Lavender Eyes

By Treesquirrel15

Word count: 2,714

Disclamer: Poor college student here; I own nothing, I am afraid. pouts though I would like to own Zack, 'cause he is shiny... XD

Summery:I shot a SOLDIER today, and in doing so, I shredded an Angel's wings. (Trooper pov for the end of Crisis Core).

Warnings: Umm... Character death (duh), overwhelming angsting, and (possibly) bad writing? Did I mention the angst? Oh! And un-Beta'ed. I need one of those. :nod:

I shot a SOLDIER today.

You should have seen him; when he first walked out from behind those rocks. He had hair as wild as fire, eyes alien and strange with their purple-mako-glow, and a cocky grin on his face that seemed to challenge the world, as if to say "throw at me all that you will, I will still win". Looking out at us, those strange –startling, beautiful, inhuman- eyes reserved in their judgment, such a contrast to his grin, he seemed at once terrifyingly powerful and strangely small; the massive sword on his back a part of him, and yet overwhelming and out-of-place.

I shot a SOLDIER today, and it was one of the most terrifying, exhilarating, grueling fights I have ever engaged in.

He was tall and strong as I had imagined, and yet, upon my first glimpse of him I found myself momentarily disappointed. For though strong, he was slender and lean, possessing the hungry look of one undernourished and ill-treated. Dirty, grimy, and posessing with the wildness that one usually finds present only in feral creatures he seemed, for a moment, less a warrior from legend and more a junk-yard dog, readying itself to defend it's kingdom of twisted refuse. But only for a moment, then he shook his head and raised that immense sword of his for an honor-salute, and I knew him for what he was: a SOLDIER, a warrior, an angel… a god.

Oh, Gaia, what have we done?

He lowered his sword and looked at us, the army amassed to meet him. Even at the distance I stood from him I could see in his eyes the sophisticated battle cunning of a trained killer. It was the force of this gaze that made up for what his appearance deceived; I felt the coldly-evaluating gaze glance over before dismissing me, and shivered in fear and anticipation. This was a fight long in the making; we had been hunting him for several months- him and that other guy he was always carrying- tracking them across Shinra's lands from Nibelheim all the way to Midgar. He gave us a good fight and a good run, but finally we caught him.

Cornered him.

Defeated him.

I shot a SOLDIER today, and I should be proud of that accomplishment. After all, SOLDIERs are the stuff of legend; superhuman heroes practically untouchable by mortals like me. To have shot one, to have brought one to his knees, that is the kind of action that a simple trooper like myself should be able to brag about for the rest of his life.

The battle was long and bloody, but, in the end, we were victorious, despite the vicious casualties he inflicted on us. Though most of our men died in the fight, he was alive and defeated, and we had triumphed. Our mission was complete; the subject was subdued and ready for the Turks to transport. We had followed orders. I had followed orders. Orders that, mere minutes later, I was to break.

I admit, back when this fight first began and we were first given the order to hunt him down, back then I had intended to follow orders, I had intended to bring him in alive. I knew not what the Turks wanted with him, what Shinra wanted with him, but he was a SOLDIER, he was strong, and I was a trooper and had my instructions. So I joined the fight with the rest of my company. A whole company, 100 men. That was what was needed to bring just one SOLDIER, one god, to his knees, even wounded and weary as this one clearly was.

Yet, it was a near thing; for even a wounded and exhausted god was almost more than enough for an entire company.

I shot a SOLDIER today, and as I stood over him, I though that I had won a great victory.

But then I saw his eyes.

Oh, Gaia, what have we done?

He was still alive after his fight with the company, horribly injured, but alive. The Turks would get their bounty and we would get our bragging rights. Our mission was successful; we had brought down a god, shattered his wings and forced him to bow to us mere mortals.

As the SOLDIER hit the ground for the last time, stillness seemed to come over the remaining troopers, the few of us that were left. Nobody seemed to want to move. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes wide with shock. We had done it! With a sudden release of tension, my shoulders relaxed and my face split into a grin. We had done it!

Taking the initiative, I stood and strutted over to examine him. I wanted to get a good look at him, to gloat over this amazing, powerful, beaten warrior; this unbelievable creature that I, a lowly human, had defeated. My victory filled me, my eyes glowing almost mako bright with pride and arrogance.

Lowly Man had brought down an Angel, ripped off his wings and left him writhing in the pain of his new-found mortality.

Reaching the SOLDIER's side, I stood, watching as he struggled for a moment to stand, before his injuries (torn flesh, shattered chest, broken dreams) proved too much even for him, and he collapsed back to the ground like a beaten dog. All this I watched, and couldn't help grinning at the strength I now had over him.

Or, rather, thought I had. But though he lay below me, bleeding and broken, he was still magnificent; even in defeat he was still more than mortal. I felt a surge of uncontrollable anger. Though Man had brought the Angel down to his level, the Angel was still far more beautiful and powerful than Man could ever be.

I felt my jaw clench, my hands fisting at my sides; suddenly I wanted to see it, had to see it, the face of the inhuman creature that I had conquered. With a quick sharp kick to his side I managed to flip the SOLDIER over onto his back, relishing in the short cry of agony my actions caused.

I got my wish, I saw his face.

Oh, Gaia, what have we done?

I shot a SOLDIER today; I shredded an Angel's wings.

As he lay gasping on his back I got my view of his face, and felt shock overcome me. My eyes grew wide, my breath stalled in my throat. Suddenly I wanted to puke, to scream, even to cry. But I could do none of that, I was frozen with a sort of numb horror. Because when I looked down at the man beneath me, at his beaten form struggling to move, my excitement left me. When I looked down and saw that face, those eyes, I realized that this wasn't a god or a monster. This wasn't even a man; this was a boy. A youth. A child.

A frightened, hurting youth who was looking up at me with dying eyes: The bravado and courage in his gaze- that gaze that had first startled me so- was being eaten away as I watched by the sheer amount of physical, mental, and emotional pain that was overtaking him.

A youth who should be laughing with his friends, going on dates with a girlfriend, and stepping out into the big bad world for the very first time. A child who should have been living a life full of the possibilities of adolescence, not lying on the ground at my feet, struggling to breath through the blood bubbling from between his lips.

Oh Gaia, what have we done?

It was not a god, or an angel, or even a monster that we had hunted, stalked, cornered, and crippled like some wild creature. It was a child!

I looked down into those strange, beautiful, purple eyes, and saw in them agonizing pain, dying hope, and the shattered remains of dreams. Dreams that I knew I had just killed.

I don't know what that SOLDIER was running from, or running to, or why he was even running at all. What I do know was that despite his skill, despite his training, despite the desperate, magnificent power with which he fought, in the end that SOLDIER was just a scared little boy, trying to be brave, fighting to be free.

I shot a SOLDIER today, but I wish that I had turned the gun on myself instead.

That purple-eyed SOLDIER was just a child, one who should have been too young to be looking at me with such pain in his eyes. He was a kid damm it! I have cousins and nephews that age, boys who are only just starting to take their first steps into adult life. This SOLDIER, this boy, should be with them, just starting to spread his wings of adulthood for the first time. He should not be lying bleeding at my feet, staring up at death with all-too familiar eyes, his wings ruined before they were even allowed to grow.

Oh Gaia, I have a little son who dreams of swords and SOLDIERS and being a hero like his dad, just as this youth must have once done. At that moment, as I looked into the lavender-gaze beneath me, I could see it in my head; a little purple-eyed kid with hair as black as night dreaming of the hero he will one day become, a boy so like my own child. In my mind I could see my son and this boy as though they were one and the same, and I knew, with a sudden, final, terrible certainty the choice that was now in my hands.

Oh Gaia, what have we done?

In the SOLDIER's dying eyes I saw the fire of freedom slowly being extinguished, and watched as, at the flame's base, the black-hole of pain it had hid was revealed. Whatever this boy was running from, he wanted desperately, frantically, heart-wrenchingly only one thing; to be free.

Oh Gaia, no.

The truth sat before me, a horrible reality that pressed inexorable against the back of my eyes and squeezed my chest with a crushing grip. Despite the SOLDIER's power and grace, despite how lethal he was –a weapon made of flesh and bone- he was still just a boy, just a kid trapped in a game far more horrifying than I could ever know.

I shot a SOLDIER today; I did it to grant him the freedom he required.

In the end he had protected that other boy through a running fight that took them half-way around the world, and had almost made it to freedom. Now, he had been cornered, caught, and there was no-one to protect him, no one to save him from the grotesquely remembered terror to which he would soon be returned.

Gaia, No.

However he had escaped this last time, whateverhe had escaped the last time, I knew that he would never be given the chance a freedom again. Whatever had been done to him had caused such fear in the SOLDIER that I knew, should the Turks retrieve him alive, he would be instantly shattered, forever beyond repair.

NO!

That is why I shot him that last, fatal time. That is why I disobeyed orders, put my gun to his chest, and pulled the trigger: because he really was just a kid with eyes begging for freedom and a soul slowly being crushed by pain and terror of a level I cannot even begin to imagine.

I shot a SOLDIER today; I had wounded him because I was told to capture him, but I killed him because I couldn't save him.

Though the first truth had cracked my heart, it was the second one that shattered it. He was a boy, someone's son (like my little boy, who dreams of swords and SOLDIERS and being a hero), and I wanted to save him, I wanted to help him, I wanted to make right this horrible wrong that I had committed. But I looked at him and knew that I couldn't ever fix this; what was done was done, long before I ever entered the scene.

Even as he lay there, pleading with his eyes for mercy that he could never receive, I knew I couldn't just let him go. He was too strong, too alive, too much of a target. Shinra would never stop hunting him. This black haired boy-angel was defeated before we had even started tracking him. No matter how much I wanted, I could never grant him his freedom.

Not through life, at least.

I don't know how, or even whether I just imagined it, I swear that in the moments before I took the final shot, the SOLDIER saw this truth in my face through my monster's helmet. As the barrel of my gun pointed down towards his chest, readying itself so that I might grant him the one mercy I could, the light seemed to die from his eyes. His gaze, filled with pain and brutal acceptance, glanced ever so slightly to the side before looking back at me, one last request in his dying stare. I understood.

I couldn't save him, but maybe, just maybe…

That kid he was with, the blond haired child that the lavender-eyed SOLDIER had watched with such care? That kid was out of it, probably wouldn't live much longer anyway; might as well leave him to die, he was as good as dead anyway. At least, that is what I told the other troopers. They agreed with me and laughed as we walked away.

They didn't see, and I would never share.

I couldn't save the older kid and let him live, but maybe, just maybe, I managed to save the little one. Maybe, just maybe, the little blond kid will get away. It was the least I could do for the black-haired angel I had to murder.

As we rode away from the massacre site; away from the blood and gore and shattered remains of lives, I alone among the survivors looked back. For one moment, I thought that I saw a glimpse of blond and black, followed by the echoing memory of a tortured scream of anguish. I watched, the troop van taking me farther and farther from the scene of my atrocities, and for one moment, I though I saw a brilliant light and a flash of wings.

When my comrades asked what I was looking at, I just shook my head.

"So, that was a SOLDIER."

Yeah, that was.

I shot a SOLDIER today, and it should have been something for me to brag about; a lowly trooper killing a First Class like that. I should brag, I should be full of pride and bravado at my deed, but instead, as the transport enters the walls of Midgar, its wheels caked with the bloody badge of a battle fought, I only want to cry.

Those sad, lavender-boy-eyes, eyes that had seen far too much, will forever haunt me.

Gaia, protect him.

I shot a SOLDIER today.

:headdesk: the Angst!!

Soo… :grins sheepishly: do you like? Remember, reviews feed authors!