Insight
Part 2
Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters (though I wish I did!). I'm just a humble fan writing this for fun.
Warnings: Shounen-ai, 3+4/4+3
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Quatre's message remained on Trowa's mind for the next few days. While practicing his new tightrope act for the following week's performance, the words echoed in his mind over and over again. As he tended the circus lions, he unconsciously noted that the golden fur was not as blonde as the Arab's brilliant yellow hair. He even wondered if he tidied the unconscious Heero's messy coif if it would resemble Quatre's soft bangs.
At this thought, Trowa let out an exasperated chuckle. This was getting ridiculous. One communication from one of his fellow pilots should not be putting him in such a state. With the exception of Catherine - who presently sat knitting next to the unconscious Heero - no one had ever worried about Trowa. And nor should they, Trowa emphatically said to himself. Personal attachments only got in the way of the mission. The mission is the prime objective, the only matter of importance in life. But now that the mission was gone -
The sound of a sharp intake of breath filled the air. Trowa whipped his head around quickly. He looked at Catherine. The brown haired girl had dropped her knitting needles and was staring intently at the injured boy, a worried look in her blue eyes. She placed her hand on Heero's head, stroking his dark hair in a maternal fashion. The boy's head rolled to the side.
"Relena…," Heero rasped. The eyelids slowly parted, revealing a pair of bloodshot cobalt eyes. "Where am I?" he questioned, his brows lowering confrontationally.
"Hush," the girl soothed. "Lie still. I'm Catherine. You're safe." She turned to Trowa and inclined her head towards the bunk where Heero lay, motioning him to come over. The tall boy walked over to sit by his comrade as Catherine left the room. Heero regarded the silent pilot.
"How long have I been like this?" Heero demanded, his eyes darting about the room, analyzing his surroundings.
"Almost a month," Trowa replied.
"That long?" Trowa nodded. Heero grunted and looked at the multitude of bandages that covered his body. "I appreciate your help." The Japanese boy's intensity was powerful. Trowa could feel it pervading the whole room with a sense of urgency. "What has happened while I was unconscious?"
Trowa's face was impassive and his voice calm as he related the aftermath of the battle, the lack of missions and a description of Heero's injuries, but his green eyes were tinged with grimness.
"Your self-detonation…," Trowa hesitated. "I really respect your dedication and your bravery." The brown-haired pilot bowed his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt uncertain, lost without his missions. And the tumult of repressed and confused emotion raised by Quatre's message only served to augment his self-doubt.
Heero's fierce dark eyes caught his. "The only true way to live is to act on your emotions."
Trowa's mind replayed Heero's words, dwelling on the word emotion. Emotion. In my experience, he thought, emotion just gets in the way and complicates the mission objective. Yet the perfect soldier claimed this emotion as the core of his credo. If he acted on his emotion to protect the colonies by self-destructing, perhaps -
"Then should I be following your example?" Trowa asked earnestly.
The pilot gave an almost imperceptible wry grin. "Well, I'll warn you, it hurts like hell."
A few seconds of silence elapsed before Trowa realized that Heero was making a joke. The irony of the situation seemed almost funnier than the statement itself. The green-eyed pilot threw his head back in a true belly laugh. Yet Trowa's mind lingered on Heero's self-detonation. Perhaps this would be a way to resolve his feelings. Perhaps this would be the way to regain the safe feeling of having a mission and ignore the confusion of his heart.
To be continued…
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