30-Dec-2000
This is the first of three parts. Part 2 will be posted by Ravyn and 3 by Von. These were all written by each separate author but they link together in a sort of story.
This is a strange one so be warned, this part is told from the POV of an original character. Basically covers the events in at the time period of the battle in Siberia.
Title: Self-Destruct Trilogy I: Protagonist
Author: bonnejeanne (bonnejeanne@yahoo.com)
Archive: GW Addiction and if she chooses, Darkflame
Category: yaoi, angst
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: 1x2 implied
Spoilers: Series
WARNINGS: Serious angst. SERIOUS ANGST. Of the RavynFyre style! ^__^
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters and universe are the property of the
copyright owners. Our stuff is ours. No money being made here. As with all
our fics, while our goal is to stay as in character as possible, any
discrepancies are our mistakes.
Feedback: Any and all comments welcome, be they short or long.
Part of the Frozen Colony Arc? No.
I don't know how long it took me before I figured out that he was a Gundam pilot. A lot longer than it should have, I guess. Of course, who would believe such a thing, even though all the clues were there. Surprisingly, he didn't try to hide his identity that well. I suspect it would have just been too much effort, and if anyone figured out who he was there wasn't that much anyone could do about it anyway.
I met him on a mailing list. How do you meet people on a mailing list? Well it's not like a chat room, not at first anyway. People post messages about the subject and other people respond. I think he and I must have come on to this one about the same time or close to it. The purpose was to discuss the situation between the Earth and the Colonies, and the list was mainly for publishing potentially 'subversive' or controversial works of literature and art. People wrote poems, stories, and created pictures that expressed their feelings or point of view, often couched in terms of scenarios with characters living out themed events. For some of us it was probably abstract, while others had personal experiences that related to the issues.
I noticed him first through his responses to others, and later through his own published works. He wrote irregularly, but the first time I read a work of his fiction I was stunned and anguished by the beauty of it, couched in a spare yet emotional style unlike any other. I responded to his all too infrequent publishings, and was surprised when he responded to mine. I was all over the place at that time, having somehow undammed a flood of something inside me that I never knew I possessed, spurred by the intense feelings the conflict between Earth and Space brought from me. It seemed to symbolize everything that was fundamental and relevant about our very existence at this time.
But let me make it clear - my passion was not that of a person on the front lines, and somehow I had a sense that his was. He had a language as precise as a soldier and his descriptions of physical conflict were chillingly precise, but he never wrote them apart from the context of some more ideal expression. He was troubled by the moral, emotional and ethical issues, and more than that, I could sense from him a deep, deep hurt, one that almost beggared my ability to imagine it, yet at the same time a miraculous purity, almost an innocence that somehow could not be shaken out of him no matter what harsh experiences he'd had, or continued to have.
At times he would be absent from the list for a while, and I'd find myself seeking his byline in every post.
Somewhere around the same time another person came into the cyber community, this person far more gregarious, energetic, absurdly funny, but another one who gifted us from time to time with rare and powerful expressions of the writer's art that wrenched the heart and stunned the soul.
I'm not sure how it happened but it came to me that I wanted to try an exercise, a fantasy of sorts, to explore the possibilities of how the events we were witnessing unfold around us might affect those in the front lines of the struggle. I proposed a writing project, and invited both of them to join me in taking different points of view and seeing where we could take them and what if any solutions we might discover.
I was surprised when each of them responded with what I can only describe as shy eagerness, couched in their individual styles. The first person I described, whom I will refer to as Protagonist, seemed astonished that anyone considered his creative and expressive skills worthy of collaboration. The second boy, for boys I guessed them to be, whom I will call Partner, had a remarkably similar reaction for all his brash cheerfulness. After many assurances that I was serious, we made arrangements to meet online. The results... if you aren't dead, or on some kind of sabbatical in the wilderness, there's a good chance you've heard of the Ethical Terrorist Tapes, the epic story we wrote together which became an underground classic almost over night, and eventually was put on Romefeller's Banned Literature List.
In discussions between our writing sessions, which were spread out over months and often irregularly timed because of their odd schedules, we talked about all kind of things, and I found myself growing closer and closer to both of them. In time, I came to accept that both of them were actual soldiers or fighting in some capacity. It wasn't something anyone made a big deal about but it also wasn't something that would have been easy to hide, and neither of them tried.
And I had the impression that while they might have been aware of each other at first, the project actually gave them a chance to get to know each other, and the bond that developed between those two was astounding. It filled my heart to see it. It made me feel incredibly unworthy yet overwhelmingly pleased if I had had anything at all to do with their becoming closer.
As I say, I don't actually remember how long it was before I figured out that Protagonist was a Gundam pilot. And once I got that far, the notion that Partner was also, was a hairsbreadth behind it. I don't know how long, but I know it was before the incident in Siberia... the one that caused the Gundam pilots to surrender and stop fighting for a while.
The one that caused one of the Gundam pilots to self-destruct in order to save the Colonies from being targeted by the Oz organization.
I know it was before that because when I saw the events on the world news channel, when I saw the explosion, I suddenly knew in my heart with bedrock certainty that Protagonist was the pilot of that destroyed Gundam.
That night I got online and pulled up the chat program we used for the writing sessions. Protagonist was not online. I wanted to be wrong, oh how I wanted to be wrong. I couldn't eat, sleep, or move more than a few feet from the screen before it drew me back to stare at nothing.
Late that night, the icon for Protagonist's chat identity came online. I stared at it with a sense of deep relief, until the message came through.
/Is this Unassuming?/
A chill stole through me. In truth, it only then occurred to me that if my suspicions were near correct, I might get a visit from Oz soldiers some day soon.
\Yes, it is.\ I answered.
/I have some bad news. Protagonist is hurt./
My heart was pounding and my hands were suddenly inexplicably cold.
/Hurt means alive./ I replied. There was no point in my pretending ignorance. /Who are you?/
\One of his... fellows.\
A Gundam pilot? It could be a trick or a trap but my instinct told me it was for real. I hazarded a wild supposition.
\Not Partner...\
/Partner... no, I have been trying to get in touch with Partner. Call me Volunteer. Do you have a way to reach Partner?/
He hadn't come on the chat clientlist, but there was one other possibility. There was another client we'd used on occasion, it was less frequented and the servers were much less heavily trafficked.
/I might. Give me a few minutes./
\I have to get off but I will be back in contact with you.\
/Understood./
In truth, I understood nothing. I had no way to know if this was real at all, if it was what I so believed it to be, but I stubbornly held to my mental image of the boy I had learned to know.
Volunteer went off line.
I spent most of the night with both chat clients open, waiting and hoping. Finally I posted a small email to the list, stating only that Unassuming was looking for Partner.
Sometime in the wee hours, Partner came on line.
\\I'm here... things aren't too good right now. What can I do for ya?\\
/Protagonist is alive./
There was 'silence' for a full half minute.
\\What are you talking about, Un? That's...this isn't the time for...\\
My fingers flew faster than they ever had, if no more precisely.
/I was contacted by someone called Volunteer. He said Protagonist is hurt. He is trying to reach you. He was using Protagonist's sign-on./
At that moment, Protagonist's icon came up again.
//Un, are you certain... this could be..//
\No, but I hope it's true...\ I answered. There was nothing else I could say.
I sent a message to Protagonist's id.
\Are you talking to Partner?\
/No... I don't know his icon./
\What can I tell him to let him know you are for real?\
/Tell him this is Three./
I relayed the message. At that point they made contact and...
And I was out of the conversation. I knew it was necessary. If I had truly stumbled into the lives of the people I was guessing, I had no place in these events.
I had hope, though. The hope that my beautiful, sensitive, questioning Protagonist might live to see another day and maybe even to get the answers he so yearned for.
I fell asleep at my keyboard. When I woke, there was a message blinking... Partner was offline but the message was waiting for me. I cursed black thunder that I'd missed him but the message imprinted itself on my heart.
//Volunteer was legit. Protagonist is alive. I don't know how and right now I don't care, and I'm sure you feel the same way. But it's touch and go, and the next night or two will determine the outcome. I won't be online for a while, I'm not sure when, if ever. But I want to thank you for reaching me, and getting me the message. It means more to me than I will ever be able to tell you. I know now that you know who Protagonist is, and some day you may figure out who I am. I want to tell you that I have valued your friendship more than I can express and I know if Protagonist could tell you so, he'd say the same. We may not have found the answers we were all looking for when we wrote, but the fact that we found each other, all of us, and that we could share our thoughts and feelings this way has given me something I don't know how to describe, something that kept me going when things got rough for me. And by being here tonight, you gave me the one thing I never expected to have. Hope. I'll be forever grateful and I'll never forget you. //
After a while, I wiped my face and found I could see again. I stood up, my body protesting every inch of the way, and walked away from my computer, knowing it would not hold the same attraction for me for a long time to come, if ever again. I fumbled in the kitchen mindlessly for a while, fixed food and then threw it away. Then I rummaged in the back of a drawer and found a box of white candles for emergency power outages. I turned off the lights and took the box to a chair next to the window in my bedroom. I took one of the white candles and stuck it in a saucer, and lit it, sitting it on the windowsill so I could see it, as well as the sky. It wouldn't be dawn for hours yet and somewhere Protagonist was fighting for his life against the cold and weariness of this insane world and its mindless war. I sat where I could watch the flame and the sky, and stayed there, just making sure the little light did not go out.
~owari~
Bonnejeanne
Please send comments to: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com