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[drabble] Time, Now
A Gundam Wing fic...
Title: Time, Now
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
babygray
Pairing: None; Trowa and Heero
Warnings: Typos. No beta.
Disclaimer: This is just fanfiction, non-profit and just for fun.
Notes: Quick something. The words that started it were "Mind over Matter", which, in my opinion, tends to describe Yuy quite a bit in canon. (... All the pilots, really...)
Word Count: 180
Summary: A quick scene after the battle in Siberia (epi. 10).
A three-inch metal shard had been imbedded deep into his thigh, but it came out. They all came out. All it took was time.
He helped, as much as any man, unconscious and on the brink of death, could help. He had been willing to die, but, somewhere within him, was also the will to continue living. It was a concept I did not find difficult to understand.
I dressed his wounds, careful not to open them as I did so. His blood seeped out slowly and I took care to wipe it away. I wrapped the gauze around his chest with precision.
There was time, now, for precision.
I lowered him back on the bed, careful with his head. He stirred slightly as I covered him with a thin blanket. His cheeks were pale, bloodless. I wiped at his forehead with the clean corner of a hand cloth. His lips parted for a breath, moving as if to form a word. A name?
I began to clean up, taking the soiled bandages to clean.
Title: Time, Now
Author:
babygrayPairing: None; Trowa and Heero
Warnings: Typos. No beta.
Disclaimer: This is just fanfiction, non-profit and just for fun.
Notes: Quick something. The words that started it were "Mind over Matter", which, in my opinion, tends to describe Yuy quite a bit in canon. (... All the pilots, really...)
Word Count: 180
Summary: A quick scene after the battle in Siberia (epi. 10).
A three-inch metal shard had been imbedded deep into his thigh, but it came out. They all came out. All it took was time.
He helped, as much as any man, unconscious and on the brink of death, could help. He had been willing to die, but, somewhere within him, was also the will to continue living. It was a concept I did not find difficult to understand.
I dressed his wounds, careful not to open them as I did so. His blood seeped out slowly and I took care to wipe it away. I wrapped the gauze around his chest with precision.
There was time, now, for precision.
I lowered him back on the bed, careful with his head. He stirred slightly as I covered him with a thin blanket. His cheeks were pale, bloodless. I wiped at his forehead with the clean corner of a hand cloth. His lips parted for a breath, moving as if to form a word. A name?
I began to clean up, taking the soiled bandages to clean.