Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me.

Quatre's Day of Defiance

It's hard at times. I sit here enduring one more endless meeting and I find my mind wandering, remembering.

The feel of Sandrock's controls in my hands. The heat of a mobile suit as it explodes. The silence of space interrupted only by my breathing. The sound of combat. The buzz of adrenalin. The confines of my cockpit. The weight of a pistol in my hands.

Memories so tangible I can almost taste them.

I live, I breath. I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. I exist. But it's not the same.

This is no life.

After the wars were over, I found myself settling into my father's role. An afternoon of paperwork turned into weeks of meetings which led to heading major financial decisions.

Running a large corporation wasn't exactly how I'd planned to use my strategic abilities.

But everyone had said this was my place to be. As Winner heir I was to take charge of the family business. It was my duty. My responsibility. My heritage.

More like my ball and chain.

I don't care that the company's stock is up six percent. I don't care that our competitors are forming a merger.

My fingers tap an irritated staccato on the table and I don't bother to smother the motion.

When did this happen? When did I let my life become one endless monochrome meeting after another? All I see before me are rows of black and white, shades of grey.

The vibrant image of crimson red has faded to corporate black. Some days I wake up and look in the mirror, startled to see my hair is still blonde and not a dignified silver.

I hate dignified.

I fear I'm beginning to lose my soul to profit margins and financial reports.

As I listen to the executive director drone on and on, I feel an increasing sense of anger and frustration.

This is what I fought for? This is what I shed blood for? This is what I nearly died for?

When's the last time I saw my friends? When's the last time I was even outside?

I make a decision.

The pencil clutched in my hand snaps and I stand up abruptly. The executive director trails off and all the other members of the board stare in surprise. I look around at their confusion and my irritation melts away. Instead I smile gently at them.

"Are you happy?" I ask. They remain speechless and so I sweep my arm to encompass the room and ask again. "Does this make you happy?"

One man gets up the courage to look at me and respond, "We love working with you Mr. Winner."

Disappointed, I shake my head. "That's not what I meant." Looking around I decide to try one more time, in hopes that they aren't as dead as they appear. "Are you satisfied with your life? Do wake up in the morning pleased to greet the day?"

Nobody will meet my eyes now and my heart hurts for them all.

"I don't. I feel no passion, no drive, no desire to greet each new day." I look around the room and smile at them one last time.

"I'm glad I got to work with you all. You are some of the most dedicated people I've ever met. And I'm sure you'll continue to see that Winner Enterprises succeeds in the future. But it won't be with me."

Shocked gasps meet this announcement but I'm already headed toward the door.

I'm too young to drown in shades of black and grey. I want to live, I want to die, I want each day to be filled with an overabundance of color. Maybe I really am just chasing rainbows, but from now on my days will be mine.

And I'll never wear grey.