Disclaimer: Look, if I owned any of this stuff, I'd be doing something other than writing fanfiction! ;)
Watching You
Part 7
I hadn't meant to. But he just got me so damn *worked up*, what else was I supposed to do? He could get me worked up by not speaking to me, just as easily as he could get me worked up by yelling at me. The two situations were one and the same. And I hated that.
In fact, this was almost worse.
And now, here I was, lying on a bench in the workout room and staring at the ceiling, sweat dripping into my eyes and stinging them with salt.
The door opened and I looked over, wondering who it was, and it was Wufei who walked through the door. He cast me the briefest of glances before proceeding to ignore me, going straight to the corner with the weight racks and beginning to skim through them until he found something he deemed appropriate.
I sat up and pulled my sweatshirt over my head. He had no need to see any of *that*, and I blushed crimson with shame at the state of my mottled skin. I hated the way I looked, hated the scars that marred my skin, and hated having anyone see them.
I turned my attention back to Wufei in the corner. I could feel my eyes narrow. His "accident" hadn't been all that long ago – should he really be in here, lifting weights of all things? His broken ribs couldn't be much more than barely healed, if that, and I knew he wouldn't care in the least about that.
But going and re-cracking ribs didn't sound like a terribly intelligent idea to me.
"Look," I said, standing up, knowing he wouldn't acknowledge my presence but hoping that he would at least listen to me, regardless. "You know, I can't imagine it being a wonderful idea to do that with your ribs the way they are, still. I know you hate me and won't talk to me, but at least listen to me, please. You're only going to hurt them again."
He said nothing, did nothing to indicate that he had heard my request. He only picked up a set of weights and moved to the farthest corner of the room.
I sighed.
"*Wufei*," I said, more sharply but still eliciting no reaction. I stood and began making my way towards the corner. "Wufei, you can't ignore me forever. Even you're not that good."
He began bicep curls – and I could tell it hurt, from the tensed look on his face that wasn't quite the normal look of concentration I'd seen when he'd done katas or something similar a million times before.
God, was the boy really that stupid?
"Wufei," I said shortly, crossing my arms over my chest, because I was so damned sick of how much this all *hurt*, of how much it ached to be ignored, of how much he was killing himself and how no one seemed to be doing anything about it.
Well, over the past few weeks, I'd made up my mind. *I* was going to do something about it. And I didn't know what – but right now, he wasn't leaving me much choice, so I was going to improvise and see what I got. I couldn't possibly end up worse off than I was right now, with him ignoring me to the point where I could probably punch him in the face without getting a reaction…
Or was that really it? Was that what I was going to have to do?
I sincerely hoped not.
"Wufei, stop or I'm going to *make* you stop," I tried, hardening my voice, my eyes, my composure.
That did something – he didn't stop, but he looked up at me. *At* me, instead of around or through me. Dark eyes glittered in the midday sun streaming through the window as he sized me up, realized I was no threat, and then stared me down.
"I will," I repeated, as firmly as I could. Because he we went again, he was working me up and I really *did* want to punch the boy in the face right about now. No matter that he'd have me pinned to the floor seconds later, probably with some cracked ribs of my own.
He said nothing, however, so obviously more was required on my part. I searched my mind for something to offer.
"Look, I told you before. You're selling yourself short. And what's more, you're killing yourself. You're killing yourself from the inside out, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you do that. I can't. God knows why, I'd just as soon wish for the ice that I can see in Heero's eyes, if it meant that I wouldn't have to feel this way. But I do. And I'm not going to let you do this."
His eyes flashed dark.
"Because even this, "I gestured at what he was doing now, "is killing you, in some small way. Stop *hurting* yourself, baka, before there's nothing left of you but-"
"And what are you going to do about it?" he hissed, startling me into silence as he finally spoke to me, after all this time. "Save me? Save me how? What the hell can *you* do, onna?"
There was a sick grin on his face. I had this terrible feeling, this horrible premonition that he had hit a breaking point, that he was going to do something stupid, and do it soon if I couldn't stop him.
"I don't know," I said dumbly, staring into his twisted features with a sick feeling of dread. "But I'm going to do something."
"Pfeh," he spat. "You can't do *anything*," he said, eyes glittering sharply.
And I lost it. All that time of being ignored, hurting, not knowing what to do, watching silently on the sidelines… I lost it. And in one swift motion that I didn't know I had the strength for, I grabbed him by the arms and shoved him against the wall, pinning him there with all I had. He dropped the weights onto the mat, face contorting for the briefest of instants as his injuries connected with the concrete of the wall behind him.
And he was already struggling to get free, and why he wasn't yet was a mystery and it could only be the adrenaline coursing through me, fear and anger and desperation –
"Listen Wufei, and listen well," I hissed at him, feeling my eyes narrow, feeling him strain against my grip and I knew I couldn't hold him much longer. "Listen. I see what you're doing. And if this is my fault, then I want you to tell me now. I want you to kill me now, and have it overwith, because there is no way in *hell* I am going to let you kill *yourself* over something as stupid as this. No *way*, do you hear me? If I'm the problem," and I let him go, stepped back and spread my arms, "then get rid of me."
His face was angry as his hand whipped out – I closed my eyes, bracing myself –
And he ripped my sweatshirt off, over my head in one swift motion.
My eyes flew open as the cool air hit my bare arms, left only in the tank top I wore beneath, staring at him blankly as he looked at me through narrowed eyes.
"Those," he said, pointing to my arms, indicating the scars that ran along them, "You're ashamed of those."
I blinked. "…Yes," I admitted to him.
"Why?"
Why? "Because they're ugly," I said softly, wincing. "Because I can't forget why they're there. Because – "
"You're still alive," he pointed out curtly. "Why be ashamed of the circumstances? You're still *alive*," he repeated, his voice low and soft and almost a whisper.
Yes, I was still alive…
"You're still alive, and *she* died," he whispered.
I looked up to see that he was staring at the floor, my sweatshirt still grasped in his right hand, eyes as unfocused as his voice.
"Who?" I pleaded, wanting to know what was tearing him apart, who had done this to him, what had happened –
"You feel sorry for me?" he snapped, eyes and voice suddenly focused on me as his head whipped up.
I nearly jumped. "I – I'm sorry for whatever happened to you –" I stammered.
"I don't need your *pity*," he spat. "I don't need you!"
"I… I never said you did, Wufei," I told him softly; again he seemed like a scared little child, ready to run if I made the wrong move or if I said the wrong words, told him something he didn't want to hear. It almost made me want to cry, the way he looked and sounded right now.
I remembered that we were all not even real adults yet, and that we were all, in some way, more or less fighting in a war that we hadn't started, on no one's side, without anyone to back us up. The colonies had given up on their soldiers, abandoned the Gundam pilots to their own devices and cut all connections. I had been dragged with them, more by choice than anything. But I had been abandoned as well, in a way, by the people that had sent me here in the first place, regardless of their – or my – intentions. And I was here now because I believed in their cause, because I still believed that they were fighting for the right reasons.
Because they were fighting for peace.
And I saw that they were not finding it.
"I didn't need her, either," Wufei said, snapping me back into the here and now as he stood before me, staring resolutely at me – or through me, I couldn't tell. His voice, still cold and angry, was becoming detached again…
"Who didn't you need?" I repeated, softly.
"Meiran." He spat the name out, but the look on his face immediately after the word had left his lips told me that he wished he'd said it with a bit more kindness.
I waited silently for him to go on.
"Meiran went out to defend the colony on her own, the *baka*, and she died for her stupidity. Because she wouldn't wait for backup. Because she was too damn proud. Because she – "
He stopped for a second, and I wasn't sure if he was choking on his words or not –
"Because she wanted to prove that she was strong. She was so stupid," he said, and what I heard behind his voice froze me to the core.
I could hear the sadness, more clearly than ever, beneath those words. I could hear his tears.
And for an instant all I wanted to do was to protect him from everything – from whatever had happened, from the pain of this Meiran, whom he had obviously lost, from the colonies and from the war and from –
From himself.
From myself.
"You're stupid too," he said suddenly, eyes focused once more on me, voice angry and cold and devoid of what I had just heard. "And you're going to get what's coming to you someday."
"And you're going to get yourself killed," I replied, not wanting to think about the truth behind his words.
"So? I don't matter – I'm just a soldier in a war. I exist to die. I don't 'matter'."
Didn't he *see*?!
"You *do* matter!" I told him, desperate now because suddenly I was afraid that if he left now I wouldn't ever see him alive again. "You matter to *me*, you baka, and I know that only makes you angrier but –
"But don't go die for something you don't believe in. It's not worth it. There's not much to believe in anymore, and there's even less worth dying for. Don't," I pleaded, "don't throw your life away for something you don't believe in. Please."
There was a beat of silence before he answered. "Do you know what I don't want to do?" he asked.
"What?" I whispered.
"I don't want to care anymore," he said, voice calm and level.
