Fic: Static
Title: Static
Manga: Pandora Hearts
Characters: Gilbert and Oz
Rating: Rated: K+
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Words: 1,661
Summary: You weren't cut out to be a murderer. You're just Gil. You're the same Gil I've always known.
Writer's Note: Thanks to gommyommy for beta-reading! :D
P.S. These (#) are footnotes!
If I owned Pandora Hearts, *CHAPTER 57 SPOILER* Elliot would live to the end of the series. If MochiJun-sensei kills him off... OMG... DD8
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Static - adjective
1. pertaining to or characterized by a fixed or stationary condition.
2. showing little or no change
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Gilbert's stomach was in knots the entire ride back to Rainsworth manor. He needed to get out of this cramped compartment; he needed to get away from this. He leaned toward the open window, but the fresh air provided only minimal comfort. The sun was entirely too bright, as if it was mocking his pain. But he infinitely preferred it to this wretched carriage that jolted over every pebble on the road and made his head pound along with it. This happened every time. Why couldn't he handle it?
He shivered and gripped his arms, trying to appear irritated rather than ill. Everything was spinning. They hadn't been far from the estate to begin with. Weren't they almost there yet?
When they did arrive Gilbert quickly and quietly retreated from the group, making his way outside to the forest-like greenery behind the estate. (1) As soon as he had deemed himself far enough away, he fell to his knees beside a small bush and emptied his stomach.
Blood. Blood that he'd spilled...
The acid burned in his throat, but who was he to complain? It was surely nothing compared to the pain of death. Certainly the Abyss must burn through souls faster than the vomit in his mouth. And far more painfully, the extent of which he could only imagine. Such horrible things people experience, even after death. According to Break, humans who spend enough time in the Abyss become chains. The stupid rabbit turned into a chain...
Vivid images flashed through his mind. A young boy lying lifeless on the ground, blood still gushing from the wound in his chest. And Gilbert's own gun, still held in his then firm hand. The nausea always took a few minutes to set in.
The boy couldn't have been any older than Oz, and Gilbert had ended his life, simply because he had been told. It was his assignment. The child was dangerous. He had to be eliminated. But there was a bright side: death on Earth would save him from life in the Abyss. Or that's what he had been told.
Normally, the worst part of carrying out an assassination was getting rid of the body. Collecting the remains of the life he destroyed almost always resulted in the loss of his lunch. But this time, there had been no need to dispose of any bodies: the Abyss had taken care of that.
Gilbert heaved again as the bright purple light of the Abyss flashed before his mind's eye. At the very least, there had been no screams of terror. There was only silence as the ground lit up and the corpse was dragged into the Abyss, pulled in by his chain. Not even Oz or the stupid rabbit had made a sound. Gilbert had felt small hands grip his sleeve, but was unable to tear his gaze away to meet the surely terrified eyes.
It is a known fact that one always feels better after throwing up, but Gilbert didn't believe it. He clutched at his sides and shuddered as the pain continued to engulf him.
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Certainly Oz was able to tell when something was bothering Gilbert. As a best friend and master, it was among the least of his duties. A greater of these was comfort. He had watched him nervously in the carriage, but knew that Gilbert wouldn't want to talk in front of Alice. So he followed him outside upon their arrival, but quickly fell behind and lost sight of his quick-paced servant.
It was obvious that Gilbert was shaken by this particular mission, but only once had Oz seen him this upset.
"My movements are so unstable, I can barely stand anymore." (2)
He had run away that time too. Oz wondered just how much of Gilbert's reaction was brought about by his memories and how much was the mere concept of murder. He couldn't picture Gilbert being comfortable with death in any case, - especially when it came to killing people himself - although he so often feigned apathy. Oz often marveled at his strength. But was it really?
"There was nothing to be done. Not by me, and not by you." (3)
How many times had Gil put on a brave face for him? Oz had no doubt that the mask was off as he finally found Gilbert, doubled over at the edge of a clearing.
"Gil," he whispered, kneeling beside the man. Gilbert didn't acknowledge his presence, but his shaking lessened at the feel of Oz's hand on his shoulder.
Oz rubbed small circles on Gilbert's back as his companion continued to heave, despite the fact that there was nothing left to disgorge. Eventually Gilbert calmed and shifted backward to sit cross-legged, still not meeting Oz's eyes. Oz sat in the same way facing him. He scooted forward so that their knees were almost touching and leaned his chin on one hand. He figured that he would still be safe at this proximity: since Gilbert had just been dry-heaving, there was nothing left in his stomach to discard.
"You should get some water," Oz said. Gilbert nodded, but made no move of getting up. Oz lifted his other hand and weaved it into Gilbert's hair, as he so often did when the man was distraught over something. Gilbert looked up at him and was met with a small smile. He didn't return it, though he did slightly lean into the touch.
"I'm not a murderer, Oz... But I... I am." Oz was more than confused by this statement, so he waited for his friend to elaborate.
"I've already killed so many people. Heartlessly. I should be used to it by now. But, every time..."
Oz slid his hand out of Gilbert's hair to smack him on the forehead with the back of his hand. "Well obviously you're not heartless, if it makes you so upset. And of course you won't get used to it, you're not some killer, you're Gil. You're the same Gil I've always known."
"Oz, I've already told you I changed -"
"For goodness' sake, Gil! Didn't we have this conversation a long time ago? Yes, things change. Time passes and situations change. People change. But that doesn't mean they become new people altogether."
Oz reached up once again and pinched Gilbert's cheek. "You'll always be Gil." Gilbert responded with only mild irritation: not a good sign. It meant that he was still bothered by this.
They sat for a few moments, but Oz still felt as if he hadn't addressed the full issue. He had to choose his words carefully. "Listen, Gil, killing people is not a good thing. But what you're doing... You're doing what you have to. And... I'm proud of you for that." This time when Oz ruffled his hair, Gilbert scrambled to grab his hands and held them down between them.
"Oz!" he yelped, an exasperated blush coloring his features. Much better.
Oz laughed at his friend's antics and scooted over to sit beside him, leaning on his shoulder. The two lapsed into a comfortable silence as they sat, each lost in their own thoughts.
Emerging from his reverie after a few minutes, Oz turned to look at his friend. Gilbert was hunched over slightly, staring at the ground. Oz reached up and mussed up his hair once more for good measure.
"Oz, stop it!"
"Quit whining," Oz said, still not removing his hands from Gilbert's hair. "It's not like seaweed needs to be orderly anyway."
Gilbert responded with several muted noises that could possibly be interpreted as whining.
Oz noticed this disobedience (cute as it was), but decided to overlook it in favor of another detail. He laughed. "You sound just like you did when you were fourteen!"
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(1) Picture the place where Oz and Gil sat during the omake when he tried to quit smoking.
(2) This is a quote from chapter 35 of the manga. It takes place right after Gil tried to kill Alice.
(3) This one's from chapter 6, when Oz was upset about the death of the flower girl.
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-TotalAlias-