Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Broken People ❯ Chapter 1-Running ( Chapter 1 )

After all I said about having this thing written, I'm going back and rewriting it, changing it from third person to first which is ending up to be a bigger task then I anticipated, but it also means I'm much happier with how this story is turning out. Especially the first few slower chapters. Bare with me, please. This also means that the prologue has been edited slightly.

Please respect the rating, and please review, good or bad, even if it's just a 'cool story', and let me know if you find any errors as I don't have a beta reader.

One last thing, please note that this is a slight AU. I'm sticking as close to the characters personalities as I possibly can, but a few minor things with the GW universe have changed.

Chapter I- Running

Heero's POV

January, A.C 197

It was the goddamn infernal sounds of traffic that woke me up the next morning.

Generally, it was never an issue with me. I could usually sleep through it, or else I would lay there in that pleasant half-dream, half-awake state and yes, it sounds strange, but I loved to listen to it. The soothing low rumbling of motorcycle engines as they zipped kamikazically through the long congested lines of impatient cars and trucks; the clashing chorus of car horns that followed in their wake. Kids chattering and laughing on the way to school. If you stayed up late, (or in my case, got up exceptionally early) you could even hear the waves crashing on the shore.

Sounds of traffic meant sounds of life; and more then once lately I'd been rudely reminded that life was a good thing. But today, it took me longer then usual to rise up out of the foggy depths of slumber, and I couldn't remember why. When I looked at the clock it obnoxiously displayed that it was already seven-thirty. That didn't help improve my mood at all.

My sheets were stuck to me like a second skin, and I literally had to peel them off me before I could even think of get out of bed. I'm almost ashamed to admit that with all my training; with all my traveling, I'm still used to the carefully controlled climates of the colonies, the absolute coldness of space; compared to that a Brazilian summer was ridiculously hot. I've done my time in the desert and never had a big problem before so it wasn't the heat getting to me; it was the goddamn humidity that was the killer.

As I blearily looked around the room, still trying to persuade my eyes to focus, I suddenly remembered just why I was so tired. The other people I shared the room with were still skulking away in the folds of sheets sleeping—passed out more likely. They were a bunch of vampires, not literally of course; but they'd probably still be there in the afternoon, just like they had been every other day this week, waiting `til the sun went down and it was time to go get plastered all over again. That had been why I was kept up so late last night; for once it wasn't by choice, it was just that vomit, and the lovely sounds and smells that came with it, happen to be the one thing I can't get myself to zone out.

And last night I had the full fucking symphony complete with surround sound trapped in the room with me.

I've never understood the whole purpose of traveling all the way to another country like they had, to get completely shit-faced every night and go home not remembering a single moment of the trip. Correct that, last night they probably would remember. You'd have a hard time forgetting puking of that caliber.

Sometime around when the sun started to come back up, I seriously considered putting them out of their misery myself, but I've been told that shooting someone is illegal now. Funny, 'cause these people have done more to offend me then most soldiers in the war.

So that little rule's gonna take some getting used to now.

I wrestled my back pack out from under the bed, getting a mushroom cloud of dust and cigarette ash in my face for my effort. It was uncharacteristic of me, but for once I made no attempts at being quiet; if I woke them up it was no problem of mine. I did have one advantage about getting up before dark like the majority of the people here; it meant I had first dibs at the bathroom; and more importantly, the shower, before it became too disgusting with puke, dirt and god knows what else. I don't know when I started to get picky about how clean the shower was; I guess in the last couple years I've always managed to stay in safe houses with other Gundam pilots and I've become spoiled. When you've stayed at Quatre's place once you'll find out that a bathroom is not just a place to practice personal hygiene, like I so mistakenly thought; but can be considered a friggin' spa complete with Jacuzzi, flat screened T.V and a mini bar.

Even though there were no signs of life, I took no chances and locked the bathroom door. I'd already `lost' one backpack while staying here; and if I ever discovered who'd taken it they'd find out there was a damn good reason why I became a Gundam pilot.

Except I can't really claim that anymore. The Gundams are gone. Well, the suits are all still fine. Gathering a little dust maybe. But the need for us, the pilots, is gone. It's going to be hard to start thinking like that. It's just been so long…

I slowly started to remove my shirt, my muscles still aching dully as I pulled it over my head. Courtesy of the battle in Brussels, I had a skew of new wounds to add to my already impressive collection. Most were healing well, and had already started to become the light red color of fresh scars. In time, they'd fade to white just like all the others I have. I'm the self proclaimed expert at telling how old a wound is; after you've looked at enough you can't help but gain that somewhat useless knowledge. Hell, I've had so many I could probably tell you in great detail what made them.

I turned the tap on as cold as it would go. The shower head spluttered weakly, as if it wasn't too impressed with this time in the morning either, but soon was running full blast. I had to wedge myself in the stall; now, I'm not tall by any means; I don't think I even hit average; so you could just guess at how tiny it was.

Like every other morning, even though I was expecting it, the icy water it still earned a gasp out of me. I fought my natural instinct, which was to jump out and run outside; through my bedroom window if necessary. My muscled put up a massive fight as they cramped and spasmed in the water, but after the initial shock I was able close my eyes and revel in it. Once I put a toe over the threshold of the hostel into the hot muggy air, being cool and fresh like this would be a distant memory.

It'd been less then a month since the whole incident in Brussels. Mariemeia had been `exorcised' or at least that's how Duo loved to describe it; finally had her naïve little eyes open to what she was actually doing. I guess this was mostly thanks to Relena. Who would have thought Relena, of all people, to have grown up so quickly. She had it in her, but I was still surprised at just how much she has changed. For our sakes, we should be thankful. The real puppet master behind everything, Dekin was to put it simply, dead. No worries about him either. Misson complete.

I can almost see that irritatingly sarcastic grin on Duo's face. He loves it when I say that.

I thankfully missed the entire end of events; the burning of the weapons and uniforms, the whole `symbolic' unification of the civilians and soldiers. I've never been one for symbolic and meaningful; real actions always account for more. My body had finally betrayed me--or perhaps I have betrayed it-- and I collapsed into blissful oblivion. It had taken several long years, but I was finally allowed to rest.

And I did, not being aware of anything for a full week.

I woke up at the military hospital in Brussels. According to my chart that was oh so conveniently kept at the foot of the bed, I was supposed to have been sedated 'to allow for healing' or some crap like that. I guess no one bothered to tell the doctors that we have a very high tolerance for meds-- not always a good thing, but in this case to my advantage. I needed to get away; I didn't need people fawning over me. The war was finally over, and I needed time for myself.

'Sedated for healing' what a load of crap! I've had worse injuries and never even seen a doctor, like when I self-detonated. Trowa didn't sedate me... he lives by the way I've always believed; if it doesn't need surgery, the body heals better when it's allowed to on its own. No drugs, no doctors, no nothing. Still hurts like hell though.

I watched Relena for many minutes while my body slowly burned off the remainder of the drugs still in my system. She was sleeping soundly on one of those rigid butt-numbing plastic hospital chairs; still somehow managing to look dignified and sophisticated to the casual glance, but I could see lines etched on her face where there hadn't been any before. At sixteen, she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Look at me, getting all poetic. That's not to say, me, or Duo or the others weren't the same. But we'd chosen it for ourselves. She...was trying to finish what her father started. Not exactly the same choice.

I didn't wake her. She needed the sleep right now, probably much more then I did. After all, I had just been unconscious for the last week. I couldn't help but ache for her, as I watched her head bob rhythmically up and down with her slow breathing. For now, well, she was going to go through what I've lived like all these years. The only peace you have is when sleeping.

Part of me didn't want to do it. I didn't want to desert her again, like I have so many times before. The world was broken, and we were all depending on her to pick up the pieces. At least before I had some rationalization, even if it was only in my warped sense of it. But now I was just abandoning her. Maybe it wasn't fair, I go making all these decisions for her. I knew she had feelings for me; and yes Duo, I know that's the understatement of the year. But my part in this twisted play had been played; my brief cameo was over and hers was just being introduced. Perhaps this was my perverted way of helping her. She didn't need distractions and so I wasn't going to provide her with any. I wasn't even going to give her the choice.

Like I said, not fair.

Still, my mind wants to justify it even though I'd been through all the scenarios hundreds of times since then, and my mind still hasn't changed. Peace is a fragile thing, and this peace was still like the tiniest of flames trying to endure in a tornado. She had a lot of work ahead of her to keep it burning, and I wasn't going to be the one to snuff it out. Relena may have matured during the war, but she was still young and naïve when it came to love and life. When it came to matters like this, I couldn't really boast about being the expert either. I did know that regardless of what had passed between us, I wasn't ready to attempt a relationship.

Still, for the first couple of weeks I stuck around. I had no where better to go; no place really, to go. I lingered around in Brussels for the first few days. I want to say I was waiting for myself to heal up before I started traveling again, but I'd be lying. It was still all about Relena. I guess I still did feel a little guilty about leaving her with no explanation in the hospital, but if she felt the same way she didn't show it. Not that I went and paid a visit or anything. I did see her on T.V a few times and there was the odd press conference that I happened to be at. Just happened to be in the right neighborhood, right building, right time and place. Purely a coincidence.

Once I thought I caught a flash of sadness pass over her face. One day in particular she seemed to be staring dreamily up towards space. Maybe it was me she was thinking about, but I don't cling to that belief very strongly. It could have just as easily been the camera flashes causing that dazed-and-confused look.

What I did next was obvious. To me anyway. I had to find out how the others were doing. Sure, I didn't want them to see me yet, but there was nothing wrong with me making sure they were still okay.

I didn't go to them in any certain order. Going to the closest one first would have made sense, but my mind wasn't working logically anymore. Logic ended the moment I passed out in Relena's arms and the war was finished. Logic ended the moment I woke up and realized I was finally going to have to do something with the fucked up thing I called my life.

A completely illogical statement in itself.

I went to Trowa first. Perhaps it was kinda stupid, seeing as I had spent over a month with him in the circus and the people there knew me; at least I thought they would. I guess I have one of those faces; a good thing in war but not in life; that you just tend to see then forget. Anyway, no one paid any attention to me as I slipped in the rest of the crowd. It was a good crowd too. I guess people were happy to resume normalcy, and going to the circus wasn't really one of the priorities when there were mobile suits and soldiers everywhere.

It's funny; funny ironic, not funny haha; that with all the time I spent there and with him I never once bothered to ask what his act actually consisted of. In my defense there was a war going on. But as I watched him, I finally realized where some of those flashy gymnastics moves had come from. It had been more then one time he'd managed to get a gun to my head with those moves.

Trowa's face was expressionless as ever, or at least it was if you didn't know Trowa. Duo once flipped out at Trowa saying he had the emotional capacity of a turnip. 'Course, he's said that to me a few times too. I guess Trowa and I are alike in the way that we don't feel the need to have every single thought written out for the world to see on our faces. We both grew up the same way; surrounded by soldiers who really don't give a damn what you're feeling.

The eyes are where you can't hide it. Eyes are the ultimate betrayers of emotion.

I'm not going as far to say that Trowa looked happy when I saw him. Content, yes. Happy...that'd be pushing it.

I didn't go see Quatre or Wu Fei. Quatre I didn't need to, and Wu Fei I couldn't.

Quatre was as sharp as ever; I don't get why I'm even surprised any more. He may have initially given me the impression of someone who was soft and inexperienced, but I soon learned better. The number of times he's proven me wrong; the fact that he never ceases to amaze me with his ability to understand people. It scares me sometimes, that he gets me better then I do. He knew I was planning to take off even before I did. He left me a freshly stocked backpack; complete with clean clothes, food and a fully loaded gun. I'd love to find out how he managed to get that into a hospital. He left a note with my stuff too, telling me about the plans of the others, that I was welcome to stay with him at any time, and that he'd opened an account for all us pilots to share if needed. He used a lot more sophisticated words then me, but anyone who can use the word `idiosyncratic' in casual conversation...well, he scares me in more then one way.

I chose not to use the account more then I had to. Maybe enough so he could get a generalized idea of where I was, just in case, but really I just wanted to be left alone. I would never resort to stealing again if I could help it; after all peace it fragile. But more importantly; I had to learn how to live on my own. Ones of these days I was going to have to get a job, get an apartment…all that stuff people my age are supposed to find fun and liberating. Right…

Wu Fei had taken up a position with Sally and the Preventers, and was already away on a mission when I woke up. I was surprised really, to find out he'd done that. Wu Fei was the guy who I knew the least about. He came off as kind of a prick at first… hell, he still is sometimes. I think of all of us, Wu Fei was the one most affected by the second war. I'll never be surprised by the stupid things people do, but he seemed taken it personal that in short a short period of time the Colonies and Earth had taken peace for granted.

My last stop was to go up to the colonies. It surprised me at how quickly Duo had left the rest of us…me. I'm not quite sure where that thought came from. There had been one night that we'd spent at a stranded at a safe house. Damaged Gundams and high winds; both of us absolutely exhausted but uninjured for a pleasant change. There was one bed and two of us; in the state we were in we really didn't care about stigma of two guys sharing a bed. We were above that anyway, or at least I'd like to hope. But that was one of the few times where I'd had the suspicion that he thought it was something more.

Anyway…I don't want to think about that now. Things are complicated enough with Relena I don't want to have to worry about Duo too.

Duo was working in a scrap yard on L2 with Hilde. I didn't stick around for more then a day; twice I went to go spy on him and failed. Duo has this amazing sixth sense that borders on creepy and I fairly sure he saw me at least one as I slipped back into the crowd.

If he did spot me, for the first time ever he seemed to take the hint that I wasn't interested in socializing. He could have easily caught up to me, his street skills were way better then mine and he had the advantage of knowing the area.

Movements outside the door snapped me out of day dream. Someone else besides me in this place was actually conscious, a minor miracle in itself. I'd been standing motionless in the shower with the icy water blasting into my face. I don't even remember trying to breathe through it, though I'd been like that long enough for my face to go numb. I enjoyed the last few seconds and turned the squeaky tap off. I suppose there was no escaping the heat for any longer. I wasn't going to be staying here for another night and I had a lot to do before I left.

I wasted most of the day trying to find all the supplies I needed before I left. Hell, who am I kidding. I didn't need supplies; I just needed more time. I needed…something.

I'm purely a remnant of war. When the war ends, we remnants are cast aside, no longer important and expected to adjust to a world we no longer understand, a mission that has no clear objectives. A world that is over-exaggerated, false and meaningless. But this is the world that people have fought for-- that I have fought for, and so, I must find my own meaning.

But does a world like this really have room for broken people like us?

End Chapter 1

Chapter 2 is ready to go, and will be posted when I'm nearly done rewriting chapter 3.

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