I don't know about pairings yet but I suppose 1x2 if I get encouraged that far.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, if I did then I'd be rich.
He didn't have to think. Didn't have to think…
Bottles were scattered round the room, not that it ever did much good. He hated being drunk, so out of it he couldn't fight or think. The soldier in him wouldn't allow it. On he rare occasion he was, he would lie there on the floor, head propped up on bottles. Sometimes he would rant, rave and yell the wallpaper reduced to shreds.
A punching bag hung in the corner; half it's innards hanging out. His knuckles were red and raw, another thing that helped him not to think. Kept his mind off the 'if's' and possibilities if he'd carried out a mission differently.
He had lived for those days. The days when they were together, fighting side by side. He had been – still was, a soldier, a weapon. J's perfect soldier. Looking around now anyone could see he was far from perfect, so many things were messed up in his head.
The boy who felt nothing, the man with no purpose; they were the same. At least during the war he had a job to do, those times he was injured, the only thing keeping him going his determination. The importance of the mission completed. And the guilt.
Oh, yes the guilt he carried. He and it were quite well acquainted now. At night he heard the screams of the ones he killed, saw the shapes of people he was too young to remember assassinating. He should have died in the war; Trowa should have let him die. Yet he was still here, breathing in the place of those who didn't deserve to be six feet under.
He remembered the promises they'd made at the end of the war. They had no reason to stay together now, no reason left to fight. But old habits were hard to break. They had all said they'd stay in touch and Relena hadn't given him a choice. They had managed it the first couple of months, then slowly it took longer and longer for the calls to come, until one by one they stopped. He had waited, though he no longer knew the reason why. One month passed by; quickly turning to two, before he knew it a year had been and gone. He'd moved early that spring.
Half hidden by a curtain he watched the street like a hawk, observing the people as they moved. Briefly he wondered if the other Ex-Gundam pilots were doing the same.
Wufei perched on the end of his bed, staring at the mirror. Tired eyes gazed back, examining the room around him. Instinctively he tensed, hearing the front door slam. Out of tune singing reached his ears, wincing he watched his door open, the silhouette of his partner casting a shadow along the floor. The shadow wavered, touching the darkness of the room. The figure muttered something slurred at him, then stood upright with visible effort, crashed into the wall ad staggered off. Why they put him with an ex-gunman he would never know. Hearing something break he winced again. Sometimes he really missed the others.
Quatre and Trowa disappeared after the war deciding to stay together, Duo left soon after, he heard rumour of him now and again, the brown haired pilot always up to some daring feat or another but always, somehow disappearing. He didn't know what had happened to the emotionally handicapped man - the final member of their group, doubted he'd ever really know unless he met him again. Many things had changed over the past few years. Not all of them for the better. He just hoped that everyone was fine, but these days it was hard to tell, so many were left dead any new ones weren't reported. Someday he hoped they'd have a reason to join up again…
This is my first Gundam fic and the first story I've put on fanfiction. I don't want any flames but critisisms fine, don't just say "This was crap." My monkeys of doom will eat your brains.
I haven't watched all that many Gundam Wing episodes apart from the one's I can find on YouTube. So if this is a bit rocky that's why.