Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Chasing Away the Loneliness ❯ One-Shot

Chasing Away the Loneliness

"Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the Tessi Animal Shelter. Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a golden retriever."

"I am sorry, Sir, we have only one golden retriever at this animal shelter, but I wouldn't recommend him, he's trouble--"

"Doesn't matter. Show him to me."

"As you wish, Sir, but I am required to warn you about this dog. He has been brought in many times, but has always managed to escape. Nobody wants him, and tragically, he is scheduled to be put down in two days."

"Do you know the dog's history?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, Sir. I knew the dog as a pup. It belonged to the sweetest little girl, but the dog went rogue when she was killed. I tried to adopt him myself, but he was mad with grief and ran off. The only way I can tell he is the same dog is by the ID chip in his neck."

"You said the owner-a little girl?-was killed? How?"

"It was the saddest thing, Sir. She was killed in the war. The place where she and her parents lived collapsed when the enemy attacked-"

"I'll take him."

"Wh- what? Sir, you can't possible want this dog! When he was brought in, I was told that there were four confirmed attacks by this dog when people got too close to it."

"I want this dog. Now. Draw up the papers, and let me worry about how to handle him."

"Ver- very well, Sir, b- but don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't."

* * *

I don't know why he chose me out of all the other dogs in the shelter. My fur is a far stretch from being as pretty as others of my species. Instead of being a beautiful gold, it is a dirty, dull yellow. In fact, I am probably down right ugly. My ears are torn from hundreds fights and my skin is now laced with scars.

Like I said, I don't know why he wanted me. Especially since I was down right cruel the first time we met. I now regret to say I tried my damnedest to bite his hand off when he reached into my cage.

For some reason, though, he was determined to adopt me. I will never forget the first time I looked into his eyes and saw his determination to keep me. I had just as much determination not to be kept. I saw anger there; at the world and at himself. Through it all, though, I could see grief. To put it simply, I saw myself.

It was an uneasy relationship from the start. I even tried to attack him a couple of times after that, but he blocked me smoothly. I grew to respect him, as one experienced fighter to another. As soon as it became apparent that he had no intention of stopping me from leaving, if that was my desire, I gradually began to trust him. Ironically, it was this freedom to leave whenever I choose that compelled me to stay with him.

After awhile, we established a sort of routine. He would wake up and make us breakfast. Then he would leave for work. For no other reason than the fact that I had nothing better to do, I tagged along with him. He never seemed to mind.

His work was interesting, well, at least some of the time. Mostly he just sat and typed on his computer, but when he didn't was when the fun began. Sometimes, we would sneak through ventilation shafts in other buildings. For some reason, he didn't mind me coming with him. I was always quiet and stayed close, since that seemed what he wanted me to do. I never understood the point of many of these excursions since they almost always ended with him typing on a computer again. He could have done that back at the main building, if you ask me.

Not all of these excursions ended this way though. Sometimes others-those not of his pack-would attack him in an attempt to defend their turf. At first, I would just sit and watch as he fought the others off. However, one day, there was a large number against him, and despite his great fighting skill, he was unable to hold them all off. That was when I decided to take an active role and join the fight. That was the day we became full partners. Nothing and no one could stop us from then on and despite the fact that I found many of these trips pointless, they were still fun.

After he decided work was done for the day, we always went home and had dinner. Then, before dark set in, we would walk down to the beach and sit and watch the sunset. Although it might seem boring, these quiet times were what I looked forward to the most. These times, despite the other fun times we had, were also the reason I didn't run off at first chance.

It was during one of these sunsets at the beach that he finally opened up to me. Out of the blue he just started to talk. I laid down with my head in his lap and listened.

He told me about his best friend, Duo Maxwell. He told me about Duo's tendency to never shut up, but that was what he loved about him. He told me how Duo used to talk for hours on end, just because his best friend was there to listen. He told me about Duo's unsurpassed joy in life, always cheerful with an annoying and charming habit of making everyone around him cheerful as well. He told me about the day Duo was killed, two years ago. He told me how he felt as if his soul had been torn out of his body. He told me how he cried that night. Never once, in all his life, had he cried except for the night that Duo Maxwell died. He told me that the grief had been so great, that he had contemplated self-destructing, but Duo's love of life must have rubbed off on him, because he couldn't do it. He told me that he had never felt so lonely in his entire life.

Then he fell quite and we were silent for a long time.

After awhile, though, I started to tell him about myself, too. Of course he couldn't really understand me, but he still listened to my story.

I told him of Kaitlyn- my Kaitlyn- who had adopted me as a pup. A girl who loved nothing more than to pick yellow flowers and play with her puppy. I told him of all the fun we used to have together, of the warmth I felt every time I looked into her eyes and she smiled at me. I told him of the day she died, another victim of war. I told him of the grief I felt when I regained consciousness to find her dead body shielding me from harm. I told of the rage I felt at the injustice done to her. I told him of the promise I made to myself to never love another human again. I told him how scared I was so I ran far, far away. I told him how I turned rogue, always on the run, too scared to do anything but fight. I fought any human or dog that came too near and I always, always won. I told him how there was one thing I could never escape from, though. My loneliness.

Both our lives changed the day he adopted me. Finally, we had someone we could trust and respect. We now had a partner we could look at, and see our equal. We had someone we could talk to and someone who would listen in return. Finally, we had a reason not to be lonely anymore. Finally, we could begin to heal the gapping wound that was left when our loved one died.

He told me that night his name was Heero. My Heero. I told him he could call me Gabriel.