This is a Xenogears fan fiction, so here’s the obvious legal stuff: Xenogears and all its characters are copyright of Squaresoft, and I claim no legal ownership of them. All right, it’s been said. On to the story …

Angels Would Fall

By, Miotis Kain

The rope that’s wrapped around me

Is cutting through my skin

And the doubts that have surrounded me

Are finding their way in

I keep it close to me

Like a holy man prays

In my desperate hour

It’s better that way

I watch in silence, unseen and alone, as Elhaym boards Vierge and sets out on her mission. She won’t come back from it, not as she had left anyway. I know it already. He’s there. She’s going there. Going to him.

At the thought of him, my fists clench at my sides. I can feel my fingernails digging into my palm, drawing blood. I force my hands to open, inspect my self-inflicted wounds with a dignified lack of interest, and watch – still unconcerned – as the cuts seal themselves. The nanotechnology that compromises my body makes any physical ailment a minor impediment.

It frightens me, what I’ve become. No, not so much what I’ve become, more than the fact that I don’t care. I’m well aware that everything I’m doing runs contrary to what my original plans were, and that Sophia would… No, Sophia will despise me for it. I’ve completely abandoned who I was, who I wanted to be, and all that I held dear to become what I am now. My old self would have been sickened to his core for even the least vile of my acts, and the person I am now is capable and willing to do worse than what’s already been done.

I’m nothing but a selfish, heartless, shell. I’m not even a man anymore, having abandoned the very emotions that would have defined me as such.

And yet I still feel warm when I see her. Almost lethargic. That much still remains – my love for Sophia – even though it’s buried in the unknown depths of my soul. It screams to be let out, pushes against the mental chains I’ve placed on my heart to keep my emotions locked away. I feel it pounding against the barriers I’ve established against it, and as I watch the gears pull out, I feel those barriers give. Just a little, but more than enough to bring the pain of her loss back to me.

I hide it, of course. The few feelings that remain within me are my own business, and not even my beloved shall be given privilege to their expression. She can never know. Elhaym. I’ll never let her know… because… I can’t bear the thought of her rejection.

I’ve crept into your temple

I have slept upon your pew

I have dreamed of the divinity

Inside and out of you

I want it more than truth

I can taste it on my breath

I would give my life just for a little death

She doesn’t love me…

Her confession to Lacan of her true feelings still rings in my ears. What have I done wrong? What can Lacan offer her that I can’t?

My back is braced against the door of my room. My entire body trembles as I struggle to sort through my emotions. Love for Sophia. Despair because she can never be mine. Hate toward Lacan for taking her from me. Shame because I know it’s not his fault. Joy because my love has found someone to make her happy. Sorrow because I was unable to bring her that happiness myself.

Why didn’t I tell her my feelings? Why didn’t I spend more time with her? Maybe if I had just said something she would be mine. Maybe if we had seen more of each other she would have realized how deeply I love her. Maybe she would have come to me instead of Lacan.

But it’s too late now. She loves him. Not me. Never me. Never…

I’ll come by and see you again

I’ll have to be a very good friend

If I whisper they will know

I’ll just turn around and go

You will never know my sin

I open my eyes, and sit up in my bed. A cold tear runs down my cheek, which I absently wipe away. God, it still hurt, the memory of my rejection.

I’ve spent five hundred years steeling myself against human emotion, isolating myself from my own humanity so that I may do what must be done to reach my goal. I had thought that I’d succeeded. Five hundred years without her beautiful face to haunt my dreams. Miang is to be given partial credit for that, I must admit. In the beginning, it was her hypnotic abilities that had allowed me the sweet freedom of forgetfulness, which permitted me to perform my necessary duties. After the first ten years, I didn’t even need that.

But the memory has returned, and even Miang’s powers aren’t enough to keep the dreams from disturbing my sleep. And so every night, my heart breaks. And every night, I’m forced to come to terms with the emptiness in my soul. And every night, I have to cope with the utter desolation of waking up alone and knowing there’s no one to comfort me, that there never was and never will be because I can’t let her go. Sophia.

It’s all the girl’s doing, of course. Elhaym Van Houten. Her similarities to my love are too great to be ignored. Tests must be done to satisfy Cain and the Ministry, but I already know. It was obvious to me from the first day I learned of her existence here, in Solaris. Her sweet face and gentle voice are the only proof I need. She is the Mother. Elly is the reincarnation of the Holy Mother Sophia.

My angel, which fate had taken from me twice – by Lacan and by death. My faith had died with her. And now here she is. She’s warm and alive and oh so innocent, completely unaware of the role she plays in this unholy scheme that I’ve conspired with Miang to create. Have I worked so hard in this enterprise simply to condemn the inspiration for my work to death again?

No. This is for the good of humanity’s soul, and hers as well. The consummation of our plans will allow her to join with God. And she’ll be with me then, for all eternity. No. This is best. This is the closest I’ll ever come to calling her mine. This is the only way.

Perhaps if there had ever truly been a God to watch and protect humanity, things would be different. Perhaps humanity would have been worthy of the love and mercy she wished to deliver it. Perhaps it would have been capable of reciprocating. Perhaps. But I know better. Have known since her death. There is no love. There is no mercy. There is no God. And so I shall make one, and return everything to the beginning.

Angels never came down

There’s no one here they want to hang around

But if they knew

If they knew you at all

Then one by one the angels

Angels would fall

~Melissa Etheridge,

Angels Would Fall