[FIC] GW: Means to an End
For dragonwufei because she requested this for Christmas. I went crazily off tangent because Treize is too much of an introspective bastard. -sigh-
Means to an End
Pairing: Nothing. Seriously.
Rating: PG
Words: 821
Summary: “The situation was suitably ironic, he supposed.” Treize muses.
The situation was suitably ironic, he supposed.
It had always been him that had been chased and wooed; he had never had to actually make an effort to coax people into his bed. It would make sense that, Treize mused silently, Wufei was the only exception.
He twirled the wineglass in his hands, watching the dark red liquid, so much like blood, swirled as his reflection distorted. Treize saw his reflection change and almost merge with the liquid. He was so caught up with his musings that he almost didn’t notice the wine had splashed from the glass, staining his gloves with drops of red. It looked disturbingly like blood on his hands.
Wufei, a Gundam Pilot, one of the five that he believed would help change the future. He believed they could, and therefore they will, for he would set up the stage for them to do it. Treize fancied himself to be a playwright, a veritable Shakespeare whose works were more than just plays but life itself.
Treize knew, somewhat, what the young pilot thought of him. How could he not when he found himself so similar to the boy? How could he not when the boy himself was so fascinating that Treize could not help but study him as thoroughly as he could? Treize knew that his odd fascination to the boy was far more than just ‘knowing the enemy’. He knew, yet he could not stop it.
Treize didn’t believe in love. He might be a romantic, believing in chivalry and honour and age-old beliefs, but he didn’t really believe in romance. True love had never appealed to him, because he knew that however perfect something might be, there were always flaws. Nothing in the world was perfect.
He didn’t believe that what he felt for the boy was something as simply as lust, or even love. Things had never been this simple when it came to the Gundam Pilots. He could say that it was, perhaps, a strange sort of comradeship or bond that only Treize could feel, because he was fairly sure that Wufei saw him as nothing but an enemy to defeat. Strangely, he did not mind that as much as he thought he would.
This odd fascination, or perhaps it could be called obsession, had started when Wufei had given Treize his name, and Treize had tried his very best to know everything of Wufei. Knowing one’s enemy was half the battle, after all. Imagine his surprise when he realized that he had no need to research Wufei, for he was almost looking at mirror image of himself. Except the image seemed to be the original, as it was full of determination and strength, fiery and proud and making Treize feel faintly like an reflection caught in a distorted mirror found in ‘haunted houses’.
He brought the glass of wine to his lips, noting the faint, bittersweet taste even as he pulled off the stained gloves, putting them onto the nightstand even as he avoided looking at them. The wine looked too much like blood for comfort.
Treize supposed that this was partly what drew him to Wufei and the rest of the Pilots. All of them had blood on their hands. He dipped his own hands in the blood, half-hoping to draw it all into himself and make the world a better place at the same time. He was an idealist, hopelessly so, living in an ideal world almost shut off from everything before actually joining the military had almost shattered his dreams. He held on, however, precariously on the edge as he tethered between white and black, settling finally on an every changing shade of grey.
He knew that the Pilots, especially Wufei, was seen as terrorists and had probably killed innocents. He knew that Wufei would never see himself as the man in the ‘white hat’, because he had killed innocents. The Lake Victoria Academy was one of the instances. Treize knew, for he was in the same situation.
He finished the wine, placing the glass on the nightstand, overturned into a shallow bowl of water. Sighing softly, he switched off the lamp, laying in darkness accompanied by nothing but his own thoughts.
Treize knew that he would never been seen as a ‘white hat’, neither by himself nor by others. True, he had good intentions, but he had started the war and the lives of the men who had died in it was in his hands. It didn’t matter that it was the Gundam Pilots who actually killed those men, for it was Treize who had sent them to the battlefield in the first place. It didn’t matter that he did it to bring out the best potentials in people, for wars tend to do that.
The end had never justified the means.
He knew that, somehow, only Wufei, and perhaps the rest of the Gundam Pilots, knew that.
Owari
Means to an End
Pairing: Nothing. Seriously.
Rating: PG
Words: 821
Summary: “The situation was suitably ironic, he supposed.” Treize muses.
The situation was suitably ironic, he supposed.
It had always been him that had been chased and wooed; he had never had to actually make an effort to coax people into his bed. It would make sense that, Treize mused silently, Wufei was the only exception.
He twirled the wineglass in his hands, watching the dark red liquid, so much like blood, swirled as his reflection distorted. Treize saw his reflection change and almost merge with the liquid. He was so caught up with his musings that he almost didn’t notice the wine had splashed from the glass, staining his gloves with drops of red. It looked disturbingly like blood on his hands.
Wufei, a Gundam Pilot, one of the five that he believed would help change the future. He believed they could, and therefore they will, for he would set up the stage for them to do it. Treize fancied himself to be a playwright, a veritable Shakespeare whose works were more than just plays but life itself.
Treize knew, somewhat, what the young pilot thought of him. How could he not when he found himself so similar to the boy? How could he not when the boy himself was so fascinating that Treize could not help but study him as thoroughly as he could? Treize knew that his odd fascination to the boy was far more than just ‘knowing the enemy’. He knew, yet he could not stop it.
Treize didn’t believe in love. He might be a romantic, believing in chivalry and honour and age-old beliefs, but he didn’t really believe in romance. True love had never appealed to him, because he knew that however perfect something might be, there were always flaws. Nothing in the world was perfect.
He didn’t believe that what he felt for the boy was something as simply as lust, or even love. Things had never been this simple when it came to the Gundam Pilots. He could say that it was, perhaps, a strange sort of comradeship or bond that only Treize could feel, because he was fairly sure that Wufei saw him as nothing but an enemy to defeat. Strangely, he did not mind that as much as he thought he would.
This odd fascination, or perhaps it could be called obsession, had started when Wufei had given Treize his name, and Treize had tried his very best to know everything of Wufei. Knowing one’s enemy was half the battle, after all. Imagine his surprise when he realized that he had no need to research Wufei, for he was almost looking at mirror image of himself. Except the image seemed to be the original, as it was full of determination and strength, fiery and proud and making Treize feel faintly like an reflection caught in a distorted mirror found in ‘haunted houses’.
He brought the glass of wine to his lips, noting the faint, bittersweet taste even as he pulled off the stained gloves, putting them onto the nightstand even as he avoided looking at them. The wine looked too much like blood for comfort.
Treize supposed that this was partly what drew him to Wufei and the rest of the Pilots. All of them had blood on their hands. He dipped his own hands in the blood, half-hoping to draw it all into himself and make the world a better place at the same time. He was an idealist, hopelessly so, living in an ideal world almost shut off from everything before actually joining the military had almost shattered his dreams. He held on, however, precariously on the edge as he tethered between white and black, settling finally on an every changing shade of grey.
He knew that the Pilots, especially Wufei, was seen as terrorists and had probably killed innocents. He knew that Wufei would never see himself as the man in the ‘white hat’, because he had killed innocents. The Lake Victoria Academy was one of the instances. Treize knew, for he was in the same situation.
He finished the wine, placing the glass on the nightstand, overturned into a shallow bowl of water. Sighing softly, he switched off the lamp, laying in darkness accompanied by nothing but his own thoughts.
Treize knew that he would never been seen as a ‘white hat’, neither by himself nor by others. True, he had good intentions, but he had started the war and the lives of the men who had died in it was in his hands. It didn’t matter that it was the Gundam Pilots who actually killed those men, for it was Treize who had sent them to the battlefield in the first place. It didn’t matter that he did it to bring out the best potentials in people, for wars tend to do that.
The end had never justified the means.
He knew that, somehow, only Wufei, and perhaps the rest of the Gundam Pilots, knew that.
Owari