Authorís Note: This is a much different interpretation of Midiiís past than I usually use in my fics, it was totally
inspired by these beautiful lyrics *sigh*. Thanks to Kalen for the advice on the Spanish phrases!

Disclaimer: The lyrics to These Dreams were written by B. Taupin and M. Page, song performed by Heart. Gundam
Wing is the property of Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. Used without permission.

These Dreams

by Midii Une

During the war they say the Alliance committed many crimes against the people of South America. For a short
time in the late 180s their operatives even took to abducting the children of impoverished families. They would tell
these children that they needed to work to feed their families. And then the poor things would be sent out to the
remote jungles to infiltrate the rebel mercenary groups that were overrunning the rural areas. These rebels were
known to be on the lookout for children to add to their ranks so it was the perfect plan. And the unlucky little
ones were disposable commodities, if they didnít make it back alive there was no one to care. Certainly not the
Alliance and maybe not even their families, who were probably relieved to have one less mouth to feed.

My father believes that I was one of those children. I do not remember my past and he is not my real father
although we love each other as if our relationship were genuine. He is a doctor, he first saw me in a hospital here
in Buenos Aires. A group from the Global Red Cross found me suffering from pneumonia and amnesia. They brought
me back to Argentina from Paraguay where I was found wandering around lost in a jungle in the winter. They
assumed I must be Argentinean because of my European looks. My moonlight blonde hair and pale blue eyes make
me stand out even here.

Father named me Serafina, he said the angels sent me to replace the wife and child that were killed at the hands
of rebel mercenaries similar to the ones he believes I must have lived with for a time before becoming lost. He is
such a good man, he worked out there for a time, helping the poor that live at the edge of civilization, it was then
his family was murdered in the night. I am happy that I bring some joy to his sorrowful life.

When I woke up in that hospital I remembered nothing of my life but sadness, fear and cold. But lately, I have
started to dream. Am I dreaming of my past I wonder?

(Spare a little candle
save some light for me
Figures up ahead
moving in the trees
White skin in linen
perfume on my wrist
And the full moon
that hangs over these dreams in the mist)

The dreams are so hazy and yet I feel I am searching for something. That is not so strange. I do wonder even
when Iím awake who I was and where I came from, even though I am content with my life as a university
student, the only child of a wealthy physician. I have a few close friends and have shared more than a few kisses
with my boyfriend Tomas, and yet something is missing in my life. Being in Tomasí arms and watching the starlight
is pleasant and yet he is not the one that I want, not the one I belong with. I know it in my heart. But how could
I have pledged myself to someone else? When my father found me I was little more than 10.

In the dreams I am alone in a deep jungle, moving through it somehow though I donít seem to be walking. My
clothes are pure transparent white and my skin is as white as the cloth that covers me. I am like the angel my
father says I am, illuminated and glowing under the light of a full moon. The smell of flowers is everywhere
although there is no other color in the jungle besides the dense green of the foliage.

There is someone up ahead of me and I am desperate, desperate to catch up with them. To see their face. . .

(Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time on a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all that I remember are dreams in the mist)

In the dreams I do not know for certain if it is my past or future or maybe I am a blend of my past and future

The only certain thing is that I am searching for someone. Sometimes I get so close but then things get hazy and
the figure evades me and dissolves into the mist. Sometimes I think I have gotten a glimpse of him, it is a young
boy I think, but when I wake up all I conjure up is the memory of the mist.

(These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when its cold outside
every moment Iím awake
the further Iím away)

Lately my father is starting to worry about me. He took me in for a physical at the hospital where he found me but
there is nothing wrong. I try to reassure him that I am fine. It is only that I want to sleep as much as I can, it is
as if I am addicted to the dreams. I believe that if I can just sleep long enough Iíll find what Iím looking for. When
Iím awake itís as if Iím losing everything I gain when I dream at night.

I come back to my room in my fatherís house in the evenings after classes. He works late at the hospital and I am
alone. I make excuses to keep from spending time with my friends or even Tomas. I just want to curl up before
the little fireplace in my room, wrapping myself tightly in a blanket as if it were a cocoon. I cannot get warm
enough this winter. Is it a memory of being lost in that cold, abandoned place?

(Is it cloak and dagger
could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut through a stained glass wall
Itís weaker in my eyesight
Candle in my grip
And words that have no form are falling from my lips)

As the months pass the dreams become more vivid and strange. I remember that the children stolen by the
Alliance were used to kill and betray. Have I done something awful that am I trying to hide from, is that what is
blocking my memory of the past?

There is a sacred chapel in the dream now. My father is a religious man and I go to Mass regularly by his side, a
black lace mantilla over my white-blonde hair. He gave me a little pearl cross to wear, it is so beautiful. I cherish
it. The only thing I have left from my past is another cross. A crucifix of mangled gold on a broken chain. They
said I was clutching it tightly in my hand when they found me, clutching it so tightly my palm bled. I keep it in the
drawer of my bedside table, but sometimes when I wake up in the morning the little shattered cross is in my hand.

In the dream chapel I seem to pass right through a window of stained glass and then the colored rays of light
shine right through my translucent form. I feel like I am speaking as I stand in the chapel, am I praying or begging
someone for forgiveness? I cannot tell. Sometimes there seems to be someone in the shadows. Is it the boy I was
searching for, over the time and space of my dreams he has changed. It is now a man that I am looking for . . .

(These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when its cold outside
every moment Iím awake
the further Iím away
Thereís something out there I canít resist
I need to hide away from the pain
Thereís something out there I canít resist)

I am beginning to grow a bit frightened of the dreams. And yet when I am awake they draw me back irresistibly
and make me long for sleep. I am almost certain that some type of pain caused by something unforgivable I must
have done is holding back my memories.

I will ask my father to tell me where I was found. The winter is over. I will go back there again and try to find
myself. I cannot live as Serafina, my fatherís angel, if I am really someone else . . .

Tomas has found someone else and the hurt of his leaving me was non-existent. I am sorry if I seemed to lead him
on. He got tired of talking to me and finding I was not listening, of looking in my eyes and finding that I wasnít

My father has told me a little more about my past. Before I came fully awake in the hospital I muttered the same
words over and over. Sin-Nombre, Sin-Nombre. It means no-name, and father says that is how they
knew that I had forgotten who I was. Now those words I whispered as a child ring in my head over and over.
Sin-Nombre. I do not think I was talking about myself when I said those words.

(The sweetest song is silence that Iíve ever heard
Funny how your feet in dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face from dreams in the mist)

Tomorrow I will go back to the jungles of Paraguay and the dreams are more intense than ever. I feel a presence
beside me in the dreams, it is silent but in the dream we are happy to be together, not even talking just being
together. It is enough for us. I look over at the man beside me but I cannot see his face, just the illusion of a

Could it be that in that jungle I will find the one I am looking for and remember who I am at last? Will his kiss open
my mind so that I will know who he is? Who I am? I pray that it will be so.

ďEn el nombre del Padre. . .

(These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when its cold outside
every moment Iím awake
the further Iím away
Thereís something out there I canít resist
I need to hide away from the pain
Thereís something out there I canít resist)

At last I know who I am. Cathrine realized that the similarities between myself and the brother she lost as a child
were too numerous to be coincidence. And so I have found my sister and my name--Triton Bloom. I still call myself
Trowa Barton, although there is a sense of peace inside me now that I know who I really am and what my real
name is.

We are traveling together to Paraguay, it is where our parents were killed. Both of us agree that we must put
them to rest, we their children owe them that.

There is something else that I must do. I want to look for a girl I knew so long ago. The girl I left behind in the
snow after the attack on my mercenary unit. They were the ones who found me after the accident that killed our
parents. It is one of my many regrets that I left her there, even though she betrayed me and my childish affection
for her. I couldnít help but be awed by her fair golden beauty and pale blue eyes when I saw her first. She had
seemed like a frightened, innocent child I wanted to protect and when I discovered differently I had to leave her

Iíve searched for that girl as best I could but her name, Midii Une, must have been a code. Maybe it merely meant
the time of day they picked her up and made her what she was--an Alliance spy. Because of that I have turned
up nothing. It is as if she never existed. I was a Gundam pilot, trained in the arts of war and infiltration, if there
was anything to find I would have found it. She is probably dead. I had a hard enough time surviving out there
myself in that jungle alone and even though I was only 10 years old I was an experienced soldier, hardened to a
life of exposure and discomfort. She was always so delicate.

If I cannot find her I will say a prayer for her at the old chapel where we used to sit together. She never used to
mind my silences. We loved that place with its stained glass window. I remember how the light shone through it
and spread itís jewel-like colors over her hair, can still see her glancing at me shyly. Midii.

I think that if I cannot find her I would rather always be alone.


Searching for Midii here in Paraguay has brought me no closer to finding her. She is lost to me forever and perhaps
I deserve it for leaving her there alone. Now that I am an adult I shudder to think of a child left alone in these
jungles. We should have stayed together, I should have protected her, whatever else she was she was my friend.
I donít think what she did changed her feelings for me but I will never know. I will pray for forgiveness in our
chapel and then Cathy and I will go home, back to space. We found the road where the accident happened,
strangely it was close to the chapel where Midii and I used to sit, away from the soldiers and the cold. Some of
the most telling moments in my life here in this little South American country forgotten by progress and time. Life
is so strange.

The brush has been knocked away from the entrance to the chapel and I move carefully, the suspicious nature of
a soldier still strong within me. I see her standing there and wonder if she is a ghost, she wears a white cotton
dress and her pale hair floats down past the middle of her back, rays of light filtered through the stained glass
shimmer over her giving her an ethereal look that touches my heart. She is small and slender, but she is a woman,
not the little girl I knew.

ďMidii,Ē I ask, but she merely looks at me. She has Midiiís face and Midiiís eyes but the girl shakes her head.

ďMi nombre es Serafina,Ē she says softly but the shy look she gives me from under her lashes is Midiiís look.
Serafina, an angel, the new name fits her perfectly.

ďWhat are you doing here Serafina,Ē I ask gently, afraid that my presence will frighten her somehow. She looks
rather startled to see me here as it is. Thatís not surprising I am a bit shocked myself to find a ghost from my

ďI dreamed of this place,Ē she answers. ďAnd I dreamed of you.Ē

I reach out my hand for hers. I have found her again. Midii is Serafina, my angel.

The End