Author’s note: Hello! ^-^ This is a very short fanfic based off of
the Metal Gear Solid series of videogames. Solid Snake’s real name is
David, as he tells Otacon in the Otacon ending of MGS which I thought
was much more emotional than the Meryl anding. And, of course,
Otacon’s real name is Hal. Anyway, I hope this goes well. ^-^ As
always, I love to hear what you think. ^-^ Thanks for reading!


Rain
by the Amazoness Duo
amazonessduo@hotmail.com


	Rain. Pouring in sheets from the sky as if the heavens themselves
were in mourning. I can hear the staccato beat outside, thundering
against the windows. My eyes keep telling me that there’s something
out there, something in the darkness. I can almost see figures out in
the rain. Almost, but not quite. ‘You’re being paranoid,’ Hal would
tell me. And he’d probably be right. It certainly wouldn’t be the
first time. Which is why he’s still sleeping soundly right now and
I’m stalking the kitchen. Couldn’t sleep anyway. Not on nights like
this. The whole atmosphere is just too unsettling. Surrounded by the
rain, by the feverish storm. Liquid. 
	Gazing out the window again, I strain my eyes to see through the
cascading water over the glass. I still can’t see make anything out
besides blurry shapes. I know there isn’t anything there, but in the
darkness, I see them. Meryl, Fox, Natasha, Wolf, Olga... I can see
Big Boss waiting out there, beckoning me. I even see Liquid. He’s
staring back at me intently. My bleary eyes blink insistently, trying
to force the image into clarity. I can see him just inches from me. I
freeze, shock filtering through my system. It takes a moment to
realize it’s my own reflection. Even then, I can’t find the will to
relax. I know he’s out there somewhere. My own personal demon. And
why is that? Simply because he’s my mirror image? Some twisted,
distorted version? Or is it that we’re more alike than I would care
to admit? 
	Taking another sip of coffee, I continue my silent vigil, staring
out the window at the surreal images that great me. I should be back
in bed. Hal will worry if I’m not there when he wakes up. Especially
if he has another one of those nightmares about his sister. But I
can’t tear myself away yet. I can’t work up the will to make my way
back to the bedroom, to force out these thoughts. 
	Solid Snake. The living legend. The man who makes the impossible
possible. I’ve been called all of this and more. But the legend is
nothing more than a man. No less frail, no less human. Legends are
usually bad news anyway. Just look to Big Boss to see that. The
Legendary Soldier. And how many had to die because of him? But then,
how many have had to die because of me? Raven’s words come back to
haunt me. ‘Your path is paved with the corpses of your enemies,’ he
had told me. Not just my enemies, Raven. How many others have had to
die for me? Shneider, Fox, Meryl, Master Miller, Emma... It seems
like someone around me always winds up getting killed. Just like with
Foxdie. Only they don’t need to be programmed into it in order to
die. They just have to know me. 
I take another swig of my coffee and immediately wish it was
something stronger. Too bad Hal doesn’t keep alcohol around the
house. I’ve been trying to kick the habit since I left Alaska, but
nights like tonight make me wish there was something around here to
drink. Not a good time to be sober, that’s for sure. I’d scrounge
around in the refrigerator for something, but I’m not in the mood.
Which reminds me that I need to go shopping tomorrow. Hal’s busy
looking up some things for Philanthropy, our anti-Metal Gear
organization, so I’m going to be stuck grocery shopping again. Now if
only there were pictures of me shopping out there then this whole
‘legendary’ Solid Snake thing would die. I’m not a legend. I’m not a
hero. I’m just a man. Like Fox told me, I fight for what I believe
in. But so do the people I run up against. What makes me any better
than them? I fight for what I believe in, but so did Liquid Snake,
Big Boss, and Gray Fox. There isn’t such a thing as good or evil.
Just conflicting sides and opposing forces. Most people don’t
understand that. They want heroes and villains. They want legends and
myths. So they’ll take them from anything they can. Just look how
easily I was made into a villain. The Patriots didn’t want me to be
the hero of Shadow Moses so they made me look like some madman that
would sink a tanker. Let people believe what they will. It didn’t
really bother me. At least it got rid of that whole legend thing for
a while. 
Lighting a cigarette, I lean forward in a chair near the windows,
watching the streaks of thunder through the blurred glass. Sometimes
I wonder how much longer I can go on. How much further can I go? I
still have so much I need to do, but I don’t know if I can keep going
long enough to finish it all. I still hear his words, even after all
this time. ‘The loser is freed of the battlefield while the winner
remains trapped here until his own death,’ Big Boss had said when I
faced him for the last time. I’m still held captive by war, by the
battlefield. I still find myself drawn back time and again. I can’t
escape it. He was right in that sense. It’s my own personal
nightmare. And sometimes I don’t think I can go on. I don’t think I
can take the endless battles, the never-ending war. Is death my only
escape? Is that my only way off the battlefield? Will it be Foxdie or
Metal Gear that finally does me in? There’s almost a sense of relief
with death. The knowledge that somehow I can escape all of this is
eerily soothing. Just as Big Boss and Grey Fox escaped the horrors of
war, one day I’ll be able to as well. 
But not yet. Still too much to do. Besides, I don’t think Hal needs
that right now. I couldn’t leave him alone like that. But the
knowledge that he is so close to me worries me. Everyone else who
gets close to me seems to wind up dead. I keep thinking I’ll come
home to find the house in ruins and Hal dead in our room, that I’ll
hear Liquid’s voice behind me, telling me that it was my fault for
growing close to him. Maybe it is paranoia. But I don’t want anything
to happen to him. 
I’d have a hard time admitting this to Hal, but he’s helped heal a
lot of the wounds I’ve had for a long time now. Before I met him, I
was up in Alaska with a bunch of sled dogs drinking too much. I was
trying to get away from it all. I’d been diagnosed with Post-
Traumatic Stress Disorder after the mission to Zanzibarland and I had
tried to hide from my problems. But somehow I got forced into yet
another mission. Shadow Moses. When I first met Hal there, the naïve
genius behind Metal Gear Rex, I was pissed off that he could have
resurrected Metal Gear. The introverted, awkward guy was so...
bizarre. He was shy, scared. I didn’t want to have to worry about
him. But he kept helping me, even up to the bitter end. That
impressed me. He wasn’t about to run. He took responsibility for
Metal Gear and he helped me handle the whole thing. Even moreso than
Meryl, I actually felt connected to him, that we were both dealing
with a lot of the same things. I was surprised when he came all the
way to find me while Liquid was hunting for me in the Hind chopper
just to ask me if love could bloom on a battlefield. I told him it
could bloom anywhere, but that you had to be able to protect the
person. I’d assumed he meant Sniper Wolf at the time, but sometimes I
really wonder about that. Later, when Meryl died, I gave up hope. I
didn’t know what to do anymore or if I could go on. But Hal helped me
through that. He gave me the strength to keep living. If it weren’t
for him, I would certainly be dead right now. I had no fight left in
me. But Hal gave me a reason to live. After that, we left Shadow
Moses far behind us to start a new life. Together. 
Sure, it’s a little bizarre at times. But it’s nice. A lot more
relaxing than when I was living up in Alaska. We’ve got a nice house
out in the suburbs and for the most part we’re just your typical
couple. Well, maybe not that typical. We started Philanthropy as a
way of stopping the proliferation of Metal Gear throughout the world.
He’s the brains of the outfit and I get suckered into going out and
handling the missions. But otherwise things are pretty relaxed around
here. Hal even wants to adopt. I can’t imagine being a father. I
don’t even want to think about that. But Otacon seems pretty intent
on the idea. Hopefully he’ll forget about it soon. Otherwise I’ll
probably get stuck raising Olga’s child when I finally find her.
Great. Raiden can give me tips on being a father. That’s the last
thing I need. 
“Dave? What’s wrong with you? You know you aren’t supposed to smoke
in the house,” Hal says as he pads downstairs in his boxers and a
robe. His hair’s frizzled and out of place, his glasses hanging off
the end of his nose. He looks like how I remember him back during
Shadow Moses. It’s nice to know some things don’t change. Yawning, he
opens the refrigerator door to get something to drink and shivers.
“We’re out of milk? Again?”
“Yep. I’m going to get some tomorrow,” I reply, contemplating the
cigarette. “I need to get Jack and Rose a wedding present, too. I’ll
try to find something while I’m out.” I mash the cigarette out,
looking back towards Hal, grinning at the look he gives me as he
leans against the refrigerator. Raiden’s wedding invitation came in
the mail a while back. I still don’t know why he sent it. Hal insists
that we go, especially after how I treated Raiden during the whole
Big Shell thing. Of course, I did ask who’d be wearing the dress when
I called to confirm later. It’s not my fault Jack looks so gender
ambiguous and Rose wears pantsuits. Hell, even the President groped
Jack back on Big Shell, so it’s not like I’m the only one that thinks
he looks like a girl.
“Knowing you, it would probably be a Socom or a bandanna or
something.” Hal shakes his head, his arms crossed. “I’ll go with you
to get the wedding gift. I’m sure we can find something nice for
them. Besides, we still need to rent some tuxes while we’re at it.”
I wince at his words. “Those things are worse than the sneak suits I
get stuck wearing. I don’t know how you’re supposed to move in those
damn things.”
“Oh, they’re not that bad. You look good in a tux, Dave. You won’t
have to move much anyway,” Hal reasons, tilting his head to the side.
His glasses shift a bit more, glinting in the dim light. My little
angel of mercy, Dr. Hal Emmerich. The only one who can occasionally
save me from my own thoughts. I’m glad he decided to intrude, even if
I’m usually better about catching his entrance. I must really be out
of it.
I sigh in defeat, leaning back in the chair. It tilts slightly as I
stare up at the roof. “At least I’ll know which one of the penguins
there is you.” 
“Oh? And how’s that? My charming good looks?” Otacon asks curiously,
raising an eyebrow. 
“I’ll just watch how you walk. You see, you have this incredibly
cute way of walking. And you’ve got a great butt. I’m sure I’ll be
able to pick you out of a crowd,” I reply casually, shrugging off his
earlier statement. I remember saying something similar back during
Shadow Moses, but of course that was a completely different
discussion. Not that Hal doesn’t have his own cute way of walking.
It’s just more subtle. 
“Are you sure you aren’t talking about Meryl?” he asks, pushing up
his glasses. I watch him for a moment in the moonlight. 
“Yep. I’m sure. I don’t forget these things.” We both laugh a bit,
the only sound other than the rain. It feels good to laugh, to forget
about what worried me earlier. 
“Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you come back to bed? Maybe
I’ll let you strip search me,” Hal says as he begins for the stairs,
smiling back over his shoulder. I groan at his impersonation of
Naomi. He simply laughs. “Don’t forget to bring your bandanna.”
I take another look back at the rain pelted window. The phantoms
waiting for me out in the rain are gone. I know they’ll be back, but
for now they have gone back to their resting places. They have their
peace. And for now, so do I.