Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Faded Memories ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Firestar 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.30.2001 | Updated On: 08.30.2001 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 492 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.30.2001 | Updated On: 08.30.2001 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 492 | Status: Work In Progress
Faded Memories
by Firestar
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine.
Warnings: This is going to end up as a shounen ai story.
The Present
He lay there, silent and unmoving, his chest barely rising. White bandages were swathed about his head and
wrapped tightly around his chest. Faint spots of red marred the blank whiteness of the cloth. Angry scratches
and slightly deeper cuts were also present on the boy's face and on the exposed skin of his arms.
It was obvious he was near death. His shallow breathing rasped in his throat. His brown hair hung limply in his
face, resting on the bandage covering his eyes.
A slender hand reached out to brush the hair aside. The hand hesitated, tenderly caressing the clammy skin.
The face of another boy hovered just a foot above the bed. His violet eyes were full of weariness and worry.
Heero had been unconcious for two days now, ever since he'd staggered in the door of Quatre's mansion . He'd
been missing for almost a month before he'd returned.
Duo found him passed out on the floor just inside the entryway. He'd yelled franticly for the other pilots,
nearly in tears at the sight of Heero's blood pooled on the floor.
"Oh Heero, what happened? Who did this to you? Whoever it was, I swear I'll make them pay." Duo spoke in a
near whisper, but the intensity of his voice was frightening. "I swear it!"
************************************************************* *********************
The Distant Past
Sunlight danced lightly across emerald green leaves, dappling the family below with playful shadows. A young
mother laughed delightedly at the her tiny son's antics. The toddler was holding a teddy bear in one arm and
with the other he was busy pulling his father's unruly brown hair. The boy had a mop of hair to match and
lively blue eyes the exact shade of his mother's.
The boy's father gently disengaged the tiny fist from his hair and then lifted him into is arms. Slowly the man
began to twirl around, gaining speed a little at a time. The boy shrieked with laughter as the scenery rushed
by. Finally winded, the man slowed and then came to a stop. The boy wiggled in his arms, demanding to be put
down.
Once safely upon the ground, the little boy took off. His parents followed only a moment later and they all ran
to the playground where the boy demanded to be pushed on the swings. He flew higher and higher, soaring
through the air like some bird, straining to reach the sky....
********************************************************** ************************
Trowa, Wufei and Quatre were gathered in Quatre's living room.
"How is he, Trowa?" asked Quatre tiredly. He'd barely slept the last two days. None of them had. They'd all been
searching for some clue to the cause of Heero's injuries. When they'd found Heero, Quatre immediately called
Sally Po and an elite team of doctors. Heero had recieved the best of care while never leaving Quatre's home.
The doctors worked day and night keeping Heero alive and trying to heal him. The pilots left them alone, knowing
there was nothing they could do.
"He'll live," answered Trowa softly, "but its going to take a long time for even him to recover. There's a lot of
damage."
Wufei caught Trowa's gaze soberly. "Do they know what happened to him?"
Trowa looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with the Chinese man. "He was tortured. They say--" here
Trowa paused, the normally unshakeable pilot finding it hard to continue, "They say he had to have been
tortured for weeks. He was drugged and beaten and .............."
Trowa let his voice trail off, almost sobbing. Finally he forced out the rest. The other pilots' eyes widened in
horror.
*************************************************** *******************************
Duo sat silently at Heero's bedside. His eyes felt like they were lined with sandpaper and it was becoming harder
and harder to keep them open. He had to stay awake, just in case Heero needed him. But he was so tired. Finally,
his eyes dropped shut and he slumped back into the chair. He'd only rest his eyes for a moment, that's all.
************************************************************* *********************
He felt like he was falling, descending back into the pool of molten pain that he'd almost escaped an eternity ago.
He'd almost managed to leave the pain behind, to escape the life that seemed to pile agony upon more agony.
And the last, when he, that dark figure that continually haunted his life, had found him once more, all the pain in
his life had come rushing back, multiplyed exponentially and thrust cruelly into his body...and into his mind.
But still, he would have made it this time, he would have left everything behind but for that vague pull that
refused to let him rest. It called him back to face the pain once more. It kept him alive.
And now he had to face the pain. He felt himself regaining consiousness. He was oddly aware of everything
around him, the drip of the IV that was stuck in his arm, the faint humming of the machinery he was hooked up to,
the bandages covering his body and his eyes. The eyes had been the final blow, the one bit of torture that had
ripped away his detachment as an experimental fluid was poured over them, searing them with pain and sending
him into darkness.
His thoughts wandered, settling into a kind of waking dream, a horror filled reverie, as he fell further into the pain.
He remembered vividly the looming figures outlined by a block of light from an open door. It had been the open
door of his cell, but he hadn't been able to reach it for a long time. He hadn't had the strength.
The Near Past
The figures had solidified into men. Ordinary men, the kind you passed every day on the street. Their eyes had
been full of pity, of regret for what they were forced to do. He didn't blame them. They weren't given any more
choice about being there than he was.
The men grabbed him by his emaciated arms, pulling him upright and dragging him to the door. He sagged in
their arms, unable to even attempt one last try for freedom.
They pulled him along sterilized hallways towards a small white room. In the middle of the room lay a gurney with
leather straps meant to bind limbs to its surface. The men paused briefly, listening to the instructions of the
doctor standing just inside the door. They nodded to show they understood and strapped the limp body of the
gundam pilot down onto the gurney tightly.
When the doctor looked away to check his instruments, one of the men bent down swiftly and whispered in the
boy's ear. He cracked his eyes open slightly, acknowledging that he'd understood.
The man straightened up then, walking away from the tortured pilot, turning his back on what was to come. He'd
done all he could. He knew it wouldn't be enough.
The doctor turned around then, satisfied that everything was in order. He held a small vial of viscous looking
fluid in his hands gently, cradling it like he would an infant. He was quite insane. He'd been pushed over the
edge a few years back, before the gundams were even sent to earth.
But just because he wasn't in his right mind didn't mean that mind didn't function. He still possessed the full
measure of genius and was infinitely capable of carrying out complex experiments and laboratory procedures. He
was also bent on using his skills to exact revenge on the boy he'd deemed to be the cause of all his problems.
He'd trained the ungrateful wretch for years, building his tolerance for pain to inhuman levels, stripping away
weakness, tearing emotions out by the roots. And just when he'd almost achieved perfection with the boy, when
he'd been so near to completing the perfect weapon, that damned Doctor J had stepped in.
Doctor J was sent by the administration to take over his work. THEY said he was no longer needed and had taken
the boy from him. Then they tried to kill him. But of course he was much to smart to let THEM get the best of him.
No, he'd faked his death very cleverly. Not a soul even guessed that he was still among the living. And he'd spent
all the ensuing years building up his own personal army. He'd trained them personally, enhancing their reflexes
and forcing unquestionable loyalty upon them.
All the deranged man needed was his prized experiment, his life's work. He'd contacted the boy, demanding he
return himself to his rightful owner. He'd fully expected the boy to come running into his open arms. The boy
owed him his very existence.
But the boy, to the doctor's utter astonishment, refused. Gave him a flat out no and immediately disconnected the
call.
Well, if the boy wasn't for him, he was against him. The mad doctor could still use the boy. Although his training
was obviously in ruins, he could use every body he could get. And this boy's body was so far enhanced that any
experiments that were even partially successful on him were sure to be fool proof against ordinary men.
So, he had still needed the boy, and he'd gotten him. It had been pathetically easy. All he'd had to do was fake a
message from one of the pilots telling the boy to meet him in the local park. He'd had soldiers waiting armed with
a few of his newest weapons. The boy didn't even know what hit him.
And now here he was, laid out before the doctor like a sacrificial offering to some ancient god. The doctor had
been able to run many experiments on this boy. He didn't die after just one test run like all the other subjects had.
And now for the culmination of all these weeks of hard work.
The doctor pulled the stopper of the vial, motioning to one of the guards to open the boys mouth. The guard
stepped forward slowly, placing his hands gently on the boy's face. He didn't get any resistance, the boy's mouth
opened easily.
The doctor started to tip the vial slowly and the guard looked away. Suddenly the floor started to shake, and a
moment later a loud explosion rocked the building. The boy's eyes opened wide with suprise and he recieved the
vial full of liquid square in the face.
The doctor let out a curse, but the boy let out a nerve racking scream. It was the first sound anybody had heard
him make.
The sound of booted feet was heard as armed men were running down the sterile hallways, heading unerringly
or the lab. The guards made no move to stop them, simply letting them by with no resistance. As they came to the
small white room, the guard that had whispered to the boy stepped forward, opening the door with a smile.
The soldiers entered the room quickly, most keeping their guns trained on the doctor while a few others headed
over to the gurney. The slowed their pace then, approaching the boy slowly, almost reverently.
Here was the hero of the colonies. The savior of earth. This small, frail looking and pain-racked child
was the gundam pilot 01.
The men undid the leather straps gently, unwilling to cause more pain. The largest of them picked up the boy
carefully, cradling him like a small child in his arms. They moved out of the room slowly, the man carrying the boy
keeping his pace smooth so as not to jar the boy's injuries.
They locked the doctor in his lab, making sure to free any other test subjects he might have had. Once they were
a safe distance away, one of the men pulled out a detonater and pushed the tiny red button on top. None of them
paused to watch the building go up in flames. They focused instead on the boy held securely in their comrade's
arms.
He was badly injured, that they could tell just by looking at him. Many of his old wounds had broken open again
and his eyes were already swollen shut. As much as they wanted to stop and treat his injuries, they had to keep
moving. The explosion would have alerted the Preventers' and they would most likely respond within the next
half-hour.
The men didn't dare hang around and wait for the Preventers' arrival, they weren't ready to make themselves
known to the public yet. Their debut had to wait a little while longer. So the climbed into their vehicles and
headed for the last known destination of the gundam pilot 04. He was the closest and lived only an hour away in
a posh sector of the colony. He was the one most likely to be able to care for the injured boy they had rescued.
They couldn't have known that there was currently a riot en route to their destination and they couldn't have
predicted that their military like transportation would be targeted by the enraged citizens.
The boy rode with them quietly, only occasionly letting out a whimper of pain. All of his defenses had been
stripped away, leaving him looking like nothing more than a lost child.
The truck he was placed in was the first one attacked, jarring him from his uneasy dozing. His eyes opened in a
flash as the men with him went on alert, grabbing at weapons in a near panic. One man picked up the boy and
while the others provided covering fire, he ran as far and as quickly as he could towards pilot 04's mansion. They
owed the boy the chance to live. Hell, everyone owed the boy, and if sacrificing their lives to save his is what it
cost them, they were prepared to pay their debts.
The man made it to within a few blocks of his destination, before falling to his knees. He was dying, he'd taken a
bullet in the back as he'd run from the fight. His comrades were dead, he knew. There entire organization was
gone, destroyed in one act of senseless violence. But this boy was worth it, if only he would live.
The dying man shook the boy gently, forcing him awake. "You have to go the rest of the way on your own now,
kid. I can't take you any farther."
The boy merely looked at him through dazed eyes, the fight in him clearly gone.
"Dammit boy! You owe us this, at least. We've given up everything for you, the least you could do is try to make
our sacrifice mean something." The man was near tears and his voice shook with his weakness.
Sill the boy regarded him silently, and after a moment that seemed to go on forever, he nodded slowly and ever
so painfully pulled himself to his feet. He couldn't see, but he knew this neighborhood by heart. He turned to go,
but paused a moment, turning back in the direction he knew the man to be.
"thank you" he whispered softly. The man nodded, even though he knew the boy couldn't see it.
He watched with fading eyesight as the boy turned once more and headed towards safety, limping and
staggering, leaving splatters of blood in his wake.
************************************************************ **********************
by Firestar
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine.
Warnings: This is going to end up as a shounen ai story.
The Present
He lay there, silent and unmoving, his chest barely rising. White bandages were swathed about his head and
wrapped tightly around his chest. Faint spots of red marred the blank whiteness of the cloth. Angry scratches
and slightly deeper cuts were also present on the boy's face and on the exposed skin of his arms.
It was obvious he was near death. His shallow breathing rasped in his throat. His brown hair hung limply in his
face, resting on the bandage covering his eyes.
A slender hand reached out to brush the hair aside. The hand hesitated, tenderly caressing the clammy skin.
The face of another boy hovered just a foot above the bed. His violet eyes were full of weariness and worry.
Heero had been unconcious for two days now, ever since he'd staggered in the door of Quatre's mansion . He'd
been missing for almost a month before he'd returned.
Duo found him passed out on the floor just inside the entryway. He'd yelled franticly for the other pilots,
nearly in tears at the sight of Heero's blood pooled on the floor.
"Oh Heero, what happened? Who did this to you? Whoever it was, I swear I'll make them pay." Duo spoke in a
near whisper, but the intensity of his voice was frightening. "I swear it!"
************************************************************* *********************
The Distant Past
Sunlight danced lightly across emerald green leaves, dappling the family below with playful shadows. A young
mother laughed delightedly at the her tiny son's antics. The toddler was holding a teddy bear in one arm and
with the other he was busy pulling his father's unruly brown hair. The boy had a mop of hair to match and
lively blue eyes the exact shade of his mother's.
The boy's father gently disengaged the tiny fist from his hair and then lifted him into is arms. Slowly the man
began to twirl around, gaining speed a little at a time. The boy shrieked with laughter as the scenery rushed
by. Finally winded, the man slowed and then came to a stop. The boy wiggled in his arms, demanding to be put
down.
Once safely upon the ground, the little boy took off. His parents followed only a moment later and they all ran
to the playground where the boy demanded to be pushed on the swings. He flew higher and higher, soaring
through the air like some bird, straining to reach the sky....
********************************************************** ************************
Trowa, Wufei and Quatre were gathered in Quatre's living room.
"How is he, Trowa?" asked Quatre tiredly. He'd barely slept the last two days. None of them had. They'd all been
searching for some clue to the cause of Heero's injuries. When they'd found Heero, Quatre immediately called
Sally Po and an elite team of doctors. Heero had recieved the best of care while never leaving Quatre's home.
The doctors worked day and night keeping Heero alive and trying to heal him. The pilots left them alone, knowing
there was nothing they could do.
"He'll live," answered Trowa softly, "but its going to take a long time for even him to recover. There's a lot of
damage."
Wufei caught Trowa's gaze soberly. "Do they know what happened to him?"
Trowa looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with the Chinese man. "He was tortured. They say--" here
Trowa paused, the normally unshakeable pilot finding it hard to continue, "They say he had to have been
tortured for weeks. He was drugged and beaten and .............."
Trowa let his voice trail off, almost sobbing. Finally he forced out the rest. The other pilots' eyes widened in
horror.
*************************************************** *******************************
Duo sat silently at Heero's bedside. His eyes felt like they were lined with sandpaper and it was becoming harder
and harder to keep them open. He had to stay awake, just in case Heero needed him. But he was so tired. Finally,
his eyes dropped shut and he slumped back into the chair. He'd only rest his eyes for a moment, that's all.
************************************************************* *********************
He felt like he was falling, descending back into the pool of molten pain that he'd almost escaped an eternity ago.
He'd almost managed to leave the pain behind, to escape the life that seemed to pile agony upon more agony.
And the last, when he, that dark figure that continually haunted his life, had found him once more, all the pain in
his life had come rushing back, multiplyed exponentially and thrust cruelly into his body...and into his mind.
But still, he would have made it this time, he would have left everything behind but for that vague pull that
refused to let him rest. It called him back to face the pain once more. It kept him alive.
And now he had to face the pain. He felt himself regaining consiousness. He was oddly aware of everything
around him, the drip of the IV that was stuck in his arm, the faint humming of the machinery he was hooked up to,
the bandages covering his body and his eyes. The eyes had been the final blow, the one bit of torture that had
ripped away his detachment as an experimental fluid was poured over them, searing them with pain and sending
him into darkness.
His thoughts wandered, settling into a kind of waking dream, a horror filled reverie, as he fell further into the pain.
He remembered vividly the looming figures outlined by a block of light from an open door. It had been the open
door of his cell, but he hadn't been able to reach it for a long time. He hadn't had the strength.
The Near Past
The figures had solidified into men. Ordinary men, the kind you passed every day on the street. Their eyes had
been full of pity, of regret for what they were forced to do. He didn't blame them. They weren't given any more
choice about being there than he was.
The men grabbed him by his emaciated arms, pulling him upright and dragging him to the door. He sagged in
their arms, unable to even attempt one last try for freedom.
They pulled him along sterilized hallways towards a small white room. In the middle of the room lay a gurney with
leather straps meant to bind limbs to its surface. The men paused briefly, listening to the instructions of the
doctor standing just inside the door. They nodded to show they understood and strapped the limp body of the
gundam pilot down onto the gurney tightly.
When the doctor looked away to check his instruments, one of the men bent down swiftly and whispered in the
boy's ear. He cracked his eyes open slightly, acknowledging that he'd understood.
The man straightened up then, walking away from the tortured pilot, turning his back on what was to come. He'd
done all he could. He knew it wouldn't be enough.
The doctor turned around then, satisfied that everything was in order. He held a small vial of viscous looking
fluid in his hands gently, cradling it like he would an infant. He was quite insane. He'd been pushed over the
edge a few years back, before the gundams were even sent to earth.
But just because he wasn't in his right mind didn't mean that mind didn't function. He still possessed the full
measure of genius and was infinitely capable of carrying out complex experiments and laboratory procedures. He
was also bent on using his skills to exact revenge on the boy he'd deemed to be the cause of all his problems.
He'd trained the ungrateful wretch for years, building his tolerance for pain to inhuman levels, stripping away
weakness, tearing emotions out by the roots. And just when he'd almost achieved perfection with the boy, when
he'd been so near to completing the perfect weapon, that damned Doctor J had stepped in.
Doctor J was sent by the administration to take over his work. THEY said he was no longer needed and had taken
the boy from him. Then they tried to kill him. But of course he was much to smart to let THEM get the best of him.
No, he'd faked his death very cleverly. Not a soul even guessed that he was still among the living. And he'd spent
all the ensuing years building up his own personal army. He'd trained them personally, enhancing their reflexes
and forcing unquestionable loyalty upon them.
All the deranged man needed was his prized experiment, his life's work. He'd contacted the boy, demanding he
return himself to his rightful owner. He'd fully expected the boy to come running into his open arms. The boy
owed him his very existence.
But the boy, to the doctor's utter astonishment, refused. Gave him a flat out no and immediately disconnected the
call.
Well, if the boy wasn't for him, he was against him. The mad doctor could still use the boy. Although his training
was obviously in ruins, he could use every body he could get. And this boy's body was so far enhanced that any
experiments that were even partially successful on him were sure to be fool proof against ordinary men.
So, he had still needed the boy, and he'd gotten him. It had been pathetically easy. All he'd had to do was fake a
message from one of the pilots telling the boy to meet him in the local park. He'd had soldiers waiting armed with
a few of his newest weapons. The boy didn't even know what hit him.
And now here he was, laid out before the doctor like a sacrificial offering to some ancient god. The doctor had
been able to run many experiments on this boy. He didn't die after just one test run like all the other subjects had.
And now for the culmination of all these weeks of hard work.
The doctor pulled the stopper of the vial, motioning to one of the guards to open the boys mouth. The guard
stepped forward slowly, placing his hands gently on the boy's face. He didn't get any resistance, the boy's mouth
opened easily.
The doctor started to tip the vial slowly and the guard looked away. Suddenly the floor started to shake, and a
moment later a loud explosion rocked the building. The boy's eyes opened wide with suprise and he recieved the
vial full of liquid square in the face.
The doctor let out a curse, but the boy let out a nerve racking scream. It was the first sound anybody had heard
him make.
The sound of booted feet was heard as armed men were running down the sterile hallways, heading unerringly
or the lab. The guards made no move to stop them, simply letting them by with no resistance. As they came to the
small white room, the guard that had whispered to the boy stepped forward, opening the door with a smile.
The soldiers entered the room quickly, most keeping their guns trained on the doctor while a few others headed
over to the gurney. The slowed their pace then, approaching the boy slowly, almost reverently.
Here was the hero of the colonies. The savior of earth. This small, frail looking and pain-racked child
was the gundam pilot 01.
The men undid the leather straps gently, unwilling to cause more pain. The largest of them picked up the boy
carefully, cradling him like a small child in his arms. They moved out of the room slowly, the man carrying the boy
keeping his pace smooth so as not to jar the boy's injuries.
They locked the doctor in his lab, making sure to free any other test subjects he might have had. Once they were
a safe distance away, one of the men pulled out a detonater and pushed the tiny red button on top. None of them
paused to watch the building go up in flames. They focused instead on the boy held securely in their comrade's
arms.
He was badly injured, that they could tell just by looking at him. Many of his old wounds had broken open again
and his eyes were already swollen shut. As much as they wanted to stop and treat his injuries, they had to keep
moving. The explosion would have alerted the Preventers' and they would most likely respond within the next
half-hour.
The men didn't dare hang around and wait for the Preventers' arrival, they weren't ready to make themselves
known to the public yet. Their debut had to wait a little while longer. So the climbed into their vehicles and
headed for the last known destination of the gundam pilot 04. He was the closest and lived only an hour away in
a posh sector of the colony. He was the one most likely to be able to care for the injured boy they had rescued.
They couldn't have known that there was currently a riot en route to their destination and they couldn't have
predicted that their military like transportation would be targeted by the enraged citizens.
The boy rode with them quietly, only occasionly letting out a whimper of pain. All of his defenses had been
stripped away, leaving him looking like nothing more than a lost child.
The truck he was placed in was the first one attacked, jarring him from his uneasy dozing. His eyes opened in a
flash as the men with him went on alert, grabbing at weapons in a near panic. One man picked up the boy and
while the others provided covering fire, he ran as far and as quickly as he could towards pilot 04's mansion. They
owed the boy the chance to live. Hell, everyone owed the boy, and if sacrificing their lives to save his is what it
cost them, they were prepared to pay their debts.
The man made it to within a few blocks of his destination, before falling to his knees. He was dying, he'd taken a
bullet in the back as he'd run from the fight. His comrades were dead, he knew. There entire organization was
gone, destroyed in one act of senseless violence. But this boy was worth it, if only he would live.
The dying man shook the boy gently, forcing him awake. "You have to go the rest of the way on your own now,
kid. I can't take you any farther."
The boy merely looked at him through dazed eyes, the fight in him clearly gone.
"Dammit boy! You owe us this, at least. We've given up everything for you, the least you could do is try to make
our sacrifice mean something." The man was near tears and his voice shook with his weakness.
Sill the boy regarded him silently, and after a moment that seemed to go on forever, he nodded slowly and ever
so painfully pulled himself to his feet. He couldn't see, but he knew this neighborhood by heart. He turned to go,
but paused a moment, turning back in the direction he knew the man to be.
"thank you" he whispered softly. The man nodded, even though he knew the boy couldn't see it.
He watched with fading eyesight as the boy turned once more and headed towards safety, limping and
staggering, leaving splatters of blood in his wake.
************************************************************ **********************