here's an insistent, piercing shriek right beside my ear.
Groaning, I roll over and bat at it, hoping I can make it go away. No such luck. It keeps on going. I think it's trying to tell me something. But I don't want to wake from this sleep induced fog to figure out what. What I want, is for it to go away before reality intrudes. Unfortunately, it's too late for that. I am now half-awake, and fumbling around for the off button to my alarm. Why don't they put these damn things in a convenient spot?
My face feels like someone ran it over with a two-by-four. The inside of my mouth tastes as dry as cotton. And my head is killing me. It feels like two guys decided to have happy hour inside my skull. If I could get a hold of them, I'd wring their scrawny necks. Right after I forced them to get me some aspirin, that was...
Keeping my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I throw the covers back and lay in my bed like a limp noodle. The prospect of what awaits me should I move, is enough to make me want to craw back under the covers and never surface again. Exams. For me, today is the beginning of exams week. Oh yeah, and aside from exams, I don't want to look at my face in the mirror. I'm afraid of what I'll see. Probably something right out of one of those old Saturday Matinee horror movies. Attack of the man with the five foot wide nose or something equally lame.
This routine is a familiar one. I roll first one leg over the bed, so that my toes dangle on the cold, hard wood of our floor. Then, I prop myself up on my elbows, and slide the other leg over, rising like some kind of vampire from a good day's sleep. Bowing my head and letting my hands fall into my lap, I crack open one eye and examine the wrinkles in my over-sized shirt. I force the other eye open, and it's like a shot of pain right into my brain. Blinking rapidly, I try to adjust to the change in light as quickly as possible. There's a fuzzy shape over by the window that I want to get a good look at.
Oh, wait, it's just my roommate. Wouldn't you know. He's already showered, dressed, and ready for success. He looks pretty damn neat too. While I look like the rumpled mess from hell. I tell you, many more ego boosts like this one first thing in the morning, and I don't think I'll be able to survive. Yeah, I wish. I can't tell you how often I've hoped I'd pitch over head-first and never get up. Is it obvious yet that I'm not a morning person? Mornings were made for bastards like Heero who make getting up look easy. Not for people like me, who think sleeping in until noon is getting up early.
Time to get up all the way. Giving myself one good lunge, I rise to my feet and trudge toward the bathroom at the pace of a man with rubber legs. Each step intensifies the stabbing ache in my skull. Maybe if I choke down half a bottle of pills, I'll feel marginally better. Or I could just dunk my head in the toilet and start flushing. Maybe the swirling motion will wake me up all the way and get me raring to go. Of course, I might accidentally flush my braid down the drain. That would suck. I could see myself trying to explain _that_ one to Heero...
Goal, ladies and gentlemen. I've finally made it to the bathroom door. Let's see how long it takes to get me inside. We've got zero seconds on the clock. As soon as I take the first step we'll time me. I think I can at least make it to the shower in a minute. What do you want to bet?
"Hurry up, Duo. You're going to be late for breakfast."
Right. Good morning to you too, Heero. I slept well, thank you. And you?
Spinning as fast as I can without upending myself, I give Heero a glare that must look comical considering my frizzy hair and messed up face.
"I feel like shit, I look like shit, and I'm going to start treating _you_ like shit if you don't shut up and leave me the hell alone!" I snap, turning my back on him soon after and slamming the door.
I mentioned I wasn't a morning person. You had fair warning.
My pride liked the slamming of the door. My head did not.
Stumbling over to the mirror, rubbing my temples furiously, I stare into the glass, grimacing at the large, purple thing on my face otherwise known as my nose. Ripping the cabinet open, I tear out a bottle of aspirin, take the lid off, and chew up three dry. Man, they taste bitter. It's a far sight better than having my mouth feeling like it's stuffed full of cotton, however.
A quick glance at the clock tells me I don't have time for a shower. (Oh yeah, you guessed it. Heero put a clock in the bathroom in the hopes of making me move faster. Is that anal or what?) Just lovely. I'm going to have to tame my hair somehow, get dressed, and get out of here within the next five minutes if I hope to have any time at all to eat.
I should set my alarm for an earlier time...
First I need a bandage. There should be one in here somewhere. Since Heero's always trying to self-destruct or kill himself in some other equally painful manner, we've practically taken out stock in Band-Aid. Luckily for me, I found a rather large one. It'll cover my whole nose, and then I'll just have to answer questions all day long. That's better than having everyone staring at the big mottled blob that has now become my nose. I'd tell them I ran into a door if I wasn't such a stickler for telling the truth. The only consolation is the two jerks that did this are going to look worse than I am.
Working quickly, I re-braid my hair, splash some cold water on my face, gently pat my nose dry, and then stick the bandage on there. Not good, but not bad either. It seems odd to brush your teeth before you eat, but I've got to get rid of this taste. So I go through the motions of doing that, and then leave the bathroom to scour the closet for a freshly pressed uniform. I really hate these things. I want my other outfit back. I can hardly wait until I get out of here. No more studying, and no more fussy shirts and stupid ties.
Heero is gone already. I'm not surprised. I'm too slow for him, so he never waits. Knowing him, he's already there, ate, and is well on his way to class. Some days I can catch him to have breakfast with him. Though I don't know why I even care. He doesn't pay any attention to anything but the food. Lift fork. Put fork in mouth. Chew. Swallow. Repeat process. It's like watching a robot eat. The only conversation I get out of the whole thing is with Quatre. Wufei sips tea and reads. Trowa eats and stares at Quatre when he thinks the Arabian pilot isn't looking.
There. I'm ready to go. I've got my bookbag, I look half-way decent, and I'm starting to feel like a human. Once I get some food down me, I'll be well on my way to becoming a whole person. The exams should be a breeze. I'll probably have to fudge some of my answers so I won't ruin my 'good, but not great' image. I've got a role to keep up here after all. Frankly, I'd rather go on a mission by myself, smack into the middle of a high security base, with busted hyper jammers.
I open the door, stop, and blink owlishly. Wufei is standing on the other side, a book propped up in his hands, and a unreadable expression on his face.
"Uh... get lost, Wu?" I ask, puzzled. Wufei's never met me to walk to breakfast. I always figured he was like Heero, and didn't want to have to wait.
Closing the book with a snap, he pulls off his glasses and slips them into a case before depositing them in his own bookbag.
"I know where I'm at, Maxwell. Now, are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to breakfast?"
Right. Breakfast.
"Breakfast. Good idea."
I close the door behind me and fall in next to him, walking briskly, and casting glances at him every so often. I don't get him at all. Why was he waiting for me? After all the trouble I caused him last night, I pretty much thought he'd never want to set eyes on me again. Like I said before, I don't think I'm any closer to knowing these guys than I was when I first met them. They always find ways to change my perceptions of them. Damned rude of them.
"So," I venture, drawing the word out, "what brings you to my humble domain at such an ungodly hour?"
He ignores that question. "How is your nose?"
I'm not awake. I'm still dreaming. That has to be the explanation. Wufei did not just inquire after my well-being.
"It's better, thanks," I say, after a lengthy pause in which I assume I'm not dreaming because Wufei didn't do anything weird to spoil the moment like put on a pink tutu and start dancing Swan Lake.
Funny, how that one little question makes me feel better. Wufei gives a damn about my nose. Actually, one better. He cares something about _me_. I find myself holding my breath in the hopes he won't say anything nasty to detract from it.
A few seconds pass and he says nothing. I release the breath, unable to hold a smile in.
"Are you prepared for exams?"
Now he's starting a conversation. I'm expecting the Twilight Zone theme to start up any time now.
"Yeah. I can probably pass with my eyes closed."
"Don't. You would end up writing on your desk."
Someone pinch me. Was that a joke? Maybe I should feel his forehead or something. I can't tell, since it was said in his usual tone of voice. Read: no tone at all. That is, unless he's feeling the need to make a point. In which case, his voice becomes very smug and makes you feel like the size of one of those stupid Pill bugs I'm always finding in the shower. How they get under the door is beyond me. It looks like the seal is tighter than Heero's relationship with his computer. But I'm getting off topic here.
"Hey, you feeling all right?" I ask, shifting my book back to the other arm.
He glances at me. It was one of those 'that was a stupid question' looks. That right there told me everything I need to know. Wufei is Wufei, and there isn't much chance of him changing any time soon. Not that I would want it any other way. Odd, that. I complain about how nasty Wufei is to me and how much effort it takes to get him to pay attention to me, yet I don't want him to be any different. I think I'm beginning to see who is really the screwed up one here. Me.
"I'm fine," he answers dismissively.
"What about you?" I ask, as we keep walking down the hall in an attempt to keep the conversation going. "Are you ready for exams?"
As if I don't already know the answer to _that_ one.
"I will adequately pass."
There is a moment of silence, in which I look down at my feet and then back up at Wufei again. A question on my lips I've only thought but never voiced. I don't know why I need to ask it now, or of him, but I suddenly have to.
"Why do you care?"
He looks at me. "What?"
I shift my bookbag again. A sure sign of nerves.
"Why do you care if you pass or not? It's not like we're really students here, or as if it's going to matter when we leave."
He doesn't answer me. Only watches me steadily, the reflection in his eyes not wavering.
The cafeteria is just down the hall. I can see the doors from here. We're still walking. I have this feeling he's going to avoid my question. We'll enter the cafeteria, and I won't get another chance to bring it up for a while again, for whatever reason. Maybe because he finds the question stupid. Maybe he looks at it from the same point of view as Heero. It serves the mission, enough said. It'll serve the mission down the line when we get to the next school. It's all about the mission.
I don't know what's wrong with me exactly. I'm feeling edgy. I'm in this for the mission too. It's just that the blind obedience Heero shows... and maybe Wufei too, bothers me. Like robots. Like robots with no feelings, no desires, no sense of direction outside the ones they're given. What kind of life is that? And how does it make them any better than the hordes of soldiers fighting for the other side?
I never asked for anything for myself out of this. I'm doing it because I'm arrogant enough to think my actions can make a difference. I know what it's like to live in poverty, to live in fear of just living. If there's a chance I can end that, then I'm damn well going to give it my best shot. But nobody controls me. Not even Doctor G. I make my own way, and if his objectives don't fit mine, then screw him. He isn't going to run my life. Not like Doctor J does Heero's. Why I want Wufei to be different in this instance isn't clear to me. All I know, is that I need _someone_ to think like I am, to feel like I am.
Just how much do we have to sacrifice for the greater good? Ourselves? Do we have to give up all we are for the colonies, for the people who don't know were alive or maybe don't even appreciate our efforts? Eat, sleep, breath the mission. Pull it into ourselves until it's coming out of our pores, until it's all there is. I can't live that way. I won't. I'm giving up my freedom for these people, but I won't give up my sense of self. I don't want anyone to exist like I have ever again. I don't want anyone to fight like this, but us. Only I'll feel the pain that comes with it. But I won't ever lose myself. There's a lot I can give, but it won't be that.
We've reached the cafeteria. But Wufei surprises me by stopping and turning so that he is looking directly at me.
"For myself."
The words are said quietly, so I almost have to strain to hear him. His expression remains enigmatic. Some knot loosens inside of me, and it's like I've been given the right to breath for the first time in years.
"For yourself..." I repeat, but he isn't looking at me any longer. He's walking into the room without me.
Unmoving, I watch him go. For himself. A matter of pride. It isn't because of the mission. There's a lightness to my step now, and the fog in my head seems to have cleared some. I have this feeling, as I settle down at our usual table, that I'll pass the exams easily. But it won't be for the mission. Like Wufei, it'll be for myself. I may be a dirt poor orphan from L2 colony, but I'm not stupid. I can prove that to myself by making the effort.
Heero's already eating with his usual mechanical detachment. Quatre is sipping something that looks like coffee with creme in it. Trowa is munching methodically on a cinnamon roll (for some reason, I never would have taken him for someone who liked sweets). Wufei is retrieving his usual healthy breakfast of tea and some gross looking wheat cereal. As I set my bag down beside me, Quatre indicates to the plate in front of me with a smile.
"I got your favorite."
I would kiss Quatre if I didn't think Trowa would leap over the table and pound me into dust.
Of all the days, he picked this one to get me breakfast. It's like he has some sort of emphatic radar. Which, given the way he reacts sometimes, I wouldn't be surprised if he did. The day started off on a sour note, but it's almost as if everyone is going out of their way to make it better. Well, almost everyone, I concede, tossing Heero a surreptitious glance.
"Thanks, Quatre," I answer, as I dig into the pile of eggs that vaguely resemble a mountain.
Wufei slides in next to me.
He eyes my breakfast. "Bacon is highly fattening."
I pause, my fork mid-way to my mouth.
"Yeah, and wheat cereal tastes like shit. So?"
He eyes me blandly in open disapproval.
I grin.
"Duo! What happened to your nose?" Quatre asks suddenly, jetting up from the table, and almost upsetting his coffee. If it weren't for the fact that Trowa has such quick reflexes, it might have ended up in the blonde pilot's lap.
He looks so openly concerned, it's all I can do not to leap up, and start dancing, all the while pointing my finger at Heero and singing at the top of my lungs, 'See, somebody gives a damn!'.
I maintain nonchalance.
"Nothing really. Just had a run in with someone's fist."
Quatre's brows knit together, and something enters his eyes that totally shatters that innocent look of his. If you've never seen Quatre angry, then you're in for a real treat. While the rest of his face remains its usual flawless self, his eyes practically snap with fury. Pity the person that forces him to flip out.
"Who?" He asks deliberately.
Trowa shoots him a sidelong glance out from under his bang. Heero remains eating his superhero breakfast as if nothing at all was going on. Wufei sips his tea casually, all the while casting glances in Quatre's direction.
"Don't worry, Quatre-man, Wufei beat the hell out of them already."
All eyes slide to Wufei. Even Heero's this time.
Wu does not look pleased. The glare he gives me is openly hostile. No mistaking this particular emotion.
"I simply pulled them from Maxwell so as to keep them from doing further damage," he dismisses, going back to his breakfast in a manner that says the topic is no longer open for discussion.
"Well," Quatre says at length, finally sitting down, "that's good."
Yes, folks, at the moment, life is good. Life is very good.
Life is bad. Life is very bad.
I glare down at the offense paper on my desk, resisting the urge to scrawl across it in big letters, 'I refuse to take this test on the grounds that it serves no purpose. While I'm in Deathscythe, blowing the hell out of OZ facilities, I seriously doubt I will be thinking about the greatness of some dead guy who wrote about a war he probably never even seen'. Sighing, I rub the eraser of my pencil across my forehead and look up at the clock. A half an hour left to go. This is my last exam. For today, at any rate. Why the instructors can't all just schedule them for the same day is for them to know and me to find out.
Sitting up straight in my chair, I stretch my arms over my head and pop my back. That felt good. I've had a crick in it since third hour. The sound of it, however, is like a hand smacked on a counter top in dead silence. Just about everyone is staring at me. Not that I really care. Attention has never bothered me. So I smile at them, and they blink, going back to their exams. I wonder if they're doing any better than I am.
Okay, Maxwell, think. You can bluff your way through this. Or, you can do what you've been wanting to do all along... And that is, to inform the teacher that though this author has become a classic reference for war, he doesn't know jack shit about it. Because I'm feeling perverse, I think that is exactly what I will do. I'll just give a nice little essay here about what it _really_ feels like to be in the midst of one. In a round-a-bout way, of course. I don't want to give myself away somehow. I'd never hear the end of it from Heero.
Smiling to myself, I take my pencil up again and get to work. The ideas that are pouring of my head are probably going to take up the front and back of the paper. She hardly gave us enough room. While I know I'll only get about half credit for this, it hardly matters. I'm not supposed to be perfect anyway. Besides, I'm doing this for myself. I don't agree with what the guy has to say. Why should I blindly regurgitate what I consider to be a load of crap? I'm a free thinking human being here. If they don't like that, tough. They can turn out all the mindless zombies they want, but I'm not going to be one of them.
The last half an hour passes swiftly. By the time I'm done, the bell signaling the end of class is minutes away from ringing, and the instructor is calling for our exams to be passed to the front of the room. Smirking, I pass mine up, stuffing my pencil into my bag. The bell rings shrilly, and I grab my bag, rising on slightly stiff legs. I'll tell you, sitting at a hard desk all day is nothing like spending ours in Deathscythe's cockpit. At least, I never get cramped up while in there.
Following the crowd of lemmings from the room, I push my way past the flow and head in the opposite direction. I want to walk across campus instead. It's easier to navigate my way to my room, believe it or not. The halls are always obscenely crowded after last class lets out. Most people don't have the manners necessary to function in the everyday world either. For a bunch of posh kids, they sure as hell don't act any different from the street kids back on L2 that used to harass me.
Guess it's true. You can change the clothing on a man, slap a fancy label on him, and underneath, he's still the same animal.
As I predicted, the campus is relatively free from traffic. I can maneuver with ease, all the while enjoying the outdoors after a day of being stuck inside, staring longingly out the window. I am not a good student, for the simple fact that I hate sitting still for so long. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have bailed out the nearest open window and made a run for it.
I half expect to run into Dumb and Dumber. Instead, I run into Heero.
Well, not literally. He's sitting on a bench, staring at what appears to be nothing in particular. Eyeing him oddly, I change directions and head for him. I might as well say hello and see what's up, even if I don't expect an answer of any kind.
He looks up as I approach, so I wave, smiling cheerfully. That's my usual greeting. Even jerks can have it. Hey, whatever throws them off balance.
Just as I'm about to say something, a voice sounds from behind me. "Heero!"
I become very still. I know that voice. All too well. What did she do the last time she saw him, plant some kind of tracking device? Heero looks past my shoulder expressionlessly. I wish I could tell what he's thinking when he sees her. I suppose, however, it's no different from what he does when he's looking at me. Maybe both of us should take the hint. He doesn't give a damn about either of us and probably never will. The only difference between us, is that I don't make my feelings known, she does. Embarrassingly so.
Turning, I plaster a bright smile on my face. "Relena. How nice to see you."
She breezes right past me. I might as well not even exist in the colorful dream world she constructs for herself. All she can see, is Heero. Maybe she wants him for the Peacecraft family knight, so she can shine him up and store him in the hall. Or, maybe she wants him as an ornament to wear on her arm as she parades from one endless party to another. Whatever the case, the naive little girl making herself at home next to Heero does not know a damn thing about him. She only sees him as she wants to, not as he is. She could never make him happy.
And neither can I.
Yet, still, it hurts. It hurts to see her so close to him, and to not have him shove her away. I wish it didn't. Above all else, I hate being a stupid fool.
"You won't believe what I had to go through to find you!" Relena's hopelessly optimistic voice floats over to me.
I clench my teeth and take a good, long look at her. She's everything I'm not. Classy, innocent, pure. For her, the world exists in bright colors. For me, it's dark.
There's nothing for me here now. No reason to stick around. If Heero wants Relena clinging to him like some kind of leech, then that's his business. He can handle her. From the looks of things, he certainly doesn't need my help.
Though I know it's useless, I say anyway, "See you guys later."
Heero looks at me. Relena does not.
Turning, I adjust my bag and continue walking, my previous elation worn down to nothing.
We're going to have to move again. All because she found us. The damn selfish bitch. She doesn't even realize the danger she puts Heero in every time she follows him. She's an OZ magnet. They'll follow her. I figure by now they've all guessed the Peacecraft heiress is making a lot of odd stops at a bunch of unrelated schools. The year was almost out. We were this close to finishing it.
Great. Just great. If I could get my hands around that slender neck, I'd squeeze until her head popped off, Peacecraft or no Peacecraft.