Reflections
A Songfic from Heero Yuy's Point of View
As Written by Lauryne
Song: "Reflections" by Christina Aguleria
Sometimes, I wish it were all over. A poor, pitiful, cowering part of me wishes that maybe there would be an end to the killing. An end to waking up each morning and wondering if I'll see any of the pilots again.
Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart
Quatre and Duo look so innocent there, sleeping on the couch. You'd think they were dreaming about evil teachers and homework, or that new girl at school, or perhaps that red T-Bird in the showroom-but no. The way Duo tossed and turned, Quatre's furrowed brow, belied nightmares of battle, only gone completely wrong. I knew, because I dreamt the same.
There is always an animalistic hunger to kill. The simple, sweetly savage joy of knocking down the bad guys, accomplishing the mission. That's what they were, of course. The evil ones. They didn't have families, hearts, doubtsthe list stretched into oblivion. Or did they?
Who is that boy I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
I am now
In a world where I
Have to hide my heart
And what I believe in
But somehow I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am
And what was I? It would be nice to picture myself the brave golden knight to drive back, eventually destroying, evil. But no. All the OZ soldiers were human, blindly following the orders of the insane. It's a kind of foolish bravery you have to admire.
And me? I hide under a mask of impassiveness. The Perfect Soldier protects me. And I can't be the "good guy", nor can I be the wild killing machine. I am Death. Quiet, efficient. But even death is not neat and clean. Helllook at Duo.
Duo is my exact opposite, and my twin. The kid simply won't shut up. Always cracking jokes, even in the middle of battle. And then there's Shinigami Duo- a relentless killer. His Gundam isn't called Deathscythe-Hell for nothing.
And my Gundam? And impassive number. Wing Zero. Emotionless. Dead.
Am I dead? Is Odin still alive underneath the Perfect Soldier, Heero Yuy?
Maybe I don't want to know.
Who is that boy I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection
Someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
I walked past the couch, through the kitchen, and out the back door. The door closed silently behind me. I walked down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, my cap hiding my eyes. I passed a dirty, graffiti-plastered wall. Surely, when the wall had been erected, the architect had not anticipated this. Perhaps God was my failing architect, if he existed at all. I was stained and dirtied with dirt and war and blood.
On the wall, there was a "wanted" poster. My face scowled out stormily, and I tore it off as I passed. Even then, I thought, What's the use? There are thousands more like it in this hellhole! That's what it was- a hellhole. A pitiful excuse for a flea bitten housing development. The universe had erupted in chaos, ignoring, perhaps even forsaking, this sleazy, seedy dump.
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
There's a heart that must be
Free to fly
That burns with a need to know
The reason why
A real angel was Relena. While we, the Gundam pilots, and OZ battled like lemmings trying to trample themselves, Relena was an island of good sense and calm in this torrential war. We could only try and kill each other while she stood between us, holding out the olive branch of peace.
But she was more than a great figure to me.
Time after time, it had been necessary to eliminate this obstacle. But I couldn't because I- I what? I love her? A part of me laughed scornfully. She really is an obstacle.
I passed a rancid, stagnant puddle, with a tired-looking oily rainbow filming over the surface. I stared at my reflection.
Why must we all conceal
What we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?
I won't pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
I stared back, expressionless.
Suddenly I smirked.
The monster.
I broke out in a rare smile.
The man.
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
end
A Songfic from Heero Yuy's Point of View
As Written by Lauryne
Song: "Reflections" by Christina Aguleria
Sometimes, I wish it were all over. A poor, pitiful, cowering part of me wishes that maybe there would be an end to the killing. An end to waking up each morning and wondering if I'll see any of the pilots again.
Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart
Quatre and Duo look so innocent there, sleeping on the couch. You'd think they were dreaming about evil teachers and homework, or that new girl at school, or perhaps that red T-Bird in the showroom-but no. The way Duo tossed and turned, Quatre's furrowed brow, belied nightmares of battle, only gone completely wrong. I knew, because I dreamt the same.
There is always an animalistic hunger to kill. The simple, sweetly savage joy of knocking down the bad guys, accomplishing the mission. That's what they were, of course. The evil ones. They didn't have families, hearts, doubtsthe list stretched into oblivion. Or did they?
Who is that boy I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
I am now
In a world where I
Have to hide my heart
And what I believe in
But somehow I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am
And what was I? It would be nice to picture myself the brave golden knight to drive back, eventually destroying, evil. But no. All the OZ soldiers were human, blindly following the orders of the insane. It's a kind of foolish bravery you have to admire.
And me? I hide under a mask of impassiveness. The Perfect Soldier protects me. And I can't be the "good guy", nor can I be the wild killing machine. I am Death. Quiet, efficient. But even death is not neat and clean. Helllook at Duo.
Duo is my exact opposite, and my twin. The kid simply won't shut up. Always cracking jokes, even in the middle of battle. And then there's Shinigami Duo- a relentless killer. His Gundam isn't called Deathscythe-Hell for nothing.
And my Gundam? And impassive number. Wing Zero. Emotionless. Dead.
Am I dead? Is Odin still alive underneath the Perfect Soldier, Heero Yuy?
Maybe I don't want to know.
Who is that boy I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection
Someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
I walked past the couch, through the kitchen, and out the back door. The door closed silently behind me. I walked down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, my cap hiding my eyes. I passed a dirty, graffiti-plastered wall. Surely, when the wall had been erected, the architect had not anticipated this. Perhaps God was my failing architect, if he existed at all. I was stained and dirtied with dirt and war and blood.
On the wall, there was a "wanted" poster. My face scowled out stormily, and I tore it off as I passed. Even then, I thought, What's the use? There are thousands more like it in this hellhole! That's what it was- a hellhole. A pitiful excuse for a flea bitten housing development. The universe had erupted in chaos, ignoring, perhaps even forsaking, this sleazy, seedy dump.
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
There's a heart that must be
Free to fly
That burns with a need to know
The reason why
A real angel was Relena. While we, the Gundam pilots, and OZ battled like lemmings trying to trample themselves, Relena was an island of good sense and calm in this torrential war. We could only try and kill each other while she stood between us, holding out the olive branch of peace.
But she was more than a great figure to me.
Time after time, it had been necessary to eliminate this obstacle. But I couldn't because I- I what? I love her? A part of me laughed scornfully. She really is an obstacle.
I passed a rancid, stagnant puddle, with a tired-looking oily rainbow filming over the surface. I stared at my reflection.
Why must we all conceal
What we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?
I won't pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
I stared back, expressionless.
Suddenly I smirked.
The monster.
I broke out in a rare smile.
The man.
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
end