The End of A Mystery
Chapter 3
Once again, I have gotten no e-mails concerning that one dude who fixes things. I feel as though I am talking into a void. IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE? DOESN'T ANYONE HEAR ME, HEAR WHAT I'M SAYING? With all the advances in communication, this is why so many people in the world are lost. This is why so many people write mournful poetry and over-dramatic fanfics. I am begging you, and I'm sure I will again before this chapter is over, please, if you are there, write. If you have a heart, just send me a word. It only takes one e-mail, and I will write this story to the end and put every ounce of sincerity into these flat black lines. Otherwise, I will leave this story untold. My e-mail is BobbyJo7@msn.com.
Once again, I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters therein. I give all due respect to the writers of this, my favorite show, and wish they would continue it (hint: in the future when the Gundam pilots have grown up and have found new insights into this reality we call life) And now, although I know you haven't actually read this, my duties as a fanfic writer have been mollified and so, on to chapter three.
Chapter Three
"Mr. Treize. There's a message coming in for you."
Treize Kushrenada lifted one exotic eyebrow in surprise over this announcement.
"Who is it?"
"It should come up on the screen in a minute Sir." the young man at the computer was typing feverishly to get the picture on the screen when it suddenly appeared.
"Heero." Treize was surprised.
"I thought you were in the area. Are the other pilots around too? What is it you want Heero?"
"I'm challenging you, Treize, to a battle of mobile suits, within the hour. You will see me shortly on your RADAR screens."
"Why now, Heero? What do you know that I don't?"
"Do you accept?"
Treize stared at the boy on the screen before him. He remained silent as he scrutinized the larger than life, blue eyes. There was a light there, in the pupil of that eye, from controls that he knew filled the Gundams. The blue lights gave Heero's skin a pale appearance, almost ghastly to see, as though he'd never seen daylight but had lived all his life in that cockpit, in the dark, with only the watery light of the stars. Remembering a deal they'd struck what seemed like a long time ago, he asked the question.
"Is it time for us to die, Heero?"
"Please, Treize." There was an odd note then, of urgency. Treize nearly took a step back. Heero Yuy was begging him to fight-perhaps to kill-him. It was a mission. No matter how hard they tried to intercept the messages of the enemy, all they ever got were hints and static. They'd heard nothing of this and Treize didn't know which response he should make. He and Heero were peers in the art of maneuvering mobile suits. His mobile suit however was not equal to Heero's. He had given Epyon, for some reason he now failed to remember, to Zechs shortly after he and Heero had traded. He was now using the Talgeese when he used any. However, he was beginning to get the feeling that it wasn't just lights and shadows that were making the kid appear strange.
"I accept." There was only one way to find out what was going on. He would somehow beat Heero, bring him back, and question him. There were cells enough on his ship to accommodate even a Gundam pilot.
"Acknowledged." And the face distorted and vanished from the screen.
Turning away from empty wall, Treize made his way down the hall to his chamber where he made himself ready for the battle. Less than ten minutes later, he was standing before his Talgeese. I don't know what's going on, Talgeese. Is this the way? The Talgeese remained inanimate and Treize again regretted the loss of Epyon. Epyon could answer any question because of how the Zero system analyzed the pilot's techniques and flaws. "Is it time for us to die?" He waited for a moment and then climbed up into the cockpit. He started the mobile suit and ordered the door opened and flew out into the vastness of space, to face an adversary in a battle they'd both long known would come.
"All my efforts have failed. I can't seem to get a hold of him." Quatre's voice was filled with despairing concern. It had been half an hour since Heero had left. They knew that a message had been sent from the Zero to Treize's ship and could easily guess its contents after they watched the tiny blip that was Treize leave his ship. (Thanks to that one dude who fixes things, they have RADAR that reaches way further than Treize's own state-of-the-art equipment.) Duo was sitting on the floor near the wall, his elbows on his knees and his head on his arms. It's my fault. I should have found out where the damn bullet went before he ran out of the room. By now there could be more blood than wires in that cockpit and with enemies flying like demented bats all around him (stupid Heero) he doesn't stand a snowballs chance in Hell. Would it have killed him to be reasonable?. Yes. Definitely yes.
"Heero should know better than to let his emotions get in the way of this thinking." Trowa's softly stated comment showed absolutely nothing of what was going on in his own mind. "But I'm sure he'll pull through." Quatre raised his head at this slightly optimistic remark, praying inside his head that it would be true.
"I hope you're right, Trowa. I'd hate to see one of my friends die this way. Trowa, would you get Wufei for me?" Trowa's eyes were blank. "He should know what happens." There was a sound from his computer screen, drawing his eyes. He turned back to Trowa, but he wasn't there. I'm never going to get used to silent people.
Dorothy had seen the transmission from Zero also. She smiled softly, for a moment looking deceptively innocent with her white blond hair and pupilless eyes. He took the bait. I wonder what will happen next. I'm sure it'll be exciting. As time went by, she watched as Treize left the safety of his own ship and the two spots of light as they battled, with no idea of the strokes given nor taken.
Heero watched the white light that was Treize as he came closer, eventually becoming recognizable to his tired eyes. He was already having a hard time staying conscious, even after he'd tried his best to slow and stop the blood. An extra shirt that he'd left inside his Gundam was wrapped tightly around his waist, barely slowing the blood from the wound in his side. It was bad, he knew that. His hands were shaky and cold, and he felt high- strung and strangely restless. And then Treize was there and he had no more time to think. The Zero system took over, making him oblivious to both time and pain, his entire being devoted to this battle that would decide the fate of the girl who would save the world. The battle was endless, beginingless. There was nothing in his life but himself and his enemy whom he must destroy. To save the world. What a silly thought. His focus was breaking. The Zero system was powerless against death. How can I believe that she could save anyone, after I've killed her and saved her so many times already? How can she help the world when she can't even help herself? Can't she? Why not? If I can believe in her, won't the world? Heero watched as the darkness suddenly came through the window and filled his cockpit. The lights dimmed while the smoky night settled inside his bones and his skull, blinding him slowly and freezing his blood as it slid confusedly through his abused body.
Wing Zero wasn't moving anymore. Heero had suddenly stopped fighting. Treize was suspicious. Had he received a message from that strange man with the fake hand, the one they'd been trying to catch since before the war began? Minutes went by and there was no movement. Finally, Treize sent a message, partly to see his opponent and partly to provoke some response out of him.
"Heero, do you surrender?" Through the opened line, he saw the boy and immediately used the arm of the Talgeese to grab hold of the Gundam before it began drifting. There was no color in his complexion, and now Treize was sure that it wasn't just the lights. Strapped to the seat, the boy's head lolled to one side. His eyes were closed and his jaw was slack. When Treize grabbed the Gundam, the boy's head swayed gently from side to side, his brown hair covering most of his face. Treize couldn't tell if he was breathing. "My God." He got a strong hold on the Wing Zero's arm and sent more power to the engines, pulling the silent machine all the way back to his ship.
"No. Heero, how can you go with him? Fight him, please, Heero." Quatre's voice was a soft moan. Duo remained silent. It hurt too much to talk. Maybe in a week or so.
"And then there were four." Quatre's head snapped up to Wufei at such a callous remark and his gaze was met almost spitefully by the Chinese boy.
"Do you think he was able to decide if he wanted to go with that bastard? Do you actually think he stood a chance with blood pouring out of his side?" His gaze was directed at Duo during this cold remark, but Duo remained leaning against the wall in his hopeless position, preyed on by guilt and disgust at his own fear. Receiving no response from the American, Wufei continued.
"It was his choice to make, however stupid. If he's dead, he's dead. If he's alive, I'm sure he'll be happy to take care of himself as he has since we've known him." He glared at the other pilots, almost daring them to speak. "I suggest we attack White Fang and save the world instead of crying over someone who doesn't need it and who I seriously doubt would show even the slightest regret if we were all killed in the fight." Duo finally raised his head to glare violet at his ally. Standing, he strode threateningly towards Wufei and right past him, through the door and to his room.
Sitting by the large, thick window, he watched the impersonal skies, searching hopelessly for any sign of his estranged friend.
Treize's troops were surprised to see the Wing Zero inside their ship. "I want someone to get the pilot out of that cockpit and find out his condition. I will be back in a few minutes." Treize made his way to his quarters, showered and dressed quickly. Stopping by the hospital wing on his way back, he requested the status of the new patient.
"Patient, Mr. Kushrenada? You mean the young man that got his leg blown off last week? He's fine." The doctors were totally confused.
"The boy. He's not here?"
"No one's arrived within the last five days, Sir."
Dismissing the doctors from his thoughts, he immediately returned to the hangar. There was a crowd surrounding the base of the Gundam but no one seemed inclined to carry out Treize's orders. Thinking to make his subordinates understand by example rather than punishment, he made himself known and was allowed through the throng. When he came to the center, near one of the feet of the Gundam, he spoke.
"Why weren't my orders carried out?" His voice was calm and perfectly refined. There was no response.
"You were afraid of the pilot." There was silence.
"And you should be. The Gundam pilots are notorious for their acts of violence and destruction. However, you should notice that since I brought him here, there has been no movement whatsoever from the person inside of that cockpit." Treize then climbed the ladder to the cockpit. Inside he was furious, but it was beneath him to allow his subordinates to know that. In the time it had taken since the boy had passed out, he could very easily be dead, meaning that whatever chance Treize may have had of receiving information from him would be totally obsolete. Pushing a button near the door, he stepped back as it opened and then stepped inside.
There was blood on the floor and on the boy's hands. There was blood on the controls and the seat. The air was warm and smelled metallic in his nostrils. He stooped as he unbuckled Heero Yuy from the sticky seat and eased him into his arms, one at the back of his knees and one beneath his neck. Stepping out of the cockpit, he heard the collective murmur from below him as they saw the dark stains that were already spreading onto Treize's clean clothes. Balancing precariously on the rungs of the ladder, he made his way back down to the ground, laying his young rival on a stretcher that had been brought by the doctors from the hospital wing. Ignoring his audience, he searched out the wound and pressed his two fingers to the young man's neck. For a whole minute he felt nothing, and then, the weakest heartbeat imaginable. With a charming smile, he reported his find to his audience who, silent until then, broke into applause at their leader's triumph.
Giving orders to the doctors to have the patient restrained at all times and to keep the door of the improvised sickroom locked from the outside, he watched them as they ran down the hall, pushing the stretcher ahead of them. Treize Kushrenada indulged himself in a vague smile before returning to his control room, where he belonged.
That is the end of the third chapter. You probably won't read this, so I'll make it short. I need to get e-mails-no, not e-mails, just an e-mail, otherwise I'm either going to think that no one likes this, or that I'm talking to myself; and maybe I am, it's just-even if I am talking to myself- even if only one person reads this in all of the world-please. Please write. Say anything. Be an asshole. Be critical. Be caustic. Be insane- It doesn't matter! I don't care what you are or what you'll be. Just-be!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------Sincerely hopeful, ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------StarChild
Chapter 3
Once again, I have gotten no e-mails concerning that one dude who fixes things. I feel as though I am talking into a void. IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE? DOESN'T ANYONE HEAR ME, HEAR WHAT I'M SAYING? With all the advances in communication, this is why so many people in the world are lost. This is why so many people write mournful poetry and over-dramatic fanfics. I am begging you, and I'm sure I will again before this chapter is over, please, if you are there, write. If you have a heart, just send me a word. It only takes one e-mail, and I will write this story to the end and put every ounce of sincerity into these flat black lines. Otherwise, I will leave this story untold. My e-mail is BobbyJo7@msn.com.
Once again, I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters therein. I give all due respect to the writers of this, my favorite show, and wish they would continue it (hint: in the future when the Gundam pilots have grown up and have found new insights into this reality we call life) And now, although I know you haven't actually read this, my duties as a fanfic writer have been mollified and so, on to chapter three.
Chapter Three
"Mr. Treize. There's a message coming in for you."
Treize Kushrenada lifted one exotic eyebrow in surprise over this announcement.
"Who is it?"
"It should come up on the screen in a minute Sir." the young man at the computer was typing feverishly to get the picture on the screen when it suddenly appeared.
"Heero." Treize was surprised.
"I thought you were in the area. Are the other pilots around too? What is it you want Heero?"
"I'm challenging you, Treize, to a battle of mobile suits, within the hour. You will see me shortly on your RADAR screens."
"Why now, Heero? What do you know that I don't?"
"Do you accept?"
Treize stared at the boy on the screen before him. He remained silent as he scrutinized the larger than life, blue eyes. There was a light there, in the pupil of that eye, from controls that he knew filled the Gundams. The blue lights gave Heero's skin a pale appearance, almost ghastly to see, as though he'd never seen daylight but had lived all his life in that cockpit, in the dark, with only the watery light of the stars. Remembering a deal they'd struck what seemed like a long time ago, he asked the question.
"Is it time for us to die, Heero?"
"Please, Treize." There was an odd note then, of urgency. Treize nearly took a step back. Heero Yuy was begging him to fight-perhaps to kill-him. It was a mission. No matter how hard they tried to intercept the messages of the enemy, all they ever got were hints and static. They'd heard nothing of this and Treize didn't know which response he should make. He and Heero were peers in the art of maneuvering mobile suits. His mobile suit however was not equal to Heero's. He had given Epyon, for some reason he now failed to remember, to Zechs shortly after he and Heero had traded. He was now using the Talgeese when he used any. However, he was beginning to get the feeling that it wasn't just lights and shadows that were making the kid appear strange.
"I accept." There was only one way to find out what was going on. He would somehow beat Heero, bring him back, and question him. There were cells enough on his ship to accommodate even a Gundam pilot.
"Acknowledged." And the face distorted and vanished from the screen.
Turning away from empty wall, Treize made his way down the hall to his chamber where he made himself ready for the battle. Less than ten minutes later, he was standing before his Talgeese. I don't know what's going on, Talgeese. Is this the way? The Talgeese remained inanimate and Treize again regretted the loss of Epyon. Epyon could answer any question because of how the Zero system analyzed the pilot's techniques and flaws. "Is it time for us to die?" He waited for a moment and then climbed up into the cockpit. He started the mobile suit and ordered the door opened and flew out into the vastness of space, to face an adversary in a battle they'd both long known would come.
"All my efforts have failed. I can't seem to get a hold of him." Quatre's voice was filled with despairing concern. It had been half an hour since Heero had left. They knew that a message had been sent from the Zero to Treize's ship and could easily guess its contents after they watched the tiny blip that was Treize leave his ship. (Thanks to that one dude who fixes things, they have RADAR that reaches way further than Treize's own state-of-the-art equipment.) Duo was sitting on the floor near the wall, his elbows on his knees and his head on his arms. It's my fault. I should have found out where the damn bullet went before he ran out of the room. By now there could be more blood than wires in that cockpit and with enemies flying like demented bats all around him (stupid Heero) he doesn't stand a snowballs chance in Hell. Would it have killed him to be reasonable?. Yes. Definitely yes.
"Heero should know better than to let his emotions get in the way of this thinking." Trowa's softly stated comment showed absolutely nothing of what was going on in his own mind. "But I'm sure he'll pull through." Quatre raised his head at this slightly optimistic remark, praying inside his head that it would be true.
"I hope you're right, Trowa. I'd hate to see one of my friends die this way. Trowa, would you get Wufei for me?" Trowa's eyes were blank. "He should know what happens." There was a sound from his computer screen, drawing his eyes. He turned back to Trowa, but he wasn't there. I'm never going to get used to silent people.
Dorothy had seen the transmission from Zero also. She smiled softly, for a moment looking deceptively innocent with her white blond hair and pupilless eyes. He took the bait. I wonder what will happen next. I'm sure it'll be exciting. As time went by, she watched as Treize left the safety of his own ship and the two spots of light as they battled, with no idea of the strokes given nor taken.
Heero watched the white light that was Treize as he came closer, eventually becoming recognizable to his tired eyes. He was already having a hard time staying conscious, even after he'd tried his best to slow and stop the blood. An extra shirt that he'd left inside his Gundam was wrapped tightly around his waist, barely slowing the blood from the wound in his side. It was bad, he knew that. His hands were shaky and cold, and he felt high- strung and strangely restless. And then Treize was there and he had no more time to think. The Zero system took over, making him oblivious to both time and pain, his entire being devoted to this battle that would decide the fate of the girl who would save the world. The battle was endless, beginingless. There was nothing in his life but himself and his enemy whom he must destroy. To save the world. What a silly thought. His focus was breaking. The Zero system was powerless against death. How can I believe that she could save anyone, after I've killed her and saved her so many times already? How can she help the world when she can't even help herself? Can't she? Why not? If I can believe in her, won't the world? Heero watched as the darkness suddenly came through the window and filled his cockpit. The lights dimmed while the smoky night settled inside his bones and his skull, blinding him slowly and freezing his blood as it slid confusedly through his abused body.
Wing Zero wasn't moving anymore. Heero had suddenly stopped fighting. Treize was suspicious. Had he received a message from that strange man with the fake hand, the one they'd been trying to catch since before the war began? Minutes went by and there was no movement. Finally, Treize sent a message, partly to see his opponent and partly to provoke some response out of him.
"Heero, do you surrender?" Through the opened line, he saw the boy and immediately used the arm of the Talgeese to grab hold of the Gundam before it began drifting. There was no color in his complexion, and now Treize was sure that it wasn't just the lights. Strapped to the seat, the boy's head lolled to one side. His eyes were closed and his jaw was slack. When Treize grabbed the Gundam, the boy's head swayed gently from side to side, his brown hair covering most of his face. Treize couldn't tell if he was breathing. "My God." He got a strong hold on the Wing Zero's arm and sent more power to the engines, pulling the silent machine all the way back to his ship.
"No. Heero, how can you go with him? Fight him, please, Heero." Quatre's voice was a soft moan. Duo remained silent. It hurt too much to talk. Maybe in a week or so.
"And then there were four." Quatre's head snapped up to Wufei at such a callous remark and his gaze was met almost spitefully by the Chinese boy.
"Do you think he was able to decide if he wanted to go with that bastard? Do you actually think he stood a chance with blood pouring out of his side?" His gaze was directed at Duo during this cold remark, but Duo remained leaning against the wall in his hopeless position, preyed on by guilt and disgust at his own fear. Receiving no response from the American, Wufei continued.
"It was his choice to make, however stupid. If he's dead, he's dead. If he's alive, I'm sure he'll be happy to take care of himself as he has since we've known him." He glared at the other pilots, almost daring them to speak. "I suggest we attack White Fang and save the world instead of crying over someone who doesn't need it and who I seriously doubt would show even the slightest regret if we were all killed in the fight." Duo finally raised his head to glare violet at his ally. Standing, he strode threateningly towards Wufei and right past him, through the door and to his room.
Sitting by the large, thick window, he watched the impersonal skies, searching hopelessly for any sign of his estranged friend.
Treize's troops were surprised to see the Wing Zero inside their ship. "I want someone to get the pilot out of that cockpit and find out his condition. I will be back in a few minutes." Treize made his way to his quarters, showered and dressed quickly. Stopping by the hospital wing on his way back, he requested the status of the new patient.
"Patient, Mr. Kushrenada? You mean the young man that got his leg blown off last week? He's fine." The doctors were totally confused.
"The boy. He's not here?"
"No one's arrived within the last five days, Sir."
Dismissing the doctors from his thoughts, he immediately returned to the hangar. There was a crowd surrounding the base of the Gundam but no one seemed inclined to carry out Treize's orders. Thinking to make his subordinates understand by example rather than punishment, he made himself known and was allowed through the throng. When he came to the center, near one of the feet of the Gundam, he spoke.
"Why weren't my orders carried out?" His voice was calm and perfectly refined. There was no response.
"You were afraid of the pilot." There was silence.
"And you should be. The Gundam pilots are notorious for their acts of violence and destruction. However, you should notice that since I brought him here, there has been no movement whatsoever from the person inside of that cockpit." Treize then climbed the ladder to the cockpit. Inside he was furious, but it was beneath him to allow his subordinates to know that. In the time it had taken since the boy had passed out, he could very easily be dead, meaning that whatever chance Treize may have had of receiving information from him would be totally obsolete. Pushing a button near the door, he stepped back as it opened and then stepped inside.
There was blood on the floor and on the boy's hands. There was blood on the controls and the seat. The air was warm and smelled metallic in his nostrils. He stooped as he unbuckled Heero Yuy from the sticky seat and eased him into his arms, one at the back of his knees and one beneath his neck. Stepping out of the cockpit, he heard the collective murmur from below him as they saw the dark stains that were already spreading onto Treize's clean clothes. Balancing precariously on the rungs of the ladder, he made his way back down to the ground, laying his young rival on a stretcher that had been brought by the doctors from the hospital wing. Ignoring his audience, he searched out the wound and pressed his two fingers to the young man's neck. For a whole minute he felt nothing, and then, the weakest heartbeat imaginable. With a charming smile, he reported his find to his audience who, silent until then, broke into applause at their leader's triumph.
Giving orders to the doctors to have the patient restrained at all times and to keep the door of the improvised sickroom locked from the outside, he watched them as they ran down the hall, pushing the stretcher ahead of them. Treize Kushrenada indulged himself in a vague smile before returning to his control room, where he belonged.
That is the end of the third chapter. You probably won't read this, so I'll make it short. I need to get e-mails-no, not e-mails, just an e-mail, otherwise I'm either going to think that no one likes this, or that I'm talking to myself; and maybe I am, it's just-even if I am talking to myself- even if only one person reads this in all of the world-please. Please write. Say anything. Be an asshole. Be critical. Be caustic. Be insane- It doesn't matter! I don't care what you are or what you'll be. Just-be!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------Sincerely hopeful, ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------StarChild