Title: The Chandler Arc: Silence
Author: Anti-Social Lemming
Date: 8.14.01-8.22.01
Archived: Fanfiction.net
Notes: This is supposed to become a bunch of separate little [sort of] introspective ficlets that were all connected somehow. I don't really know if I'll get around to actually writing the others, but for now... There's just Silence...
Another Note: The sole reason that this is called the Chandler Arc (if it becomes an arc) is because the little quote thingy dingers were found when I was flipping through my sister's chandler. So, yeah. ::shrug:: knock yourself out.
Last note: Not all the facts are accurate... I don't have the exact details of Duo's past, but I figure I've got it accurate enough. If its not, tough bananas to you. Also, this is a semi POV fic. It's actually a letter, but that's good enough for me.
The Chandler Arc
Part One: Silence
Wufei,
It is not the strong who choose to suffer in silence, but those afraid to reach out. Others have known your pain, and they can help you bear it if you have the courage to ask.
Sometims, I look at you, and I wish I could tell you that face to face. Tell you that just retreating into yourself is not an answer. However, I cannot do that. You and I are the same, we both cannot communicate in a way that we both wish to. I have my smiling face and cheerful gestures, but you just stay away. You just think that no one will know what you are going through. That no one will know what if feels to lose all of your family, your home, to lose everything that you once loved and held dear. You think that none of us pilots would understand what it is like to feel guilt about helping in the destruction of your loved ones.
You are wrong.
There, I said it. You are wrong. All five of us has lost something dear to us. Maybe it was not as obvious, as clear, but it was just as brutal and hurtful. Heero feels he has lost whatever humanity he once had, that he is not good enough for us. A machine in the midst of real humans. Trowa lost his past. He never once had a loving family to comfort him and he had to go and bear the name of Trowa Barton. He had to leave the mercenaries just to pilot a gundam and become a terrorist, a weapon of mass destruction. Quatre, gentle Quatre. He lost his ties to his family. To fight for what he believed in, he had to cut himself off from his father, disobey his direct orders. Then, when he returns, his father goes and kills himself for his own beliefs. Right in front of him, close enough to see, but far enough to not be able to help. The father who shunned him died for him.
Now, what did I lose? Maybe I feel your pain the clearest because I, too, had an Incident similar to yours. Ha, incident, what a word. When I was less than half your age, I lost 248 people that I loved. I was off, getting a mobile suit able to kill more people, when OZ came and destroyed the Maxwell Church. Maybe you wouldn't understand why I feel as I do. But Father Maxwell, he was more than just a priest, he was.. well, a father to me. He and I respected each other, we loved each other. I just never showed it to him before he died. Sister Helen, she was more than a sister in a way that Father Maxwell was more than a priest. She adored me, even when I was a thief straight off the streets, dirty and rude. The countless others who cared for me, they, in their own way, helped shape me to become who I am now. All of them were killed by OZ. I wasn't even there, I wasn't even able to help any of them. I only got there in time to see Sister Helen die, right in my arms. She smiled at me as she died, she never blamed me for not being there. She never said a single bad thing about me. She never told me that I was to be eternally damned for leaving them just to help others kill more. That's what I thought. I thought that I would be banished to Hell, burning in eternal torment because I was living, and they were not.
After the massacre, I lived in a daze. I thought I was allowed to live so that I could bear the guilt of not being there. Believe me, I did grieve, I felt guilt, I felt everything except what Father Maxwell would have wanted me to feel. He once told me that even if he died, he didn't want me to be sad, he was going to his god, he was going to go back home. He told me that I should be happy for him, that he had passed on to a better place. In my haze, I didn't understand him. I thought that it made no sense, that it was still my fault. It was only until years after the Incident, that I have figured that maybe I lived to help people. When I saw you, lost in your pain, lost in your guilt, I thought that I might be able to help. I have gone through the pain that you are suffering, the burning lonliness.
Everytime I tried to help you, you pushed me away, blinded by your own hate for yourself. I wanted so badly to be able to find a way to communicate with you. You think that I am just a shallow, laughing fool. An empty smiling mask. That there are no threads connecting us together. As I have said before, you are wrong. We are bound by threads of misery and hate. Self loathing. I have been there, and I was lost there as well. If you let me, I'd help you deal with it. Not like a frivolous psychologist would with their "So, how do you feel about it?" and superficial caring. We both have been through so much, if you would let me in, or one of the others in, it would help you in ways that you cannot imagine. It would make you face reality. Make you realize that you cannot take the blame for your colony's destruction.
I don't say that to make me sound harsh and uncaring, but I know what you feel. And it will eat you, burning and twisting from the inside. Don't let it take over your life. That's all I have to say. Although I know you think I am an idiot, I hope that you will listen to me. You are not alone.
Duo Maxwell
P.S. Remember, "Others have known your pain, and they can help you bear it IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH COURAGE TO ASK." We won't pry into your "privacy," so you need to give us a way in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Duo slowly stopped writing the letter. With one last look at the paper, he carefully folded it. He put it into a white envelope by his hand, then wrote "Wufei" in the center. He walked down the hall to the room where Wufei was staying in.
He raised one hand, hesitating before knocking the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's meeeee!" Duo said, a grin plastered on his face as he bounded into the room, "Your friendly braided annoyance!" He jumped onto Wufei's bed, then 'uff'ed as the Chinese pilot bodily pushed him off. He said, rather annoyed, "Duo, get out."
"Ooooookay." He grinned again, then bounced out. Unnoticed, a white evelope sat on the nightstand.white evelope sat on the nightstand.
Wufei sat down on his bed, watching the doorway for a few moments. Empty masks, all of us. And yet, within, we have deep pools of sorrow and anguish. I wonder what Duo came here for. A part of him felt bad for telling him to get out, but another side just needed the time alone. Time away from people, sometimes especially Duo. The look that the braided pilot sometimes gave him made him think. His eyes would convey a message to him, but he just couldn't decode it.
Sighing, he walked over to his desk. A flash of white caught his eye, and he realized it was an envelope. He picked it up, then gingerly opened it. After reading the first few sentences, he sat down on the bed, letter still in hand. He read it, eyes scanning each word.
He fell back, lying down on the bed, letter at his side. He stared at the ceiling, remembering the words that Duo wrote.
It is not the strong who choose to suffer in silence, but those afraid to reach out. Others have known your pain, and they can help you bear it if you have the courage to ask.
If I have the courage to ask. But do I? Do I have enough courage? Am I afraid to reach out? Thinking on it a few moments, he found that he already knew the answer. I am afraid.
Five minutes later, he got up from his bed, and walked down the hall.
To Duo's room.
"Hey, Wufei!"
"Maxwell." Pause. "May I come in?"
~OWARI~
Authors notes: Okay, this is my first fic that I have ever actually written written. Yes, written written. I'm not exactly sure on Duo's past, but it was close enough for me, and yeah.