Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all. Just the story – duh.

Pairings: 3+11(Une), 4+D, 5+S, 6+9,H+1

Wishing for Sanity

Maybe I should have done something to stop this, maybe it's best the situation got so out of hand. Heh, maybe I should back up again eh? Well… it started about three years ago, with the beginning of the one-year war. Hmm… yeah… I really believed that things would be better after that. And they were… for a while. I was in a really awkward stage when the Mariema Incident began, was in the middle of and finished. I never understood what happened. Just fought. Is that all I ever do? Fight? I don't know. I don't think I want to any more. It's like there's this ache in my heart, everyday, every time I look in the mirror, every time I'm with the other's, every time that I'm with her. I just don't think that I can handle this much any more. Don't think I can hack much more. Can't take it.

Ha, I can just imagine the reactions of the others. From Wufei's 'You're unbelievably weak I never want to have anything to do with you' to the opposite of Duo's 'Ha so 'IT' has emotions!' I should care. I'm too tired to care. Too much has happened. Too much. My eyes are already stinging again, with tears I refuse to let fall. Because I have too much strength? Is that the reason that they're held so well back? On the other hand, is it because I am too weak? Too weak to let them fall. Too weak to mourn. Too weak to greet them all. Yet too strong, to fall.

The pain is unbelievable. I don't think that any should carry a burden akin to mine. I don't think that I would wish this fate on any other. Don't think I would want anyone else to have had the life I've had. Yet, … by the same token, I don't want it. I don't want to get up every morning. Don't want to put on my mask. Don't want to revisit friends. Don't want to use my strength to hide how I'm feeling.

Oh, I feel all right. It's because I feel too much that I wear this mask… this mask to hide the horrors. To hide the nightmares. To hide the scars. To hide the tears. To hide it all. To only portray the happy side of how I'm feeling. I'm getting much better at that. I believe that the others believe that I'm opening up a lot more. Ha. Fat chance. I guess, maybe I am. Maybe some day I will tell them all of my secrets and depressions and desperation's and share with them all that plagues me. I know that I've had the roughest past of them all. I know that I've the hardest burden to bare. Yet, I am not allowed to share it. I am not allowed to lessen the pain. I am not allowed to take a panadol, an aspirin, to miss a day off work. I have to parade around this little charade that I perhaps have been keeping up for far too long.

I do not want it to continue. I do not want to take it off. I do not know what's in my heart. Don't know how to get it off. With others. With others, my mask is stuck as if it were placed there with superglue. I can't even budge it. It has changed over these past three years. Changed very much so. I used to be so cold and insensitive to try to hide the pain. The anger. The heartache. However, most of all to hide the tears. Am I ashamed of them? I suppose you could say that. And yet for some odd reason I remain proud that they're there. I guess it's proof that I'm human. Proof that I'm not what everyone expects me to be. Proof that I'm not an angel. Proof I've made mistakes, have flaws, get angry… have tears.

Maybe I'm just delusional. Maybe that isn't the way to look at things but I've been around the other's too long to loose their trust. Their friendship. Their faith in me. I can't loose it. Can't. Ever. That would be too much to take. Far too much. And yet. I know. That one day, when the truth comes out. Some will go. Some will stay. Nevertheless, most. Most will go. Of that, I have no doubt. Maybe the closest ones will stay. Trowa, Wufei, Quatre, Zechs, Noin, Une, Dorothy, Sally, Hilde… they will stay. I know that they will. Yet, I am still afraid to tell this secret that I hold. I am still afraid to let it loose. It will be hard. So hard. And yet. With this third, war this year. The year after the Mariema Incident I know that it will only be a matter of time until what is needed will come.

I will be called upon to make the change. Once again. Always me. I will have to wipe away the tears, or hold them close and shed them later. Get up off my arse and blow the horn. Let the hunt begin. Spur on the troops. Pick up the gun. Rally for happiness. Present them with joy. It gets harder and harder to do so and yet I know that if the strength that I contain within me crumbles then so to will the sanity … or insanity and holds this world together.

I am no pacifist. I am no warrior. I am neither. I am both. I protect others with my mere will. I hurt them with soundless gestures. I can't win the war. Maybe the battles but in the end. I've already lost. The end keeps coming near. And there isn't anything that I can do to stop it. All the heartache. All the lies – wait! I've never lied. Not to them. I have always told them the truth. Ha, seems weird coming from me huh? Sounds too much like Duo? Well, I know for a fact that Duo lies. I know that we all lie. Hell, I lie to myself. I once told myself that it would never boil down to this. I lied to myself telling myself that I could stay where I was. Happy. Content. They were strange emotions to me. But welcome. And I enjoyed them. I loved them.

Then this war came. I don't know how I haven't crumbled yet from the influx of emotions that have spilled down into me. It's like I'm a lake. And the entire world and the people in it are mountains with streams. And all of their streams, containing all their emotions, anger, triumph, greed, lust, love, fear, pain, angst, horror, all pour down into me. Fill me up and keep me there. Unable to leave. Unwilling to do so. Yet wanting to stay. To protect them from what I know. I know that I have no conception as to the inner wars and battles within my heart. I barely understand anything to do with human nature. I seem to. Maybe it's just because I accept it. Just accept it. That has eased my suffering unbelievably so. While all the others cry and mourn, I carry on. Dry the tears and think of a plan of attack. Grab people to do it. Put it into action. Execute it. Give the congratulations to others. It's always been my way. If you could see me. Actually, I'm glad you can't… I can't believe I'm writing this…



Trowa turned his tearstained eyes from the page and look up at the others. Standing there, in the doorway listening to his quiet sobs. He turned his eyes back to the leather bound book in his lap. Wiping his tears before they leaked onto the book, before they spoiled the evidence of what was written there. The person had been upset when he wrote it – evidence being the crumpled pages, Trowa gathered. No need to further damages to this artefact of the ages.

Carefully Trowa placed the book down on the bed and raised his face to once again greet the ones contained within the doorway. There was no point in smiling. No point in hiding what could so easily be seen. Trowa looked at the figure on the hospital bed. Yet, he had done so. For so long. And now he was dying. Dying of a broken heart. A soul lost to darkness. A mind longing for understanding. A being wanting with all its fibres to be held. Accepted. Loved. And, sick of watching all the sadness, all the suffering, and all the crying in the dark and of comrades trying to hide the tears unbidden he had stopped and taken a breath. Looked around and decided. Decided to do it. And there wasn't anything we could do. Nothing. So hopeless we felt. It was as if the world was on stand-by, standing still, awaiting his return.

Trowa lifted his gaze to watch the others slowly enter. We felt safest together. Together. That's just what he wanted. All of us to be together. Not arguing about injustices, the weather anything. He just wanted us to love the simple things in life. Just like he did. He did not expect us to be like him. Far from it. He just wanted the understanding. The understanding… he never received. Now, … he's gone. To fight our battle. To win our war. To protect those who can not protect themselves. That makes him sound so noble, so brave. And he is. In ways that we never imagined. In ways that he never accepted. Expected. The most innocent among us. Fighting the most bloody of all battles. Our poor baby. He was – is. The baby of the group. No one would have expected that just from looking in. Observing us as though we were fish in a bowl but he was. He was our golden child. And he's gone. To fight a war. That should never have started.

Our child is far from naive. Far from it. Yet, he is our innocent child. Eyes full with unanswered questions. That he never asks us. Never, out of fear of increasing our pain. Therefore, he burdens himself with our grief. He takes away our worries. Makes us feel care free. Our beautiful little baby.

Trowa's eyes wander the room. From the newly-weds of Zechs and Noin, huddled together on the couch. Mmm… that's right. We moved all of the comfortable furniture up to this room. The best couches and chairs. Favoured mattresses and things. Favourite belongings. To make this aching room more like home. Again. It was his idea. Our gentle child, our kind little golden angel – this was his idea. To make US more happy. To take away OUR pain. He never could stand to watch others suffer. He could never stand by and watch people collapse with grief. He had to do something. To make a difference and change the world. And he does. Everyday. Every day that he lives, he makes a difference. I once asked him, why? Why do this? Why do you do everything as if it's the most important thing you will ever do? As if all you do, matters? From the buying of flowers to the selling of cards? He turned; with that little half-smile of his that we have grown so fond of and told me. "I can't take… WE… can't take that chance that it doesn't."

And that's why we're all here. Why, he is there. We are unbelievably lucky that he feels it his duty, his way in life to make ours better. I cannot believe that it was he. We were so cruel to him at first. With that impassive mask he wore. To hide the pain from us. Therefore, we persisted. We made him change although he objected to the changes. So he changed the mask he wore to abide by us. To keep us happy. To fill us with content. Moreover, he has done that. Nevertheless, we want him back. We do not care about his faults. His uncertainties we shall overcome, his fears we will destroy, his loves we will bring out and do as much as possible. We will sit down just once and admire the sunset with him. Sit and watch the flowers grow. And love the simple things in life. Like he does.

Again, Trowa turns from his broodings to look at the others encompassed in this room. His room. Zechs and Noin on the couch. Quietly talking. About what he has no notion. Quatre is quietly consoling Dorothy. They have been dating since Dorothy overcame the death of her grandfather – with a little nudge from our golden seraph. Wufei is by the window. His eyes are unseeing as he eyes everything outside. Yet, he is not looking at the beauty below. He is watching the reflection in the window of our baby. Of our child. Wufei is turning now. He looks at Trowa, both with eyes full of sadness … and grief. Both sets of eyes travel to the figure, cloaked in a shroud of pain and misery, unconscious on the bed. Hilde is sitting beside him – in the only original chair in the room. Gently stroking his hand, his face, talking to him, asking him, begging him to pull through. We don't think that Hilde could live if he didn't. With the discovering of her boyfriend's cheating ways our golden babe has been the tower of strength in her life. Keeping her sane, calm, and talking away her pain –, and helping her overcome him, by starting a new, tentative relationship – with him.

Sally is checking the monitors and machines as per usual. Keeping herself busy to distract her mind, even for a little while, from the tragedy we are not willing to face. Trowa smiles – the emotion behind it unidentifiable – as Wufei walks over and hugs Sally from behind. Yes, those two have become an item. 'Took them long enough' was our babe's comment when Trowa asked him in secret what he thought. Those two do make quite a good pair. 'It's quite scary walking in and having two pairs of onyx eyes glaring at you,' was our babe's comment about an incident where he 'accidentally' walked in on them kissing.

Trowa feels his eyes prick with the beginnings of new tears. And himself? Did he have someone? Someone special to hold him tight? The answer to that question was simple – yes he did. With a little help from a special little cherub he and Lady Une had gotten their act together and become an item. A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to the see the one whom he was just pondering behind him. Sad yet reassuring eyes gazing at him. He leans back onto her. Maybe, just maybe, we will all survive this insanity.



Should I continue? If I receive enough reviews I will think about it *grins evilly* … anyway … what do you think? Review or I will set mutant wolves after you!!! Heheeh… Next chapter depends now on you. Should I continue? Or should I ditch it? Or leave it as a one-time flick?