Title: Frozen Tableau

Author: Karina

Rating: PG

Pairing: The Elder

Notes: Challenge 205. Baby Series 4 #73. Takes place following Human Cost.

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Extended Length

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for her work betaing this set of fics.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine.

Title: Frozen Tableau

"I have to thank you for retelling these accounts. For speaking to me. I know the memories are not pleasant, my own are much the same, but I honestly feel that we need to write down our individual accounts. People need to understand the human cost, not just the material cost. It is the human cost that is the hardest to recover."

"I have found that it actually helps me to talk about it with people who survived the invasion. I had not wished to speak of it outside my therapist, I will admit, but.. Well, we know how it was. We, as in 'us'. We know what it took to live through the attack, to make that long trip over the mountains and to survive the refugee camps. You are right. If we don't tell our stories how will people know what it was really like and not make the same mistakes again?"

It seemed like a frozen tableau. No one moved, fingers wrapped around pretty fragile porcelain that was no paler than the complexions of the women who held them. The group might have been a painting but what artist would wish to paint the shadows that he saw in their eyes?

"We are still here. For so long as we, the survivors, live, there will be first hand accounts, but we will not live forever. No one lives forever. When we are gone how will people know? The dead can not speak, can not warn the living of past mistakes, of the horror of it and the pain. So... So yes, I agree. It is up to us to speak for the dead whilst we still live."

The woman set her note pad aside once more, smiling at the group attending her, but it did nothing to lighten the shadows he saw in their eyes.

"You will help then?"

One drew a shuddering breath as the others paused, each looking deep in thought, and curiously no one looked at others in the group.

"I will. I can arrange my schedule to see that I am free for a few hours a week, to tell my story. It will... I think it will help me in the long term. And people need to know. I can stand up before them and tell them how it was, what I saw and heard. What I experienced and... And at the end of the day I can stand up before them at the Museum and say that I'm still here. Sanc is still here."

"So can I."

"And I can tell them that not only am I still here, but I am very much alive. I work in the palace as a maid, as my mother and grandmother did before me, though the palace they worked in is gone. That does not matter. What matters is that I am a daughter of Sanc and I am proud to be here. They took away what was ours and made it theirs, but we are used to that. We are used to losing, but we always endure. We will continue to do so and like before, it will get better and we will gain far more than we have lost."

One of the women struck the watching Elder as being timid, suddenly shrinking back in her seat, hands clasped tightly together. She shook her head slightly, aware that she was being watched by her compatriots and they were waiting for her.

"I... I... Can't... t-t-talk in...in public." She looked on the verge of tears. "I...I freeze and...stutter."

"That's quite alright, Gretchen, no one will force you to stand in front of anyone. I came today hoping that, at best, one of you might consent to take part in the war recovery program at the museum, so I am more than happy to have so many of you agree to tell your stories. Gretchen, would you be willing to have your story written down and displayed so that people could read it?"

"I... I... Suppose so."

"You don't have to, dear, that is quite alright, you know. At some future point in time you might change your mind and this will be a permanent part of the Cultural Museum. It is an exciting time for us, having the King sponsor us and give us the chance to expand. The expansion process will take time and we are always in need of volunteers, especially now that the Chang Clan has come. I am hopeful they might be convinced to tell us their stories, perhaps even permit us to formulate a living display of their heritage. This is our history, the history of Sanc. When we come here and choose to stay we become one people, no longer an individual in a country but a part of the whole. Because we came from different roots nothing should be forgotten. It only adds to our cultural richness. Nothing worthwhile should ever be forgotten; you never know when it might be needed once more."

End

Karina Robertson 2013