{The Spirit Room}
{Track One: All You Wanted}
~~~
I wanted to be like you I wanted everything So I tried to be like you And I got swept away
People rarely think on what their actions mean to others; how one simple smile or happy expression can make or break the fragile human heart. It's bittersweet, really, when somebody smiles at you and embraces you, squeezing you tightly as if they never want to let go, and you don't want them to either.
And then you realize it's not the same. You have misjudged this person, they want you to protect them and hold them, keep them safe throughout the horrible nightmares that plague their tortured thoughts. Others cannot see how the effects of what he did when he was young challenge his mind. They do not know the terror that he falls asleep to every night - and wakes up to every morning. They do not know that he hides behind that perfect smile; the ultimate poker face.
I didn't know that You were so cold and You needed someone To show you the way
It was strange at first, I knew, trying to comfort him when my own mind was a minefield of terror, guilt, and horribly fascinating thoughts. But I knew that it would be simple enough to focus on his needs and abandon my own. Suspension of belief is a wonderful thing when you think about it. I knew I needed help; I had nightmares as often as he did. Mine, however, were not so awful. They did not show me children needlessly dying by my hand, over and over again. He saw that every night when he slept.
It made me sick thinking of how tortured he was. It still does. But he does not know how much his visions of the past haunt him, because his mask is firmly set in place, a prison of his own making. It really is an interesting concept; hide to protect yourself, and end up damning your soul as you continue to hide from the dreadful reality of the situation. He does not know even now how much he's hurting himself, and it kills me that he refuses to heed my words.
So I took your hand and We figured out that When the tide comes I'd take you away
I find him playing his violin, gently drawing the bow across the strings with the only real expression on his face I've seen all year. I feel this wonderfully incredible urge to breathe a great sigh of relief and think that finally this never-ending chess match is over. That he's recovered. However, I know him far too well. I'm playing a game of mental hide-and- seek with a master strategist. Quatre is the brains of every operation he's every participated in, and I'm simply a soldier with a fucked-up mind. Of course, he's not to stable, either, but that doesn't stop him. It never has. If he wants something, he will be stubborn enough to get it, no matter what it takes.
He refuses to commit the sin his father did. He will not bring a child into being for the reason his sisters are telling him to: to have an heir to the Winner business/fortune. Quatre's greatest ambition is to be nothing like his father, and he cannot see that by denying help, he is only reinforcing his father's influence. I know that if his mind were not so fragmented, he would not hide himself from us - he would not hide himself from me.
If you want to I can save you I can take you Away from here
So lonely inside So busy out there And all you wanted Was somebody who cares.
It's killing him. The dreams. I sleep by his side sometimes, but he does not notice. He thinks I'm in my own room, thinking my own thoughts as I am now. His hair is like silk under my fingers as I try to soothe him into a different dream, a more pleasant one. It does not work; and I can see his eyes darting around under their lids as he tries to force himself into consciousness, away from the nightmare he once lived.
Things that actually happened are more frightening when you dream about them than horrors you never committed. I'm not sure any of us will ever get over all of the lives we had to take during that war. The war to end all wars. World War III - only it was more than just a world involved, it was every human's life entangled in that complicated tapestry of violence and hate.
I'm sinking slowly So hurry, hold me Your hand is all I have To keep me hangin' on
Children should never be made to do the things we did, say the things we did. We were weapons, nothing more. We were our Gundams, and when we each realized it, we realized that we are the forsaken people. God does not like sin, as Duo told us once. God does not like sinners. The only people I know of that deserve hell more than we do are those that trained us.
They took, essentially, lumps of lifeless, formless clay and molded us to fit their requirements. They did it ruthlessly, and without regrets. I don't know if they even can regret anything. I know we can, and I suppose that's the only thing that makes me sure I'm human. Regret is a purely human function. Anybody who cannot feel regret is a monster in my mind.
Please can you tell me So I can Finally see Where you go when you're gone
Enough about them. I'd rather think about Quatre here, who has finally quieted and is sleeping soundly in my arms. I like it when he drifts off into pleasant dreams in my arms. It makes me think I have a shot at helping him, curing him maybe. There is no name you can put to his disease. It is the disease of too much violence, too much hate and not enough love. It is not depression or anything like that - it is a sickness of his 'space heart'; one that I'm quite sure could kill him.
But I'm not worried. My little angel is all curled up in my arms, unaware (for the moment) of the demons sleeping within his thin form. His chest rises and falls to the beautiful rhythm of his breathing. I think he's most gorgeous when his lips - so soft under my own whenever he kisses me - are curved up into a gentle smile, as they are now. Another thing he does not know is how perfect he is. I know, somehow, that I'll love him forever.
If you want to I can save you I can take you Away from here
So lonely inside So busy out there And all you wanted Was somebody who cares.
And what I promised him three years ago is still true. I still love him. And I still want to heal him. I still want to whisk him away into the deep caress of the night and kiss his troubles and nightmares away.
I think that the way he's going to be healed won't be some huge bang! all better now deal. I think that he might already be on the road to recovery. But then I remember that he's a master strategist and that he's also a master diplomat and a master politician, courtesy the late Mr. Winner. It doesn't stop me from loving him. I remember another thing as well, one Duo told us about Jesus Christ. He called one of his apostles, Peter, his 'rock', because he said Peter would be steady through all trouble or some such nonsense. I have only one question: who's the 'rock' when both people are unsteady?
And all you wanted Was somebody who cares If you need me, you know I'll be there Oh, oh, oh.
Please Can you tell me So I can finally see Where you go when you're gone.
The next morning, the sound of a flute playfully mingled with the sweet notes of a violin.
~~~
Wow, that was fun! Quatre's my favourite GW character of all time, so it was fun to write a monologue about him, from Trowa's POV (obviously). The Spirit Room is the name of Michelle Branch's awesome first album, and if you haven't heard of her, you need to go buy her CD now. Her music is wonderfully expressive and I just love it to bits, so this will be a series of songfic monologues by the GW characters, done to her CD.
Review, please! And could you check out 'Welcome to the Renaissance!'? It'll be published soon, another series/epic/novel-length. I know, I'm getting rather busy...I have 2 Inuyasha epics in the works, 1 Harry Potter, 2 Gundam Wing, and a thousand miscellaneous fics. Well, this one'll get updated whenever I feel like it, probably a track every other week or so. And the songs won't be in order according to the CD, sorry. ^^
-Katra Winner
{Track One: All You Wanted}
~~~
I wanted to be like you I wanted everything So I tried to be like you And I got swept away
People rarely think on what their actions mean to others; how one simple smile or happy expression can make or break the fragile human heart. It's bittersweet, really, when somebody smiles at you and embraces you, squeezing you tightly as if they never want to let go, and you don't want them to either.
And then you realize it's not the same. You have misjudged this person, they want you to protect them and hold them, keep them safe throughout the horrible nightmares that plague their tortured thoughts. Others cannot see how the effects of what he did when he was young challenge his mind. They do not know the terror that he falls asleep to every night - and wakes up to every morning. They do not know that he hides behind that perfect smile; the ultimate poker face.
I didn't know that You were so cold and You needed someone To show you the way
It was strange at first, I knew, trying to comfort him when my own mind was a minefield of terror, guilt, and horribly fascinating thoughts. But I knew that it would be simple enough to focus on his needs and abandon my own. Suspension of belief is a wonderful thing when you think about it. I knew I needed help; I had nightmares as often as he did. Mine, however, were not so awful. They did not show me children needlessly dying by my hand, over and over again. He saw that every night when he slept.
It made me sick thinking of how tortured he was. It still does. But he does not know how much his visions of the past haunt him, because his mask is firmly set in place, a prison of his own making. It really is an interesting concept; hide to protect yourself, and end up damning your soul as you continue to hide from the dreadful reality of the situation. He does not know even now how much he's hurting himself, and it kills me that he refuses to heed my words.
So I took your hand and We figured out that When the tide comes I'd take you away
I find him playing his violin, gently drawing the bow across the strings with the only real expression on his face I've seen all year. I feel this wonderfully incredible urge to breathe a great sigh of relief and think that finally this never-ending chess match is over. That he's recovered. However, I know him far too well. I'm playing a game of mental hide-and- seek with a master strategist. Quatre is the brains of every operation he's every participated in, and I'm simply a soldier with a fucked-up mind. Of course, he's not to stable, either, but that doesn't stop him. It never has. If he wants something, he will be stubborn enough to get it, no matter what it takes.
He refuses to commit the sin his father did. He will not bring a child into being for the reason his sisters are telling him to: to have an heir to the Winner business/fortune. Quatre's greatest ambition is to be nothing like his father, and he cannot see that by denying help, he is only reinforcing his father's influence. I know that if his mind were not so fragmented, he would not hide himself from us - he would not hide himself from me.
If you want to I can save you I can take you Away from here
So lonely inside So busy out there And all you wanted Was somebody who cares.
It's killing him. The dreams. I sleep by his side sometimes, but he does not notice. He thinks I'm in my own room, thinking my own thoughts as I am now. His hair is like silk under my fingers as I try to soothe him into a different dream, a more pleasant one. It does not work; and I can see his eyes darting around under their lids as he tries to force himself into consciousness, away from the nightmare he once lived.
Things that actually happened are more frightening when you dream about them than horrors you never committed. I'm not sure any of us will ever get over all of the lives we had to take during that war. The war to end all wars. World War III - only it was more than just a world involved, it was every human's life entangled in that complicated tapestry of violence and hate.
I'm sinking slowly So hurry, hold me Your hand is all I have To keep me hangin' on
Children should never be made to do the things we did, say the things we did. We were weapons, nothing more. We were our Gundams, and when we each realized it, we realized that we are the forsaken people. God does not like sin, as Duo told us once. God does not like sinners. The only people I know of that deserve hell more than we do are those that trained us.
They took, essentially, lumps of lifeless, formless clay and molded us to fit their requirements. They did it ruthlessly, and without regrets. I don't know if they even can regret anything. I know we can, and I suppose that's the only thing that makes me sure I'm human. Regret is a purely human function. Anybody who cannot feel regret is a monster in my mind.
Please can you tell me So I can Finally see Where you go when you're gone
Enough about them. I'd rather think about Quatre here, who has finally quieted and is sleeping soundly in my arms. I like it when he drifts off into pleasant dreams in my arms. It makes me think I have a shot at helping him, curing him maybe. There is no name you can put to his disease. It is the disease of too much violence, too much hate and not enough love. It is not depression or anything like that - it is a sickness of his 'space heart'; one that I'm quite sure could kill him.
But I'm not worried. My little angel is all curled up in my arms, unaware (for the moment) of the demons sleeping within his thin form. His chest rises and falls to the beautiful rhythm of his breathing. I think he's most gorgeous when his lips - so soft under my own whenever he kisses me - are curved up into a gentle smile, as they are now. Another thing he does not know is how perfect he is. I know, somehow, that I'll love him forever.
If you want to I can save you I can take you Away from here
So lonely inside So busy out there And all you wanted Was somebody who cares.
And what I promised him three years ago is still true. I still love him. And I still want to heal him. I still want to whisk him away into the deep caress of the night and kiss his troubles and nightmares away.
I think that the way he's going to be healed won't be some huge bang! all better now deal. I think that he might already be on the road to recovery. But then I remember that he's a master strategist and that he's also a master diplomat and a master politician, courtesy the late Mr. Winner. It doesn't stop me from loving him. I remember another thing as well, one Duo told us about Jesus Christ. He called one of his apostles, Peter, his 'rock', because he said Peter would be steady through all trouble or some such nonsense. I have only one question: who's the 'rock' when both people are unsteady?
And all you wanted Was somebody who cares If you need me, you know I'll be there Oh, oh, oh.
Please Can you tell me So I can finally see Where you go when you're gone.
The next morning, the sound of a flute playfully mingled with the sweet notes of a violin.
~~~
Wow, that was fun! Quatre's my favourite GW character of all time, so it was fun to write a monologue about him, from Trowa's POV (obviously). The Spirit Room is the name of Michelle Branch's awesome first album, and if you haven't heard of her, you need to go buy her CD now. Her music is wonderfully expressive and I just love it to bits, so this will be a series of songfic monologues by the GW characters, done to her CD.
Review, please! And could you check out 'Welcome to the Renaissance!'? It'll be published soon, another series/epic/novel-length. I know, I'm getting rather busy...I have 2 Inuyasha epics in the works, 1 Harry Potter, 2 Gundam Wing, and a thousand miscellaneous fics. Well, this one'll get updated whenever I feel like it, probably a track every other week or so. And the songs won't be in order according to the CD, sorry. ^^
-Katra Winner