The
Harder Battle
by
Yanagi-sen
Gundam
Wing fanfic
Usual
disclaimers apply. I don't own 'em, not
makin any money off of 'em, don't sue!
Warnings:
shonen ai, implied violence and death, angst, AU, OOCness
This
fic and it's companion (Comforting the Wounded) were inspired by a program on
the Discovery Channel about medics in wartime, just in case you were wondering
where in the world I came up with this one.
Author's
Note: Most of my stories have arranged
themselves into a timeline, this fic being the first (so far). At this point, we're still pretty much
keeping with the events of the series.
If you are a stickler for canon however I will warn you this will
change. But my AU doesn't diverge until
after Heero gets Zero back from Zechs.
Of course this is always subject to revision depending on the whims of
my muse, an annoyingly demented little faerie named Leannan Sidhe.
AC
195
Author's
Note: This takes place after Wufei helps Sally and the rebels fight Boont in
China.
/character
thoughts/
Wufei sighed in relief. It was over. The traitor Boont and his OZ allies had been defeated. The young Chinese pilot hid Nataku and grabbed
his medkit from the cockpit before decending.
People thought fighting a war
was difficult, but the harder struggle came after the battle. The fight against that indifferent opponent
known as Death. The rebel camp was from
the nearest modern medical facility.
Wufei knew that warrior-medics like himself were going to be the injured
soldiers' only hope for survival.
He jogged back toward the remains of
the camp. Wufei knew that Po was a
doctor, but two hands, no matter how skilled, could only do so much. The battle had been short, but vicious,
there were bound to be quite a few wounded.
He broke though the treeline and got his first sight of the ruined
camp. He stopped, stunned. He hadn't been able to see much when he
arrived during the fight, and had shoved it to the back of his mind while in
Nataku. Now, he couldn't push it away.
Smoke still wafted on the wind,
casting a grim pall over the scene; though the fires were finally succumbing to
the concentrated efforts to extinguish them.
It was that time of eerie twilight where nothing seems quite real. The people moving through the smoky
wasteland resembled wraiths more than human beings. The air was filled with the moans and cries of the wounded, the
ground littered with the dead and the dying.
The smell of the place was an odd combination; the clean scent of the
pine forest mingled with the sickly-sweet smell of burnt flesh, overlaying it
all, the metallic tang of blood. Wufei
swallowed the gorge in his throat and rushed to where he could see Po swiftly
organizing what scant medical personnel she had.
"Po."
"Huh? Oh, Wufei." She
noticed his medkit. "Wufei, do you
have any medical experience?"
"I'm a trained
field-medic."
"Thank the gods. GO!
Do whatever you can! Anything
you can't handle give a shout and someone will bring them to me."
As she turned away he caught her
arm. "What if they're beyond
help?"
She stared deep into his onyx eyes
and he could see a terrible sadness in her gaze. "Do what you have to do." He nodded, he understood.
Turning, he took a steadying breath and went to work.
The now ranking officer in camp
looked at the boy slumped beside a fire. The kid was staring into the flames, holding a cup that someone
had obviously pressed on him. Takai ran
his hand over the bandage on his arm.
His injury wasn't too serious and the boy had finally gotten around to
stitching it only an hour before. He'd
watched the kid work tirelessly for two days to triage and treat the wounded. Takai wasn't happy with what he saw now.
"That's not doin' ya any good
sittin' in your hand, kid."
"Huh?" Wufei looked up at the older soldier.
"The food doesn't do you any good
if it just sits in the cup."
"Oh...yeah." He took a sip and grimaced. He carefully set the cup on the ground and
went back to staring into the fire.
Takai picked up the cup and tasted it, the soup was cold. He refilled it and returned, determined that
the kid would eat something.
"Here."
"What?"
"You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"Tough. I'm not moving till this is gone." Wufei scowled but started to drink. /Kid, you look like Hell. You may be trained, but I don't think you've
actually done this type of work before. /
He settled down to watch the boy.
/What are we doin' to you, kid?
It's bad enough that we're making you fight this war, do we have to scar
your mind and soul as well? We need to
get you out of here before that haunted look takes up permanant residence in
your eyes. /
"Wufei." A quiet voice intruded on his brooding.
"Po. Do you need me?"
Wufei half-jumped to his feet before Sally pushed him back down.
"No. We've done all we can.
The rest will be up to them."
She sat next to him.
"Oh."
"Wufei. Will you do something for me?"
"Of course. What do you need?"
"Takai and I want you to
leave."
"What?!"
"Take Nataku and get out of
here."
"But..."
"We couldn't have won
this fight or saved as many lives without you.
But this isn't what you're
here for."
"Onna!"
"Takai is getting some supplies
together for you. Stay true to
yourself, Wufei. Don't lose sight of
your sense of honor, or your compassion.
I hope we'll see you again, under better circumstances. Goodbye."
Wufei jerked awake, sweat running
off his body. It had been four days
since he'd left the rebels' camp in China.
He'd been able to keep going for another day before he collapsed from
exhaustion. He just couldn't get the
images out of his head. The raw
wounds. The screaming. The smell of blood and charred flesh. Finding only parts of bodies. The blank, staring eyes of the dead. Granting mercy to those who were beyond
saving. Staying with them after giving
them the poison, so they wouldn't have to die alone. Watching as they understood that their life was ending, as the
last light faded from their eyes. And
everywhere, blood; staining the bandages, the clothes, the earth, him.
He staggered out of his bedding and
barely made it to the bushes before he fell to his knees. His stomach heaved and he lost what little
he'd been able to force himself to eat.
He knelt for many minutes rubbing his aching head. When his insides finally stopped trying to
jump out his throat, he crawled back to his bed. With trembling hands he packed his bedroll and few
belongings. He rinsed his mouth and
sipped some water before making an unsteady climb into Nataku's cockpit. He needed to do something. The helplessness he had felt was turning to
anger. Only one opponent was worthy of
his ire. Kushrenada owed him a
rematch. He was hardly in any condition
to fight but if he died, at least it would silence the screams.
Wufei made sure Nataku was well hidden and enabled the
self-destruct program. If he didn't
send a signal within three days, or if someone else tried to move it, the
Gundam would destroy itself. He
couldn't risk OZ getting their hands on Shenlong. He took only his sword with him as he crept across the quiet
grounds of the estate. He easily scaled
the sturdy rose trellis and swung onto the balcony. He crouched by the window. The curtains had been pulled,
providing Wufei with convenient cover; the slight gap allowing him a good view
of the room. The OZ General was seated
at a desk going through paperwork. A
hard-eyed woman with brown hair twisted in two buns poked her head in. Kushrenada rose and followed her out. Now was his chance.
He picked the lock easily. /Really, you'd think they could afford
better security. / Wufei made sure the
window was latched, but not locked, leaving himself an escape route. If he survived. He hid himself and waited for the man to return. He had only a short wait. Kushrenada reentered and sat in a chair in
front of the fire. Taking a steadying
breath, (why did he suddenly feel so dizzy?) he stepped out of his
concealment. He nearly jumped when the
man spoke.
"Guten Abend, Drache. So nice of you to drop by." The man stood and picked up a blade of his
own.
/How had he known? And how dare he address me that way? / He narrowed his eyes in irritation and
stared at the man down the length of his sword. "Why do you call me that?"
"You are Chang Wufei, of the
Long clan, are you not? If I am not
mistaken, 'long' means 'dragon' and so..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged.
"Prepare yourself!" Wufei knew he was not in the best frame of
mind for this fight, but what had he to lose?
His life? Right now that was a
living Hell. If he died nobly in
battle, then he couldn't ask for a better end.
He knew he was good, but Kushrenada had more experience, power, and a
longer reach. Usually his speed could
compensate, but it had been days since he'd eaten decently, weeks since his
last truly restful sleep. He was slow,
and getting slower. He knew he was beaten. /Ah well, it's been good while it
lasted. I think I will be joining you
soon, Meiran. / Wufei felt his opponent
trap his sword and send it spinning into the darkened room.
He drew himself up as best he could
and stared into the General's cornflower blue eyes. "Kill me."
The man shook his head. "That is something I will not do,
Dragon."
/No! This isn't what I planned! /
He slumped, defeated. Wufei
heard Kushrenada's sword clang on the floor and then the man was standing
beside him.
"Wufei, are you all
right?" He realized he was
falling, but before he hit the floor, he felt strong arms catch him. He was lifted and then laid on a soft bed. "Wufei. Dragon-child, can you hear me?"
"Treize." he cringed at
how pathetic he sounded. His stomach
surged again. He rolled onto his side,
almost falling from the bed. He would
have fallen had Treize not caught him again.
He lost control and retched.
Wufei could feel cool hands holding his head and brushing back his hair. When had he lost his hair tie? When his rebellious stomach finally took
pity on him, he felt too weak to do anything but moan. The man eased him back on the pillows and
then held a cup of water to his lips.
He rinsed his mouth out, spitting into the conveniently held trashcan
and lay back on the bed. He could sense
the tears pricking his eyes.
"Dragon, what is wrong?"
/Why is he being so kind to me? I am his enemy, am I not? / "Please, Treize. I can't stand it anymore." Shame filled him as the tears started to
stream down his face. Wufei closed his
eyes against what must be scorn on the OZ General's face. Hands lifted him and cradled the sobbing boy
against a strong chest.
"Treize?"
"Shh, Dragon. It's all right. What happened?"
He couldn't hold it in any
longer. He had to tell someone,
anyone. "It was... just... all the
blood... screaming... I had to do it...
coudn't do anything else... I had no
choice... " Wufei realized he was
hyperventilating, but could no more control that than he could his stomach or
his tears.
"Dragon-child, Wufei, calm
down."
Wufei twisted so he could look the
General in the eyes. If Treize wouldn't
kill him, maybe he would simply hold him, even if only for a little while. It had been so long since he'd had real
contact with anyone. "Please! I can't do this anymore. I can't live with this. I just can't..." With a keening cry Wufei broke down
completely, unable to contain his emotions any longer. He buried his face in the crook of Treize's
arm. The man stiffened, then relaxed pulling
Wufei into his lap, murmuring soothingly.
Wufei lost track of the next few
days. During one of his more lucid
moments, he had the presence of mind to deactivate Nataku's self-destruct. He floated in and out of a warm haze. Sometimes he would hear Treize's voice, like
the man was reading to him.
Occasionally he could hear others as well; another man, who sounded
older, his was soothing; and a woman's, harder, he recognized that voice as the
belonging to the one he had fought on the ship after the fiasco at New
Edwards. Sometimes he could feel cold
clothes on his head, or realized he was being bathed in cool water. But for the most part, he just floated,
detached from reality. It was pleasant,
there was no pain or screaming, and no blood.
That's what was most comforting, the lack of blood.
At last the haze disappeared and
true sleep tugged at him. Too tired to
fight it, he surrendered to the comforting darkness. He harbored no fear for himself, if Kushrenada was planning on
killing him, he would have done so by now.
Later, when his sleep-fogged brain slowly resurfaced into consciousness,
he had no clue where he was. He looked
around, the bed was clean and soft, the sheets were silk, smooth against his
mostly bare skin. He guessed he'd been
ill, but who'd cared for him? The door
opened silently, allowing entry of a certain blue-eyed, ginger-haired OZ
General.
Wufei did a double take. Yes, it was
Kushrenada, and yes, he was out of
uniform. The man was clad casually in
khakis and a cable-knit sweater only a shade darker than his eyes. He was also barefoot. /Oh Gods!... that's right... this is his
bed... and his room.... me and... and Treize... OH GODS!! / He could feel the blush start rising in his
face.
"Feeling better,
Dragon?" Treize sat on the edge of
the bed.
"Treize... " He thought
his eyes would pop out as the man leaned over him. He was too weak to protest the man's gentle touch.
"Call me Trey." He felt Wufei's forehead. "Your fever's broken, finally. I'll get something for you to
eat." Trey scowled at him. "You're too thin. You'll never be able to fight me if you
don't take care of yourself."
Wufei caught his arm as the General turned away.
"Did... did I say
anything?"
"You didn't give away any
secrets if that's what you're worried about." He sighed and sat back down, turning sorrowful eyes on the
boy. "Let me give you some advice. If you're going to continue in this war,
you've got to learn to let things go, or they will break you. Being a medic is a terrible responsibility,
and also a tremendous burden. I
couldn't handle it. Most of us
couldn't. I just thought you should
know." He patted Wufei's arm and
rose to leave. He paused at the door
and turned. "Let it go, Wufei;
before you die inside. Let it all
go."
-sin
sin, tis done- (sin sin (pron. shin)- a
Gaelic storytellers traditional ending, basically means 'it's ended')
I
know it isn't really finished. You'll
just have to read the companion fic. ^_~
