Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Silent Revolution ❯ Chapter 11
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: gundam06serenity 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Shounen / Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.06.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Shounen / Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.06.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 399 | Status: Completed
Silent Revolution – Chapter Eleven – Safe Houses
AN: Thank you for the reviews.
This chapter is a new addition, deviating from the original version of Silent. This chapter was created to help answer some of the questions that had arisen, both in the original and through the re-write. This is, unfortunately, the raw, unplanned version of this chapter, meaning that this chapter has only gone through two stages; my hand-written, half-asleep shorthand version written at around about three in the morning on Friday evening, and my edits, additions and alterations to that crap when it is being typed up. Usually, I have several versions of the same chapter written and re-written before they are posted. As the previous chapter and this one are both testament, my raw-work is sub-par at best. Like all of my work, it is also un-beta’ed. So I apologise if it is not of the usual standard.
Again, this could have been drawn out over several chapters; I may come back to write a side-fic for this three-month period in more detail. However, for the sake of my own sanity and willingness to continue this fic, for now, this’ll have to make do.
Edit: Gah! This chapter’s been completed for over a week and a half now-I just hadn’t gotten around to typing it up completely. I apologise. Expect an update of ‘somewhere I belong’ within the next week.
Chapter Eleven – Safe Houses
“Three months...” The thought struck him early one morning. He had been lying in bed, the post-orgasmic-bliss having long-faded. The warm spot where his lover had laid minutes earlier already starting to cool.
It had been a long, hard, trying twelve weeks for them all.
After the initial escape and retreat, there had been hardly enough time to get their injuries patched up and their belongings packed before they had to move safe houses. It had not been a mad rush, though, as one would expect. They were too shell-shocked for tearful goodbyes and frantic searches for that missing pack of unopened condoms that just couldn’t be left behind. Instead, the soldier within each of them took charge. Quickly and methodically, they managed to pack the essentials and make it to their gundams within the hour.
Less than 48 hours after arriving at their new destination-an apartment safe house in the busy student district of L1, close to the University-each received a similar set of orders; Split up, lie low, await further instructions.
It had been heart breaking. On top of everything else, of everything that was happening to them, they were being separated from their lovers, for Shinigami-knows how long.
Quatre had retreated to the deserts on Earth. Refusing the help of his sisters, yet unable to shake Rashid and his men off of his back, he had chosen to await his orders in the heat and the sand. It helped keep his tears at bay. The harsh climate, mixed with familiar company, helped keep his emotions at bay.
His space heart, still wounded and crying out for his lover, was allowed a brief respite. Without the barrage of sickening, crawling through to mind-numbing, ecstasy feelings constantly battling with his paper-thin shields every time he entered a crowed, each time he infiltrated a base, sat in on a meeting or ripped the life from countless enemy pilots. Gone. Allowing him to focus on his own misery and sense of loss.
Trowa, unwilling to put his sister at risk, unable to remain in space with such recent events, chose to retreat to Earth, to the streets of Europe. France, Rome, Sanq, Belgium, Germany. No-one spared more than a passing glance at yet another busker, playing a flute-surprisingly well- for credits each day on a street corner of a small village or a busy cities alike.
He felt numb. It was too much. He retreated behind the old mask of silence, without his lover by his side. He couldn’t begin to think of his own health, his own state of mind-not without Quatre, not without knowing he was safe. He never should have gotten involved with the petit blond in the first place. He was so fragile-so vulnerable, really. He could picture him in his mind-his thin, pale body laying twisted, broken on the rocks beneath a cliff, having fallen to his death when running from Oz pursuers in the dark, having taken one wrong step. He could feel his lifeless gaze on him, in his minds eye, as he would open the cockpit of Sandrock, lying amongst an endless, mobile suit strewn wasteland of silent death. Blood tricked from his temple, blond locks matted with crusting crimson. His body would be frigidly cold, the smell, enough to make him wretch.
Caring was too big of a risk during such times. Maybe...maybe if they both survived long enough for one last meeting....he should break it off.
Wufei, with no home to retreat to even if given the chance, had chosen instead to visit the lands of his ancestors in China. No mission, no orders-that left training and meditation. He didn’t want any distractions. He had failed-they had all failed. He must have become lax in his training. Weak.
And so he chose to retreat into the mountains and surrounding forests, away from the madness, awaiting his next orders. He forced his mind away from his lover. He couldn’t afford any distractions. After all, it was because of their lack of attention that had allowed their teammate the chance to fuck-up so badly in the first place.
Day in, day out, he drove his body past his limits, forcing himself, mentally and physically, to improve. The harder he trained, the less time he had to think-to truly consider what may be going on. He knew, when he first became involved with the perfect soldier, what sort of a boy he was getting himself involved with. He knew the risks they all had to take when he chose to become a pilot-to fight in his wife’s memory. He knew the extra, stupid risks the blue-eyed pilot was willing to take-near on suicidal, truth be told.
He couldn’t take the time to think of what his lover may be doing, of where he may be. He knew, that, if he did, he may not be able to await his orders. He knew he may not be able to continue on.
Heero, being Heero, had disappeared without a trace. Not at hint as to His location, his state of mind, his intentions; nothing.
He had considered asking J to retrain him. He had once been perfect-the perfect soldier, more machine than man, but, obviously, he now had a flaw. The mission had been a failure. Perhaps it was because of Chang. The relationship that had developed between the two of them... Or perhaps it was due to the ‘friendships’ he had formed with his comrades. Perhaps it trailed all the way back to that little girl and her puppy. Whatever it may be, in the end, he decided against it.
It would be more efficient for the mission if he was ready to go at a moments notice. Re-training could take months. Months that they did not have.
No. He didn’t have the time to be re-trained. He needed a quicker solution- in case they were all forced into close quarters again soon. He needed to distance himself. He needed to focus on the mission. On the cause. Nothing else mattered.
Deep down, each of them desperately missed their lovers; none of them considered the other couple. Each was consumed with their need to cope with this heart-breaking setback, and their worry over their lovers safety.
So consumed were they, that none of them thought to consider why they had never had such problems in the past. None of them remembered the previous failed missions, the previous worries and near-misses. They paled in comparison. To current events. But before...before they would have coped so much better. With him...with him, he would have found a way... a way to bring Quatre out of his depression, a way to make Trowa open up to someone-be it he or his lover-a way to destroy his masks before they could be fully erected again. A way to calm Wufei, to show him that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he could rely on them, that he could relax some times. He would have found a way to stop Heero from taking the blame silently, assuming the worst of himself, a way of stopping him from becoming a machine once again.
But he couldn’t. He wasn’t there. Through no fault of his own. through his own stupid, but, in his opinion, worth it, decision. But that was the kind of person he was.
By week three, each received individual missions from their respective Doctors. By week four they had been reunited. It wasn’t until week eight that he even crossed their minds in any way whatsoever. Each had preferred to put such events from their minds.
“An idiot and a coward-“
“Once a street rat, always a street rat.”
“It’s better that he stays away, better for all of us... This is all his fault, after all....”
“At least he’s doing something right for once.”
“I just hope it stays that way.”
To Be continued.
AN: ._. Still a short update, but put it this way-this was only two pages in handwriting. I expanded it to just under five...
AN: Thank you for the reviews.
This chapter is a new addition, deviating from the original version of Silent. This chapter was created to help answer some of the questions that had arisen, both in the original and through the re-write. This is, unfortunately, the raw, unplanned version of this chapter, meaning that this chapter has only gone through two stages; my hand-written, half-asleep shorthand version written at around about three in the morning on Friday evening, and my edits, additions and alterations to that crap when it is being typed up. Usually, I have several versions of the same chapter written and re-written before they are posted. As the previous chapter and this one are both testament, my raw-work is sub-par at best. Like all of my work, it is also un-beta’ed. So I apologise if it is not of the usual standard.
Again, this could have been drawn out over several chapters; I may come back to write a side-fic for this three-month period in more detail. However, for the sake of my own sanity and willingness to continue this fic, for now, this’ll have to make do.
Edit: Gah! This chapter’s been completed for over a week and a half now-I just hadn’t gotten around to typing it up completely. I apologise. Expect an update of ‘somewhere I belong’ within the next week.
Chapter Eleven – Safe Houses
“Three months...” The thought struck him early one morning. He had been lying in bed, the post-orgasmic-bliss having long-faded. The warm spot where his lover had laid minutes earlier already starting to cool.
It had been a long, hard, trying twelve weeks for them all.
After the initial escape and retreat, there had been hardly enough time to get their injuries patched up and their belongings packed before they had to move safe houses. It had not been a mad rush, though, as one would expect. They were too shell-shocked for tearful goodbyes and frantic searches for that missing pack of unopened condoms that just couldn’t be left behind. Instead, the soldier within each of them took charge. Quickly and methodically, they managed to pack the essentials and make it to their gundams within the hour.
Less than 48 hours after arriving at their new destination-an apartment safe house in the busy student district of L1, close to the University-each received a similar set of orders; Split up, lie low, await further instructions.
It had been heart breaking. On top of everything else, of everything that was happening to them, they were being separated from their lovers, for Shinigami-knows how long.
Quatre had retreated to the deserts on Earth. Refusing the help of his sisters, yet unable to shake Rashid and his men off of his back, he had chosen to await his orders in the heat and the sand. It helped keep his tears at bay. The harsh climate, mixed with familiar company, helped keep his emotions at bay.
His space heart, still wounded and crying out for his lover, was allowed a brief respite. Without the barrage of sickening, crawling through to mind-numbing, ecstasy feelings constantly battling with his paper-thin shields every time he entered a crowed, each time he infiltrated a base, sat in on a meeting or ripped the life from countless enemy pilots. Gone. Allowing him to focus on his own misery and sense of loss.
Trowa, unwilling to put his sister at risk, unable to remain in space with such recent events, chose to retreat to Earth, to the streets of Europe. France, Rome, Sanq, Belgium, Germany. No-one spared more than a passing glance at yet another busker, playing a flute-surprisingly well- for credits each day on a street corner of a small village or a busy cities alike.
He felt numb. It was too much. He retreated behind the old mask of silence, without his lover by his side. He couldn’t begin to think of his own health, his own state of mind-not without Quatre, not without knowing he was safe. He never should have gotten involved with the petit blond in the first place. He was so fragile-so vulnerable, really. He could picture him in his mind-his thin, pale body laying twisted, broken on the rocks beneath a cliff, having fallen to his death when running from Oz pursuers in the dark, having taken one wrong step. He could feel his lifeless gaze on him, in his minds eye, as he would open the cockpit of Sandrock, lying amongst an endless, mobile suit strewn wasteland of silent death. Blood tricked from his temple, blond locks matted with crusting crimson. His body would be frigidly cold, the smell, enough to make him wretch.
Caring was too big of a risk during such times. Maybe...maybe if they both survived long enough for one last meeting....he should break it off.
Wufei, with no home to retreat to even if given the chance, had chosen instead to visit the lands of his ancestors in China. No mission, no orders-that left training and meditation. He didn’t want any distractions. He had failed-they had all failed. He must have become lax in his training. Weak.
And so he chose to retreat into the mountains and surrounding forests, away from the madness, awaiting his next orders. He forced his mind away from his lover. He couldn’t afford any distractions. After all, it was because of their lack of attention that had allowed their teammate the chance to fuck-up so badly in the first place.
Day in, day out, he drove his body past his limits, forcing himself, mentally and physically, to improve. The harder he trained, the less time he had to think-to truly consider what may be going on. He knew, when he first became involved with the perfect soldier, what sort of a boy he was getting himself involved with. He knew the risks they all had to take when he chose to become a pilot-to fight in his wife’s memory. He knew the extra, stupid risks the blue-eyed pilot was willing to take-near on suicidal, truth be told.
He couldn’t take the time to think of what his lover may be doing, of where he may be. He knew, that, if he did, he may not be able to await his orders. He knew he may not be able to continue on.
Heero, being Heero, had disappeared without a trace. Not at hint as to His location, his state of mind, his intentions; nothing.
He had considered asking J to retrain him. He had once been perfect-the perfect soldier, more machine than man, but, obviously, he now had a flaw. The mission had been a failure. Perhaps it was because of Chang. The relationship that had developed between the two of them... Or perhaps it was due to the ‘friendships’ he had formed with his comrades. Perhaps it trailed all the way back to that little girl and her puppy. Whatever it may be, in the end, he decided against it.
It would be more efficient for the mission if he was ready to go at a moments notice. Re-training could take months. Months that they did not have.
No. He didn’t have the time to be re-trained. He needed a quicker solution- in case they were all forced into close quarters again soon. He needed to distance himself. He needed to focus on the mission. On the cause. Nothing else mattered.
Deep down, each of them desperately missed their lovers; none of them considered the other couple. Each was consumed with their need to cope with this heart-breaking setback, and their worry over their lovers safety.
So consumed were they, that none of them thought to consider why they had never had such problems in the past. None of them remembered the previous failed missions, the previous worries and near-misses. They paled in comparison. To current events. But before...before they would have coped so much better. With him...with him, he would have found a way... a way to bring Quatre out of his depression, a way to make Trowa open up to someone-be it he or his lover-a way to destroy his masks before they could be fully erected again. A way to calm Wufei, to show him that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he could rely on them, that he could relax some times. He would have found a way to stop Heero from taking the blame silently, assuming the worst of himself, a way of stopping him from becoming a machine once again.
But he couldn’t. He wasn’t there. Through no fault of his own. through his own stupid, but, in his opinion, worth it, decision. But that was the kind of person he was.
By week three, each received individual missions from their respective Doctors. By week four they had been reunited. It wasn’t until week eight that he even crossed their minds in any way whatsoever. Each had preferred to put such events from their minds.
“An idiot and a coward-“
“Once a street rat, always a street rat.”
“It’s better that he stays away, better for all of us... This is all his fault, after all....”
“At least he’s doing something right for once.”
“I just hope it stays that way.”
To Be continued.
AN: ._. Still a short update, but put it this way-this was only two pages in handwriting. I expanded it to just under five...