Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Mistaken Words: Victory's Pain ❯ Victory's Pain ( One-Shot )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

I don't own Gundam wing


Okay, About a year ago Morganeth Taren'drel started writing this story, Mistaken Words. She's a friend of mine, so we played around with that story a bit, I got to help with a few major cases of writers block >_Which is evil ^_~

So, I'll be writing a few short stories, side stories to her main one. *grins* I get all the fun bits!

Here's the first one, a little teaser. This specific scene happens about half-way-ish through the story, Yes it's vague. It's no fun if I spoil the story for you ^_^

The main story should be up within a few days, and if you want to know when it's up, let me know and I'll send you a note. E-mail me at neekabe@canoemail.com

So enjoy!



Mistaken Words: Victory's Pain





Bright lights and cold metal. This world is as close to Hell as any I've ever encountered. This world, created by friends… A shiver wracks my body, to thin to keep any heat in. The movement elevates the constant ache I've been living with to something that steals thought.


I lie shaking, waiting for the pain to pass. I'm slowly beginning to lose control; the withdrawal is beginning. This is not a surprise, I have been told of the symptoms; Nausea convulsions, sweats… hallucinations.


Hallucinations, nausea. The wave of fear is intense, drowning out the pain for a moment.


Hallucinations. Nausea. I never thought until now. Please just let me die….


It wasn't as if I went into this blind. I had it all planned, each step, each reaction was carefully choreographed to suit my needs. I knew them so well, well enough that I could play them like puppets.
I knew they would feel betrayed, they would be angry. I knew they would want me dead. I just never expected for it to hurt so much.
Never imagined…


It's not like I'm a stranger to pain, it's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I have never even considered it as something that should be taken into account. After all, this was the very purpose of my actions. If they thought me a traitor, those people who knew me so well, then I would have succeeded.


I did succeed.


I just wish the pain would go away.


It's not the physical pain so much. I've lived through worse, barely. What hurts are the memories attached to the injuries. Injuries given by the people who are my closest friends, were my closest friends. It is the emotion that causes so much anguish, and mental pain that I don't know how to ignore, or block out.


They won't let me forget.


I can't explain.


A wave of nausea washes over me, and I bite back a sob as my stomach clenches, preparing to heave. There's nothing to throw up; there hasn't been anything for the past 4 months. It's just one more thing, one more thing to remind me just how fragile my situation is. My arms, strapped out to each side, already pull at my broken ribs, each breath is pain, but these periodic bouts of nausea are almost enough to pull me away from this living world.


Almost.


The restraints keep me from moving, but even without them, I'm helpless. Helpless and they hate me.


He broke my ribs when he 'rescued' me, the honorable warrior who abandoned his ideals in favour of his anger, breaking my ribs, my arm... But it wasn't the pain of his retribution it was the unthinking rage, the look in his eyes when he turned on me.


He kept fiddling with the knife that damned doctor stabbed through my hand, like the years we fought together never happened, like my pain meant nothing anymore. No, I realize now, the pain did mean something to him; it meant I was suffering.


In just three years, they've changed so much.


Burns, bruises, and abrasions cover my body; she had to be forced to giving me basic care. I'll never forget the way she acted around me. A dummy would have been given more care than I was. She gave me better care when I was her enemy. It was like I was no longer human in her eyes.


They don't care anymore.


He turned away, turned his back to my pain. And… none of them understand anymore. Of all the people I expected, I hoped that maybe that one would understand what it was like. I dared to hope, I should have learned better by now. Never hope. Never dream, it only hurts more when the dreams are destroyed. My last hope was proven false; even he didn't see what was happening. Yet maybe he did. Maybe that was why he said what he did. Just like the others. He had been here before; he knew how much it would hurt.


Years ago I trusted you enough to surrender myself to you. Do you trust me now?
No


And it did hurt. It hurt more than anything I had ever experienced. Those simple words. I could deal with their anger, their hatred. Their actions didn't matter. But I could not defend myself against their words. The words that refuse to leave my mind.


No. Plain and simple, as is his way. Not a hint of doubt. Judgment has been passed.


The last thing I want it to give him the chance to cause trouble.


She trusted you!


You deserve death for what you did but I won't let you die. Not before the others see you.


You're not worthy. The words. Harsh and biting. Not worthy of her, not worthy of trust, not worthy of life.


There's nothing left.


They don't know me.


But none of that really matters.


She loves someone else.


Now my only purpose is to live long enough for them to execute me for my betrayal. I understand that. There's no way they can let me live. The trick for them now is figuring out how to kill me without having to go through the inconvenience of a trial.


I can't tell them. I've tried. Tried and was refused the chance. But at this point in time, there's no reason for them to believe me. Three years was longer than I had thought. I've learned now; whatever they might have felt for me before is long dead. She has her own life now; I would just be in the way.


I will die.


I don't think they've changed so much that they'll give this task over to anyone else… and they'll not leave one to do it alone. They'll all come. Any moment now, the door will open, and they will all come in.


I always knew I'd die by violence. That's a soldier's fate. I had always expected to die alone; maybe I'd be caught and executed, maybe in battle. Dying alone always had a certain appeal to it. It meant that in my last few moments at least, I'd have peace. No one trying to manipulate me, or kill me, just a few moments of silence, with nothing left to do. Even after I met the others, only in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I'd be allowed to die surrounded by my friends, able to say good-bye.


This isn't so bad really. I will be able to die surrounded by the only family I ever knew….


They no longer see me as anything but a traitor, and it's unlikely I'll be allowed to speak. But they will be there to witness. And I will be able to see them there. That is enough. It's strange how much peace that thought brings….


I just hope it's soon. I hope they have enough respect for their memories that they will not allow me to linger here for much longer. I don't know how much longer I can bear their hatred.


It hurts…


But however they choose whenever it happens, I pray that after I'm dead, they never, ever, discover my secret, their mistake, my ultimate success.


Peace is secure. She is safe.


I'm only worried what will happen if it is found too late. I'm not sure they could live with themselves.


I can't leave them with that risk, with that pain.


Across the room, the door slides open. I don't bother to see who it is. In that moment my thoughts crystalize; I know what I have to do. I will speak before they kill me. One of them must hear me.


Everything is forgiven. It was my choice.





***end***