Do you, really?" I inquired. "Do you understand what I'm asking of you? Most important, will you do it?"
He continued to stare into my eyes, regarding me with quiet seriousness. "You want me to die," he repeated my words. "You believe this will help the cause. I understand."
"Will you do it?" I pressed.
He bowed his head. "I've died before. Yes. I will."
I smiled. "Ah," I said as he turned to leave, "there is one condition. You must never return to the living."
He froze and then nodded slowly. "Very well."
As he reached the door, I called to him, "Thank you, Brother."
He replied, "There is no need to thank a ghost, Relena."
He leans forward. The smirk is gone, and the hollowness is replaced with sadness. "Why?" he asks. "Why?"
"Why what, Brother?" I reply. The rain pours outside. There are lights flashing. Go away. I need only the rain.
"Why?" he repeats harshly.
I stood in front of the headstone with my hands clasped in front of me. The wind blew wisps of my hair around wildly. "Good-bye, Brother," I said simply and without commitment, walking away. Soon I heard something and turned to glance behind. A boy -- I couldn't quite place a name to the face -- stared down solemnly at my brother's grave. A long braid whipped around him, as the wind had done to my hair. Unpredictably, he sank to his knees and sobbed into his hands.
Then I remembered. This was the boy I had seen with my brother on my seventeenth birthday. They had been hiding in the gardens, sharing a kiss.
Disgusting, really.
"Are you sad?" I asked him softly so that he couldn't hear. "I hope you are. It is because of you that I was forced to sentence my brother to his death."
I smiled and walked away.
"Brother," I say calmly, "you've broken our deal. You were to never return."
He stares at me. "It will never rain for you, as it rained for me. I ask you, Darling Sister, why it had to rain." I take to insult the "darling sister" comment.
I laugh at him. "Rain? It is raining now! Silly brother."
"Stupid girl," he responds.
He disappears.
It floods me suddenly, the sirens, the screaming, the pain. I glance at Pagan -- ever so faithful in his service to me, -- dead at the wheel. They're trying to get into the car. Yes, yes ... I need the rain. To feel it, to know it, please; let me have the rain.
Oh, but no. Realization comes to me now, as I slip rapidly and slowly all at once into the darkness. There will be no rain for me.
Yes, I remember now -- it's fantasy that hurts more.
The Ghost of Never ...
It's too late, I realize as the door begins to tear off. My eyes are dry. That bastard of a brother holds the rain from me. It will never rain for me now.
All because I made Duo Maxwell cry.