Fic: Gundam Wing; G
Title: When You Can't Crawl
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Auda, Rashid
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all related characters and objects are property of Bandai and other assorted people. I do not own them, I only own the story and I'm not getting any money from it. The title comes from a quote from Firefly (see lj cut) I don't own that either.
Warnings: Hallucinations
AN: Written for gw500 prompt 231(232)- the two character challenge Auda and Rashid. I've never written the Maguanacs before, so I decided to go a bit crazy. Oh, and I hate the ending. I couldn't think of a decent way to tie it off so it just sort of stops. Many thanks to mythverdandi for the betaing.
Things happened in the middle of a desert, you saw things, heard things, hallucinations that seemed so real that if you could just reach out your fingers and touch them, they would be solid.
There had been warnings, though, before they left, the same warnings they heard everywhere they went. Do not follow the lights, do not trust the water unless the animals drink it, and ignore the voices that call your name in the whispering hiss of wind over sand. The desert may seem golden, but as all such things, the immense beauty was a thin veneer of shine covering more cruelty than Oz. Sand only looked soft until you fell on it.
The attack had been long ago, not long enough for the sun to have set, but too long for Auda’s internal clock to have kicked in. The usual line up - Oz Leos against the Maguanacs, and although they had won, his suit had been thrown far from the battle site and the electrics had sparked at him before dying completely.
Each Maguanac was supposed to keep enough water in their suit to survive for three days out in the desert. Rashid was going to kill him when he found out he had forgotten to restock. He had half a bottle that had rapidly become a quarter of a bottle and was even more rapidly becoming a few small drips. Rashid was going to string him up for this.
His mouth was dry, his throat seizing up every time he tried to swallow. His compass said he was going the right way, but the way everything he saw wobbled like there was some form of interference, he had no idea whether it was real or just his mind playing tricks on him. But he kept going doggedly: his feet sank into the ground as he clambered up another dune. The sand burnt his feet and rubbed them raw as it scraped against them. It burrowed between his toes and under his toe nails, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and struggled on further.
Clenched firmly in his right hand was a piece of glossy metal he had detached from his mobile suit, knowing that he might need some sort of signal or sign of his presence as he made it back. They would be looking for him, he knew they would be looking for him.
Procedure said to stay in your suit and wait for them to find you by the GPS. Procedure had written a lot on how to survive in the desert, and experience said more, but neither of them said what to do when your GPS was rather spectacularly destroyed, the desert wind was quickly turning your mobile suit into a new sand dune and you were too damn stupid to have remembered to renew your water rations.
Rashid was going to cut his bloody head right off, and then Master Quatre would sew it back on and look at him in that way that made him wish that Rashid would do it again.
His foot slipped in the sand and he fell flat on his face. The rough particles scraped over his face and found their way into his mouth. Struggling to get up almost took more effort than he had, his hands sinking and sliding before finally compacting some of that sand enough to find leverage.
He coughed out the sand, he would have spat, but there was not enough saliva left in him even for that.
And that was when he saw them, walking over the air towards him, their laughter echoing on the wind, Damali, Muniya and Naja, in their dancing clothes, coming gracefully towards him.
“Auda,” Muniya said, her smile unfading as she approached. “What are you doing out here?” She shook her head and laughed, it sounded like bells, or the bleeping of the targeting system in his MS. “Did you get lost again?” She stepped closer to him, the soft material of her clothing almost touching the skin of his arm as he reached up to her, but she quickly stepped away, out of his reach.
“Don’t be fooled by what you see…” Naja warned him. Her face was set in lines of worry and he wanted to make her smile again. “Remember, the desert is not kind to people who lose their way.” She made no move to touch him, but stood, apart from the other two, the red of her clothing like a beacon in the unrelenting golden brown of the sand.
“Naja, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Muniya told her, as she darted teasingly behind him. “He knows all of that. He’s just tired.” She was right, he could feel the exhaustion that flooded his limbs and made his knees sag. “Why don’t you lie down, Auda? We’ll watch you while you sleep.” Damali nodded, her smile as bright as ever as he felt the feather light touch of Muniya’s fingers against his shoulders. But his eyes were drawn to Naja as she surveyed the scene, he saw her frown increase. She should not frown.
“You have to keep fighting, Auda. Keep walking. It’s not time to sleep yet.” He wanted to obey her, but Muniya’s warm breath on the back of his neck, and the way her hands smoothed his shirt against his back was so soothing, and he had been walking all day.
“Master Quatre will not be happy if you sleep now.” Naja told him. He wondered when she started calling him Master Quatre, because she had never had the nerve to use that name before. She, and the other girls, blushed at the sight of the young gundam pilot, and called him sun-boy and child-warrior amongst themselves. It was only the Maguanacs, his trusted warriors, who called him by his name, and even they used the honorific.
Master Quatre needed him to go on, she told him, so go on he would.
“Master Quatre would understand,” Muniya insisted from behind him though, “He would understand that he is tired and must sleep.”
“He can sleep later,” Naja said, and her voice was hard and unyielding, not like the lilt he remembered. “Now he must walk.” She and Muniya glared at one another as Damali began to dance. Her arms rose, and the rays of the sun caressed her skin as she started slowly, so slowly. “Walk, Auda,” Naja called, but he was lost in the dance: dark hair and dark eyes, golden skin and an outfit as blue as the midday sky. She swirled and dipped, slowly, so slowly, but sped up like his heart rate as he watched. she tripped across the air as though gravity could not control her. “Walk, Auda,” Naja commanded again, and she sounded desperate, but his eyes were glued to Damali as she floated round him. She laughed joyously as she danced, and Muniya whispered in his ears that it was okay, Master Quatre would understand. “Walk!” Naja was yelling now, but there was music, it drowned her out and flowed around him and through Damali. She was getting faster and faster as he watched, and the metal he had been clutching fell, forgotten, to the ground.
“Rashid wants you to walk.” Naja said, and her voice cut through his reverie. He turned to her and her eyes were full of fear. She should not look afraid. “Walk, Auda. Walk for Master Quatre and Rashid. Walk as I tell you to. Walk.” Muniya’s voice of soothing was suddenly just the wind and Damali’s dance faded into the rippling horizon and he began to walk again. His legs protested, his hands grasped at the metal again and at his water bottle. His compass, looped around his wrist on a leather thong, pointed the way and Naja commanded him.
He walked, though his legs were heavy and his head was pounding like a drum. He walked until he could walk no more, and his legs crumbled beneath him, and no longer supported his weight. Then he started to crawl. He dragged himself along with his arms, ignoring the pain and the blisters, ignoring the voices that called to him over the dunes, and the glimmers of wealth and family that shimmered in the distance. The only truth he knew was Naja’s voice, no longer commanding but encouraging, urging him on, and the pain that consumed him.
His arms gave out eventually, and he collapsed to the ground again, unable to move any further. Naja crouched next to him, concern still etched into her features as she reached out to sooth his brow with a cool hand, her touch like the touch of a rare cool breeze.
“Now, you can rest.” She told him, and he smiled gratefully. He had done all he could. “They will come for you.” The metal dropped from his hand, as his eyes fluttered shut.
***
The desert was cruel, and there was no sign of Auda’s Mobile Suit as the search parties spread out. There were no murmurs of dissent among the corps, but each of them knew that every second drew nightfall nearer, and then it would be nearly impossible to find their friend.
He first saw the flash of light out of the corner of his eye, a fleeting glimpse, here and then gone. It disappeared into the indistinguishable expanse of sand. Rashid took a step back, slowly. His eyes fixed to approximately where he had seen it. There it came again. He ignored the calls from behind him as he strode off into the distance, walking as fast as he could while his feet sank into the ground. Abdul yelled after him, asking whether he had seen something, but he ignored it. If this was not what he hoped it was, then the hope would be far worse for them than wondering whether he had gone heat mad.
It was Auda, half dead, lying in the sand, one of his arms caught awkwardly under his body, the other stretched out, the source of the flash, lying centimetres from his splayed fingers. Rashid huffed slightly under his breath, glad that at least some of that training had paid off. He checked his pulse, still steady, if a little weaker than he would have liked, before he pulled him up. The water bottle fell from his other hand, clearly empty from the hollow noise and the lack of impression it made.
One bottle… in the desert. Rashid shook his head and glared down at the unconscious man before adjusting him into a fireman’s carry with little effort. Some of the training may have gone in, but other aspects seemed to have gone in one ear and out the other. When Auda recovered, he was going to wish Rashid had left him out here.
He stalked back to the others who cheered as they saw the figure draped over his shoulder. His face blank, but his mind whirring as he planned out the idiot’s retraining schedule.
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Auda, Rashid
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all related characters and objects are property of Bandai and other assorted people. I do not own them, I only own the story and I'm not getting any money from it. The title comes from a quote from Firefly (see lj cut) I don't own that either.
Warnings: Hallucinations
AN: Written for gw500 prompt 231(232)- the two character challenge Auda and Rashid. I've never written the Maguanacs before, so I decided to go a bit crazy. Oh, and I hate the ending. I couldn't think of a decent way to tie it off so it just sort of stops. Many thanks to mythverdandi for the betaing.
Things happened in the middle of a desert, you saw things, heard things, hallucinations that seemed so real that if you could just reach out your fingers and touch them, they would be solid.
There had been warnings, though, before they left, the same warnings they heard everywhere they went. Do not follow the lights, do not trust the water unless the animals drink it, and ignore the voices that call your name in the whispering hiss of wind over sand. The desert may seem golden, but as all such things, the immense beauty was a thin veneer of shine covering more cruelty than Oz. Sand only looked soft until you fell on it.
The attack had been long ago, not long enough for the sun to have set, but too long for Auda’s internal clock to have kicked in. The usual line up - Oz Leos against the Maguanacs, and although they had won, his suit had been thrown far from the battle site and the electrics had sparked at him before dying completely.
Each Maguanac was supposed to keep enough water in their suit to survive for three days out in the desert. Rashid was going to kill him when he found out he had forgotten to restock. He had half a bottle that had rapidly become a quarter of a bottle and was even more rapidly becoming a few small drips. Rashid was going to string him up for this.
His mouth was dry, his throat seizing up every time he tried to swallow. His compass said he was going the right way, but the way everything he saw wobbled like there was some form of interference, he had no idea whether it was real or just his mind playing tricks on him. But he kept going doggedly: his feet sank into the ground as he clambered up another dune. The sand burnt his feet and rubbed them raw as it scraped against them. It burrowed between his toes and under his toe nails, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and struggled on further.
Clenched firmly in his right hand was a piece of glossy metal he had detached from his mobile suit, knowing that he might need some sort of signal or sign of his presence as he made it back. They would be looking for him, he knew they would be looking for him.
Procedure said to stay in your suit and wait for them to find you by the GPS. Procedure had written a lot on how to survive in the desert, and experience said more, but neither of them said what to do when your GPS was rather spectacularly destroyed, the desert wind was quickly turning your mobile suit into a new sand dune and you were too damn stupid to have remembered to renew your water rations.
Rashid was going to cut his bloody head right off, and then Master Quatre would sew it back on and look at him in that way that made him wish that Rashid would do it again.
His foot slipped in the sand and he fell flat on his face. The rough particles scraped over his face and found their way into his mouth. Struggling to get up almost took more effort than he had, his hands sinking and sliding before finally compacting some of that sand enough to find leverage.
He coughed out the sand, he would have spat, but there was not enough saliva left in him even for that.
And that was when he saw them, walking over the air towards him, their laughter echoing on the wind, Damali, Muniya and Naja, in their dancing clothes, coming gracefully towards him.
“Auda,” Muniya said, her smile unfading as she approached. “What are you doing out here?” She shook her head and laughed, it sounded like bells, or the bleeping of the targeting system in his MS. “Did you get lost again?” She stepped closer to him, the soft material of her clothing almost touching the skin of his arm as he reached up to her, but she quickly stepped away, out of his reach.
“Don’t be fooled by what you see…” Naja warned him. Her face was set in lines of worry and he wanted to make her smile again. “Remember, the desert is not kind to people who lose their way.” She made no move to touch him, but stood, apart from the other two, the red of her clothing like a beacon in the unrelenting golden brown of the sand.
“Naja, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Muniya told her, as she darted teasingly behind him. “He knows all of that. He’s just tired.” She was right, he could feel the exhaustion that flooded his limbs and made his knees sag. “Why don’t you lie down, Auda? We’ll watch you while you sleep.” Damali nodded, her smile as bright as ever as he felt the feather light touch of Muniya’s fingers against his shoulders. But his eyes were drawn to Naja as she surveyed the scene, he saw her frown increase. She should not frown.
“You have to keep fighting, Auda. Keep walking. It’s not time to sleep yet.” He wanted to obey her, but Muniya’s warm breath on the back of his neck, and the way her hands smoothed his shirt against his back was so soothing, and he had been walking all day.
“Master Quatre will not be happy if you sleep now.” Naja told him. He wondered when she started calling him Master Quatre, because she had never had the nerve to use that name before. She, and the other girls, blushed at the sight of the young gundam pilot, and called him sun-boy and child-warrior amongst themselves. It was only the Maguanacs, his trusted warriors, who called him by his name, and even they used the honorific.
Master Quatre needed him to go on, she told him, so go on he would.
“Master Quatre would understand,” Muniya insisted from behind him though, “He would understand that he is tired and must sleep.”
“He can sleep later,” Naja said, and her voice was hard and unyielding, not like the lilt he remembered. “Now he must walk.” She and Muniya glared at one another as Damali began to dance. Her arms rose, and the rays of the sun caressed her skin as she started slowly, so slowly. “Walk, Auda,” Naja called, but he was lost in the dance: dark hair and dark eyes, golden skin and an outfit as blue as the midday sky. She swirled and dipped, slowly, so slowly, but sped up like his heart rate as he watched. she tripped across the air as though gravity could not control her. “Walk, Auda,” Naja commanded again, and she sounded desperate, but his eyes were glued to Damali as she floated round him. She laughed joyously as she danced, and Muniya whispered in his ears that it was okay, Master Quatre would understand. “Walk!” Naja was yelling now, but there was music, it drowned her out and flowed around him and through Damali. She was getting faster and faster as he watched, and the metal he had been clutching fell, forgotten, to the ground.
“Rashid wants you to walk.” Naja said, and her voice cut through his reverie. He turned to her and her eyes were full of fear. She should not look afraid. “Walk, Auda. Walk for Master Quatre and Rashid. Walk as I tell you to. Walk.” Muniya’s voice of soothing was suddenly just the wind and Damali’s dance faded into the rippling horizon and he began to walk again. His legs protested, his hands grasped at the metal again and at his water bottle. His compass, looped around his wrist on a leather thong, pointed the way and Naja commanded him.
He walked, though his legs were heavy and his head was pounding like a drum. He walked until he could walk no more, and his legs crumbled beneath him, and no longer supported his weight. Then he started to crawl. He dragged himself along with his arms, ignoring the pain and the blisters, ignoring the voices that called to him over the dunes, and the glimmers of wealth and family that shimmered in the distance. The only truth he knew was Naja’s voice, no longer commanding but encouraging, urging him on, and the pain that consumed him.
His arms gave out eventually, and he collapsed to the ground again, unable to move any further. Naja crouched next to him, concern still etched into her features as she reached out to sooth his brow with a cool hand, her touch like the touch of a rare cool breeze.
“Now, you can rest.” She told him, and he smiled gratefully. He had done all he could. “They will come for you.” The metal dropped from his hand, as his eyes fluttered shut.
***
The desert was cruel, and there was no sign of Auda’s Mobile Suit as the search parties spread out. There were no murmurs of dissent among the corps, but each of them knew that every second drew nightfall nearer, and then it would be nearly impossible to find their friend.
He first saw the flash of light out of the corner of his eye, a fleeting glimpse, here and then gone. It disappeared into the indistinguishable expanse of sand. Rashid took a step back, slowly. His eyes fixed to approximately where he had seen it. There it came again. He ignored the calls from behind him as he strode off into the distance, walking as fast as he could while his feet sank into the ground. Abdul yelled after him, asking whether he had seen something, but he ignored it. If this was not what he hoped it was, then the hope would be far worse for them than wondering whether he had gone heat mad.
It was Auda, half dead, lying in the sand, one of his arms caught awkwardly under his body, the other stretched out, the source of the flash, lying centimetres from his splayed fingers. Rashid huffed slightly under his breath, glad that at least some of that training had paid off. He checked his pulse, still steady, if a little weaker than he would have liked, before he pulled him up. The water bottle fell from his other hand, clearly empty from the hollow noise and the lack of impression it made.
One bottle… in the desert. Rashid shook his head and glared down at the unconscious man before adjusting him into a fireman’s carry with little effort. Some of the training may have gone in, but other aspects seemed to have gone in one ear and out the other. When Auda recovered, he was going to wish Rashid had left him out here.
He stalked back to the others who cheered as they saw the figure draped over his shoulder. His face blank, but his mind whirring as he planned out the idiot’s retraining schedule.