Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ One Track Mind ❯ Chapter 2

Heero's Moment by Janelle

The soldier sat rigidly at his desk in his private quarters of the estate, with a steady typing speed of 125 words per minute at his laptop. It wasn't anything special... life had basically settled down, and there was nothing to do but be prepared for the next assignment. So he sat, cleaning his computer and taking into account all of his assets, and upgrading the security features on his laptop. In reality, he had been done long ago. For efficiency, he was reworking the system several times over, as he had the time. He would have done so, regardless. It was the best way to do things. It was the order of things. Things had to be done a certain way, and had to be done right. There could be no loose ends. No bridges to burn.
'One track mind.' Even his thoughts were open-ended statements. No clarification was needed. Concise and to the point. He saw nothing in the future, and did everything to ignore the past. The future... in due time, meant leaving the security of the Winner grounds. Other than that, he knew little more. He wasn't there to be concerned about such things. Bred to fight, and to keep fighting. For his entire life, he fought for others. For the sake of others. At the command of others. His fingers stopped tapping at the keys. He found himself staring blankly at the computer screen until everything became blurry. Survival wasn't even a priority to him. The objective came before him. What was the objective now, though? Nothing was happening. He wasn't being sent somewhere or blowing something up. So what the hell was he doing? Satisfied that he was done with his computer work... he did the unimaginable. He turned the laptop off and closed it. To see him now would be to mistake him for a human being.
'A soldier.' That he was. A fancy name for a weapon produced from human resources. Proficiency, efficiency... and a bunch of other "iencies" were the principles he had known and conformed to. Conformity. He wondered about that. Passing from school to school, he often saw how students cling to conformity hoping for acceptance from their peers. That had never been an issue for him. School for him was less of a learning experience and more of a time-out from fighting and planning to fight. This idleness gave him time to think. It was disturbing. His cold blue gaze moved to the window, watching a bird feed it's young. Children are nestled in their mother's bosom, and cradled there till they can walk, and then walk alone under their parents protective gaze... and then move forth into the world on their own, to spread their own wings. Only wing he knew had a beam cannon capable of blowing up a space colony. What a pleasant thought.
'Sarcasm is Duo's department.' ...true. Maybe Heero had been irreversibly contaminated by the long-haired pilots influence. The boy who called himself Death... ironically the same boy who bounces about laughing and cheering and flirting at every turn, fueled by the amusement and attention of all those around him. Violet eyes set in a heart-shaped face... Death in the shape of heart. Now that's unexpected. Then again, if Relena can be proclaimed queen of the world. . .
Heero lips turned upwards funnily. His face felt stiff when he tried to smile or smirk, he was so unaccustomed to it. He'd practiced regular gestures and things in front of the mirror, it was necessary in order to divert suspicions in certain situations. Something so natural... being trained. Something was wrong with that. A little corner of Heero's unconscious knew that, but damned if he'd ever admit it. When he was in front of the mirror, he felt foolish. He looked foolish. These so-called natural gestures were awkward. His gaze focused on the window to his reflection...trying another smile. Wincing internally, he stopped almost immediately. What the hell did he have to smile about anyway? His reflection...the brief image of him trying to smile was engraved into the back of his eyelids when he closed them. Gross. Ugly. Awkward. Bride of Frankenstein stuff we're talking about.
'Another quip,' he scolded. Duo's department again. He felt his lips turn up again, stopping himself once more. Gaining control. Always in control. His body was his to control. Even Wing Zero... a Gundam, he didn't control. The missions he took, the things he was ordered to do, he had no control over whatsoever. He had control over himself. Didn't he?
His body decided the answer was "no" when a low rumbling noise emerged from beneath his trademark green tank top. Some things will ever be out of his control. He grinded his teeth together, disturbed by the notion, as he stood up... as rigid as when he was seated, and headed for the kitchen.