Author - trowacko
Rating - PG
Warnings - angst?
Disclaimers - I do not own gundam wing in any way, nor do I make a claim to. No profit, no harm done.


"For hundreds of years, we have fought wars. They have ended only to start anew, bred of our inability to simply live in peace. These wars must end."

Trieze Khushrenada had all the words in the world. He had a plethora of emotions, gestures, and pitches laced throughout every speech that it pulled people unerringly into his fold. People had followed him when the brilliant man had goaded the people to raise arms in the name of peace. When he had first started a war with the intention of ending it as well. A hero, a madman, a warrior, a liar. Trieze had been every one of them. He had something in his gaze that forced one to pause, and it was in that moment of pause that Trieze went to work in earnest. In all the speeches he had given that were broadcast world-wide, he had harbored a look that boiled Wufei's blood and made him feel nauseous by the mere sight of it. Cool, detached, righteous.

"For too long have we allowed war to rule our lives; we've lived with the knowledge that we must fight. There will be no more fighting."

Wufei wasn't spellbound as so many others were. Perhaps it was by virtue of knowing what the man was capable of well before meeting him. That when he had sought vengeance on his wife's killer, it wouldn't be the man in the cockpit of the mobile suit, but the man who ordered the attack. Even upon confronting Trieze in a duel, he thought that at least for a few moments that Trieze had managed to manipulate him. Rather than threaten the man with death, he should have ended it that day. He should have murdered him with the same cold blood his wife had been killed by. That would have been justice. For good or ill, the man would have been dead without the power to steer mankind deeper into war before dragging them back out again. Others would have taken that role, even if they didn't realize it. It didn't have to be the aristocratic murderer whose elegance and eloquence were like the spots of the leopard who cannot hide. Yet he couldn't hide forever. And despite understanding his enemy far greater by the time he took the man's life, he didn't regret ending it in the first place. It wouldn't matter to the world how much it had hurt to be free of the elegant man, he had done so for duty. He had no regrets. Or so he had thought.

"My fellow people, what we have been given is a great opportunity. A chance to offer a future free of the wars that have been our past and legacy up until now. Let's take that chance; let's embrace that chance."

The sound of their applause was always the same. It was a great wave of heartfelt emotion that seemed to coat everyone in warmth. He thought it the sound of people only wanting to be led rather than truly live. Wufei felt his stomach clench at the sound and he closed his eyes. He heard cheers resound endlessly off the tall walls, pounding into his body as though knowing he didn't fall prey to the words. The stench of bile filled his mouth and he almost wanted to simply give in and taint the floor with it. To literally spit upon the words if he couldn't stop them. If he couldn't believe them. The heaviness in his heart prevented him from doing so and Wufei felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He glanced back at Relena and felt another wave of nausea cling to him. She smiled graciously, her arms slightly extended as though she could embrace the room. How blind he had been not to see it before, he thought with bitter amusement. He had never fallen prey to Trieze's words, yet he'd fought and helped bring life to her words instead. He wasn't wrong, he admonished himself, what they'd done wasn't wrong, was it?

Relena Peacecraft had all the words in the world. She had a plethora of emotions, gestures, and pitches laced throughout every speech that it pulled people unerringly into her fold. Wufei glanced at her expression and grimaced before he left the room. So cool, so detached, so righteous.


*just because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's insane*

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