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windandwaterAll very rough and not even half-finished yet.
You are warned.
--------------------
Ichi
A Gundam Wing Fanfic
by:
Sailor Seraphim
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Notes:
I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did the series would be chock-full of shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
SPOILERS for Gundam Wing TV Series, Endless Waltz, and Episode Zero (all of it, though mostly Heero's).
I am of the belief that Doctor J's "training" of Heero stripped him of most of his memories of childhood. That, or Heero voluntarily supressed his own memories because they were so painful. Proof for my assumption lies in the fact that there are no records of Heero ever being on Earth before Operation Meteor (Episode Zero) and the tragic memory of the little girl and her puppy that Heero is forced to relive when he uses Wing ZERO (Endless Waltz).
I'm playing with Heero's past here. You are warned.
Beware the angst, random flashbacks, and disjointed commentary.
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Juu.
"'kaa-san? 'kaa-san? Doko iru ka, 'kaa-san?! 'KAA-SAN!!!"
Kyuu.
"Emotions?! They're worthless! He's a failure! Retrain him immediately! Our weapon doesn't need to be weak!"
Hachi.
"--go, nii-chan? Ne, maigo maigo?"
Echoing. Screaming. Over and over.
"... no... no... no..."
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
"Ore no miss da."
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
Alarm.
Awake.
Mission.
Ryoukai.
No more dreams.
No more nightmares.
Nana.
Roku.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up EPYON!"
Go.
Shi.
Odin frowned as he studied the glowing screen of outbound flights on the terminal before him.
"What's wrong, old man?"
"Don't call me that, boy," Odin snapped. He gestured to the screen and then at the full-length windows where one could watch the shuttles taking off into black space. "Our flight's been delayed."
The boy frowned. "Will this affect our mission?"
"Always about the mission, aren't you, boy?"
The boy didn't answer.
"No... this won't effect us much. I wonder what it would be like... to be so rich that you can have spaceports closed just for you? Would you like that, boy? Would you like to be a Winner?"
The boy narrowed his flat Prussian eyes and stared resolutely through the reinforced plasteel of the windows. Odin didn't expect an answer. Why did he do such things, ask questions he didn't want answers to? There was a flurry of action and the boy whirled around, watching as the crowds in the spaceport parted like a sea before a knot of men in business suits. And in that knot was a tall man, talking with his associates.
Almost out of place among them was a young boy, his blond hair a contrast to the dull browns and blacks of the people surrounding him. He walked through the crowd, shoulders back and a disaffected look on his face; as if he expected the people to fall out of his way.
"Would you like to be a Winner?" Odin asked again.
The boy frowned. There was something wrong with that blond boy. He was not happy, surrounded by his power, his wealth; he was not even happy he had a father who was standing right next to him.
"No. I don't want to be him."
San.
"They're mercenaries, boy. We are, too, I guess. We're two of a kind, selling our skills to the highest bidder. You're lucky you're with me, boy. Would you like to be like him? That other one over there? Our life isn't so bad, is it?"
Prussian eyes look up from the disassembled pistol and glance quickly at the boy standing near the mercenaries tents. A harsh voice barks out and the boy looks up and moves towards the voice, brown bangs shading his eyes.
"No, Odin."
Ni.
Children. Running. Yelling out to each other. Flat Prussian eyes survey the scene of chaos five floors below him. A gang of children barrels into a store, wreaking havoc and occupying the attention of the weary store owner. Almost unseen, two children slip through the back door, arms laden with their stolen spoils of war. The boy with dusty blond hair shouts to his companion and the child (boy? girl?) with matted chestnut hair follows immediately, easily side-stepping large arms grabbing futilely. The child (a boy) sticks his tongue out at teh infuriated adult and runs off, cackling gleefully.
"Boy. Come here."
Pulling away from the window.
"Hai."
Ichi.
Zero.
"Ninmu ryoukai."
His stance was defiant, proud. He knew that any cameras watching the events taking place would no doubt be able to record his face and vitals for future use. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The mission. Always the mission.
His thumb pressed down on the glaring red button in his hand.
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
"I've been lost all my life."
His world dissolved into a bright flash of light, sound, and he was flying... truly flying for the first time in his life.
You are warned.
--------------------
Ichi
A Gundam Wing Fanfic
by:
Sailor Seraphim
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Notes:
I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did the series would be chock-full of shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
SPOILERS for Gundam Wing TV Series, Endless Waltz, and Episode Zero (all of it, though mostly Heero's).
I am of the belief that Doctor J's "training" of Heero stripped him of most of his memories of childhood. That, or Heero voluntarily supressed his own memories because they were so painful. Proof for my assumption lies in the fact that there are no records of Heero ever being on Earth before Operation Meteor (Episode Zero) and the tragic memory of the little girl and her puppy that Heero is forced to relive when he uses Wing ZERO (Endless Waltz).
I'm playing with Heero's past here. You are warned.
Beware the angst, random flashbacks, and disjointed commentary.
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Juu.
"'kaa-san? 'kaa-san? Doko iru ka, 'kaa-san?! 'KAA-SAN!!!"
Kyuu.
"Emotions?! They're worthless! He's a failure! Retrain him immediately! Our weapon doesn't need to be weak!"
Hachi.
"--go, nii-chan? Ne, maigo maigo?"
Echoing. Screaming. Over and over.
"... no... no... no..."
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
"Ore no miss da."
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
Alarm.
Awake.
Mission.
Ryoukai.
No more dreams.
No more nightmares.
Nana.
Roku.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up EPYON!"
Go.
Shi.
Odin frowned as he studied the glowing screen of outbound flights on the terminal before him.
"What's wrong, old man?"
"Don't call me that, boy," Odin snapped. He gestured to the screen and then at the full-length windows where one could watch the shuttles taking off into black space. "Our flight's been delayed."
The boy frowned. "Will this affect our mission?"
"Always about the mission, aren't you, boy?"
The boy didn't answer.
"No... this won't effect us much. I wonder what it would be like... to be so rich that you can have spaceports closed just for you? Would you like that, boy? Would you like to be a Winner?"
The boy narrowed his flat Prussian eyes and stared resolutely through the reinforced plasteel of the windows. Odin didn't expect an answer. Why did he do such things, ask questions he didn't want answers to? There was a flurry of action and the boy whirled around, watching as the crowds in the spaceport parted like a sea before a knot of men in business suits. And in that knot was a tall man, talking with his associates.
Almost out of place among them was a young boy, his blond hair a contrast to the dull browns and blacks of the people surrounding him. He walked through the crowd, shoulders back and a disaffected look on his face; as if he expected the people to fall out of his way.
"Would you like to be a Winner?" Odin asked again.
The boy frowned. There was something wrong with that blond boy. He was not happy, surrounded by his power, his wealth; he was not even happy he had a father who was standing right next to him.
"No. I don't want to be him."
San.
"They're mercenaries, boy. We are, too, I guess. We're two of a kind, selling our skills to the highest bidder. You're lucky you're with me, boy. Would you like to be like him? That other one over there? Our life isn't so bad, is it?"
Prussian eyes look up from the disassembled pistol and glance quickly at the boy standing near the mercenaries tents. A harsh voice barks out and the boy looks up and moves towards the voice, brown bangs shading his eyes.
"No, Odin."
Ni.
Children. Running. Yelling out to each other. Flat Prussian eyes survey the scene of chaos five floors below him. A gang of children barrels into a store, wreaking havoc and occupying the attention of the weary store owner. Almost unseen, two children slip through the back door, arms laden with their stolen spoils of war. The boy with dusty blond hair shouts to his companion and the child (boy? girl?) with matted chestnut hair follows immediately, easily side-stepping large arms grabbing futilely. The child (a boy) sticks his tongue out at teh infuriated adult and runs off, cackling gleefully.
"Boy. Come here."
Pulling away from the window.
"Hai."
Ichi.
Zero.
"Ninmu ryoukai."
His stance was defiant, proud. He knew that any cameras watching the events taking place would no doubt be able to record his face and vitals for future use. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The mission. Always the mission.
His thumb pressed down on the glaring red button in his hand.
"Ne, maigo maigo?"
"I've been lost all my life."
His world dissolved into a bright flash of light, sound, and he was flying... truly flying for the first time in his life.