From the Beginning
Summary: The pasts of the Gundam Boys are often left as common knowledge, but very few stories actually exist where Duo is a street rat with Solo; where Quatre is the 30th child of Mr. Winner and the only boy; where Trowa is subjected to unknown horrors among the mercenaries; where Heero begins his training to pilot Wing Zero; and where Wufei is promised to a girl he doesn't know. These stories tend to be completely free of those that originally created Gundam Wing AC that we watched, but hopefully they will shed some light on the mysterious background of our favorite pilots.
Okay, so everyone has the basic truths about the pilots. These have come from previous stories and what some VERY observant people can gather from the series. Some of these truths are:
Duo was brought up on the colony L2. He survived an epidemic that took his best friend Solo from him and forced him to join a church for help. Some time later (it varies between stories), the L2 massacre occurred, where the church he was at was obliterated and he lost the connection he had with the orphans, Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. He thinks that he is truly Shinigami, for he believes death follows him wherever he goes. He also has the motto that he runs and hides, but he never will tell a lie.
Trowa, also sometimes believed to be Catherine's younger brother with his real name being Triton Bloom, was raised from a young age with mercenaries. It is believed that this came to pass because Trowa was separated from his family when he was only a year old. After his mercenary comrades were killed in battle, he was hired as a mechanic on HeavyArms. He was just at the right place at the right time to exchange the name of Nanashi (Japanese for "no name") for Trowa Barton, the REAL pilot of HeavyArms that didn't agree with what the scientist wanted for his machine. It is also speculated that Trowa was raped at times by the male mercenaries or mechanics and killed others so often at an early age that it lead to his stone-like mask, where he is only willing to show about as much emotion as Heero.
Quatre is the thirtieth offspring of Mr. Winner, who is in charge of Winner Enterprises and plans to pass this enterprise on to Quatre, his only son. That means that the twenty-nine children before were all girls and Quatre was either babied or tortured by them. He is raised to take his father's place, but obviously someone interfered with that otherwise he wouldn't have had a part in our favorite series. It is often inferred in stories that Iria is his favorite sister. It is also told that he is a test-tube baby as well. He doesn't know this until much later, but being the only boy already gives him bragging rights. His attitude leads him to run away from his home at one point and right into the Maganacs. Once there, he joins their cause and becomes a close friend to all of them. Hence, the reason for the name, "Master Quatre".
Wufei was brought up on the L5 colony with strict rules and an honor-based system. From what I have collected, I also believe he was taught Chinese Martial Arts from a young age before the piloting of Shenlong was given to him. Known by many, he was also promised in marriage at a young age to a strong-willed girl named Meilan. Although the love between Meilan and him is not known well, you get the feeling that he never really conveyed his feelings accurately to her. It is rumored that Shenlong was built on Meilan's colony and before Wufei was going to pilot it, he named it Shenlong because "Nataku is too weak to be the Long clan's guardian spirit." There is a hint that Meilan was to pilot it if Wufei refused, but an attack from OZ to eliminate Meilan's colony thwarted this idea. She fought them in an attempt to save Shenlong and her colony, but ended up giving her life to protect Wufei as he piloted the Gundam. When all enemies were gone, Wufei took his bride in his arms and cried. This is considered where he got the motto that all women are weak and should stay in the kitchen rather than on the battlefield. It is also rumored that at this point, he took Shenlong, nicknamed it Nataku (in memory of Meilan), and swore to deal justice to OZ.
With all this information given on each pilot, one can see where there are some blanks in the story and I'm curious why no one (or very few people, since I've never ran into one) has ever tried to fill them in. This is my attempt to do so. I hope you like it. Just a warning, my stories have been known to develop into YAOI/SHONEN AI/SLASH stories before, so if this one does, DON'T get mad at me, please. You can flame me if you want, but do realize that you were fore-warned.
The story shall take place for the first chapter in AC 184. All stories shall take place in the month of August, unless it is otherwise stated.
Gundam Wing: From the Beginning
Age: approx. 4 years
Birth date: Unknown
L2 Colony Cluster, no more specifics
The street was crowded. Bodies pressed against each other, forcing some to go in a way they did not wish to. However, one little figure was able to snake between legs and around swinging arms. Hands that were brown with collected dirt snuck into pockets and purses, taking small amounts of what was there for himself.
After a few minutes, the boy left the crowd and snuck into an alley to count his findings. Hiding behind a trashcan, he separated his treasures. In the end, he had picked about seven dollars, some odd change, a few candies and a wallet only filled with some pictures of the man's family.
The boy slipped a few of the candies into his mouth after stuffing the money into a pouch around his neck. Then, he flipped open the wallet and glanced through the pictures and visas that were there. He traced the outline of the man in a picture were there was an older woman who must have been the man's wife, and two young children, a boy and a girl.
A shift on the street rocks behind him forced the boy to throw the wallet into his pouch and turn quickly to see who might be there. He saw an older boy picking through the trashcan just ahead of the one he was hiding behind. He flattened against the wall, hoping the other boy wouldn't see him. However, the other older boy did see him and, with a flicker of malice in his eye, stood over the younger war orphan.
"Han' it ova'." The older boy said, his voice rough with disuse, a possible cold or puberty. The younger boy shook his head, shaking his dirtied brown bangs away from his violet eyes. The older youth growled in his throat as he reached forward to ensnare the younger one and take what he wanted by force.
"Stop it!" A new voice said from the alley opening. The older boy paused to look over his shoulder at who should command him. His eyes widened as he recognized the person and dropped the younger child down, ignoring him as he whined a little from the immediate discomfort from his butt hitting the ground.
"Suh-Solo!" The older boy stuttered, his voice cracking from puberty and stress. The younger boy opened his eyes, curious to see whom this older war orphan was so afraid of.
"Git offa my side, Brint!" The boy from the alley opening said, giving the younger boy's adversary a name. Brint went a little white in the face at his name being said so openly before inching past Solo and running down the street.
Solo watched Brint leave, a look of disgust curling the edges of his lips into a frown. After a second, he turned back to the young war orphan that he had saved from the greedy hands of Brint.
The younger boy still sat where Brint had dropped him, a look of wonderment crossing onto his face as he drank in Solo's appearance. Solo smiled a little at the look as he slowly approached, his hands spread in the universal symbol showing he meant no harm. The younger child merely backed up against the wall instead of trying to run while Solo squatted down a couple feet away from him.
"Did Brint hurt ya 'tall?"
The younger boy, startled slightly, made contact with Solo's bright blue eyes for a second before averting his eyes. After a second more, he slowly shook his head, indicating that Brint hadn't hurt him seriously.
Solo smiled and reached around to his back for a sack he normally had on. He brought it the front so he could see what he had pilfered better and to allow the fresh smell of bread entice the youngster closer.
The plan worked as Solo had hoped it would. The younger boy tested the air carefully with his nose before inching forward slightly, his stomach becoming audible even to Solo.
Solo ripped off a hunk of bread and set it on the ground before scooting it slowly closer to the four-year-old boy. The boy waited until Solo's hand had retreated from the bread before moving forward with lightning quick reflexes to grab the bread and scoot back against the wall. Solo took out the other half of the bread and sat back to eat his own meal.
"So, kid, what's ta name?" Solo asked, the bite of the bread he had being shoved to the side so the other could hear him well. The younger boy looked up at Solo, his face half-buried in the bread and still tearing into the warm loaf for the next bite. Solo waited patiently for the boy and eventually he was rewarded.
The boy shrugged his shoulders for Solo and answered softly, "Don' haffa name."
Solo's eyes widened slightly as he took in the boy's ragged appearance once more. Again, it struck a chord in him how much he looked like…
Solo shook his head to clear his mind of the thought and to hide the tears that had unexpectedly welled up in his eyes. 'No! It's no good to dwell on the past. Boys don't cry; not now, not ever.' Solo thought quickly, lowering his eyes so he could swipe at them with the bread as cover from prying eyes.
Solo took a shuddering breath before raising his eyes to meet the bewildered expression of the younger child. Solo gave a shaky smile just to prove to the youngster he was all right.
"So, don' haffa name, do ya? Well, we gotta fix dat…how's about…we calls ya…David, Dee fir short."
The youngster watched Solo intensely as the older boy said this, the corners of his mouth twitching before slowly spreading into a tiny smile. He nodded in agreement to the name, but said nothing more.
Solo nodded in agreement as well, then bent his head to finish off the last bite of bread he had. He wiped at his dry eyes one last time before standing up to leave.
David stood up with him and, like a trusting puppy, slowly took a step closer to stand beside Solo. Solo smiled and reached out to ruffle the child's hair, not surprised when David pulled back, fear mirrored in his eyes again.
'Something terrible must have happened to him to put such fear into his mind at such an early age.' Solo thought, slowly lowering the hand to his side. "C'mon little D, let's get on back ta my place. Ifin ya want, ya can join us and get food if ya pick for yer share." David looked at Solo with slight distrust, so Solo worked harder to gain the little boy's trust. "Ya'll have safety from Brint and his like."
David thought about it for a second more before nodding. With that settled, David quickly reached into his shirt and took out the pouch. He removed half the money and the candies and handed them to Solo as they headed back to the place that Solo called his home.
Solo smiled at the gesture the boy had given his as the money was carefully placed into his bag with the last of his bread and the candies were slipped into his mouth. "Now ya really are one of the gang." Solo said, smiling around the candy. David smiled back to him, his posture relaxed and proving the boy wasn't as stressed about being around Solo as he had been.
They entered an alley where the sign was missing but the pole stood straight like a warning at the entrance. Solo went to the back of the alley, looked around carefully, and then moved two of the five trashcans aside, revealing a small hole in the wall, which Solo quickly maneuvered through.
David was left alone in the alleyway for a moment before he chose to squirm his way in after his new friend. He came through the wall just in time to see Solo stick out a hand for him. David hesitated, and then clasped it so Solo could haul him to his feet.
When David was standing, he felt an arm lightly drape across his shoulders and he looked forward to see a group of six kids, girls and boys ranging from four to seven years old.
"Everyone, this be David, known on da streets for now as little Dee. David, dis be Mouse, Mi-mi, Kicks, Rice, Mini, 'n Frog. Don' worry, ya don' need to know who they are jest yet, ya'll haf time later. For now, whose got what from theirs raids?" Solo took his hand from David's shoulder so he could better see what was obtained.
David stayed off to the side until a boy with black hair and extremely pale skin came forward, a grin on his face. He had pale blue eyes that almost looked white in the sunlight that came through the only window in the hideout. The boy looked to be no older than five. "Hey Dee, I'm Rice. Glad ta have someone my age in ta gang." The boy said, the grin seeming almost contagious as David felt his lips lifting in the same gesture. "C'mon, I'll show ya where ta sleep."
With that, Rice led David off to the far side of the three-room hideout while Mi-mi and Kicks turned on Solo.
"Solo!" Mi-mi hissed at the leader of the rag-tag orphans. "I thought we had agreed to not take on no more kids?! We can barely support ourselves off our earnings!" Kicks nodded in agreement. He added nothing else to the conversation but the disapproval mirrored in his eyes.
"Brint was pickin' on him, I couldn' just up an' leave him be fir his lonesome." Solo explained, no emotion in his voice in an attempt to prove that his decision was final.
Kicks backed off, but Mi-mi did not.
"It's a bad move, Solo! You were always too much of a softie when it came to the younglings." Mi-mi hissed at him, following him as he went to a cupboard and removed a chipped glass they could use for water.
"Listen, Mi-mi. We all agreed I was ta be leader none too long ago. I think ta kid will benefit us, so just agree with my decision, or git out!" Solo hissed back, slamming the cup down on the rickety, makeshift table they had nearby. Mi-mi's eyes narrowed, but she backed off and went to lie down on her own cot.
Solo sighed before bending down to the pool of water that leaked from a broken pipe and took a sip of the water.
Age: 3 ½ years
Birth date: September 6th, AC 180
A young, teenage girl watched as her youngest sibling waddled into the room, dragging a small blanket behind him. He yawned slowly as he stretched his arms up to her, begging with his aquamarine eyes to be lifted off the ground. The girl laughed, setting down the part of dinner she had been working on before obliging him.
"Good afternoon, sleepy-head." The girl cooed to him as he snuggled closer to her. He heaved a large sigh as his face fit contently into the crook of her neck. She rocked back and forth on her heels, humming a song that she could barely remember to him.
When it seemed for the entire world that the little boy had drifted back off to sleep in her arms, she stepped forward and threw some spices that were needed for the finishing touch to her baklava. Balancing her sibling in one arm, she picked the tray up and settled it near the oven on a cooling rack before sitting down in a nearby chair.
"…and when you awake, you may have the first bite, young one." The girl commented to the sleeping blond as if she had been holding a conversation with him the entire time.
At the slight semblance of being able to have food, the little boy's stomach growled and his eyes flickered open to stare up into her face. He broke into a charming grin as he told her, "Me wake, me wake!"
He sat up in her arms, still clutching his blanket before twisting in her arms to stare up into her laughing face.
"Oh Quatre." She said adoringly as he attempted to smile at her again.
"Num-num?" The little boy now known as Quatre asked, his eyes lighting up as his nose twitched when he smelled the baklava. The girl threw back her head and laughed at the boy's antics before tickling him.
"You were awake the whole time, weren't you, you little trickster?" She cried, attacking his tummy with a raspberry. Quatre just squealed with laughter. "All right, you may have a taste." She added as she stood up and cut a small slice out for her brother.
Blowing on it first to ensure that it wouldn't burn him, she then broke a small piece off and popped it into Quatre's mouth when he opened it for her instead of letting go of his precious blanket.
The blond boy chewed it for a long time like any young child would before opening his mouth again. "Mowe?" He asked sweetly, batting his blond lashes to try and get his sister to agree. Laughing, she gladly tore off another piece.
This was how the routine continued for a while until the bit of baklava that she had cut for her brother was all gone. Then he raised his pudgy arms to her and said, "Down, pwease mommy?"
The girl, who was about to comply, paused to look at her brother again, who just smiled adoringly at her.
"Quatre, who did you just call me?" The girl asked, confusion knotting her features.
"Mommy?" Quatre said, raising the end of the word as if he was curious to see if it was the right word or not.
The girl felt tears well up in her eyes as she took the little boy to her chest and cradled him tight. She fought against the tears that threatened to spill as she thought about her mother that she hadn't seen in almost four years.
"No Quatre…I'm not your mommy. I'm your sister, Iria. Okay? I'm Iria, not mommy." The girl tried to explain, looking back into his aquamarine eyes that were so similar to her own and her mother's eyes. In fact, twenty-eight of the thirty Winner offspring had the infamous aquamarine eyes…Iria shook her head, knowing she had to stay on topic. She knew that Quatre had to learn now that she was not his mother. She never could be, even if in later years she would want to shield him from anything horrible he might have to face.
Quatre patted her cheek, drying a tear she didn't know had fallen until he wiped at it. He snuggled back into her chest, sighing contently at the comfort he found there. "Okay, Iria mommy." He whispered to her.
Iria opened her mouth to protest, but instead, she rested her head upon his golden head. She'd tell him later and everyday after that she was not his mother. For now, the boy was too young to understand…and if having her as his mommy made him happy, she would grant the spoiled little boy's wish for now.
She smiled as she walked with Quatre out of the kitchen to call the family that remained at home to dinner. Just maybe, together, they could work through their grief of having lost their mother.
Age: 4 ½ years
Birth date: March 17th, AC 180
A boy shuffled his feet slowly as he left his school, another note clutched in one tiny hand. The note wasn't relating to his academics. The heavenly powers even knew that this boy, who was old enough to barely be in kindergarten, would never have problems with his academic record. At five, he was already at a second grade level, even in the Chinese school system that often was very tough on its students.
No, the note would pertain to his gymnastic ability, something that he had to participate in now that he had reached the second level of his schooling. All children at the schools on any L-5 colony attended gymnastic training and learned karate. It was supposed to teach them courtesy to each other, respect and an understanding of the strength they held. The boy agreed with the understanding of strength they held was revealed to him, but he didn't think any of his fellow classmates had learned the courtesy or respect for each other yet.
The boy sighed and looked up as the transportation vehicles started to pull out for those that lived further away from the school. The boy sighed, shifted his small backpack, and started to walk around the school. His home was located just to the right of the school and a few houses down.
Someone yelled his name and he turned toward one of the vehicles, curious. He looked to see who it possibly could be…only to have a wad of spit, paper and mucus hit him on the side of the face.
Disgusted, he immediately put a hand up to wipe away at the offending slime. He heard laughter and chanced a look at one of the boys on the vehicle who was proclaiming to his friends what he had done.
The boy scowled, his eyes narrowing behind his small reading glasses he had forgotten to remove as he took the edge of his shirt to wipe the spitball off. After he finished, he tucked his glasses away in his backpack and then he turned his back on the vehicle, refusing to show anything to his peers as he continued to walk back to his home.
At the house that came just before his, he stopped by the low fence that guarded his neighbor's lawn. He put his hands on the top rung of the fence, levering his small body up so as to peer over the fence. On the other side, just like he had thought, he saw an elderly woman working on her small garden. He rested his chin on the top rung, smiling down at the woman as her tanned hands worked deftly, pulling up weeds and putting new dirt down.
"Hello Miss Tullard. How are you?" The boy asked, a smile gracing his young face as the woman, startled, looked up at him. Her eyes squinted since the sun was above him and probably hindering her sight, but she smiled back at him.
"Gracious, child, don't give me a start like that! You could really scare someone, just appearing on their fence like that!" Miss Tullard said, a hand flying to her chest in mock scare. The child's forehead wrinkled as he laughed and Miss Tullard heaved herself to her feet. She went over to the fence and peered down at the young boy, smiling for him. "So what brings you by my home today, Wufei? Did the smell of my cookies entice you?"
Actually, Wufei hadn't known that she had made cookies, but since she had basically just handed him an invitation, he knew he couldn't refuse. Like he would want to anyways…Miss Tullard's cookies were the best on the entire colony. He nodded his head quickly, smiling as Miss Tullard laughed but swung her gate open for him.
Wufei hopped off the fence and dashed into the garden, stopping close by Miss Tullard as she revealed a table to him that had cookies and ice-cold milk waiting there. Strangely, there was enough waiting for two people, as if Miss Tullard had been expecting him or someone else around his age to join her. He looked up into her eyes and smiled for her before picking a seat.
Being as polite as his mother had taught him, he first reached out and took a sip from his milk, allowing Miss Tullard to take the first cookie before taking one himself. However, from there, his manners deteriorated as he launched into the first cookie with enthusiasm. He heard Miss Tullard laugh and looked at her sheepishly as he tried to regain composure by taking a long sip of the milk provided for him.
"I hear you're going away to boarding school next fall." The elderly woman started softly after several moments of companionable silence. Wufei looked up at her, searching for anything that might give away how she was acting and thus, monitor his response.
However, Miss Tullard did not reveal anything. She merely looked deep into Wufei's onyx eyes and waited for the little boy to tell all.
Wufei smiled then and launched into full detail. "I can't wait to go to boarding school! Mother and Father promise that I will learn much there and be able to read to my heart's content. And they have a library there for me! And then a pool and the rooms look really nice too! The food is good, but not as good as mother's or yours and…"
Wufei rattled on, not noticing that Miss. Tullard looked paler and her lips tightened at the thought of losing one of the few friends she had left on the colony.
"But you know what is most importantly about this boarding school, Miss Tullard?" Wufei asked, his voice soft again and Miss Tullard turned her attention back to him.
"No dear, what is going to be most important about this boarding school?" Miss Tullard asked, watching as Wufei turned his eyes to her and looked her up and down. Tears dwelled in those depths and she wished she could reach out and brush his troubles away for him.
"I think the most important-ist thing about this boarding school will be the fact that nobody will tease me there because mother says they are all smart kids like me. And I won't have to take martial arts unless I really, really want to." Miss Tullard's heart ached at the simple wish Wufei had for the public school he attended.
"Oh, sweetie…" Miss Tullard said softly as she pulled the little boy that was older beyond his years for the discrimination he had witnessed into her arms and gave him a tight embrace.
She felt him shudder with suppressed sobs and admired his ability to hold it all in while at the same time, it worried her. "Sweetie, sweetie…" She encouraged as she ran a hand through his fine, short hair. She looked deep into his eyes for what she next said, "Sweetie, you can cry, but let it be known that you cry for those who mock and scorn you, for their ignorance shall not be realized for years and once it is, they will not be able to take it back. Cry to heal that broken heart of yours. Don't let it all twist you up inside, even if someone tells you that boys don't cry. It is honorable and brave to be able to cry when you need to. Always remember that."
Wufei sniffed a few times and some tears dripped past his guard as he clenched his hands against the rough wool fabric he wore for leggings. After several minutes, he looked back up at her and gave her his best smile, considering the circumstances. She gave him another hug and handed him the biggest cookie left on the plate.
"Miss Tullard?"
"Yes Wufei?" She asked as she wiped a dirt smear from the side of his face.
"Mother and Father are throwing me a farewell party…and they said I could bring anyone that I wanted to it. I'm inviting my teachers and…well, I really want you to come. Would you?"
Miss Tullard was the one to give the weaker smile this time as she told him, "Of course, Wufei. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
He sniffled, rubbing his nose against the rough fabric he wore as a shirt. The man who had housed him since he could remember never gave him anything else to wear.
Never gave him the support a parent was supposed to give to their child either. Never gave him a proper name as well. As a matter of fact, the only thing that the man had given him was the knowledge that he should never speak to an adult unless spoken to first. The man's constant beatings when he came home roaring drunk were witness to that lesson.
The boy's back throbbed just at the thought of the beatings. He was certain the now-drying blood from the lashes on his back had left more stains on the shirt. He would have to wash it tomorrow, while the man was gone or asleep.
Hopefully, he'd be able to wash it otherwise he'd have to steal another shirt from their neighbor's clothing line…and he hated to do that, especially when they were the only ones that seemed to care even slightly. Their children would play with him and if the man was gone, as he often was during the day, the nice woman next door would invite him in for lunch or dinner…and sometimes, he'd even get a snack in-between.
Again, he sniffled as another wave of pain assaulted his senses. He bit down on his hand to keep from crying out. If he woke the man now, there would be hell to pay. The lesson would be repeated again and again until he learned that children should be seen, never heard.
Not able to contain the pain much longer, the boy stood up from the carpeted floor and walked as calmly as he could to the door. Silently, he opened it and let himself out into the cool night. He had to get away, far away so that his anguish would only be heard by those who wouldn't care and those who wouldn't beat him for his disobedience.
He walked past the old farmer's market. Then he continued, and walked past the last farm on the edge of the street. He didn't stop there as he continued to walk past the decrepit streetlight until finally he turned down an empty street that led only to the old forest. He didn't stop at the edge of the forest, as he had before when children had spoken of horrifying things that lived deep within the old place. His pain was too great for him to even clearly register where he was, so he continued onward, whimpering every now and then.
Finally, at the base of a great oak tree, he collapsed. His little body heaved in protest to the amount he had exerted himself and his back stung as sweat crawled over the fresh welts the man had left him with. His mouth was parched dry, but underneath him moss shone in the moonlight. It was soft, ever so soft…
The little boy awoke the next morning to a distant roar. He opened his eyes lazily; he realized the man he lived with must be in a good mood to let him sleep so late…
And that's when the boy realized he wasn't in the house anymore. Then that meant it hadn't been a dream, when he felt that he had walked as far as possible, until he would almost die. Wasn't that what he had wanted? To die? To be released from the invisible prison that had surrounded him?
But somehow he had escaped the prison that only he and the man he lived with knew about…and it certainly didn't FEEL like he had died to attain it. Well, at least he hadn't died in the way the man used to explain to him. The man had always told him that he would die in a terrible, horrible fashion wrought only for God's worst children who had disobeyed their guardians…
The roaring was increasing. Maybe this was the hell the man had talked about, and it would only get worse from here. The boy couldn't stand that thought and decided that if he could outrun his guardian, then surely he could outrun the hell assigned to him.
And so he levered himself up off the ground again, using the giant oak at one point for support as his back had grown stiff from being in one position for a few hours. He winced when he felt some of the scabs that had formed during the night crack and bleed anew. But then he began to walk, unaware that he walked beside a road or of the large truck that came up shortly behind him.
He was in such a daze that he didn't hear the horn honking at him. He didn't hear the man first call out to him. In fact, he didn't even notice the large truck until it had been rolling along slowly beside him for a few minutes. Jerking when he came to realize that he might be caught and brought to that hell assigned for him or back to his guardian, he looked to the man that was driving the truck. He was asking something, the boy just knew it…but he couldn't focus on the words…
(AN: A little excerpt from "Mobile Suit Gundam Wing, Episode Zero". There will be some more of these in future chapters of this story, so I hope you don't mind them.)
"Hey, kid. What's your name?" The man asked, leaning out of the truck a little. One eye had a scar over it, permanently sealed shut by methods unknown to the boy but…he didn't look like a demon from the story book his guardian had read to him…maybe he could trust him…
The boy shook his head, unsure of whether or not to vocally answer this man. After all, it was rude for a child to speak to his elders…but the boy had no need to worry too much. The man understood his silent language easily and continued as if the boy had spoken.
"Nanashi, huh? C'mon. We can feed you, at least." The man said as he opened his cab door and hopped out. He held out his hand to the boy but the boy backed away, uncertain of the gesture. "It's okay kid, I won't hurt you." The man said, his voice soft and calm.
The boy looked back up into the man's face, unable to understand what this man claimed. Wasn't it written in stone somewhere that the guardian of a child had a right to put the child in its place, even if it was by force?
The man held out his hand again and the boy looked into the man's eyes. Warmth and kindness was there, the first time the boy had seen it outside of his neighbor's eyes. It was so nice…to know someone cared…
The boy fell forward, his eyes rolling backward as he fainted from the strain he had been put through. The man was quick to catch the small, falling body and hefted him into his arms, surprised at the little weight. His men, who had abandoned their cabs when they saw their captain leave his, approached him cautiously, guns drawn for any enemy that might pop up.
"'Ey boss…'oh's the kid?" One man commented while chewing on a cigar.
The man shrugged for an answer. "He was walking alongside the road as if he was ready to pass out. Lucky we found him when we did."
"Don't know if it's luck boss. He's practically skin and bones; won't make much of a soldier lessen he toughens up a bit." One of the other men said crudely as he jabbed the end of his gun between the boy's ribs.
The captain growled and shoved the barrel of the gun away, suddenly protective of the child, as he never had been before. "I'm putting a strict command out right now. No one is to abuse this boy in any way, unless they want to answer to me."
The men grumbled but agreed as they headed back to their cabs. When the captain ordered something, you had best obey unless you wanted to find yourself up a creek and without a paddle…literally.
One elderly soldier approached the captain though, looking down at the scrawny bundle held in the man's arms. "I don't know about this, sir. The men have a point…why be taken with this little bundle?"
The captain looked down at the little boy, feeling wetness on his arm. He turned to his cab but let the old soldier know that he was not dismissed through body language. The other soldier approached the cab as the captain laid him down clumsily. Then, carefully, he turned the boy over, exposing red lines on the back of his shirt.
Concern fueling his motives, the captain now slipped the shirt off while the other soldier ran to his own nearby cab, fetching a med kit and a new shirt. While he was gone, the captain examined the welts and was sickened to find chunks of glass and other shrapnel in the boy's back. Someone was twisted enough to still whip a child…he thought that had been ended centuries ago…
The older soldier came back and gasped at seeing such brutality on one so young. Shakily, he handed the med kit over and the shirt, watching as the captain expertly cleaned and bandaged the boy's back. Carefully rolling up his blanket and making a makeshift bed in the far side of the cab, the captain laid the boy down on his stomach to rest. Finished, but never removing his eyes from the boy, he listened to what the older soldier had been rambling about.
"…ick and twisted; plain freaks of nature to do that to a child. I mean, he looks no more than five years old! How could anyone…"
"I know, Jameson. I find it hard to believe too." The captain said in a tone that didn't entail interruption but to feed the point that what had been said was acknowledged. However, it made the older soldier become quiet for some time as they both watched the young child sleep.
"What kind of hell do you think he comes from, captain? And are we right to just put him back in another one?" Jameson finally added softly.
"I don't know. Maybe we can find him a good home in the next town we stop in. For now, we move out. Give the order, we have a deadline to make." The captain said as he gingerly got back into the cab and desperately tried not to wake the other inhabitant as he shut the door.
Jameson nodded an affirmative before heading off to get the other men moving. In less than five minutes, the mercenary transport unit was moving again as if they had never stopped.
DREAM SEQUENCE
"Mama!" A little boy cried, his voice high with fear and anxiety. In the background, flames growled as they devoured the house the boy had lived in before. "Papa!"
"Here!" A voice choked out, making the little boy turn.
The boy was suddenly inside the burning house. In front of him, a man was trapped under a burning timber from the roof. The boy stretched out his arms to the man, his mind screaming that it was his father. As he did so, the scenery warped again…
This time, the boy was kneeling under a tree, the grass barely kissing his knees in the dry wind that still escaped from the house. A twig snapped behind him and he turned to see who it was.
"Mama," escaped the boy's lips before he was able to stop it. His mother didn't hear him though, as she sunk to her knees in despair, tears welling in her eyes for the lost house, the lost husband, and the lost daughter.
The boy hesitated a moment, then stood on wobbly feet, walking up to his mother. As he did so, a dark figure sprang from the forest, metal glimmering in his hand. Not understanding what was about to unfold, the boy stopped, watching the man from the forest in fascination.
The man leapt forward, and with one swift movement, slid the knife he held across the woman's neck.
Red spurted forth from the woman's neck even though the wound wasn't visible from the boy's distance. The woman arched her back, closed her eyes, and then fell forward.
No one needed to say a word to the boy as it dimly registered that his mother wasn't going to get up from where she laid. The man looked up from his fresh kill, only a white smile visible in the dead of the night.
The boy opened his mouth to scream…
END DREAM SEQUENCE
A boy about four years of age, with messy brown hair and intense blue eyes bolted up right in his bed, a scream torn from his lips.
Lights were on in seconds outside his bedroom door, but the boy barely registered it as he took a short breath for another long scream, his voice breaking and scratching in the end. At this point he was dimly aware of a man grabbing at his hands and calmly telling him something.
The boy pulled his hands away from the older man whenever he tried to get a hold of them, continuing his desperate screaming as if he was possessed. The man persisted, grabbing his hands again and rubbing them as if to make them warm.
Eventually, the boy's voice gave out and he pulled his arms away weakly from the man again. Curling up in a corner of the bed, he whimpered to himself, tears making silent tracks down his young face.
"Daijobou?" A voice said, the sound hovering on the edge of the boy's consciousness. It was the flittering hands that caught the boy's attention, and he watched from the corner of his eye as the man said the same thing in a visual language.
The monologue continued for a long time, the man talking softly and soothingly while his hands accompanied the auditory message. After a half hour, the man considered the boy was on the verge of falling back asleep. He gently rubbed his thumb down the boy's back as he said, "Good night, little one. May no more dreams haunt you."
The boy made one sound, which was a grunt to show that he had heard, but he said nothing else in which to accompany that. The man smiled softly as he exited though, knowing he was at least gaining some ground.
Just outside the boy's doorway, another man stood, holding a chart. His mushroom style haircut, missing eye and missing arm marked him out to be the infamous Dr. J.
"His tests came back positive for autism. People say autistics are unable to learn things since they need a daily pattern. Anything that disrupts this pattern will only cause hysterics and the mental flight to his own little world. Change will not agree with the boy and change is one thing that he shall need to survive. I honestly cannot suggest we…" The other man cut off Dr. J.
"So what, you're suggesting that we dump him on the streets when we both know he has no family to go back to?" The man said, starting to walk back to his personal quarters, which was only a few feet away. "No, I cannot allow that myself. It was my botched mission that allowed his family…that made him become an orphan."
Dr. J was silent for a bit before telling the man, "Odin, it was not your fault. I got the address wrong from my superiors. You are not entirely to blame." Dr. J heaved a large sigh as he looked back to the closed door that belonged to the possible future pilot of Gundam 01, codenamed Heero Yuy. "If you are to share this burden…then I must share it with you."
The other man paused just inside his doorway, his eyes searching the scientist for any trickery or loopholes in what he had just said. When he found none, he smiled for Dr. J, and agreed.
"I do have one condition though, Odin. If he does not snap out of his autistic state by the age of nine, we need to find another pilot. Does that sound fair to you?"
Odin thought about it for a minute, and then added his own condition. "Only if I can still raise him as if he were my own."
The two men had a stare down, but in the end, Dr. J was the first to look away.
"All right, we will keep the boy, even if he is useless to our purpose." Odin smiled at this information, but he soon became serious again.
"I have one more thing to ask of you, doctor. Did I hear you right in saying, 'If he does not snap out of' the stage of autism by age nine?'"
"Yes, if he does not snap out of autism by nine, we need to find a new pilot." Dr. J restated, not understanding what Odin was getting at now.
"But then you mean that there is the possibility of overcoming autism." Odin continued, a grin spreading across his face.
"Yes, there is always hope for those that were not born with the predisposition to autism but obtained it due to an accident or shock or…Odin, what are you planning?!" Dr. J asked, watching as the man he had worked with for so long gained a feverish glint to his eyes from excitement. Odin was pacing just outside his doorway now, the excitement in every movement he made.
"Do not worry, doctor…Heero will be the pilot for your Gundam. You have nothing to worry about. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must do some research."
Without another word, Odin Lowe pushed past Dr. J and headed off down the corridor, possibly to the library for some late-night studying.
J stared after the man, shaking his head in disbelief. He honestly did not believe that Heero would achieve anything past a three-year-old intellect, which was enough proof to start searching for a new pilot now. However, if Odin honestly believed that he could get Heero up to the point of being able to handle his Wing Zero…well, far be it from Dr. J to stop the likes of Odin Lowe.
So what do you think so far? It was a long first chapter; so don't be surprised if it takes a bit to produce the next chapter. Please review, whether you liked it, you hated it or if you have suggestions or ideas to further this story. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!