[Author's Note: Warning:Deathfic. I swore I'd never write something like this, but sometimes there needs to be a way to express feelings when conventional means don't work.]

AC 200
A small cemetery. The wind drifts through the trees. A single set of footsteps faintly disturb the quiet.

To watch the leaves grow on the trees with you is out of question
I walk into this summer all alone the usual session

The footsteps tread a narrow path off the main road and come to a stop before a white gravestone. The stone and the full grass around it are dotted with pale blossoms that have fallen from the slender tree standing guard over the plot.

You feel your instinct then you act, but was it your intention
To leave me down and broken now, you've ended our ascension
Yea

The visitor remains still, hands in his jacket pockets. He had long since stopped asking why, stopped being angry, and stopped his despairing. Those feelings would demean his memory.

I still can feel the beach sand in my shoes
Remember when we talked along the ocean's song till blue from black fade in
But that was then, I learned to live without you far within

Yet he still could not refrain from visiting this place, could not suppress the memories of that face, those eyes, the being who had captured his heart...

I ask you why you're back to try to let me lose again
You brought me here, you wet my taste
You disappear without a trace
It wasn't me who made the call

His eyes skimmed the inscription on the stone. Of course, there was too much to be said than would ever fit on that surface. "Loving son...brother...A hero of the wars. Selfless philanthropist."
Giver of hope.
Returner of names.
Retriever of souls.

'Cause now I wanna be
Where you sleep, where you laugh, where you breathe
And I hate to say, still I sway, around your eyes -- gone away...

Should I feel some closure I deserve if that at least
And would you be so kind to show reasons for your release

He had found the note after -- fortunately -- someone else discovered the body. The handwriting had been in the rushed format of the desperate.
"It's been too much. The guilt...their ghosts...it's haunting me. It won't stop, I can't get away...I still love you, please don't forget that...I'll always remember your love, I'm not ignoring that...but I'm so haunted...I can't stop thinking....It's more than I can speak of...I just...I want to...
Please forgive me. I still love you."
Of course he had reacted in anger at first, then in frustration, then in his own depression for a while -- all the time wondering why nothing had been spoken. But then he thought about it, and remembered gentle moments, and finally realized that the words had always been inside those eyes -- hidden, though, so they weren't easily recognized. But there had always been something there, hovering ready to sweep the owner away. He had been foolish not to recognize what he himself had once known.

You woke me up from a distant past I left behind complete

He recalled the day they had admitted their feelings. The words were there then, too, yet they had seemed to be in a different form.
Quatre had come to see the circus. He met up with Trowa outside his trailer. Trowa had invited him in to drink a toast to the success of a brand new act. Quatre ended up merely staring into his glass, seeming nervous. Trowa asked him what was wrong as he got up to put away the rarely used wine bottle. The blond boy followed.
"Trowa, I wanted to ask...I mean..." he stammered, then waited until the other had closed the cabinet and turned back to him. "I...I need to ask...I want to...to..." Quatre stopped himself, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Trowa's mouth in a gentle kiss. He drew back with a blush dusting his face, yet he held his eyes to Trowa's, awe and uncertainty brilliant within.
Trowa's mind raced to confirm his feelings while he kept his face carefully still, not wanting to show any surprise. He couldn't keep that desperate gaze of Quatre's waiting too long. Finally he reached one hand out to stroke the blond hair then cup the back of Quatre's neck. Fear joined the uncertainty as Quatre became aware of the haste in his action. Trowa quieted the doubts in both their minds by returning the kiss.

The message that you sent that night now falls to bittersweet.

Back in the present Trowa reached to catch a falling blossom. Its petals were soft against his skin. He set it down on top of the gravestone. He had long since stopped blaming himself. Quatre had never faulted him for anything, and Quatre would have--
No, Quatre did want him to live on. Quatre had found his own gentleness, even though that was what had caused his weakness. Trowa wished he'd had that weakness, wished he could know what the difference was between his guilt and Quatre's.

Was it me, my honesty; you fail to show, I never know
It wasn't me who made the call
Was it me, my honesty
You fail to show, I never know
You brought me here, you wet my taste, you disappear without a trace
Did you think I'd ever lead you wrong
Just know I'll save all of our moments that we are

He turned to walk back home, the portion of him still in mourning satisfied for the time being. Visiting the site had a calming effect on whatever annoyances he had. It reminded him that no matter what happened, peace came to all troubled minds, and some memories were worth having.

'Cause now I wanna be
Someday you'll wish you never...
Where you sleep, where you laugh, where you breathe
Someday you'll wish you never...
And still I hate to say
Someday you'll wish you never...
Still I sway
Someday you'll wish you never...
Around your eyes
Someday you'll wish you never...
And gone away
Someday you'll wish you never...
You took it all away
You took it all away

(c) 2001 Autumn Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Characters of Trowa and Quatre belong to the creators of the GundamWing series, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, Bandai, and whoever else in Japan involved in this most cool anime.