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"Faith"Written By: Dragonmistress_7 Rating: PG, because I said 'hell' once Warnings: Do I have to warn you if it's weird?
It is kind of weird. It's short, too, but so are some of my best friends. Archive: <http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/> Disclaimer: Forget the disclaimer. We took a vote.
They're mine. (nudges duct tape and firearms further under the bed.) Author's Notes: I have no idea where this came
from. I am not Catholic, nor was I at all familiar with any saint
until I started looking them up and trying to match one to each G-boy.
Feedback very much appreciated, because I rather like it, but I don't
know if anyone else will. And why Trowa? Your guess is as good as
mine.
"Faith" She was praying, hands folded piously, when he woke.
"What happened?" he asked, groggily. "You were attacked. You're safe, for the time being.
Get some more rest while there is someone to watch over you. I must
leave you when dark comes. I doubt you're the type that likes to be
coddled, anyway," she replied, giving a smile. "Who are you? Where am I?" he demanded. Dear Lord help him, he really was just child. She knew
that, of course, and she hardly had room to talk, but at least she'd
seen two decades pass. At the rate he was going, it would be a miracle
if he did. "You're in the sewers. This section hasn't been used
for decades, and except for the occasional vermin, is really quite
homey. There's no hot tub, but if you stand under a manhole when it's
raining, you can get a refreshing shower." She smiled then, and
he thought, especially with her long, dark hair, she looked like 02. "How did I get here?" he asked, trying to
sit up. It worked, kind of. "I brought you. You were unconscious." She didn't add that he was bleeding and bruised, he'd probably figure that one out himself. It didn't surprise her that he couldn't remember what happened. He'd taken one hell of a beating. There was silence for a long time, then he pointed the
picture she'd carefully set up on top of her duffel bag. "Who's
that?" "Saint Gertrude of Nivelles, patron of travelers,
and more importantly, against mice and rats. These are the sewers,
after all." "You're Catholic?" "Yes, devout. I sell, and occasionally give away,
key chains with pictures of the saints of them," she explained,
opening her bag "That's really strange. You remind me of some I
know, and he's Catholic, too, or used to be." "Duo Maxwell? I'm sure there were times when he
could have used Gertrude's help, but I gave him Saint Therese of Lisieux,
patron of pilots and orphans." "You know Duo?" he asked, beyond surprised. "Mmmm. Heero Yuy got Saint Jude Thaddeus, patron
of desperate situations and impossible causes. The Chang boy got Margarita
of Cascia, also a patron of the desperate and impossible, but more
fitting because she also cares for the lonely and the widowed. Quatre
Winner received Joseph, husband of the Blessed Virgin, patron against
doubt and hesitation" "What's going on? Who are you?" he demanded,
and he sounded angry. She didn't blame him. He thought himself in
danger, or that she was crazy, most likely. Some people just don't
know that the Lord works in mysterious ways. "There have been others as well. You'd be surprised
who I meet in my travels, people who need help or are just wandering
the streets, wondering what to do, whether they've made the right
decisions. That's how I met Trieze Khushrenada. He actually gave me
what money he had in his pocket for Saint Francis of Assisi, patron
of peace, and against dying alone. He received the stigmata, and suffered
for his beliefs for the last two years of his life. The general was
very interested in what I had to say about him." For a moment she said nothing as she dug through her
bag for an alcohol pad to use on the cut that his agitation had reopened.
As She gave a small, considering smile. "And I guess
that makes you lucky number seven. I never tried to meet any of you,
Trowa Barton. I didn't take it upon myself be God's messenger. I never
asked for this work. Somehow, you were all sent to me." She was quiet for probably half an hour while Trowa
tried to figure out what to say. He couldn't decide if she was sincere,
crazy, She pulled herself to her feet and checked him over
one last time. "Before I go, I see no reason to break with tradition."
She She placed the key chain in his hand, then picked up
her bag and began to walk away. Before she disappeared around the
corner, she stopped and looked back. "God be with you." He wasn't sure he believed in God. Before today, he'd
been sure he didn't. He guessed that meant he was better off, somehow.
But, whether her god was real or not, her heart was in the right place.
"Thank you, traveler." She smiled at him, and then she was gone. Trowa looked down at the key chain in his hand. It was
nearly as long as his palm, and thicker than he'd originally thought.
On a ~ * ~
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