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Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not owned by me, and I’m not making any claims, so don’t sue. Trust me, it’s not worth your time.

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She glided in silently, feet making no sound, and there was no breathing to be heard. One such as her, immortal, did not need to breath. In front of her was a boy, still a few years shy of adulthood. Of course he was young; only the young could cry for so long, and so one such as he could only be young. He held his face in his hands, and simply stayed there, kneeling on the floor, his chestnut braid messy. In his own eyes, his hands constantly dripped with blood. In battles, they sometimes did. This one, he was mortal, unlike her. His mind could not accept the duty given to him, like immortals could, and like other members of his species could. No, he had a conscience. Always, she performed her duty with little misgivings; always she did her work with little passion. It was her lot. But he could not. This boy poured his soul into his work, and his soul was being eaten alive, hope almost non-existent. His indigo eyes were shut tightly, but it did not help him; he still saw the countless battles. She saw as he watched the fighting, again and again in his head; it never ended. Did the people know he was helping them? Did they know that he took most of their guilt upon himself, so their own sprits did not crumble with grief and sorrow? Did they realize that they themselves had created this wretched being? Did they care?

She looked at him through dead orbs that somehow could still hold sympathy. Her black robe made no noise, and he did not know she was there. Yet, she was indeed standing before him, her nonexistent heart breaking with pity and empathy. Yes, she knew how he felt. She knew the grief that wracked his broken spirit every day; she knew the sadness overwhelming his mind. Of course she knew. But he did not know her, and so could not see her. He would not be able to until his death, which possibly wasn’t so far off. The boy was still reliving the nightmares until the night made it’s presence known. Then it would be back to work, back to the horror.

The boy felt the tears streaming down his face, but made no effort to brush them away. They would stop in a few minutes. Already he was running out of tears anyway. Emptiness was growing inside of him so that he could feel only pain and desolation. How could they have done this to him? They, the humans, his kin, the creatures held in so little regard, had done this with power they did not know they even possessed. It would continue, he knew that it would. They would keep killing each other, would continue to be the ignorant savages that the immortals and the five gundam pilots knew them to be. Why was he chosen for this burden? True, he could have walked out anytime, but obligation forced the boy to stay, to fight instead of –and for- others. He had signed on for the job because of circumstance, and also because of his ideals. Those ideals were tattered and torn now, crushed into dust carried away by the wind. His dreams had suffered the similar fate, and the only two left were wishes for death and peace.

She smiled sadly, and suddenly her own heart melted. She knew what the boy was dealing with, because she had dealt with it herself, for generation upon generation. The girl had dealt with it for one hundred times longer than a phoenix’s lifespan, and phoenixes never die, for they are immortal too. She was one of the two Ancient immortals, the one who walked in shadows. Light and happiness were not concepts she understood. But she understood the boy; she understood him better than anyone else would, even his fellow pilots, for they dealt with their situations differently. The humans had created those boys, and they would not soon be forgiven for it. She looked at the boy, and understood that they were kindred spirits. There was no one else closer in proximity than they, but it was a painful thing, not happy. He did not know happiness. There were others, too, who did not know what joy was, but this boy in particular was too empathetic for his own good. The boy cried not only for his own pain, but for the pain of others, too.

Slowly, Duo Maxwell looked up, lifting his face from his hands. He could see her now. Realization of his cruel fate had long since come upon him, but it was acceptance, now, that caused him to look up. For the first time he saw the girl, the one who watched over him. For the first time he knew he had a friend. She smiled down at him, but it was an apologetic smile. He grasped the hand that was extended down to him, and stood up, looking his new companion in the face. What he saw was emptiness, a void nothing could fill; it reflected his sprit perfectly. Duo always put on a façade of cheerfulness, but she didn’t need to. They would walk together, now, and let the savages quake even more in their boots, because the two would work together. Let the savages be afraid, because together they would be stronger than ever. Let the savages be terrified, because he knew that he would live on now, and work with her. Let the savages be petrified because now, he, the spawn of need and human cruelty, he, Duo, would walk forevermore with her, the one called Death. His mobile suit was named in her honor, and now they had finally met. Let the savages be afraid to wake up in the morning, because now there was no escape from the fate that they had created for themselves. Not even the other Ancient, Life, nor the temporary joy of future generations, could undo the works that they would do together.

Death. Sorrow. Another endless duet. Let the savages curse the day of their births, let the savages rue their actions, but it would be in vain. He wished that that the savages would tremble with fear. But first, he prayed that they would realize exactly what they had done.

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