Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My father, the pacifist ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. This fan fiction has no commercial value, and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this story or the use of characters owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

 

My father, the pacifist

 

Quatre sat in his office on his desk facing the window. The lights in the office were turned off so that he could view the fireworks better. The citizens were still celebrating their victory over Mariemaia. He quietly wondered how long the parties would last. They all seemed very happy, perhaps even happier than he was.

 

Of course, they were all able to be part of the victory. They had learned they had strength, that they could make a difference. He had learned that lesson long ago, and so, he had no revelation tonight. No, all he had were a few memories and…. He turned as the door clicked open then shut a few moments afterward.

 

Zechs Merquise had slipped into his office. Without a word, he strode over to Quatre at a leisurely pace. He stopped at the side of the desk and stared out the window, watching the celebration, so Quatre returned to watching as well, trusting Zechs to explain his presence in due time. They observed the partying for a few minutes, but it seemed like forever to the younger man.

 

“Une strongly suggested I speak with you before I leave to Mars with Noin,” he finally explained. Quatre turned and looked at him. “She seems to feel I should speak to you about your father.” Quatre turned back and looked out the window.

 

“There's nothing to say. What's done is done. I'm at peace with it.”

 

“I think she feels it would be good for both of us.” He said after a moment. “Subtlety was never one of her strong suits.”

 

“Good for both of us?” Neither took their eyes off the window, though they were not watching the festivities.

 

“Both of us being the soldier sons of famous pacifist fathers,” he explained.

 

“I've made my peace with it,” he said again.

 

They sat there for a few more minutes. It was getting late, and the revelry should have died down, but if anything, it intensified. Larger fireworks went off, and the sound waves vibrated a few things sitting on the desk. More bonfires sparked throughout the horizon. A few shots rang out, and it was hard to tell if they were from guns or from firecrackers. Law enforcement would have its hands full tonight. The number of drunks with easy access to pyrotechnics, guns, and other weapons would be too numerous for anyone's peace of mind, and the fact that they were all concealed in the heavy crowds in the….

 

“Then you are better and bigger than I,” Zechs interrupted his thoughts. Quatre thought to respond to this but ended up biting his tongue and keeping his comments to himself. “You can at least keep your father's name without shame. I can never go back to being a Peacecraft.”

 

“I keep the name because no one knows of my sins,” he said. “Like you, I hid my actions. No one knows what I did or where I was during the war. No one even suspects I was a Gundam pilot. Just like no one knows what happened to Milliardo Peacecraft for thirteen years or where he is now. They don't know that he was Zechs Marquise.”

 

“Many people know that.”

 

“Only those who will keep it secret, just as they keep mine,” reminded Quatre.

 

Someone must have found some serious speakers and connected them to a power supply. Suddenly a huge boom of popular music sounded; it was even loud all the way up in Quatre's office. The people on the street had to be deaf by now if the rockets and bullets had not made them so already.

 

“I only changed my name so that I would not bring shame upon my family. I would not give anyone ammunition against the Peacecrafts; I would not allow them to cast doubt on Total Pacifism just because the family had one rogue son.”

 

After a pause, Quatre said, “That's a noble reason at least.”

 

“Yours wasn't?”

 

“I believed in what I fought for, but I was also scared of my father—not afraid of being disinherited. I was afraid he would hate me. I always knew deep down he loved me no matter what, but I knew how he felt about fighting. I didn't want him to hate me. I—I didn't want him to wish for another son.” His voice cracked on this sentence, and he took a moment to calm himself. “Being replaced was something I couldn't bear. I kept baiting him about it. I kept asking him to replace. I guess it was my childish of way of hoping he would say he would never have another son made, that I was exactly what he wanted. However, I know that's not true; he wanted a son like him…. I was a failure.”

 

Quatre was really glad they both just stared out the window. He hung his head and fought back the tears that had come to his eyes. He mentally cursed himself. In the past year, he had gone and talked to his sisters, his uncle, and his aunts. He had went and talked to his father's closest friends. They had all comforted him and had told him tales of his father, good and bad…and mildly disturbing (who wanted to hear about their father's sexual escapades as a young man?). He had finally made peace with his father. He had. So why did it still hurt so much? Why did he still feel this way?

 

“You were the son your father wanted.”

 

Gulping down his sorrow, Quatre looked up to stare at the window once more. “How did you come up with that conclusion?”

 

“I did not know Alim Winner too well, but he was proud of all his children, especially when they thought for themselves even if it went against what he believed.”

 

“Everyone says that.”

 

“Did he ever make a new son?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did he ever threaten to make a new one to keep you in line?”

 

“Never.”

 

“How did he react to Gundam?”

 

“He was very angry. He'd yell at me, telling me to be a good heir and listen to my father. He said I didn't accomplish anything except exacerbating the war. I was too young to do anything. Why wouldn't I just listen to him?”

 

“He never ordered to return to him?”

 

“No, he just strongly suggested I do, strongly suggested.”

 

“He was just worried about you. He didn't want you to get hurt. He wanted to keep you safe and to preserve your boyhood.”

 

“It wasn't a good way to do it. He should have just said so. Why couldn't he se that his way was going nowhere? I knew the risks and the consequences.”

 

“How did he die?”

 

Quatre stared harder at the window, though he was not sure what was happening out there anymore. “He disengaged the satellite from the colony. He said he was running away. I begged him to escape, to come with me, but he wouldn't do it. He just let them kill him.” He closed his eyes tightly. Why had his father not listened to him? Why did he just die?

 

“So he was just as stubborn as you,” Zechs concluded. Quatre turned his head and saw the man still looking out the window. “He showed you what he was afraid would happen to you. You refused to listen to him and would go into dangerous situations, so he showed you how he felt when you went into battle.”

 

“He shouldn't have done that just to prove a point!”

 

“I'm sure he had other reasons,” Zechs assured. “That was just one. He also knew that the new peace would be governed by a younger, more realistic generation. Our fathers were too idealistic for their own good. It brought their downfall.”

 

Quatre made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat and returned to gazing out the window. The sensible people were starting to head home and probably straight to bed. It was only the serious, heavy partiers left, and they were the ones keeping up most of the noise. He wondered how many people would call into work sick tomorrow. It would probably end up being an unofficial bank holiday.

 

“What about your father?” Quatre heard himself suddenly ask.

 

“What?” Zechs sounded just as surprised by the question.

 

“You said we were alike and that Une wanted us to help each other. So you must have some issues with your father.”

 

“Very perceptive of you,” he said. For a long time, they sat in silence, and Quatre began to wonder if he was ever going to answer. “I never had a fight with my father. I never crossed words or swords with him. He never had a chance to tell me what a disappointment I was. He died before that happened. Instead going with his Christian philosophy of `turning the other cheek,' I took up a sword and took revenge upon those who wronged me and my family. I never got to hear his disappointment, but I know he would have been.”

 

“He really believed in Total Pacifism.”

 

“Yes, with all his heart.”

 

“I'm sure he could have understood your path. I'm sure he would have understood the anger you felt even if he would not condone it.”

 

“He would have understood nothing about me!” Zechs hissed, showing a side of himself Quatre had never seen before and doubted many others had.

 

“You said he was a Christian, and I've heard you and others remark upon how much Relena is like him. Your sister understands; she forgives you. Your father would have done the same.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre saw Zechs shake his head. “No, Relena gets that from our mother. She would have taken me back, but not Father. No, he may have preached Christian ideals, but he did not practice all of them. I would not have been allowed back into the family.”

 

“But, surely,” Quatre protested.

 

“My father died when I was very young, and I do not have too many memories of him. From what I do remember, he did not like soldiers one bit. Those who fought and later found Total Pacifism were welcomed with open arms. Those who knew of it beforehand and became soldiers with the full knowledge of how to be a good little pacifist could not be redeemed. They were damned to Hell. No, if my father lived and saw my path, he would renounce me. I would be dead to him.”

 

Quatre thought for a moment. “That can't be.”

 

“Oh? Why is that?”

 

“You said my father still loved and cared for me despite his words and actions. My father never disowned me even though I contradicted his beliefs.”

 

“My father would have been too stubborn.”

 

“You said my father was just as stubborn as I am. Well, I can be very stubborn, so there's no way your father could have been more. He never would have disowned you or anything. He just would have been mad. Our fathers were pacifists; they were part of the same generation, just as you said.”

 

Zechs smiled wryly. “You're using my own words against me.”

 

Quatre shrugged. “Fair's fair.”

 

Someone must have complained. The music died down—it did not go away completely—it just went to a more tolerable level. The large crowds were breaking up and spreading through the streets. Soon everyone would head home. The hangovers would be catching up with them…as well as God knew what. Life would return to its normal state, though hopefully with a renewed sense of….

 

“I still won't take on the name of Peacecraft.”

 

Quatre shrugged. “You don't have to, I guess. The Peacecrafts have served their purpose. With no Sanc left, there's not much point in being one. Even your sister is no longer a Peacecraft. You don't have to stay Zechs because of your sins.”

 

“Perhaps it is time to close the book on the family. If Relena can move on, so can I.”

 

More people were heading home. Law enforcement must have been tired and wanting to go home. The music all but died. The only hum that now sounded was from the crowds below conversing. A few bonfires had gotten out of control, and the fire department had put them out along with a few that must have been left unattended. Only a small percentage of the original number was left. Life truly was returning to normal. He glanced at the clock. In two hours, he would be in an important, early morning meeting with….

 

“Did this help you?” Zechs asked suddenly. He was still staring out the window as was Quatre.

 

“Not a bit,” Quatre replied automatically. It was the truth, though.

 

“Good,” Zechs smiled. “I wouldn't want Une to be right.”