Quatre could hear the sounds of gunshots in the air, as he raced for his Gundam. A young man, run in front of him. The man didn't know what to do; he wore an Oz uniform, and had a gun. Even though Quatre didn't like the violence, he knew that if the man yelled out, Oz soldiers would come and get him. So he didn't the only thing that came to mind, Quatre shot the man; the man fell to the ground, but was still alive. Dying, but alive.
Comrade, I did not want to kill you. If you jumped in here again, I would not do it, if you would be sensible too.
Looking down at the boy, Quatre didn't see an Oz soldier. He saw a boy, like someone he would have met on the streets or in the park. The man looked in Quatre's eyes; it haunted Quatre's soul. When the man had taken his last breath, Quatre searched the man. He didn't know what he was looking for. In his pockets was a wallet. Inside the wallet were pictures. There were pictures of family and friends. People that he knew and that knew him as a person, not as an Oz soldier.
But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind and called forth its appropriate response. It was that abstraction I stabbed. But now, for the first time, I see that you are a man like me.
Quatre didn't know how, but he made it to the Sandrock. He listened over the com-link as Duo talked all the way back home. But Quatre wasn't listening, he was thinking about that man he shot. Looking back at the pictures he thought to himself. When thinking of Oz, Quatre had always thought of the awful things Oz had done to the colonies. Did that man know what Oz had been doing to the colonies? Or was he a pawn in some game? The pictures of him told Quatre that if he knew, the man wouldn't have joined Oz. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Why didn't he think that perhaps Oz lied to their soldiers, liked they have lied to the people of Earth?
I thought of your hand grenades, your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late.
His family had worried about him going off to war. This man's family probably was worried about him right now. A pain of guilt shot through Quatre. Judging by the picture, the man had a wife, a family, people that cared for him. He wondered if he was ever told what kind of people he would meet. Not really, no one ever said that Oz would be like them. That a soldier was person, who was far from home.
Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony? Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?
When they landed, Duo was being his happy self. Quatre smiled, Duo always knew who to cheer a person up. Duo was full of life, not unlike that man. He frowned; he just couldn't get that man out of his head. Deciding to excuse himself, Quatre took a car, and drove into town. He wasn't sure of where he was going, but he had a rough idea.
If we threw away these rifles and this uniform you could be my friend just like Duo and Trowa….
Some how, some way, Quatre ended up in front of the house, of the man he shot. Before he could think, Quatre was walking up the steps of the house ringing the doorbell. A young woman, in her early twenties stepped out. Quatre reached into his pocket to get the wallet he took. Giving it to her, she sadly smiled, telling Quatre what a good man, her husband was. Thanking Quatre for delivering the news, Quatre left. He didn't feel any better for what had happened, but some of the weight had been lifted from his chest.
… Comrade,… today you, tomorrow me. But if I come out of it comrade, I will fight against this, that has struck us both down; from you, taken life and from me? Life also.
Something in Quatre changed that day, he promised himself, that when the war ended. He would work beside Relena to bring peace to the colonies and Earth.
Author's Notes & Disclaimers:
Kind of morbid, isn't it? The thought came to me, when I was reading my history book. I wondered if everyone in Oz was as bad, as people make them think, so I made this. I figured Quatre would fit this one nicely; he would be the type to think like this.
As for disclaimers, everyone knows that Gundam Wing isn't mine. As for the nice little bits I used for this one, it is a part from a book called the 'All Quiet on the Western Front' by Erich Maria. If you can't tell this book takes place during World War I. One more note the part in this story where it says 'you could be my friend just like Duo and Trowa' the real lines are 'you could be my brother like Kat and Albert'.