30-Dec-2000
Title: Partner
Author: Ravynfyre
Archive: GW Addiction, Darkflame
Category: Introspection, Angst
Pairings: 1x2 implied
Standard Disclaimer: All parts of Gundam Wing are Not Mine. It's all Theirs. *sigh* Too bad, but otherwise, I guess I'd never get anything done *happy hentai thought*. Anyway, not makin' any money offa this so dun sue me. You'd only get some college debt, a few dogs, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers anyway. Ya know. blood. Turnip. Do the math. Likewise, the mentioning of McCaffrey and Lackey's "Ship Who Searched" is being used without permission and no harm is intended.
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Spoiler: Episode 10/Protagonist
Notes: This is the rebuttal/companion piece to Bonnejeanne's "Protagonist".
It is not a sequel, rather the telling of the same events through another character's eyes. This piece is followed by Vonceia's "The Need For Answers". My thanks to the both of them for giving me a much needed outlet.
Feedback: Yes, please. All comments welcome (although flames may be fed to my dogs, who, since they have notoriously gassy intestinal tracts, will be spending the night with the flamer afterwards)
What can I say? I could start out with something really cliché, like "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." But that would be really lame, no matter how true it was. When I first saw the newsgroup I eventually joined, I'll admit, I was skeptical. I mean, what could a bunch of people, mostly kids and young adults, do about the war relying only on words and images? I may have been basically just a kid, but at least I was a kid with my own war machine. And I was on a mission.
But, the topic being so near and dear to my heart, that being the quest for peace, I convinced myself to join and start skimming through some of the messages. A lot of what I read at first made me want to laugh or cry. So many idealists out there with no inkling as to how the world really worked. So many more naïve souls out there with no clue how gruesome war really was. There were a few soldiers out there in that glittering cyber land, but their voices seemed strangely muted amidst the wash of shining generalities. There were a few others out there, obviously not fighters, but filled with such passion, such spirit, and an amazing intellect that seemed able to at least comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if they'd never experienced it.
That's how I met Them. The two who eventually became known to me as Protagonist and Unassuming.
After a few weeks, I started making note of certain responses to the works posted to the mailing list. How certain turns of phrases were used, and the raw unadulterated emotion woven throughout the words on my screen. Some of those responses were so very like the exact things I myself wanted to say. Usually much more eloquently stated than anything I could have come up with, but the essential meaning was quite clear.
The clues were there for anyone who cared to notice. Neither of us were really trying to hide them. Even if anyone had managed to put one and two together so early in the game, our security was flawless. No one could have found us. It's in our job descriptions.
We didn't find our Gundams in boxes of Cracker Jacks, after all. I'll admit, I did steal mine, but I guess that's a story for another time.
It didn't take me long at all to figure out that Protagonist was one of us. The five of us I mean. And after a few posts, I even knew which one of us he was. He may act the stoic, single-minded one in real life, but even I, fool that I act, saw something lurking in that prussian gaze of his when we clashed those first few times. Of course, I was still mighty upset about that whole ransacking my partner for parts thing, so I didn't make a point of interacting with him much.
There were others, though. Others who seemed to have a clue, who had some inner fire that granted them an insight that a lot of the list authors couldn't duplicate. Those were the ones I looked for. I had my list. There were select icons and identities I scanned for every time I opened the maili ng list.
Imagine my surprise when one of the top people on my list mails me out of the blue one day, looking for a partnership of sorts. That's when I started working with Unassuming. And Protagonist.
Unassuming, one of the more passionate, and insightful, authors I'd had the good fortune to notice, wanted the three of us to work together, collaborating ideas, opinions, thoughts, into what eventually became known as the Ethical Terrorist Tapes. That project sure got Romafeller's knickers in a twist something awful, based upon how quickly they banned that bit of literature.
I think that might have been the second greatest compliment I ever got concerning that whole project.
The first, of course, being invited to participate in the first place.
This is when the whole "best of times, worst of times" thing comes in. War sucks. There's no two ways about it, war sucks. Killing people sucks. It gets hard to face yourself in the mirror knowing that there are human hearts out there, still and lifeless, because you went out to play a day ago. It hurts worse knowing that you can't let it get to you because too many other lives are counting on you. So you gotta press on.
Protagonist understood perfectly.
I think that's why the ETT got so popular. The chemistry between the three of us was something to behold, I'm sure. Pro and I using each other as sounding boards, trying to maintain our focus and balance in a world gone off the deep end of the guacamole boat, with Un keeping it from getting either too painful, or too absurd. That meant a lot to me.
There's an understatement. I mean, how do you really begin to explain or describe the importance of having a moral sounding board? How can you even hope to set into words the impact of having an external pillar of strength, when all you want to do is curl up and die sometimes? How can you thank the lighthouse in the storm for staying lit? And not sound trite while doing it. Especially when said shining star is willing to put up with the vagrancies of a Gundam pilot's schedule. That's almost as tough as finding a parking space for my partner on a Friday night at the theater.
I'll admit. I would have been a hell of a lot happier having found those two if we hadn't been in the middle of a war, but I guess, if we had been at peace, I would have had no need for them. Nor they one for me.
OZ took care of all that, though. Almost took care of us all, in fact. When I heard that final ultimatum, my heart dropped into my boots. Having been raised on the streets, I was pretty familiar with dirty tactics, but that really took the cake.
And then that strange old guy with the disturbing appliance obsession popped up and surrendered. My world tipped on its axis again. Now what?
That's when my whole world crashed to a screaming halt. One simple press of an innocuous little red button, and the universe exploded into a white glare.
I remembered reading in this old old book, about a little girl who got so sick they had to end up locking her into this special tube to keep her alive. There was a part in that book where she finally broke down and cried for herself, saying that she wasn't finished yet. She hadn't even started.[1]
Honest to god, that's the thought that kept running through my head, over and over and over again as I watched those parts rain down onto the unforgiving earth.
He hadn't even started.
The smoke and fire slowly cleared, leaving behind that crater, the omega of my sanity, and all I could think about was the fact that he'd never even had a pizza. Or played a video game for the fun of it. Or went roller-blading on the boardwalk. Built a snowman. Been kissed.
Suddenly having everything you've devoted your rather short and meaningless life to, invalidated in the flash of an eye.
He'd never even started.
All I could do was run. I do that well you see. It's my trademark, and do it well that day I did. My partner and I ran with our tail tucked between our legs and at least my heart and mind in tatters around me.
He'd never even started.
I really don't remember much from that day and night. Guess my autopilot kicked in and took care of me, because I certainly don't remember doing half of what I had to have done in order to have dodged OZ long enough to get to where I holed myself up in for the night. I just remember sitting there in that cold cold cockpit, numb from the inside out. I'm not even entirely sure how long it was I just sat there in my harness straps, staring ahead at the view screen and the recording of that horrible flash of yellow fire and that rain of clattering destiny.
He'd never even started.
I lost track of how many times that phrase dripped from my lips. The only words I spoke until something snapped me out of my stupor. The something called denial.
Sometimes it pays to be shallow and insecure. Or at least act it.
So I hopped onto the mailing list, looking for a clue, a hint, a note, anything. He couldn't have actually done what I thought he'd done. It was probably just a really fantastic hoax, to keep OZ on it's toes.
Out of habit, I clicked open Unassuming's post, the one looking for me.
I didn't want this. I was on a mission and I didn't want to have to deal with anyone else right then. Even Un's normally sought after company paled that night. But there was always the off chance that Unassuming might have some information I could use. Besides, there was a part of me, that part that whimpers and cries when the lights go out at night, that needed the quiet reassurance of Un's existence. Maybe it would all turn out to be just another spectacular nightmare.
First time I ever welcomed that thought.
Opting to check out the less popular chat client to avoid having to deal with too many other distractions, I logged on and quickly found Unassuming's icon waiting patiently for me.
\\I'm here. Things aren't too good right now. What can I do for ya?\\
The next words that flashed across my screen dropped my world out from under me again.
\Protagonist is alive.\
Alive? Impossible. I saw that explosion, I saw the parts raining down like tears from the fire, I saw my world crumble to ash in a second. How could he be alive?
He'd never even started.
\\What are you talking about, Un? That's... this isn't the time for...\\
Funny, huh? I came online looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, and when one of the few people out there I trusted tried to give it to me, I couldn't take it. That's when you know you're really getting jaded.
/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./
Could it really be true? More likely it was a trap. I mean, we'd never bothered to try and hide our identities. Why bother? I'd probably forget and let some hint drop and screw it up anyway. Simpler not to pretend. Besides. I don't lie.
\\Un, are you certain... this could be..\\
\No, but I hope it's true...\
Yeah. Me too.
\He told me to tell you that he is Three.\
Hot damn. Maybe he still had a chance to start after all.
My fingers were flying over my keyboard as I booted up the contact to Pro's icon. It flashed up as active and within seconds I had a message popping up onto my screen. After the first few lines, I knew he was legit. Like I said, there's just things we say, turns of phrase, slips of the tongue, that are universal to the five of us. He was legit.
And Protagonist was alive.
The world resumed its proper axis in my life, shaken, not stirred. Volunteer and I talked for hours it seemed, although that's unlikely. I was just so happy that Pro had lived that I'll admit I forgot all about Un. Not that we could have really included Un anyway. Pro and I had probably already endangered Un's life enough as it was. Of course, we were always careful to cover our tracks, even if we didn't bother to hide our occupations much.
It'd be a cold day in hell before OZ ever hacked their way back to any of us. And believe you me, hell's something I'm pretty damned familiar with.
Protagonist was alive.
I may not have had a purpose right then, but I had a reason. I had a couple of reasons, actually.
When Volunteer finished giving me the full status report on Pro's rather precarious condition, and when I had run out of questions to ask him, and all of our plans had been made, scrapped and remade, he finally logged off, leaving only Un and I. My shining star in the night.
There was so much I wanted to be able to say, so many ways I wanted to be able to thank Un, but my words mostly failed me. I had to settle for a pale shadow of what I was feeling, and hope that Un got the gist.
\\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.\\
No answer to that. Of course, when a huge yawn almost split my head in half a moment later, I could guess why. It was getting into the wee hours of the morning after all. Guess not everyone had Pro's constitution. The constitution that allowed him to get blown up and survive.
I may not believe much in God most of the time, but I sure found myself thanking him then.
So I cued up a view of the stars above onto my view screen, sent up a thankful prayer to whoever cared to listen for a bright soul named Unassuming, and a crazy baka named Protagonist, and settled back to watch the stars until they faded in the dawn's light.
We may not have even started, but by god I was going to make sure we'd all have the chance to someday.
~owari~
Note:
[1] the book being referred to here is "The Ship Who Searched" by Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey
RavynFyre
Please send comments to: ravynfyre@hotmail.com