Birth Day
A Gundam Wing / Sandman crossover
By White Cat
This place was filthy.
In this dark alleyway, a dead man lay rotting, the skin melting off his face, forgotten or ignored by the soldiers that regularly patrolled the city. Grime and worse stained the brick walls, and the air was black from smoke.
A baby was squalling noisily, unsoothed by his mother's gentle rocking. She smiled sadly down at him, then leaned her head back, peering out into the busy crowd of people in the street, who trooped by without ever looking up. The war had robed everyone of so much, that almost no one was interested in any troubles than their own.
The baby finally trailed off, as if finally exhausted. She looked back down at him again, shifting her grip slightly so that she could brush a long curl of almost transparent caramel hair from one round cheek. Long lashes dipped and fluttered at her touch, and he smiled back at her, abrupt and unexpected, his mouth stretching wide to show the red, toothless gums inside. Violet eyes, wide and almost unnervingly intelligent, watched her every move.
"What am I going to do with you, huh?" she whispered in a reedy voice. "The day's almost over, and I can't just leave you here. You'd die." She closed her eyes and shuddered, bending down to press her cheek to the feather-soft hair atop his head. "And I can't take you with me. Guess I should have thought it through a little more carefully. But I've enjoyed being with you so much ..."
The baby's forehead wrinkled, and the smile faded into a more solemn expression. One tiny, chubby fist swung up, latching onto one of her fingers and clinging tenaciously. He made a small squeaking sound, deep in the back of his throat, and it brought a smile to her lips as she pulled away.
"Ah, little one. I'm going to miss you." She bent a kissed his forehead, then rose unsteadily to her feet. The torn cloth of her flimsy black tanktop sagged with the movement, baring a large patch of dirty white flesh, and she halfheartedly attempted to adjust it before stumbling out into the crowded streets. No one gave them a second look; they could have been invisible, for all the attention people paid to them.
It was growing late. The young woman paused to rest against a building, closing her eyes for the briefest moment, before struggling onwards again. It didn't matter where she ended up - as long as it was away from here, where possibly, however slim the chance was, she could find someone - anyone - who could -
"Ho, there, little girl. Where do you think you're going?"
She pulled up short, heart pounding in her throat. Before her, a huge man loomed, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, with a mop of shaggy orange-red hair tied in a scraggly ponytail at the base of his neck. Stubble decorated the lower half of his face, half-obscuring thin lips, and his eyes, though narrow, were kind. He was heavyset, but not with the same softness that plagued most colonists - this was a man who could easily survive on his own for long stretches of time in the wilderness, a skill nearly lost in the age of space and war.
She knew him. She knew him very well.
He looked at the baby in her arms as she licked her lips nervously, and his eyebrows rose, lips pursing into a thoughtful frown. "What's this? A baby? And you didn't tell anyone? For shame." He bent forward ever so slightly, reaching up to touch the baby's soft face with one large, callused finger. "Hello, little one. Fancy meeting you."
The baby regarded him with bored violet eyes, then yawned. The man pulled back, grinning broadly, then threw back his head and laughed. That got a reaction from the people walking around them; surreptitious and disapproving glances followed his every move as he bent and swept the girl into a bear hug, bone-creakingly tight, but still gentle enough not to crush the child.
"He's part of the family, all right. I don't suppose you'd tell me who the father was."
She dropped her eyes to the pavement when he released her, fidgeting nervously. "There ... there wasn't any father. I ... I wanted to know ..."
The large man chuckled, then threw a beefy arm around her slender shoulders. "Come! Walk with me. It's been years since I last saw you; surely you can spare some time for me?"
"I don't know." She frowned at the now-sleeping child. "I only have a few hours left, and I still need to find someone who can watch over the boy - I can't take him with me -"
The man's face darkened. "Don't tell me ..."
She just shrugged. He scowled. "I thought better of you than that. He was bad enough, but at least his son had a mother to watch over him when he couldn't be there! And at least he could be there for the child, and there was a place for the lad to stay -"
"I know that!" she exploded, whirling to face him again, eyes fierce. "I know how irresponsible it is! But, for just once, I wanted ... I wanted ..." The anger faded from her expression, and she cuddled the baby closer to her breast. "The rest of you are pretty much free to do with as you wish. But I - I can't afford to get too attached, because then it's always worse when the end comes. Just this once, though, I thought ... maybe ..."
He looked around; people were staring openly now. With a sigh, he reached forward, dragging her close into his protective embrace and urged her forward. "Come on. A busy street isn't the place to talk about this. If you only have a few hours left, we should make the best of our time we can."
The sky was turning violet by the time they reached his cabin, small and rundown and hanging on the very edge of the busy city. Without a word, he unlocked the door and stepped aside for her, allowing her to take up a place pacing across his living room rug as he sank to a seated position on the floor.
"What can I do?" she asked miserably. "I can't take him with me. I want him to live - to have a normal, decent life. It seems like that's not going to happen, though, is it?"
He was silent for a long time. Then, "Let him go."
"What?"
"You want the kid to live a normal life, you say." The large man stepped forward, and carefully took the baby from her lax arms. "But think of it this way, my dear one: how would you feel, knowing you're part of this family?"
She was silent.
"Maybe this isn't the best thing to do for the lad," he said, with the smallest of shrugs. "Maybe someday, you and I will both look at what he might become and regret everything about it. But for now ..."
The baby in his arms shimmered, then vanished.
"All we can do for him is this."
The young woman let out a cry of dismay, reaching out for the empty space where the child had been. Her mouth worked and she swallowed thickly, but the only sounds she seemed to be able to make were incoherent, pained noises.
"Motherhood does something odd to all women," the large man said gently, catching both her hands in his, curling his huge fingers over her small fists. "Even those like us. I guess that explains why you were so reckless."
"He'll die ..." she whispered, finally choking the words out.
"He may," the man agreed. "Or he may not. He's not an ordinary child; not with bloodlines like ours. He has a better chance than anyone else out there right now. And I promise I'll look in on him on occasion. When I'm passing by."
She sniffed, looking up at him incredulously. "Destruction? Does this mean that -"
"No." He lifted one hand to carefully flick a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry."
Her dark head bowed, and she sighed. "All right. I'll trust your judgment for this. And - thank you. I'm afraid to think of what might have happened, if it had been anyone other than you." She raised her head and smiled wanly at him.
Night had fallen outside.
An hour later, he left the house and locked the door behind him for the last time. He had a makeshift pack slung against one shoulder, crudely fashioned from a red-and-white polka dotted handkerchief tied to an old broom handle. His face was solemn.
As he walked away, the house gave a great shudder, old-fashioned timbers and stone groaning like a living being.
And once he was almost gone, just a tiny shape against the darkness, the house pulled in on itself ...
... and exploded.
He stood by the window, looking down at the faint, sparkling blue-green jewel of Earth. It seemed so utterly innocent, from here; one could pretend that there wasn't years of blood-soaked enmity between the mother planet and her colonies.
He had made the decision to accept the professor's offer; there seemed to be little other choice for a pathetic little war-orphan like himself.
He was a nothing - a street-child who'd been forced to name himself, because his mother had not lived long enough for him to remember what she'd called him during the first stretch of indeterminate, unremembered period of time at the beginning of his life. He was the small, dark shadow that moved about easily, undetected by those higher-up; he was perfect for this job.
He was someone who had avoided the cold touch of death, despite numerous opportunities and times when anyone else would have given in quietly and died.
He was not invincible - but he was close enough to satisfy the professor.
"Who's that?"So, are you a demon, boy?
"Him? He's the only one who survived the Maxwell Church Massacre. They call him "Maxwell's Demon."The boy looked up, a scowl settling on his features, looking strangely out of place against the smiling mask he'd built for himself in the years since Sister Helen had breathed her last.
I'm no demon. Demons, at least, can still die. I don't.
I'm Shinigami. The real one won't come to me - so I'll go to him.
His hand, pressed palm-flat against the cold surface of the window, suddenly curled in on itself, forming a tight, shaking fist.
Whatever it takes, you bastard. I'll see you, someday.
I'm looking forward to it.
End Notes
- If you've read "Mama's Boy," then you know who Duo's mother is. (Death of the Endless, if y'all haven't - and yes, in that version of things, Death is female. She's also awesome - out of her whole family, she's the only one with a good sense of humor. Except for maybe Destruction, but he left. And occasionally Delirium, though I think her humor isn't quite as intentional. ^_^;;) They don't really look alike, but, hey ... I figure, it seems oddly fitting to me that way. ^_^;;
- Death, according to canon, spends one day every century as a mortal, so she can better understand what it's like to live and die. It would be interesting, i.m.o., to see how she would react to be a mother, though I'm not sure how it all worked - I'm thinking, Death is one of the Endless; she can do practically anything. Which means, when she says "there was no father" - there literally was no father. She just sorta willed the baby into existence. O_o*
- Yeah, the big guy is Destruction. I know he left, abandoned his realm, and that he's on odds with all the family (except possibly Delirium and the new Dream), but in one flashback, he seemed to be pretty close with Death. So, one never knows. *shrugs*