Title: The Clock

Author: Sorceress Fantasia

Pairing: 2+?

Warnings: Post war, death, incoherent thoughts

Archive: http://www.gwaddiction.com/levlair/index3.htm

Disclaimers: Someone outbid me in an auction at ebay, so the characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for a little fun.

Note: Some of you may find that the thoughts projected here are incoherent, so are unable to keep up with them because they seem to be jumping about. Trust me that this is here for a purpose, and you may understand at the end of the ficcy. By the way, to really get a feel of everything, I suggest reading this ficcy in complete silence, only with the constant ticking of a watch or clock near you.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It's dark. The only light in this room is from the moon, peeking inside, coincidentally lighting up the clock sitting so innocently on the night stand. I glance at the time-telling device, from the white tiled floor where I'm seated. Is it still white? I can't tell. It's too dark. But I know.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every tick is a second less of my life.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every tick is one second more without him by my side.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Father, sister… am I still Maxwell Church's angel? But my wings aren't the pristine white you want them to be. I'm not a cherub. I do not have white wings, angelic eyes that are always lit up. Nor do I have the beautiful locks and smiles. I have fallen. My wings are as red as the setting sun, eternally stained by the lifeblood of others. My eyes are dull, forever glazed over by a sheen of tears that will never fall. My locks are fragile, ceaselessly matted with sweat and gore. My 'smiles' are wicked and lopsided, perpetually fake. I smirk. I grin. But I never smile.

I lie. My motto for life, is in fact, the biggest lie ever.

Sister Helen… will you still recognize me when we reunite in heaven? Or will I be doomed to an eternal of suffering in the fiery pits of hell? Doesn't matter. I hope you don't. I want you to remember Duo.

I am Duo Maxwell. We may share the same body, the same name, but we are different. Duo is Duo. Duo Maxwell is Duo Maxwell. We are two different persons.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

This constant ticking is ticking me off. But somehow, I welcome it. At least, I may have a little understanding of how it was for him. Me and my constant chatter bugging him… No wonder he left… But is he ever going to come back?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Of course not. He made it so clear when he left. Just packed up his bags and left. No heartfelt apology. No words. No nothing. Not even a lie. He just left, like I had never existed.

What we had… wasn't it enough?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Maybe he's a gift from God to me. But is it my fault my hands are too stained by blood, my soul too tainted by death to receive it? I'm losing faith, losing hope.

I want to grasp my crucifix one more time, but then I remember I no longer have it. I have given it to him, in that envelope with my letter that will reach him within the week. My crucifix… the base of all my beliefs… I *want* to believe. I *need* to believe. Believe that he will come back for me, because he's all I have left. I have lost my childhood friend, my guardians, and myself. I need him.

My hands are numb. I can't feel them anymore. How long have I been sitting here?

… … Can't tell. My eyes are beginning to shut. The light is dimming.


A gust of wind blows into the room. The curtains flutter. I am cold.


Darkness swamps the room. The moonlight is gone. I smell death.


The stench of demise is thick. He is here. I will succumb.


I breathe my last…

tick… tick… tick… tick…

…as the clock stops.

tick… … ti… … …


Dear Heero,

This is the last you will ever see or hear of me. Therefore, I truly hope that you will finish reading this.

Have you ever heard of the story about clocks? They say… everyone in this world has one, and they represent people's lifetime. When it is ticking, you are alive. But when it stops, you die. And when you sin, your clock would jump ahead by a certain amount, thereby effectively cutting short your lifespan. But the most interesting thing about it is that one can give up one's own clock, and give it to someone else so that person's life will be extended.

You are with Relena now, aren't you? I hope you are, cause that's where this letter will go. I haven't heard from you since the first day of peace. Are you happy with her? I hope you are, because I want to make sure your life is longer than it had been.

I was silly. I was stupid to think what we had during the war had been real, and not some stress releasing outlet. I needed to believe what we had was a result of love. Death will always love life, and you are my life. I had always harbored the illusion that we'd live together after the war. But when the war ended, so did my life.

Yes, Heero. I am a coward, and I have chosen death. I can survive without you, yes, I can, because I have done it before. But to truly live, I need you. And I'd rather die than become a zombie.

So…I hand you my life, Heero. And I hope you'll be happy in the days to come, living in whatever Relena can offer that I cannot. Until then, I can only hope.

Yours forever,



Somewhere far away, another clock stopped.


Sorceress Fantasia

Proud member of SDDI, 1x2ML