Author's Note: Hello again. I was motivated to write this story when I was listening to my "Sound of Goodbye," by Perpetual Dreamer playlist on Pandora's Radio. A lot of the songs reminded me of Trieze Kushrenada. I might continue this story later on. Right now, it will remain a one shot that isn't finished. Enjoy the story. Trieze and Lady Une are a few of my favorite Gundam Wing characters.
Ironically, I just turned on my Viva La Vida playlist and found Coldplay's song "42," which heavily influenced the direction I took the story in.
Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam Wing. I won't ever own it.
Guns and Roses: Prelude to War
Treize Khushrenada leaned over his desk, running his pale hands through his wheat colored hair. The edges of Treize's tight, blue military uniform creased into wrinkled crescents directly below his shoulders, pulled upward by his arms. A "v" shaped patch of white fabric with buttons traveling down the center adorned the front of his jacket, casting a severe glow over his figure. Treize smiled distractedly, thinking how his uniform reminded him of the blue bird he had killed long ago. The cool breeze trudging through the castle he had been confined to had muted his thoughts, much like the cold air in his office was making it difficult to focus on his campaign.
The desk squeaked under Treize's ministrations, several layers of dust rising off its brown, dirty surface. Treize scoffed, backing away from the desk because it reminded him of how soiled the war was making him feel. All of the dust on the desk seemed to Treize like the mound of dead soldiers Treize knew he would have to sacrifice in his upcoming campaign against his friend Zechs. Ever since Zech's declaration of war against the Earth sphere, Treize had found it difficult to focus or work on anything without his thoughts crawling across his skin like a layer of dust over an unclean floor. Even the white curtains on the windows protecting his eyes from viewing the increasing activity around the base seemed too pure and clean to belong in a building steeped in invisible blood and death.
Treize's sky blue eyes smudged with uncertainty, clouding over with unsavory thoughts. A tear rose like smoke from his eyes' soiled depths, which he quickly killed with his left hand. Trieze stared at the pin head sized dot of wetness on his index finger, musing over how quickly the spot disappeared. Soon, many soldiers would be nothing more than wet spots of blood and skin on outer space's black canvas, red stars breathing their last goodbyes. Treize would be those soldiers' leader, an ironic god of death sending hundreds of children to fight for a cause that would gladly kill them in its quest for victory. Each child would scream a final song, his eyes conveying eternal sadness and confusion at his premature journey to heaven. Treize knew from his experience fighting that it was these screams, this opera of emotions and last words that clawed desperately at his sanity, continually raiding his conscience with regret. If Treize could separate the screams of his soldiers from the heroic blood fleeing their corpses, he might feel confident that the upcoming battle would teach humanity the fallacies of warfare. Treize could ignore the emotional baggage each soldier's death cast like a barbed wire around his neck to focus on teaching outer space to live in harmony with Earth. If things went successfully, he might even confront Zechs and cross the no man's land of memories between them.
Somehow, Treize felt that if he and Zechs hadn't separated after Otto's death, he could have sent his soldiers to more honorable graves. Unfortunately, losing Zechs had sucked all the beauty out of watching a man cry blood for his country. The only reason Treize still liked spilling blood was because humans learned lessons faster when their friends and relatives were sacrificed for a distant cause. Treize knew that he didn't want his soldiers' deaths to be pointless, which made it so much harder to fight Zechs when he wasn't sure how strongly Zechs believed in White Fang's ideals. How could Treize send boys to their makers when his enemy seemed to have no reason for fighting him and listening to his choreographed thoughts on the battlefield?
However, Treize also knew it was his fault for refusing the position The Romafeller Foundation had offered him at the beginning of the war. If he had taken that position, he could have changed the course of the war and implemented policies that would kill less innocent civilians. Treize might have provided a few boys with more time to spend mulling over girls and the beautiful array of small details comprising the universe. A mother might have spent another day walking through the fields with her son, watching him stare at a rainbow sky while she smelled a few flowers. Children could have played hide and seek from each other instead of hiding from the Earth while it melted inward from the heat of its mistakes. If only.
Treize interlocked his fingers, stepping slowly across the dark blue carpet lining the office floor. Passing a lamp and a drawer, Treize sat down in a large, white armchair facing one of the room's three, closed windows. It would soon be time for him to order the Earth Federation's space fleets to leave, which was a task he was dreading beyond anything else.
A heavy knock sounded at the door. Treize turned to face a video communications screen next to the door, calling out for the person to enter the room. A woman with brown hair streaming down her shoulders entered the room. She was nervously clutching the edge of her navy blue business jacket, the tips of her fingers disappearing under the fabric. Her eyes were a turbulent shade of chestnut, which glowed dully in the room's sparse lighting. The woman's pale face looked up at Treize expectantly, watching his every move. Treize walked over to the woman, smiling severely.
"What brings you here, Ann?" Ann looked away from Treize, smiling softly. She produced a folder from the folds of her jacket, letting it fall to a stop against her navy blue mini-skirt.
"I am here with more details on Zech's preparations for battle, sir."
"Of course." Treize thought miserably. "This is the only reason Ann ever comes to my room."
Ann called out to Treize once more, tapping the folder patiently against her leg. The folder leered at Treize triumphantly, taunting him with its plethora of knowledge. Treize shuddered inwardly, afraid to look at his friend's tactics and acknowledge Zech's severance of their friendship. Without Zech's friendship, the war would become all too real for Treize. Treize would lose his reason for loving nature and basking in the Earth's glory. He had spent so much time watching Zechs ignore the flow of life around him that he couldn't help falling in love with the simple orchestra of human existence. Zechs' rather emotionless nature had made humanity and earth real for Treize because Treize could contrast Earth's development with Zech's struggle to understand his role in the war. Now, Treize would have to find another reason to love life and live in simple elegance.
As if on cue, Ann coughed politely to remind Treize of her presence. "Ah yes, Ann." Treize thought fondly, continuing to stare at the girl in front of him. "At least she hasn't left me like Zechs did." A soft smile flickered into existence across Treize's face, his eyes sparkling with light like the ocean under the sun's gentle gaze. Ann's eyebrows turned upward confusedly, soft uncertainty coloring her eyes.
"Sir?" Quipped Ann quietly, staring down at the carpet. Treize quickly regained his composure, taking the folder from Ann's hand.
"I think I know why I find the Earth so beautiful." Treize murmured distractedly, once more sitting down in the armchair he had recently vacated.
"Why?" Ann whispered, so afraid to ask her question that the words left her lips in a gusty jumble.
"Ann, please, if anything happens in outer space, just live your life passionately and don't lose sight of your goals."
"But sir! I don't understand." Treize reached out and idly brushed a strand of Ann's warm hair behind her left ear. Ann shuddered, almost recoiling from Treize's touch.
"I have work to do, Ann, and a friendship to dismantle. Please leave." Said Treize, withdrawing his hand.
"Are you okay, sir?" Ann said again, stepping back toward the door.
"As okay as a soldier ever is fighting a war."
Ann sighed, closing the door behind her. Treize closed his eyes quickly before opening the file.