Posted: 12/25/00
Author: Jay / carboxylated@yahoo.com
Archive: Gundam Wing Addiction (Tyr), Desolation Angels (Ashura, if she wants it)
[Full fiction index @ http://www.oocities.org/fenris_wolf0]
Disclaimer: Scroll down (invariably at the bottom)
Title: Mistletoe
Category: Yaoi, sap, fluff, minor angst
Timeline: Post-EW, with Episode Zero flashbacks
Pairings: 1+2
Rating/Warning: PG, I suppose. It's a bit heavy, I think. There are Episode Zero spoilers (Duo's). There's also a lot of sap and minor angst.
Feedback: Craved, desired, wanted, coveted, yearned for, wished for, and longed for. C&C will be repaid with dancing G-boys, my endless adoration, as well as a nice slice of karma.
Note: Almost every thought triggers a flashback for Duo. The entire story goes from present to past very rapidly, so be forewarned! The storyline can be confusing... Er, and I'm not bothering my poor beta-reader on Christmas for God's sake, so I've, uh, attempted to proofread it as best as I can. Excuse any glaring errors. ^^;;
For: A multitude of people, notably the folks at GWF, D & the gang (oh, fine, I'll list names... D, Ash, Jmi, Shira, Kel, r-chan, Anna... my brain is refusing to function, so I'll just leave it at "the gang" again-- you know who you are). And for all the wonderful authors who wrote Christmas stories on gw-fan, and thus inspired this-- blame *them*. Er, and for all the people who have been kind enough to read my stories! I love and adore you, even if I suck at returning emails... >.<
Thank you for bearing with me.
/... .../ = thoughts
<<... ...>> = flashback
Mistletoe hung over the fireplace.
Actually, mistletoe hung over the fireplace, over each doorway, and it was strewn quite liberally throughout the entire apartment. It was a wonder that it had not been long since trampled into the carpet; somehow, the sprigs and bunches had chosen to obediently stay collected, suspended over people's heads and inviting kisses.
He had risen two and a half hours ago-- well, two hours and forty-three minutes, actually. Duo had rolled out of bed with admirable stealth, the minute rustling of the comforter and sheets piquing no more response from Heero's lightly snoring body than a few snuffles and sugarplum mutterings. He had padded down the stairs, his bare feet smacking against the wood floor after he had considered the possibility of his lover waking, and decided that nothing short of a mobile suit attack would do so.
The plate of gingerbread men and the glass of milk that were placed (with a great amount of lavish pomp and ceremony from a certain boy with a yard-long braid) for Santa's benefit had been delicately gnawed upon and gulped down. Duo blew the crumbs from his lips unapologetically, and glanced over the to the note that he had left for St. Nicholas.
Dear Santa,
I wood lik a pony this year. I hav been verry good. And sum new spendax fur my koi Hero.Luv & bunnies,
Duo
He claimed to Heero that one received more presents if one made adorable spelling mistakes when addressing Santa Claus, cheekily ignoring the pile of presents that, resting beneath the tree, were marked with his name in Heero's spidery handwriting.
Duo sat back down, cross-legged in front of the Christmas tree, like an enraptured child drinking in a vision of tinsel and light. The tree itself was an impressive six-foot Douglas fir; it was sprinkled with ornaments ranging from an exquisite, gold star (the primary contents of a care package from Quatre and Trowa), to the dangling, silver Chinese characters (Wufei had wrapped them in rice paper that smelled like sandalwood), to the blown-glass spheres with mirror shards adorning the circumference (XOXO, Relena). In fact, the bulk of the ornaments that shone and glittered among the strings of lights were gifts from their friends.
However, now and again he would come upon patches of dark, faded color amongst all the brightness and glory: one-armed nutcrackers in tattered uniforms grinned, muskets shouldered; worn angels with plucked wings; and small glass balls that were traced with cracks, all hanging with the magnificent and the brilliant.
And Duo's smile was for them.
He had brought out the dilapidated cardboard box a week before Christmas, ignoring the lancing pain in his heart as he brushed away the dust from the cover, and brought out, with apt reverence, each cracked and worn ornament. Heero had watched him place them on the tree, ceremoniously with strained curiosity as the motley array of half-burned figures was tucked with tender care among the green boughs.
Faces, their faces...
/They calls it Christmas, kid... rich people get to celebrate it... we's just get ta look./
<< Solo clapped one hand on the younger boy's shoulder as they both stared at the display in the window. Toys were piled high above the tissue paper, waiting to be boxed, wrapped, festooned with ribbons, and placed beneath some child's tree, to be torn open by deft and nimble hands... >>
Sometimes, if he stared hard enough into the lights...
/Merry Christmas, Duo.../
<< Father Maxwell's smile was bright. He smelled like fresh snow, crisp and clean. His nose was bright red, his face flushed beneath his snow-covered cap. He laughed and brushed it off. >>
There were brief flashes of warm memories, falling over him like a pair of... wings, feathering over his eyes with a cloudy, comforting haze.
/...Hit the lights!/
<< Sister Helen clicked the Christmas lights on and the children crowded around the small tree, watching the dancing lights and colors.
"It's like a rainbow," someone whispered. "A dancing rainbow." >>
He could faintly recall his own bubbling laughter, seeped in childish awe.
/Father Maxwell... Sister Helen... Merry Christmas.../
<< He sat in Father Maxwell's lap, the good child, whispering wishes to Santa Claus.
"I'd like peace on earth," he said, voice low and serious. "And-- and-- I want everyone at the church to get good families, that'll love them and care for them..." >>
Duo closed his eyes, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat, and allowed the sickly sweet wave of nausea to pass. The glitter of his eyes could have been the lights, or their reflection against the salt liquid lining his lower lashes.
Like snow crystals, swirling snow crystals that danced beyond the windowpane...
/...Each snowflake is unique, Duo. There are no two alike./
<< ...hitting his tongue with an icy bite, before the coldness disappeared. Duo blinked. >>
His eyes snapped open again, and Duo reached for an ornament. His fingers slipped a cloth angel from the tree, and he stared at her cotton robe, the edges singed.
/...O night, divine.../[1]
<< Their voices mingled into an imperfect choir, bleeding into each other. Duo blinked, owlish.
/Angels. Sing. How do angels sing? How do angels sound? Like... bells, bells, bells!/
Sister Helen cast him a fond glance, her warm alto washing over him. His own tinny voice seemed drowned in the mass of sound.
"O night that Christ was born..."
/Christ... Mary... Christ... born... manger... cold, under the-- the-- star! Under the angels. Singing. Under the singing angels./
His chest expanded, blooming with fierce happiness. >>
Duo placed the angel back onto the tree. His hands crept to the nutcracker. The red paint was peeling, exposing the grain of the wood beneath. Its left arm was missing; only the peg remained, a lonely skeletal joint juxtaposed to the shabby uniform.
/Oh, thank you! It's just what I wanted... I.../
<< A gold cross dangled from Duo's infant hands. His cheeks were flushed, eyes dancing with joy.
"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you." He repeated the phrase like a prayer. "Thank you."
The light danced off the fine chain links, minute and delicate. Sister Helen's hands moved, clasping it around his neck. >>
He fondled the glass spheres now, lips pursed as he gazed at the cracks. Some of them were mere shards of glass, hanging from thin wire.
/Let me get them! Let me!/
<< He tugged Sister Helen's habit, persistent and stubborn.
"I want to get them!" he wheedled.
She laughed, and grasped his hand. "Very well. Come with me, then."
The box of ornaments was in the basement, in the northeast corner. The patch of wood in the midst of the cement lifted to reveal a cardboard box, tied with string. It would be unpacked upstairs, later, and reveal its gleaming horde. >>
There was no such thing as past or present or future, but only the blurring timeline that looped in his head and in his heart, like a broken record that skipped back and forth, back and forth. Yes, they lived here; they lived in his memory, overlapping in his tears, overlaid on his consciousness.
/"And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the Heavenly Host praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace, and good will toward men.'"/[2]
<< The howling of the wind and the bite of the cold assailed him. He trudged through the debris, the crumpled stone and the charred wood, to find the northeast corner; the wood there was half-burnt, and the cardboard was black where the flames had licked them.
And the ornaments... bits and pieces of stone had crashed onto the vulnerable glass orbs, leaving some shattered and some scarred. The flames had kissed the angels, and the brave nutcracker looked grim, gun shouldered in a stiff salute.
Duo was numb and disbelieving. The snow was swirling, biting. He could see their faces-- blue, because of the cold-- drifting, drifting to the sky, to golden gates he could almost discern in the pearl clouds. Snowflakes, like nipping seraphs, floated to touch his face and disappear. He wanted to-- wanted to jump, grab them, pull them back down, pull them back down so he wouldn't have to be alone... >>
Duo caught himself, just as he was about to crush the fragile glass ball in his hand. Instead, he carefully placed it and the rest of the ornaments on the tree. He stared at it once more, the sadness in his heart dissipating. His hands touched the warm gold of the cross that hung over his breast, fingers trembling.
Christmas... he remembered the hymns, the carols, the thin stockings and worn gifts; their threadbare appearance somehow endeared them all the more to his heart. He remembered the religious reverence and significance, remembered Sister Helen weeping for the joy of the birth of the Lord-- but that all seemed dim and distant, now.
It was Christmas Eve, seconds rapidly ticking towards midnight.
He could see them again. They laughed and smiled in the gleaming reflection of cracked ornaments. Solo gave him a roguish smile, his thin face distorted into a pleasant and jolly roundness by the sphere. An angel's painted eyes opened, and Sister Helen blew him a kiss with her wire-and-cloth hands. The nutcracker's grin stretched and then contracted into a serene look. Father Maxwell looked at Duo with kind eyes.
And they outshone everything else.
Their faces, bathed in golden light, were brighter than the strings of lights. The warm incandescence of their airy bodies made the metallic sheen of the other ornaments seem dull and lackluster.
/I'd like peace on earth./
There was peace; there was tenuous, uncertain, brittle peace, peace on a knife's edge, but peace... peace on earth. His wish was granted, whether by himself or some benevolent entity of goodwill; he didn't care, either way.
The grandfather clock sprung to life, ringing in the midnight hour.
It was Christmas.
And there was peace on earth.
/...Goodwill to men!/
<< "ALL men," Duo insisted.
Sister Helen smiled. >>
And children were sleeping, as parents crept downstairs and filled their stockings with treats and gifts...
And lovers were slumbering, underneath a sickle moon...
And old soldiers rested in sweethearts' arms, dreaming of the prospect of tomorrow...
And Duo watched as their faces rose from the tree and disappeared. The room seemed darker, somehow, but it wasn't suffocating or gloomy; he felt content.
A movement behind him caught his ear. He spun, slowly, and looked at Heero Yuy, who leaned against the doorframe with sleepy eyes.
"Come back to bed," he mumbled. Heero smiled, lips curving, and one hand sprung out to present a sprig of mistletoe. With the same phantom smile, he lifted it over his head. "Come on," he said gently, "back to bed."
"I'm coming." Duo rose, sparing the tree one last glance. He took a deep breath. "Heero?"
"Hn?" Heero yawned and the mistletoe wobbled.
Duo landed a light kiss on Heero's nose. "Merry Christmas."
The End
Notes:
[1] from 'Holy Night' but I'm not sure. -_-;; I
just know the lyrics to carols, not the actual titles...
[2] This is probably from the Bible, but I stole it from the Charlie
Brown Christmas Special. <g>
Obligatory Disclaimer: is quite long, and available upon demand. ^^;;
Jay