Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Memories, Expectations, Anger Minor to Shadow, Wind Word count: 2,531

Series: Friends 52/??

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends.

Character Challenge =

Chapter 52

"There are many things in life you can not choose and one of them is your family, Chang Wu Fei. You simply have to learn to live with the family you are born into. There is another family though, the one you can choose for yourself and whom people call friends. There are various levels of friends but the ones to treasure are the rare true friends. The kind who stand at your back and support you up when life knocks you down. The kind who don't ask stupid questions of you when the world is falling down around your ears, they simply pull their sleeves up and stand beside you while you shovel the shit into restraints. The kind of friends who are simply there whenever you need them, for what ever reason you might need them. You have been fortunate to be graced with a number of these rare friends and are most fortunate in that these friends are still alive to stand with you."

Marquise had not moved. He could see him, a distorted shape in the deeper darkness, the firelight lending just enough flickering light to highlight the mass of pale hair. The fire spat and none of them moved, no one spoke. He dared not look at any of them, just at that dark opening in the tent.

"You survived the war because it is not in you to break before the winds of fate. Your Clan Elders made a decision you did not agree with; they were your family and they did not consult you… and if they did you thought they would wait and permit you to make the difference you were certain you could make. Have you ever really sat down with anyone, Chang Wu Fei and worked out how you feel about that?"

No, he had not. He dared not for fear of the despair that would overtake him at knowing they had considered him inadequate to the task assigned him. They. The Elders of the Clan. The people who had made the fateful decision to destroy his home, to cast him adrift from the culture he had grown up with and consigned him to forever be an outcaste. He could not take them to task over what they had done; they had taken their own lives along with the colony, along with the people unfortunate enough to be there. Thousands of lives lost because they had determined they could not face change, could not face losing autonomy they might have gained back in the fullness of time.

So many lives needlessly lost. Where there was life there was hope yet they had not sought that hope. They had given up, betraying everyone. Betraying him.

"Have you considered the others who survived? Who had the fortune not to be on the colony when it was destroyed? Have you totally divorced yourself from wanting to know why they did it? Have you passed beyond the point of wanting to pay them back for the anguish, the despair and the pain they gave you?"

Shut up! He had to shut up. If the man did not shut his mouth then he would shut it for him!

"You are not the only one to lose everything, Chang. Look around you at your friends. Do you think they have not lost anything? Anyone? Do you think they have places to go, people, friends and family waiting with open arms to welcome them home? Do you think life should be fairer with you because you had a family, a home, and a culture… a history? Life does not care what you have; it is an unthinking, uncaring muse intent on invention and curiosity."

It was all he could do not to fling himself at the tent and slam his fist into what had to be a smirking mouth. He wanted to run just as much as he wanted to hit the arsehole who thought himself fit to lecture Chang Wu Fei on the fairness of life.

"We make our own life. Every breath we take is a decision to live; to defy what ultimately comes to us all. Death. We make our own decisions even as we blame others for the decisions we make. We rail against others for the decisions they make which impact on us, but how hard they impact on us depends solely on us and what we do in reaction. Life is a cycle. We are born, we live our lives and we die. What happens between the birth and the death is for us to decide."

He would not look at the others. He would not look and see that they were staring at him. He would not look. Damn Marquise for this! Could the infuriating man not just shut his mouth!

"No one in this life is the same, we are all unique and in our uniqueness we are also the same. No one has the right to think themselves better than others. You have unique skills but so do other people. None of us is exactly the same as anyone else, yet we are all the same. We all rail against fate when the unexpected and unpleasant happens to us. We all sit with smug satisfaction and feel we are on top of the world, better than everyone around us from time to time. And we all cringe in the shadows of the night and weep silent tears against the unfairness of our copious losses, as opposed to the miniscule gains we have made."

The fire flared, a spark contacted the tent and he watched as Maxwell's fingers snuffed the ember. He… would not look. He wanted to scream at the obnoxious man, but something was lodged in his throat and it was not a scream. He was afraid if he let it out it would be a sob. No, he would not open his mouth but he would jam his fist down the other mans throat to shut him up.

"The way of the warrior is not to sit idle and permit the injustices of the world to impact upon us. The way of the warrior is to fight for what we believe in, or to fight for what others believe in. We might pay lip service to the beliefs of others, but they may not necessarily be our own beliefs. Some people fight for the thrill of the contest. Others fight for a specific goal. Still others fight from fear. So many of us fight from fear and because of fear. Some fight for justice and some fight because they hate and it is a fiery need to quench that hate. Others fight for love and they are the ones who are the most dangerous, because if you fight for love there is nothing you can not accomplish. But you have to recognize what it is you love, just as you need to recognize what it is you hate."

He wished he would shut up. He just wanted him to be quiet. Why had no one told him to be silent? Why had no one moved?

"We never stop fighting in our lives. It is a fight to draw breath each day. It is a fight to recognize what our emotions are telling us. It is a fight to not smother the one we love, to give them the freedom to make their own choices in life. It is all a matter of choice, of making decisions, of deciding in retrospect if we were right or wrong. If we were wrong we have to decide if we will correct our mistake, if we will ignore it or if we will compound it."

He sucked in a breath, hiding his shaking hands in the folds of his clothing, hoping they would think he was shaking from the cold. He wanted to run but still he was held here, immobile while something dark and shadowy loomed near. It was dangerous, a threat and it was watching, waiting… for what he could not say, but it was there. Waiting.

"We usually find it was a mistake to make a decision without talking it over with someone and that someone is usually a friend. One we can trust to listen to what we have to say and to give us an honest opinion. We might talk to one friend or more, if we are fortunate enough to have more than one friend we trust on such a deep level. If we are very fortunate we might have their help in settling what disturbs us. They might see much more clearly than we do as proximity blurs the details. Keeping our own council is all very well but we need input copious quantities of input, if we are to make an informed and wise decision."

Someone in the room dragged in what sounded to be a pained breath. It was enough to cause him to lift his head, to glance across the fire and see Yuy with his head lowered, eyes on the dancing flames, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"We place a great deal of trust in others, particularly if we are soldiers. We trust our comrades to guard our backs. We trust our commanding officer to lead us safely into and out of battle. We trust our commanding officers to give us wise and informed instruction and expect those who advise our officers to give them sound and accurate information. It takes only one fault in the chain of succession to bring chaos out of order, to make a fatal move out of what should have been a walk across a field."

A small movement sent his eyes to Barton whose fists were clenching and unclenching but whose face revealed no emotion though the visible emerald eye looked too bright in the flickering light.

"When you are a soldier you have to trust others, particularly the ones you call your friends. They are the ones you would go into a fire fight for to pull them out of danger. They are the ones who would go into the fire fight to pull your arse out of the fire. When the fighting is all done it is the friends who have survived the chaos with you that you turn to and talk about what comes next. You talk about after the fighting, after the dying and when you are to start living outside of the structured order and chaos that is war. It is the friend who watches you make a mess out of your first attempt and takes those few steps closer to you to support you and encourage you to try again. It does not matter how many times you falter, they are there to prop you up and encourage you to go on, to try again."

Maxwell's hand clenched and looking up he saw Maxwell was staring at Barton and his lips moved, no sound but the shape of those lips was unmistakable. The single word. The name. Quatre.

"The smart soldier recognizes the value of friendship. He knows when to hold tight to it, when to understand the ties are a boon and when it is time to step back. On our own we are strong, for all we have our weak days. Life is survival and it is possible to survive it alone. Possible, but hardly pleasurable and far from fulfilling. It is far more satisfying to recognize we are stronger with our friends, especially if we are unfortunate enough to have no family we can trust to support us when we are low, and celebrate with us when we succeed. Then our family is our friends. If they stick by us we can conquer any challenge that presents itself to us, and we are as willing to help them stand tall as they were to help us."

This man… how could this man… this stranger… He was not a friend. He was the enemy. He had been the enemy! How could he talk about friends? How could someone like him know what a friend was?

"Those who do not know the way of the soldier, who has not themselves lived as a soldier, can never know the nightmares; can never understand the feel of blood on your hands. The politicians in their air conditioned offices can not know what it is like to wade through thigh high mud, to stare at a man face to face and pull the trigger, watching as you blow out his brains. They can not know the warmth of the blood that hits you in the face, blood that covers your hands and never ever washes off. Politicians are a world apart and do not associate their decisions with the men who have to enforce their pontificating. Politicians do not have to face the reality of their improvements for the greater good of mankind."

He was not the only one to suck in a deep breath.

"Mobile suit pilots who have not faced their counterparts can all too easily become like those politicians. You are divorced from the actual human element, from seeing another man's blood and guts and pain as he dies. It is remote, not a part of you, just some nameless metal monster you kill as you would in a computer game. Have you stood beside your wounded friend, supported him and felt his blood on your hands? Have you grovelled in the mud and gore to find out if your friend is alive; or if you live because he made the ultimate sacrifice? Have you sat on a bloody battle field with the dead all around you and wondered what the hell you were fighting for? If the people who sent you there actually knew what they were doing? Have your screamed your lungs out because it was you they sent and they hadn't the guts to do it themselves?"

Oh he was shaking, trembling like a leaf in a wind.

"It's your friends who find you then and they are no less in pain and floundering in despair than you. And because it's them, because they know, because they have lived it too… you survive it and you move on. You know it will haunt your nightmares but when it gets bad they will be there, as you will be for them. You know it for the truth it is. The politicians who make the decisions that ultimately make us bleed and kill for them have no concept of what a soldier is. Likewise, they have no concept of what a friend really is. Don't turn your backs on each other because if you don't have each other, what do you have?"

What did he have? What did he own… a few paltry possessions, enough to throw in a duffle bag. Materially he had very little and with no family, no blood to bind him to someone… what indeed did he have?

"You have friends. You have friends who need you and whom you need. Don't dismiss them lest one day you turn around and you learn you really are on your own."

End

Karina Robertson 2009