skippyscatt (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} skippyscatt) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} gundam_yaoi,@ 2007-06-23 13:37:00 |
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Introduction I Suppose. ;p
Okay I'm Cat. I've been a Gundam Wing fan since 1998 or 1999 somewhere in there. I was actually introduced to the anime through the fanfiction first which seemed to be the way of things for me for quite a while. Then I found it on Toon network and that was all she wrote. I became about as obsessed with it as a fan can get without bordering on stupidily obsessed. Let's just say for a while I had episodes memorized. Since then other animes have butted in but Gundam Wing and it's boys will always be special.
As an additional intro I thought I'd post the very first Gundam Wing story I ever wrote here for you to read. I promise it wasn't the first thing I ever wrote. LOL So it's not something I'd rather bury in the backyard. Hopefully it will fit here in one post. It's about 12 pages long or so.
Title: Tugging At Heartstrings
Author: Skippyscatt/Cat 2002
Rating: G to PG
Warnings: None, truly it's very safe.
Word Count: 3474
Summary: The pilot’s spend a little time thinking about their first meetings with another Gundam pilot. Well except for one, he’s thinking about someone entirely different. 1x2, 3x4 and 5x13
Author's Notes: The story was written prior to reading the Episode Zero Manga. After reading that it made Wufei's piece even more appropriate to me anyway. ;p
Duo sat on the edge of the deck, his legs dangling over the side and stared out across the ocean. Movement caught his eye and he watched a pair of seagulls glide along the wind currents in an intricate airborne dance. It reminded him of a book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Sister Helen….
He broke the thought off abruptly, staring down at his hands clenched in his lap, as the old familiar pain threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. It still hurt so much. Running the end of his long braid between his fingers he let his mind wander instead to the silent and patently unfriendly Gundam pilot that he’d rescued from the Alliance hospital three weeks ago.
A small smile curved his lips. He knew he should be pissed as hell at him but he just couldn’t. Mad? Yeah he could cheerful punch the other boy in the nose the next time he saw him. But he had to admit he kind of admired the other pilot too.
“Hey Duo, whatcha doin?”
“Hey Howard,” the braided pilot looked over his shoulder at the head mechanic and Captain of the salvage ship. “Nothin, not really, just lookin out at the ocean.”
“You’ll be glad to know I found the parts we need to repair your Gundam,” the older man stated as he sat down on the deck with boy.
When his cousin had called over the secret satellite link and said that Duo was coming to Earth, this wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. But then again maybe he should have. Who better to look after a Gundam pilot than one of the men who worked on the original design? And being familiar with the salvage business this had been the perfect place to send the young man. Literally hiding him in plain sight, on a ship that traveled the oceans and rarely put into port.
“Thanks Howard, I owe you one.” A small growl escaped the auburn haired pilot. “I still can’t believe after taking care of him, feeding him, salvaging his suit for him, that he’d do something like this.”
The older man leaned back on his hands so that he was just a little behind Duo where the boy couldn’t see the smirk on his face. “Which are you more angry about? The fact that he stole parts off of Deathscythe or that he left with out saying goodbye?”
The braided boy stiffened for moment then looked around at his friend, a lopsided smile on his face. “The whole truth?” he said softly, stalling. He never lied, especially to people he liked. He might avoid the answer or even leave out a bit here or there, but he never told a lie.
“The truth,” Howard urged.
“I don’t know,” Duo sighed. “I’m angry that he stole the parts off Deathscythe, especially knowing that I could get a mission at anytime. But it hurts that he just left like that and if he’d asked I’d have given him the parts. I even offered and he said no. And… and I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again.”
“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” the ship’s captain replied understandingly.
He reached out and began to massage the young pilot’s stiff shoulders. He knew how hard this was for the five young men who had been sent from the colonies. Knew the dangers and difficulties that lay ahead for them. He hoped that at least a couple of the others had people to help and take care of them when they came back from their missions, the way he and his people could be there for Duo.
“If I do, I’m going to punch him right in the nose,” the braided boy mumbled, relaxing under the strong, soothing touch.
“You do that,” Howard chuckled. “Just be sure to duck when he punches back. Something tells me it would take more than a bloody nose to set him back on his heels.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Duo smirked. Then he looked over his shoulder at the other man, his violet eyes soft with gratitude, the slightly harder edge missing for that brief moment in time. “Thanks, I guess I owe you again.”
“No problem, Duo. Like I’ve said before, you’re a great customer.”
The Gundam pilot threw back his head and laughed. An edge of bitterness stole the actual happiness out of the sound. “If that was all I really was, right?”
“Maybe one of these days soon,” Howard replied squeezing his shoulder gently. “Well, I should get up to the bridge. We need to head into port and pick up those parts.”
The braided boy nodded, but didn’t say anything. His eyes turned back to the ocean and it’s peaceful waves. The ship’s Captain wondered if they brought any peace to the turbulence inside the pilot.
“Trowa! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”
Cathy Bloom dropped the sponge she was using to wash dishes, back in the tub of sudsy water, and turned to hug the young man. As usual he stiffened for the first few seconds before relaxing and letting her have her way.
“I’m sorry Catherine, something came up,” he answered calmly as she let him go. He took a few steps back out of her reach, moving towards his own small tent that someone had kindly set up after the Circus had moved, probably Cathy and her friends. “I’ve just come back to get my things.”
“Your things? You’re leaving again?” she stared at him.
Trowa tilted his head looking at her. A tiny glimmer of surprise showed briefly in his eyes though his face maintained it’s emotionless mask. “Yes, after being gone so long, didn’t the manager fire me?”
Catherine looked around carefully then smiled over at the stoic pilot. “Don’t you dare tell anybody I said this, but no he didn’t. He was mad enough to, but you’re just too good.”
“Hmm,” the slender young man inclined his head accepting the compliment. “I guess I should let him know that I’m back, then.”
The knife thrower watched as her show partner headed off in the direction of the Manager’s trailer. She shook her head as she leaned down to pick up the sponge again.
“Mysterious kid, what have you been doing?”
*****
Trowa sank down on his cot flexing tired muscles. He would have to try and make sure the next time he had a mission, he wasn’t gone for three weeks. Not that he’d had much choice in the matter this time. Manager had worked his ass off this afternoon finishing the last bit of set up and taking care of the animals and supplies.
It wasn’t the physical labor that he minded, though. He was used to that and the heavy work kept him too busy to think. No, it was the hour-long lecture on youth today and their lack of responsibility that he didn’t want to have to endure again. As if the man had even an inkling of who Trowa really was or what the word meant to him.
Duty, honor and responsibility, those words and their meanings had been carved into him body, mind and spirit from the minute he could understand they were more than just sounds. His ‘family’ had seen to that. And the lessons hadn’t always been gently or kindly taught. But he had no animosity towards the men and women of the militia group that had taken him in and raised him as one of their own. He understood them, didn’t always hold to their beliefs and ideas, but he understood them. And with what little bit of his heart still remained undamaged by pain, bloodshed and death he even cared about some of them.
A pair of laughing blue eyes, tinged every so lightly with a deeper sadness, appeared in his mind’s eye. Pale blonde hair framed a face still softened by a hint of baby fat, like the face of an angel he’d seen in a church window once while on an early training mission with the militia group.
Quatre.
He shook his head trying to clear the image. He really didn’t need the distractions and the blonde pilot would definitely be that. Not that he intended to see him again if he could help it. It was too dangerous.
How the other boy had ever become a Gundam pilot was beyond him. He didn’t have the temperament to be soldier. Though, Trowa had to admit that the other pilot had made a good showing of himself against the enemy during their first encounter. It probably helped that he had his own Mobile Suit militia group to back him up.
The tiniest smile curved his lips as he thought about how suspicious the militiamen had been of him, with good reason, and disapproving of the blonde’s ready acceptance. But with only a reproving look and a few softly spoken words he had sent the men off to other things. The blonde commanded the loyalty of all those men through his kindness and his caring.
He sighed sadly, thinking of how the continuous fighting and loss would eventually destroy the blonde the way it had slowly destroyed him. The thought of that ready smile and kind heart fading away to mirror his own almost emotionless existence caused the still feeling part of his heart to contract painfully.
“No,” he muttered harshly sitting up. “No distractions. Distractions lead to mistakes and mistakes can be deadly. He’s just another soldier.”
Trowa lay back down and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep. After years of living as a soldier, his body was well trained and within minutes he was drifting away. But on the edge of his consciousness a pair of aqua blue eyes and a soft smile called to him.
Wufei studied the other four Gundam suits on the monitor screens of his cockpit. It was obvious that they were basically identical to Nataku. And from the attacks they were pulling off it appeared that their mission was the same as his. That was good. He wasn’t looking for allies, but he didn’t have time to be fighting these other Gundams either.
He punched a button on the console in front of him and the screens cleared to be refilled with different pictures of the same man, Treize Khushrenada. The Chinese pilot felt the familiar curl of tension in his belly and his eyes narrowed in anger.
“Damn you, Treize. I’m going to destroy you!”
Grabbing his katana he leapt gracefully from Nataku’s cockpit landing in a fighting crouch. Like a dancer he rose in one fluid motion bringing his sword around in a wide deadly arc. Wufei moved through the motions of the exercise that were as familiar to him as the act of breathing.
Using the training routine like a meditation, he fed all of his anger and frustration into the movements until his mind and emotions settled back into their normal quietness. Panting softly he stopped and stared out across the lake where he’d hidden himself and Nataku. Unwanted and unbidden a face appeared on the water in front of him. Deceptively kind looking eyes, a smile with just a hint of a smirk and a strong masculine jaw line.
“No!” the scream of rage ripped from the young pilot’s throat.
He dropped down to his knees still clutching his katana tight in his hand. Wufei curled inward over his thighs rocking back and forth as if in pain, totally unaware of the tears that slipped from the corners of his eyes to dampen the cloth of his white pants.
“Damn you, Treize,” he whispered brokenly. “You’re my enemy. I have to defeat you.”
Rashid stopped in front of the conservatory door and listened to the melancholy music that drifted out into the hallway. Finally he turned to look at Master Quatre’s personal servant/companion.
“How long has he been in there?”
“Nearly two hours, almost from the time the other pilot left.”
“Hmm.” Rashid nodded and slowly opened the door without knocking. “Master Quatre?”
The sad music broke off abruptly as the blonde pilot looked up in surprise, his violin and bow lowering to rest beside his legs. “What’s the matter, Rashid?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” the big warrior replied coming further into the room and closing the door. “What’s put the unhappy note into your music?”
The Gundam pilot sighed and hung his head for a moment, then moved to replace his instrument in the cabinet he’d taken it from. “It was nice, having another pilot here.” He turned and saw the small slightly questioning smile on the big man’s face and blushed. “I mean someone closer to my own age,” he said quickly an embarrassed smile touching his face.
The Maguanac fighter chuckled. “I understood what you meant, Master Quatre. Is it so lonely with only us?”
Quatre sat down on the bench to the piano and turned to stare out the window set behind it. He motioned for Rashid to sit also and the other man pulled a chair over beside him. He turned it so that he was straddling it backwards, resting his arms on the back.
“You know it’s not that, not really,” the blonde answered finally when they were both comfortable. “I know I only just met him. And even though I tried to honor his wish not to talk about ourselves, I still feel like I know him. Like I understand what he’s feeling inside. And he treats me like an equal,” he broke off blushing again a rueful grin touching his lips. “Not like a kid or… or like I’m above him.”
The big warrior reached out and tilted the small face to look up at him. “I know it gets difficult for you. Half the time we treat you like our son, the other as our leader. But it’s only because we love you as if you were our son and you have earned the respect we show you, more than once.” He reached out and gently touched the shoulder where Quatre had once taken a bullet meant for him. “The fact that you are the Winner heir has only a small fraction to do with the deference we show you.”
Quatre ducked his head, blinking rapidly. “Thanks, Rashid.”
“You miss his company already.” It was more a statement than a question and the blonde nodded.
“Like I said. Even though he didn’t talk much, there just seemed to be a communication going on. Like we understood each other. “
The blonde sighed and shook his head, how did he explain the connection he felt to the other pilot. Though the Maguanacs mission was the same as his, there was something about being the pilot of a Gundam that created a common bond between he and the other pilot. But even that didn’t explain the way he felt.
Rashid’s eyes widened slightly as a thought occurred to him, then he schooled his face back into its normal calm mask. He didn’t know whether to be happy for his young Master or upset. As the only son and heir of the Winner estate, the young man had a responsibility to ensure the family line. But if he were right in his assumption, then he would stand between the young man and anyone that might try to destroy his future happiness. And there were other ways the young man could have an heir to follow him. Of course all of his assumptions hinged on what the other pilot felt as well.
Heero leaned back on the bed stretching his arms over his head. He’d already carefully fixed his absences from classes with an electronic notation of a family emergency. And he’d deleted the comments about a visit from a Major Sally Po, a Doctor from the Alliance Military Hospital inquiring about him. He didn’t need those following him around if he moved on to another academy.
He wondered if he should change schools. But then the enemy probably expected him to do just that, so he would stay here for now and simply keep his eyes and ears open for trouble. The less he had to move around the less chance that there would be a slip up.
He closed his eyes and tried to make himself sleep, but it eluded him. Disturbed he sat up and tried to figure out what it was that was bothering him. He looked around the room trying to see if anything had been displaced or changed, but everything seemed normal.
Slowly he lay back down and again tried to go to sleep, but still something bothered him. Suddenly he realized what it was and his eyes popped open in surprise and not just a little bit of irritated dismay. It was too quiet.
No it wasn’t that there was no sound. He could hear a soft murmur of voices in the hallway. Music just barely wafted through the wall from his next door neighbor. And he could hear cars and birds and more voices from outside.
No, what was missing was the much too cheerful, wholly annoying, incessant chatter of the braided Gundam pilot he’d spent the last three weeks trying to ignore. He stared up at the ceiling in abject horror realizing that not only had he gotten used to it, but he actually needed to hear the other boy’s voice so he could relax and rest. He’d been falling asleep to that voice for three weeks, no wonder he couldn’t sleep now.
With a growl he sat up again and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Going to his desk he opened his laptop and keyed it on. He wasn’t sure what he actually had planned to do. Honestly he had half hoped to find he had a mission, but there was no such luck.
In desperation he called up the specs on OZ’s new Leo Mobile suits. He doubted there was anything he hadn’t already seen but he could hope. They were still waiting on information about the new Taurus suits. He closed his eyes realizing what he’d just said in his thoughts. ‘They’, as if the auburn haired pilot was actually going to be standing over his shoulder reading.
‘Why not,’ he thought bitterly.
Duo had done it often enough over the last three weeks to drive Heero insane. He closed his eyes and immediately it was as if the other boy was there, standing behind him. His arms braced on the desk on either side of Heero, his chin almost resting on Heero’s shoulder, as they both read incoming reports on the enemy’s mobile suit changes. In fact if he concentrated he could almost smell the shampoo the braided pilot used on his hair.
Lowering his head and sniffing the shoulder of his tank top he realized that he did smell the other boy’s shampoo. He hadn’t changed yet, so tired that all he really wanted to do was sleep. Quickly he stood up and stripped out of his outfit tossing it in the laundry hamper by his door. Out of a dresser drawer he pulled another tank top and a pair of shorts, pulling them on.
Shutting down his computer he went back to the bed hoping that this time he might sleep if he wasn’t being reminded of the other boy. Fifteen minutes later he was back up and back on his computer. He glared at the screen in impotent rage as he realized he wasn’t going to be getting any rest.
The next time he saw the other pilot face to face he was going to punch him right in the nose for doing this to him. He wasn’t quite sure what ‘this’ was yet. But he was sure that the other boy deserved it.
As he was running through his files and transmissions, reading and going back over instructions and conversations, he found one that he’d made and sent to Dr. J that had the braided pilot talking in the background. Copying the transmission into his dubbing program he carefully erased himself from the file leaving only Duo’s voice. He then set it to loop and turned it up just loud enough that he could hear it from the bed.
He turned down the light on the screen of the computer, made sure the power cord was plugged in so that he wouldn’t drain the portable battery and lay down on the bed again. With the sound set just like this it sounded as if the other pilot was still sitting in the common area outside the crew quarters chatting.
With a ragged sigh Heero rolled onto his side and was asleep in only a few minutes.
End
I hope you like it! It's very light just a hint of the future.