Snapdragon (
Sun, 13 Jun 1999 04:06:28 -0500

*drags herself up to the podium...* I present to you all....*falls
asleep**THWUMP!**z z z z Z Z ZZ Z z z z*

a Gundam Wing fanfiction
by Snapdragon

       Hell is a cold, dark, and lonely place. War is hell.

       Iie. War contains a heat; a burning passion for violence that leaves
nothing untouched. War is the nexus of political power, it swirls, churns,
it rips apart all that stand in it's way.

       I willingly stepped into that storm. And it hurts. Each drop of blood
that stains my hands stings like acid, each life shed pounds mercilessly
behind my eyes, and everything thing I see is obstructed by a hazy cloud of

       Does guilt mar Heero's perfect reasoning? Iie. He can kill without
flinching, is able to not blink when the blood of innocents splatter his
face. I envy the "perfect soldier".
All that's human has been burned away, until nothing is left but an empty

       Ninmu Ryoukai. Ninmu Kanryou.

       Hell is a cold, dark, and lonely place.

       Hell nips at your toes, it overshadows you actions until finally, it
senses an opening and strikes. But it only strikes the mortal.


       Unlike Heero, I am made of mortal stuff. And don't I know it. I am
painfully aware. Each time I look ahead, each time I look back, each time I
stop and look around, I am painfully aware that I am human.

       Human isn't enough in a war-- either that or it is too much. I'm not
sure which anymore.

       I know what I am, though. Little death with wide indigo eyes, and
angel with a cracked stone face.

       I never thought that Quatre's description of me would hold so true. I
smiled, brushed it off. Just dismissed it as the innocent's excuse for
waxing poetic. I wonder...was he hinting at something he saw...

       Uchuu no Kokoro...

       That frightens me. Does Quatre see me behind the mask I have so
carefully erected over the years? Sometimes I see pain in his eyes when I
fake a smile.

       He keeps it to himself. Quatre has always been discreet, and I
honestly thank him for it. Each time I laugh, I thank him for not pointing
out that it's fake.

       I keep up my appearances well. I'm the brash American, piloting
simply because I can. I am the only one without a Noble Cause. And I suppose
that is all right with me.

       I gave up my Noble Cause for something else when I stepped for the
first time into Shinigami's cockpit. The emptiness.

       I wanted the emptiness. I was afraid of the emptiness. But I also
wanted revenge. Revenge for the 245 that died that day in Maxwell Church.

       I don't want the revenge anymore. Just the emptiness.

       Shinigami gives me that readily. No time for thought, just action.
But it's's a drug that wears off.

       The emptiness swallows you, just to spit you out later, immobilized
by pain.

       But...I'm not sure I even want that anymore. At some point, I started
to dream. Of peace, of war...of seeing beyond a pair of gunmetal eyes.
Little things, really.

       All there is, though, is the emptiness, the guilt, the pain. Dreams
pick you up and let you down. But they never let you stop fighting.

       But I want something more. More is something that the Universe won't
grant. You can beg, you can plead, you can pray, but you never get more.

       The emptiness and me. I take what I have. But that won't stop me from

       Watashi ni kansuru kagiri...

       Hell is a cold, dark, and lonely place.

*gee, folks, are we noticing a trend here...?**two duo ooc monologues...*
Ack! It's already four in the morning! *whimper* This is another that wrote
itself...and well, yes, it is TERRIBLY OOC, isn't it? *wince--I hate OOC*
But, then I suppose, it's meant to be...*sighs* Gomen ne, if you didn't like

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