The Way We Were

———

A few years had passed since the end of the Eve Wars, and the major figures were living in relative peace. Until one night, when Zechs, who was at that time living in a Martian Colony, woke up suddenly as if from a bad dream. But it was no dream that troubled him.

He sat up in bed, and said: "My God, what was I thinking?"

He was, of course, referring to the dorky helmet that, many years ago, had been associated with him as the Lightning Count.

"I can't believe I was such a geek," he continued in a monologue only he could hear. "I looked so stupid — stupider than Char Aznable even! Who did I think I was fooling?"

And in the fit of utter embarrassment and self-loathing that follow such epiphanies, he promptly destroyed any proof he had of ever having worn that geeky Char Aznable helmet. Of course, he could not erase everyone's memory of the helmet, so he fell into a depression that lasted several months.

———

The news spread like wildfire. The next week, spurred on by Zechs' metaphorical destruction of his past, Noin left Zechs for a homely, sensitive young bioengineer who grew super-vegetables in the Colony garden. She was reported to have said as she walked out the door: "What was I thinking?"

———

Back on Earth, Heero had asked Relena if he could move in with her. His period of self-discovery was over and had been rather short and unproductive, and he needed cash real bad. Relena agreed because she had lots of cash and Heero was a good shag. As the months went on, however, she came to realize that the passion that had existed between Heero and herself during the war was practically gone. The spark had gone out of the relationship. The only thing that still had that special spark was Tuesday's two-for-one pizza nights when they watched action movies together. For a young woman with only the best years ahead of her, it was rather unsatisfying. "So much for wartime romance," Relena said with a sigh.

Then as she was looking through her photo albums, she had a sudden revelation about and brought on by the pictures of that young blond man who, she realized for the first time, was quite fetching in a business suit. "Of course," she said, clapping her hands together. "What was I thinking? It's only obvious. Quatre is the one for me! He's smart and gentle and caring, and a successful politician and businessman. And he looks good in a suit. Why didn't I see it before? We're perfect for each other!"

And so she wrote out a big fat check for Heero so that he would be financially secure until he could find a real job, all the while wondering if she should go by 'Relena Winner' or 'Relena Peacecraft-Winner,' how their wedding invitations should look, and how perfect and bright and talented their three kids would be.

Meanwhile, Heero was in the den watching old episodes of Gundam Wing on the gigantic flat-screen TV.

"What was I thinking?" he would say every now and then, cringing at his old spandex shorts. "Spandex, with those hips?"

"What hips?" said Trowa. "You have no hips."

Heero jumped. "Where did you come from?"

"Never mind that," said Trowa. "I'm here to save you from making an ass of yourself."

"I'm not going to make an ass of myself," said Heero with conviction. He pointed at the screen. "That is me making an ass of myself. I am going to go down to the Bandai studios and make them digitally enhance every scene with me wearing spandex shorts to make it look like I'm wearing Dockers slacks or Levi's jeans. They can do that now, you know."

"And if they don't listen?"

"Oh, I'll make them listen," Heero said, and cackled evilly. Trowa just sighed and shook his head.

———

After that disturbing encounter, it was off to save Duo. By now, he had probably gotten the news about Noin leaving Zechs and doubtless would try to do something drastic. He knocked on the door, and when it opened he realized he was too late.

"My God, Duo, what have you done to your hair?"

"Isn't it cool?" said Duo, unaware the look on Trowa's face was one of horror. "I feel so free now. You know how they say every fat person has a skinny person inside them? Well, maybe every person with long hair has a person with short hair inside them. I finally feel like this is the real me!"

As the readers have probably guessed by now, if they have made it this far, Duo's beloved braid was long gone. Chopped off. Never to return. It was so incredibly unlike Duo to do such a thing that Trowa couldn't help asking: "Are you nuts? Uh, I mean, what compelled you to cut your hair?"

"Hilde left me," he said. "She said working in a junk yard wasn't her cup of tea. Said I was holding her back from realizing her dream of becoming a veterinarian. 'But, Hilde, sweetie' I said, 'you don't even like animals.' But she was adamant. I think she really thought my having long hair wasn't masculine enough to provide her with the sense of security she needs."

His new haircut, however, a somewhat spiky do that was popular two years ago, looked rather girly to Trowa. "But, Duo," he said seriously, "long hair and braids on guys are indicators of strength and virility. Remember Samson from the Bible?"

"No."

"Duo, what were you thinking?"

"I know! I should have cut it off long ago," said Duo naïvely. "It's so easy to take care of now! Just wash, and go. Hey, do you think I should get a buzz cut?"

———

It was too late for Duo, but after that even more disturbing encounter Trowa worried Quatre might also do something drastic. And given his oft-inflated guilt complex, he worried he might do something extremely drastic. Plus Trowa had to warn him that Relena was out to marry him, and might decide to pop over for a 'friendly' visit at any time.

He found Quatre in the backyard standing at the edge of the pool with a pair of goggles and a flame-thrower. It looked very worrisome. "No, Quatre, don't do it!" he shouted and started running in slow motion to stop Quatre from...doing whatever it was he was planning to do.

"Oh, hi, Trowa," replied Quatre cordially.

Realizing Quatre would not attempt to kill himself in such a happy mood, Trowa amended: "What are you doing?"

"Just destroying my trademark outfit," Quatre said. Then he lowered the goggles and said to the Maganac across the pool: "A little higher, Abdul. A little higher. Okay, that's great right there." Then he proceeded to torch his trademark outfit, which was suspended above the pool by a long steel pole held by Abdul. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit as well, for he wielded the flame-thrower like someone who has played a few too many video games.

"Sweet," he said.

Abdul gave a thumbs-up with his free hand.

"I suppose you heard about Noin and Zechs," said Trowa.

"Yep. It forced me to realize that I can never be taken seriously as a politician/CEO/magazine coverguy if everyone associates me with one lame outfit. I developed taste in Blind Target, but most people only know me for the pink shirt and khakis and vest that I wear in the TV series and movie. And I only wore it in the movie because everything else was at the cleaners. But the viewers don't know that. They probably think I have a whole walk-in closet full of that one outfit."

"When it's really full of J. Crew sweaters and business suits," said Trowa facetiously.

"Exactly," said Quatre.

"You know, Quatre, clothes don't make the man—"

"They do too make the man!" Quatre shouted.

Trowa stepped back, eyeing the flame-thrower warily. "Okay. Whatever you say, Quatre."

"I also decided I'm going to put up a couple million dollars to set up a memorial to Walker," added Quatre, suddenly his normal, professional self. "A theme park might even be nice. I feel real bad about killing him. After watching that episode a couple times, I realize he was a great guy and would have gone far in life. It hurts inside to know that, because of me, he never got that chance."

"Um, okay," said Trowa. "That's a lot of money."

Quatre nodded and turned back to the flaming clothes. He whistled. "Look at that baby burn."

Trowa decided, in the matter of Relena, he was on his own.

———

And the lunacy did not end there. Dorothy, filled with remorse for stabbing Quatre many, many years ago, became an activist for environmental and human rights issues. But not the violent kind, she explained to Trowa. More like the kind who wear Birkenstocks and only eat vegetables and hug trees and smoke weed, he said. "Exactly," said Dorothy. "Man. War — what was I thinking?"

Une became obsessed with the delusion that people only remembered her for being nuts and having personality problems during the war. "And why didn't I switch to contacts sooner?" Nichol was so busy kicking himself for being an asshole, he couldn't hold down a steady job without scaring his customers and co-workers with questions like: "Do I sound like an asshole to you? I mean, seriously, do I?" Sally didn't really have anything to regret, but she was worried that if she didn't make a baby right that second she might have something big to regret later on. Trowa barely escaped with his pants. He figured it was probably a reaction to her waging a man's war, but didn't want to stick around to find out if he was right. Then the author ran out of ideas, which was only a temporary setback but affected the mood of the rest of the piece.

But the case that frightened Trowa the most was Wufei. He had found God — which god was another matter — and quit his rather successful work with the Preventers to better live a life of peace, brotherly love, and self-fulfillment — and possibly make money off of it. That was not the troubling part, however. Twenty minutes into their conversation over herbal tea, he suddenly broke down, mumbling a bunch of mostly unintelligible words about being weak. "I should never have become a Gundam pilot!" he sobbed.

Trowa was shocked. "Wufei, how can you say that? Nataku was your life."

"Nataku was full of crap," said Wufei. "He lied to me about Justice and Good and Evil. He made me fight, and fighting hurts people. What was I thinking, listening to Nataku?"

"I don't know," said Trowa. "Why were you listening to him? He was a lifeless machine after all."

"Lifeless? That's just what they want you to think. Gundam is the work of the Devil. Gundam is the Devil! Trowa, we're going to go to Hell for what we did."

By that time Trowa was ready to smack him around a bit and tell him to pull himself together, but that would have been out of character. So what? the reader might be asking right now, everyone else is out of character. And that may be so, but Trowa merely rose calmly and looked him straight in the eye. "It's not too late to get your job back, you know," he said. "And if I were you I'd see a psychiatrist right away. And can I borrow about two hundred bucks? Quatre's out a couple million right now and my car needs a tune-up."

———

"What's wrong with you people?" he said a couple days later as he had finally gotten everyone to meet him at the trailer he still shared with Catherine. "Have you all learned absolutely nothing from Endless Waltz?"

"I learned killing is a sin," said Wufei.

Duo raised his hand. "I learned Treize had a kid when he was a teenager," he said, and the others mumbled their seconds. Sally whined about wanting to have babies.

"No, no, I'm not talking about that. Look, you guys, being mortified about things you've done in your past is a normal part of life. It's a result of growing and changing. Can't you understand that? It doesn't decrease your self-worth. I mean, look at Bush. He did drugs and dropped out of college, and did that stop him from becoming the president of the United States?"

"But, Trowa," said Duo, "haven't you ever regretted something in your past?"

"Well, sure," Trowa said with a shrug. "I regret that I was an empty shell of a man for half my life. I regret that I killed a lot of people during the war, and that I didn't think of packing a more comfortable pair of jeans when I first left for Earth. And I'm embarrassed by the fact that I used to have a crush on Heero—"

"What?" said Heero.

"I said, used to. I don't know what I was thinking. —But I don't beat myself up over it, guys.

"The moral of this story has, unfortunately, come at a terrible, terrible price. It has come out of your pocketbooks, out of your dignity — out of Duo's head. All of you have drastically changed and possibly ruined your lives all because Zechs was embarrassed and depressed about having worn a helmet in a war several years ago. Well, duh! It was a stupid Char Aznable rip-off; what did you expect? Don't you realize the ridiculousness of the situation? You can't change the past, so don't try to fix it."

As he paused and waited for his wise words to sink in, he noticed they were paying him no attention whatsoever, and instead were talking amongst themselves about things like babies and sin and expensive sweaters. "Why do I even try?" Trowa said to himself as he massaged a temple.

Just then Catherine came out of the trailer looking very upset. "Trowa," she wailed, "do you know what the fans are saying about me? They think the only thing I can make is crappy soup."

"Good grief," said Trowa.

"I know I shouldn't let some comments about my soup make me doubt my self-worth. I know how to make other things. I made a tuna casserole last night. And it wasn't bad, was it, Trowa? My soup's not that terrible, is it? I know I failed Home Ec. — but, damn it, nobody could get those biscuits to rise. Oh, dear. Am I really such an incompetent big sister?"

—

The End