Note: Okay, lets see.....this contains Wu-chan angst; shounen ai (eventually-right now it's only hinted); self questioning and a lot of odd passages taken from my diary (heh. -_-;). As always review.....If you flame me, I will point and laugh-laugh like the sometime maniac I am. HA HA HA HA HA! Ahem, yeah. from now on, this is more serious, ne?
Disclaimer: I own none of the yummy characters in this fic-none of the really nasty ones either. I don't own the concept, I only own the exact wording and plot of this particular fic.
THE PRICE OF A SHADOW
I speak of justice and stregnth-but what is just and what is strong? Is having a mother's hand cut off because she stole a loaf of bread for her starving children just? Or is making sure that all children-not just the rich-have food enough actually following the path of true justice? Is a person crying over the loss of a loved one weak? Or is that person finding the will to continue with their life a show of strength? Nothing can be so clear cut....is everything I believed in an illusion?
Duo Maxwell looked up, his eyes bright and a large grin plastered on his face, as he heard the front door to the spacious apartment that he and the other one-time Gundam pilots shared. Someone was home! Leaving the TV flickering, the braided young man jumped off the couch and made his way towards the entry hall, his step light and bouncy. He'd been bored for most of the day-when he woke up at his customarily late time, he'd found a note saying that Heero had to go to another of Relena's boring functions; Quatre had a meeting about the new Winner company he was starting; Trowa was going shopping and then would pick of Quatre and Wufei had some obscure mission for the Preventers. So poor Duo had spent the day languishing in front of mindless television programs; eating chips with fake cheese on them and trying to think of some other way to belay his boredom.
Duo poked his head into the entry hall, his hands griping the wall the devided it from the living room, a grin on his impish face...standing there, with his back to Duo, was Wufei.
Even from a distance and without seeing his face, Duo could tell that the Chinese man was totally and utterly exhausted. Beneath the white tanktop, his muscles were tense and bunched up, and his grip on the pristine coat that he was hanging up was tight, crumpling the exquisite fabric.
"Heeey Wu-man!!!!" Duo shouted, emphasizing the name because he knew it annoyed the other ex-pilot. Flinging himself into the room, he draped an arm casually around Wufei's shoulders letting the other boy hold his weight.
To the braided boy's surprised; puzzlement and disapointment, Wufei ignored the jab on his name and didn't even bother trying to dislodge his friend's hold. Instead, the young Preventer simply turned and started into the main part of the house, forcing Duo to either walk with him or break his hold. Frowning behind his grin, Duo followed, feeling more than a little concerned about the most private of the once Gundam pilots. "Whats happenin'?" he asked, forcing himself to sound cheerful, though worry was creeping into even his voice. The proud pilot never let what he considered his personal honor be insulted-not and let the insultor get away with it at least.
"Nothing." Wufei answered stoically, pausing in the living room, his eyes finding the TV and focusing briefly on the bright images it displayed. "If your not going to watch, Maxwell, then why leave the damned thing on?"
That sounded a bit more like the Wufei that Duo was used to-an irratable version of him, at least. Dropping his arm from around his friend, Duo flung himself on the couch before the TV. "But I -am- watching, Wu-chan! Wanna join?"
For a moment, the Chinese bishounen regarded his friend, and Duo nearly thought he'd accept the offer, when the other boy shook his head, dislodging a few silky strands of dark hair from his tight pony tail. "No." he said, turning away from the television and Duo. "I think not," he started out of the room and a moment later Duo heard his soft footsteps on the stairs.
A frown came over Shinigami's pixie-like face. Wufei usually said more than that, even if it was often said angrily-hell, even TROWA, the silent wonder, spoke more than the Chinese dragon had! Perhaps Shenlong's old pilot was simply tired...he looked it. For a crazy moment, Duo considered going upstairs and offering Wufei one of the back massages that Heero had taught him to give.....but, no, Wufei wouldn't accept it and dispite all outward apperences, Duo didn't enjoy invading the other's closely gaurded privacy. Leaning back into the soft blue cushions of the couch, Duo let loose a great sigh, his violet eyes flicking on the TV without really taking in what the people were saying or the pictures were showing. At least he wasn't as bored...now he had something to ponder about until the others came home.
When you think about it, how tenuous is life? We hurry about our overly busy lives, unaware or ignoring how fine the threads holding us here truly are. We can die so many ways-we can be murdered, or fall to our deaths; we can drown or be consumed by fire; old age can claim us, or sickness, or overdosing on some drug. You could die tomorrow, and not even know it-going about life as though you could live forever. You can't live forever.
When you think about how short your lifetime is, how long you'll get to remain on this earth, with these people, getting to the office on time just doesn't seem all that important.
Life grows tedious if you let it.
Wufei lay on his futon, dark eyes focused on the pale cieling above him, watching the shadows caused by the faint light from the window shift. The shadows mesmerized him...they were so pure, so natural....They existed everywhere that there was light. They symbolized good and evil, but they also had a gray area...an area which could be considered neither light nor dark, one or the other. That area of uncertainty was something that the Chinese man had strived all his adult life-ever since Meiran's death-to ignore...his mind kept it from him and now, in his early twenties, he was just discovering that not everything was as clear cut as he'd like it to be. In some ways, the concept almost frightened him, because it meant everything he had fought for throughout the war wasn't what it'd seemed...he may have hurt things as much as he helped. He may have betrayed even himself in actions that he'd previously thought were justified and good.
But what could he do now? He could not change the past, only the future. And in the future, when faced with descisions of good or evil, would he then see the gray area?
Sighing, the exhausted pilot rolled over and closed his eyes to sleep. His dreams that day were plagued with memories of his home and Meiran.
Disclaimer: I own none of the yummy characters in this fic-none of the really nasty ones either. I don't own the concept, I only own the exact wording and plot of this particular fic.
THE PRICE OF A SHADOW
I speak of justice and stregnth-but what is just and what is strong? Is having a mother's hand cut off because she stole a loaf of bread for her starving children just? Or is making sure that all children-not just the rich-have food enough actually following the path of true justice? Is a person crying over the loss of a loved one weak? Or is that person finding the will to continue with their life a show of strength? Nothing can be so clear cut....is everything I believed in an illusion?
Duo Maxwell looked up, his eyes bright and a large grin plastered on his face, as he heard the front door to the spacious apartment that he and the other one-time Gundam pilots shared. Someone was home! Leaving the TV flickering, the braided young man jumped off the couch and made his way towards the entry hall, his step light and bouncy. He'd been bored for most of the day-when he woke up at his customarily late time, he'd found a note saying that Heero had to go to another of Relena's boring functions; Quatre had a meeting about the new Winner company he was starting; Trowa was going shopping and then would pick of Quatre and Wufei had some obscure mission for the Preventers. So poor Duo had spent the day languishing in front of mindless television programs; eating chips with fake cheese on them and trying to think of some other way to belay his boredom.
Duo poked his head into the entry hall, his hands griping the wall the devided it from the living room, a grin on his impish face...standing there, with his back to Duo, was Wufei.
Even from a distance and without seeing his face, Duo could tell that the Chinese man was totally and utterly exhausted. Beneath the white tanktop, his muscles were tense and bunched up, and his grip on the pristine coat that he was hanging up was tight, crumpling the exquisite fabric.
"Heeey Wu-man!!!!" Duo shouted, emphasizing the name because he knew it annoyed the other ex-pilot. Flinging himself into the room, he draped an arm casually around Wufei's shoulders letting the other boy hold his weight.
To the braided boy's surprised; puzzlement and disapointment, Wufei ignored the jab on his name and didn't even bother trying to dislodge his friend's hold. Instead, the young Preventer simply turned and started into the main part of the house, forcing Duo to either walk with him or break his hold. Frowning behind his grin, Duo followed, feeling more than a little concerned about the most private of the once Gundam pilots. "Whats happenin'?" he asked, forcing himself to sound cheerful, though worry was creeping into even his voice. The proud pilot never let what he considered his personal honor be insulted-not and let the insultor get away with it at least.
"Nothing." Wufei answered stoically, pausing in the living room, his eyes finding the TV and focusing briefly on the bright images it displayed. "If your not going to watch, Maxwell, then why leave the damned thing on?"
That sounded a bit more like the Wufei that Duo was used to-an irratable version of him, at least. Dropping his arm from around his friend, Duo flung himself on the couch before the TV. "But I -am- watching, Wu-chan! Wanna join?"
For a moment, the Chinese bishounen regarded his friend, and Duo nearly thought he'd accept the offer, when the other boy shook his head, dislodging a few silky strands of dark hair from his tight pony tail. "No." he said, turning away from the television and Duo. "I think not," he started out of the room and a moment later Duo heard his soft footsteps on the stairs.
A frown came over Shinigami's pixie-like face. Wufei usually said more than that, even if it was often said angrily-hell, even TROWA, the silent wonder, spoke more than the Chinese dragon had! Perhaps Shenlong's old pilot was simply tired...he looked it. For a crazy moment, Duo considered going upstairs and offering Wufei one of the back massages that Heero had taught him to give.....but, no, Wufei wouldn't accept it and dispite all outward apperences, Duo didn't enjoy invading the other's closely gaurded privacy. Leaning back into the soft blue cushions of the couch, Duo let loose a great sigh, his violet eyes flicking on the TV without really taking in what the people were saying or the pictures were showing. At least he wasn't as bored...now he had something to ponder about until the others came home.
When you think about it, how tenuous is life? We hurry about our overly busy lives, unaware or ignoring how fine the threads holding us here truly are. We can die so many ways-we can be murdered, or fall to our deaths; we can drown or be consumed by fire; old age can claim us, or sickness, or overdosing on some drug. You could die tomorrow, and not even know it-going about life as though you could live forever. You can't live forever.
When you think about how short your lifetime is, how long you'll get to remain on this earth, with these people, getting to the office on time just doesn't seem all that important.
Life grows tedious if you let it.
Wufei lay on his futon, dark eyes focused on the pale cieling above him, watching the shadows caused by the faint light from the window shift. The shadows mesmerized him...they were so pure, so natural....They existed everywhere that there was light. They symbolized good and evil, but they also had a gray area...an area which could be considered neither light nor dark, one or the other. That area of uncertainty was something that the Chinese man had strived all his adult life-ever since Meiran's death-to ignore...his mind kept it from him and now, in his early twenties, he was just discovering that not everything was as clear cut as he'd like it to be. In some ways, the concept almost frightened him, because it meant everything he had fought for throughout the war wasn't what it'd seemed...he may have hurt things as much as he helped. He may have betrayed even himself in actions that he'd previously thought were justified and good.
But what could he do now? He could not change the past, only the future. And in the future, when faced with descisions of good or evil, would he then see the gray area?
Sighing, the exhausted pilot rolled over and closed his eyes to sleep. His dreams that day were plagued with memories of his home and Meiran.