by WSJ < p>I don't own GW. The song is the ending theme to one of the Land Before Time movies. I'm not sure which one. (If you can tell me, that'd be great.)
I was inspired to write this after reading the great works of Katy-did Sherwood, especially Unto Everything, There is a Season and Friends Together, Even in Death. I very strongly suggest you read those stories, and all of her works. They really touched me.
Duo looked up at the Perfect Soldier, who had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his laptop under his arm.
"Promise me!" the American pilot said feicely, tightening his grip on Heero's arm.
Heero was on his way out the door for another Preventors mission, one that was highly likely to get him killed. Especially when he was just recovering from the injuries he'd aquired from the previous mission.
When Heero had come down the stairs that morning, announcing he was on his way to another mission, Duo had almost choked on his coffee. Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were all out of the house for the week on various business/mission type thingys, and Duo had desperatly started wishing they were there.
"Heero," he repeated, his violet eyes pleading with the Japanese pilot. "Promise me you'll come home!" the self-proclaimed Shinigami looked down, suddenly at a loss for words. "You're all I have left. I can't lose you."
Heero's eyes softened, just noticably. Heero was the onlyone Duo had ever told his past to. About Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and Solo. He'd never even told Hilde, and she was his fiancee! He nodded. "I promise Duo." With that said he dislodged the American from his arm and headed out the door.
Duo's hand crept to where it naturally went in times like these and his head snapped up. "Heero! Wait!"
He ran out the door after the Perfect Soldier and caught up to him half-way to his car, his hand clutching the pendant around his neck. "Here." he said, reaching back to unclasp the silver cross. "It's brought me luck in battle countless times."
Heero nodded, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips as he put the chain over his head and slid the cross down under his usual green tanktop. "Thank you Duo." he turned to get into the car, but hesitated. "Duo?" he asked without turning back around.
Duo kneeled beside his bed, his hands clasped in front of him. It had been five days since Heero left, and the mission should only have taken two, three days at most.
Quatre, Wufei and Trowa were back now, and they were all worried about the Japanese pilot.
Trying to keep his ragged breath to himself, Duo fervently repeated the twenty-third psalm to himself, and started over once it was done. He hadn't slept and had barely eaten for the last 48 hours, and it was beginning to take it's toll.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..."
Something flashed through his mind. A memory. No... More like a vision, a vision of the future. He gasped and his head shot up, his eyes widening in terror.
Heero, running through a secret underground compound, Duo's cross bouncing across his chest. Heero, bursting in on a control room, only to be greeted by a gun. Heero, laying bleeding on the floor from a gunshot, dying, but he'd managed to kill the rebel leader of the base. Heero...
Duo's scream echoed through the house and surrounding area, waking the other three pilots, who rushed to their commrade's aid. They found Duo on his hands and knees on the floor, tears dripping from his usually sparkling violet eyes and onto the floor.
Quatre dropped to his knees by his friend, as did Trowa and Wufei. Quatre gathered the braided one into his arms and was heartily surprised when Duo began to sob against his chest like a scared toddler.
"Duo, Du-kun, what is it?" the Arabian asked, stroking Duo's back like a mother would a child.
Duo pulled away from Quatre, looking up into the blond's face with tear-stained eyes. "I-I saw Heero. He was dying."
The other three exchanged glances. "Duo," Trowa said, hoping no one could detect the slight tremmor in his voice. "Are you sure it wasn't a nightmare?"
Duo shook his head emphatically. "No, I was wide awake, praying for Heero like I have been for the past two nights."
Quatre bit his lip to keep it from trembling. "I saw him too, but I thought it was just a dream." Wufei and Trowa nodded to show they'd had the dream/vision as well.
"But what can we do?" asked Duo, standing up to stare out the window at the star-lit sky. His hand was clenched into a fist at his brestbone, almost as if trying to hold on to the cross he'd given Heero. "I've been praying non-stop. Does God even care?"
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Trowa, of all people. "Of course he cares." The Silencer guided Duo back toward the bed and Duo sat down on the edge of it, pulling his feet up under him. Quatre crawled up next to him, and Trowa and Wufei found spots on the double bed as well.
No one spoke for awhile, each lost in his own thoughts and prayers. After about ten minutes, Quatre began a soft prayer in Arabic, although the other three heard and understood him quite well.
"Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! Many are they that rise up against me. Many there be which say of my soul "There is no help for him in God." But thou, O Lord, art a sheild for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the Lord with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people that have set themselves against me round about. Arise, O Lord; save me, O my God: for thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly. Salvation belongeth unto the Lord: thy blessing is upon thy people."
Duo took a shaky breath and began in French, the language Father Maxwell had always prayed in because he said it was 'more romantic'. Again, the others understood perfectly.
"Now faith is the substance of all things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. For by it the elders obtained a good report. Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear. But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him."
A small smile played on Wufei's lips, thinking of the Psalm that Meiran had taught him. He bagan to speak it in smooth Chinese, and the others understood.
"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge, my God, in him I will trust. Surely he shall deliver me from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilance. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings thou shalt trust: his truth shall be thy sheild and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flyeth by day. Nor for the pestilance that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand by thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
"Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thy dash thou foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore I will deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I shall answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him, and shew him my salvation."
Trowa put a hand on Quatre's shoulder, and his other on Duo's, and softly began to sing in Gaelic, a song he had alwasy loved, and one he hadn't lost with his memory.
"Don't lose your way,
With each passing day.
We've come so far,
Don't throw it away.
There is a fountain,
Where we will all come to stay.
If we go on together,
I know our dreams will never die.
They'll see us through to forever,
As clouds roll by,
For you and I."
Heero sighed as he clutched Duo's cross tightly in his hand. I'm so sorry Duo... I didn't mean to break my promise... Music swirled around him, and he idly wondered if that was how you were welcomed into heaven.
He knew he'd been shot, rather baddly, it seemed, but he didn't feel any pain. He could feel the blood leaking out of his body, feel his veins emptying and his heart slowing, but no pain.
The music grew louder and more defined, as if it had been searching for him and suddenly realised where he was. He heard now that it was not music, but singing, in a chorus of different languages. Languages that he didn't know, but somehow understood. And he knew who the voices belonged to.
French, Gaelic, Chinese and Arabic. His friends.
He added his voice to the rest, singing along weakly in Japanese. He knew the others could hear him, and their voices gained stregth. His own weak and weary voice began to grow as well, and the song seemed to be sweeping through his soul with the beauty and simplicity of it.
A tear slid down his cheek. Why was he crying? He wasn't sad? Because he was leaving his loved ones behind? That was it. Another tear followed the first, and the song continued to grow in strength and power.
More voices joined the first, Relena's English, Noin's Italian, Hilde's German, even, if he listened hard enough, Treize's soft Celtic.
The voices flowed through him, showing how much he was loved, how much people cared. The melody grew, sprouted harmonies, helped to join flesh to flesh, and mend torn muscle.
Slowly the voices faded, until he heard only the four, and his own Japanese. Reaching up he gingerly prodded the spot where he'd been shot. There was nothing there.
Slowly he sat up, staring around him at the pool of his own blood. He winced as something pained him, and he loosened his grip on Duo's cross, so that it didn't bite quite so painfully into his hand.
He let the cross slip through his fingers and dangle back at the end of its chain when something caught his eyes. He slid the cross over his head and stared at it.
It was silver, and actually quite big for an ordinary Catholic cross. Big enough for an engraving. And an engraving it had. At the top, it that three names. Solo, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen. At the bottem it had four more, Heero Yuy, Quatre R. Winner, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei. Across the arms part it said 'Between Past and Future I Find Love'.
Heero smiled and tucked the cross back under his shirt. He'd keep it safe. Had he been healed by the music? he wondered. No, he'd been healed by love.
He still heard the four voices of his friends, weaving throughout each other in perfect harmony dispite the differences in language. They were a family. They came from different backgrounds, different families, different countries. But they were a family all their own.
Heero stood up and did his best to flick the blood off of his spandex shorts. Smiling, he headed back the way he'd come.
And once again, he joined his voice to theirs, singing of a promise, and of everlasting friendship.
Yes, I know Trieze isn't Celtic, but Italian was taken. So was German. Deal with it.
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