title: requiem of dreams
fandom: Gundam 00
characters/pairings: dream!Alleluia/dream!fem!Tierra, Lockon, Haro, Alleluia/Halleluia/dream!Johann, Setsuna/dream!Marina, dream!Saji
rating: Teen/Mature
warnings: dreaming of sex, dream genderswap, dreaming of murder, dreaming of violent rape
summary: a look into the dreams they try not to have.
notes: none

Without Veda, Tieria doesn't like his dreams.

Which isn't precisely the right way to phrase it, as Tieria doesn't precisely dream when he can access Veda. He swims in the data, outside of his body, at one with the peace and perfection that is Veda. It refreshes and revives him, regains for him the purpose that wears off as he faces the reality of the battle, day in and day out. Inside of Veda, he feels free. He feels himself.

The longer he goes without Veda, the more wrong he feels. Like he might start to believe that he's really human, like the rest of them. Eating, drinking, bathing, other things... Everything feels dirty.

Tieria never likes to be touched, and he despises the sinful weakness of rest, but the worst part of sleep for him is the blurring of reality and fantasy. For the latter, he has no use, regardless, and that it would infringe upon his perception of the former is a deep betrayal to him. An occasion of sleep brings forth delusions in his mind that he prefers to ignore.

Looking into the mirror and seeing his body... different... he's wearing Ms. Sumeragi's clothes, and his body fills them as hers does. His hair is longer, but he's still got the glasses on... he's holding a glass with ice cubes and something the color of honey and molasses. It's not sweet, though. He knows it won't be. He stares into the mirror, into his own eyes, not even considering why it might be that he sees himself this way. He puts his hand on his stomach.

Is a body like this better than his own?

Heat surrounds him rapidly, and his vision hazes over. Mind if I have a sip? a husky, familiar voice asks. Alleluia's back is broad and strong, and his arms slip around Tieria's narrow waist. Alleluia's chin is on Tieria's shoulder, digging in... his nose touches Tieria's jaw...

You... you shouldn't drink... he complains, but his voice sounds weak. He feels weak.

Alleluia chuckles. One of his hands runs down Tieria's arm, covering the hand wrapped around the glass. His other hand is on Tieria's stomach... Just a sip, Alleluia purrs, bringing the glass up to his lips. He twists Tieria's arm to do it...! Tieria squirms a bit... he watches the glass touch Alleluia's lips, and the liquid moves up... and enters his mouth.

That's more than a sip, Tieria complains, but it doesn't matter. The glass falls away, and shatters. Tieria watches the shards scatter in slow motion... Alleluia unbuttons his shirt. His hand is moving inside of Tieria's sport tank, fondling his breasts. D-don't... don't touch me... Tieria moans.


Alleluia's tongue slides down his neck and Tieria shudders, but it's not in horror. You're not honest, he taunts. Tieria's shirts are gone, and Alleluia's hands are inside of Tieria's pants, questing... Tieria gasps, and arches his back as Alleluia's fingers find his clit... See? I know exactly what you want...

You... b-bastard... Tieria weakly throws back, but it's true. It's completely true. Alleluia knows... Tieria is on his back, on the bed, on silk sheets that smell like gun oil, and Alleluia is over him, huge and naked and shining with sweat. From the angle he's at, he can see both of Alleluia's eyes, and it terrifies him, but he clings to Alleluia's arms, and begs as Alleluia pounds into him, begs for more and harder and there! He feels like a whore. He likes it.

He jumps up, sweat still dripping from his brow. He's in the observatory room, on the couch. He's waking up. He runs his hands down his flat chest...

He longs for Veda.

Without memories, Lockon would have no nightmares.

He prides himself on being able to keep a positive outlook, even in the darkest of times. It allows him to stay focused on the job at hand, and the best ways of getting that job done. Nightmares seem childish to him. He laughs at himself as he wipes his hair out of his face. Seeing his parents and his sister in the wreckage of the enemy mobile suits he has just obliterated with Dynames. What a joke!

He hates feeling emotional, hates those emotions getting out of control. Guilt? He's given that up. He sold himself into slavery for the good of humanity. Even he can see the bullshit in saying that, but at least it has the comfort of being true.

The guilt is useless.

So, he watches over the people around him. Being a Gundam Meister and being a warm and open person are pretty incompatible, so at times he feels like he's stalking them. He plays with Haro. He works.

He jerks off to porn, sometimes thinking about Sumeragi, sometimes thinking about people he won't admit to, until he's so exhausted and drenched in his self-manufactured euphoria, he falls instantly asleep, his hand still between his legs, his bed a mess. Most often, he won't dream at all when he's like that.

Sometimes, he dreams of meeting his brother again.

There is a particular pub in Galway... it's a fun place, even now. There's a band playing traditional music, and an old man in the corner telling tales. A place like this... it shouldn't exist still, not after everything they've been through as a nation, but it does, because of the tourists. Still, amongst all the idiots in their green plaid pants, Lockon sits across from a man who looks enough like him to make him feel like he should remember what family is like, and he becomes Neil again.

The pub is too loud for them to talk, so they nurse a few Guinnesses, and take in the atmosphere. It gets to be late, and his brother pokes him in the arm, and they get up to leave. He feels antsy, because he doesn't know anymore. Doesn't know how to be a brother, and doesn't know how to be a Irishman, and he doesn't know how to explain that to the one person he never should have abandoned.

The streets are made for the trade, so there are no cars, and cobblestones stretch out before him. He's got his chin down, like an ant might rise out from the cracks to attack. The stars above them are as clear and as bright as they can be from the city center, but he doesn't look up at them, because he's sick of them.

I get it, yanno, his brother says.

It's the most painful thing Lockon could hear, made a thousand times worse because he knows it's the truth. If anyone got it...

After such a visit home, Lockon is all smiles, and ready for work, throwing himself into it. He becomes even more concerned about his fellow Meisters, and the people who work with them. He becomes even more helpful. Anything to keep from thinking about his dream.

He's sure that only Haro notices, and he's not even sure if that's pathetic or not, because it actually makes him happy that someone does.

Without Halleluia, Alleluia would have his own dreams.

He knows that he is only one person. He knows this only because he has just the one body. He wishes he had two bodies; even if he could cut himself in half, and be free of his other half, that would be paradise.

He is not so easily divided, unfortunately.

While he is awake, he always knows who is in control. If he reaches out and wraps his hand around a glass, and feels the cool smoothness of the surface, then he knows that he is the one who initiated that move. When Halleluia is in control, he is relegated to the position of observer, and his senses are dulled.

It's terrifying and secretly thrilling.

When he dreams, however, Halleluia bleeds into him, as if they really were birthed from the same soul. The things that come to him in dreams, he wants to believe that they belong to Halleluia only, and that he could never think such things.

Whether Halleluia had been beaten into him, or beaten out of him, he does not want to know.

So he finds himself on the blood-soaked battlefield. Kyrios stands erect above the carnage, gleaming and perfect, its eyes still glowing with energy and life. Everything else is just rubble, scorch marks, wreckage, and ruin. He steps out onto the steaming earth, striding over to the destroyed Gundams before him. He's nearly giddy with lust from the fight; he caught them unawares, those childish Thrones... but if they weren't prepared to seek blood at all times, then they shouldn't have entered the fray.

The girl is clinging to her older brother, who has been sliced in half and singed to his cockpit. She starts to hurl profanities at him. He can see that her leg has been mostly severed. Her flight suit is covered in blood, but it's impossible to tell how much of that is hers and how much of it is her brother's. He simplifies things.

Even as her brains are blown out, she cries.

He laughs as he moves across, toward the final Throne. The last Gundam is still mostly whole... although no longer attached to its GN drive. Johann Trinity is struggling out of his cockpit. You filthy bastard... he snarls. That just makes Alleluia laugh harder. He bounds up to greet Johann, the smug and arrogant prick, kicking away his weapon. He stands over the other man, just enjoying the position of power for a moment. And then he breaks Johann's arm. Johann screams and whines, and that's amazingly funny... but there's also something inherently sexual about someone so competent being reduced to a crying woman.

And Alleluia wonders if Halleluia is even capable of sexual feelings, but it's too late, far too late. He pulls Johann out of the cockpit, and tosses him down. He pounces on him, and presses his knife to Johann's neck. Do your worst, Johann snarls. Alleluia licks the blood from Johann's temple.

He intends to!

He puts Johann's hands above his head, and stabs through them, pinning them to the ground. The flight suit is ripped and torn and blood, so it's easy to tear off. Miraculously, Johann's ridiculous short shorts have survived the battle. I could have guessed that you were sicker than all of us combined, Johann spits out, but that just makes Alleluia bite him, hard. Johann screams out.

It's gorgeous.

If you knew so much, why are you in this position? Alleluia taunts, but there's no need for Johann to answer. Alleluia is already ripping off his shorts. Johann tries to kick out, but Alleluia catches his leg. He stands up, twisting it around... He breaks the leg, and then, for good measure, he shatters Johann's other foot. Johann is writing in pain now, unable to make coherent noises. Tears stream down his face... Alleliua bends down, and licks his cheeks clean, both of tears and blood. It's a salty, strong taste, and he can't resist anymore.

He spreads out Johann's legs and plunges right in. Since it's Johann's screams of pain that are getting him so hot, he doesn't need to bother with lube. Johann struggles and screams, and he gets his hands free, but they're such a blood mess now, they're useless.

Laughing, Alleluia comes hard, just as he pulls the trigger.

He wakes up, covered in sweat, his sheets filthy... He takes a long shower, and composes himself. He knows he's not a monster. It's just inside of him, living inside of him. It's not him. He repeats it over and over again. It's not him. It's just inside of him.

He wonders if he would sleep better if he drank himself into a stupor first.

Without Exia, Setsuna has no peace.

Inside the cockpit of the Gundam, Setsuna can sleep dreamlessly and comfortably. He was chosen to be in the cockpit of that miraculous machine. He was chosen to be its Meister. As if it had been delivered from on high, except there is no 'on high,' and certainly no power to make the delivery. But it is his, and with him as its soul, they could end war.

Since it is where he belonged, he naturally is happiest there.

He can't always sleep there, though. He must sleep on the Ptolemaios, or on whatever base they are in on Earth, or in that apartment he keeps as a cover.

These times are the most annoying, but he knows they are necessary, so he tries to patiently accept it. The reason, though, that he dislikes it so is because of the dreadful amount of inactivity, and worst of all, the sleeping.

He is dutiful and diligent, so when he is not working, he is training, but he needs to sleep, and when he sleeps outside of Exia's embrace, he dreams.

He dreams of things outside of Exia.

His past... sometimes. Those dreams, at least, he can understand. Sometimes, though, he dreams of his neighbor from his fake life... Saji. Going to school with Saji, meeting Saji's girlfriend for lunch, going to movies... things he's seen and heard normal teenagers doing. Teenagers who aren't saving the world.

Those dreams leave him feeling slightly dissatisfied with himself, but he doesn't understand their origin or meaning, so he can easily ignore them.

Sometimes, he dreams of Marina.

He dreams of just... just laying down with his head in her lap. She smiles down at him, and combs her fingers through his hair. He stares up at her, perplexed. What are you doing? he asks her. She just laughed.

Rest, she tells him.

There's still work to do, he says, but he doesn't move.

Rest, she repeats.

Sometimes, in these dreams, he suddenly surges up, and grabs her throat. He pushes her down, and slams her head into the ground. He's going to kill her... they both know it. She looks into his eyes, her own eyes wet.

I'm sorry, he says, trying to choke her faster.

He doesn't like those dreams. He doesn't like the feeling like guilt he has afterward. It's not his fault, he knows. He doesn't plan on killing her in reality. He shouldn't feel that way about his dream.

He doesn't know why he'd apologize to someone he was killing, either.

Far more disturbing, though, are the other dreams. In those, too, he pushes Marina down, but he's not choking her. He's pushing the flimsy neglige off her shoulders, revealing her milky white skin...

He knows the functions of the human body. He's trained. Knowing that there are compulsions of a sexual nature that often become insistent and distracting for teenage males, he has studied, and examined a vast array of pornographic materials. Just to be on the safe side, he's even studied gay pornography, so should any urges arise, he'd be amply able to cut them off at the quick.

The problem with the dream about Marina, though, is that he can't describe it as being pornographic. She's so beautiful...

He hates those dreams. Even if Exia is being repaired, after a dream like that, he needs to be with his Gundam.

He has no right to live if he isn't serving his Gundam.