Disclaimer: I donít own the G-Boys. I wish I did.

This is a prequel to Sleepless Nights
Pairing: 1+2
Rating: G
Warnings: ficlet, a little angst, a little sap, POV, slippery when wet.
Notes: This is the prequel to a ficlet I wrote about a week ago called Sleepless Nights, set about two years before. For all of those who asked, I will be continuing Sleepless Nights, I just felt I should write this to clarify the plot a bit.

by Jade Black

I woke up in a frenzy. There had been a noise or something, but I couldnít be bothered to go investigate it. There probably hadnít even been a noise, it was just my paranoia. Instead I stepped out of the bed and went to the washbasin on the other side of the room. I ran the cold water for a moment, and then took a couple of handfuls and splashed them on my face. Successfully refreshing.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Expressionless features, a thin mouth curved into a never-ending, cold smirk. Dark blue eyes, close to black, shining out- the whites tainted with lines of red. Cascades of brown hair falling chaotically over my forehead, and brushing against my eyelashes like they always did. Water dripped down my face into the basin below, but I still couldnít see me. Was this really what I had become? What I had always been? To me, it didnít seem like a lot. I was just there to be the one who knew how to operate a beam-cannon properly. I had no true purpose. That was I all I had to do.

My hands were stained with the blood of my fellow fighters. There were stains so deeply embedded into my skin that they were impossible to define. The ugly marks and scars on my soul were things that could never be washed out. Iíd never really even thought about it before. Iíd never had a flood of humane emotions enough to make me think about it. I couldnít remember what it was like all those years ago.. when I didnít have all this Perfect Soldier strength and willpower. J had totally drummed any emotion and conscience out of me- and, even if his eventual goal was to achieve total pacifism, that wasnít right. You couldnít just take away a childís opportunities in life like that. J had taken away my will to live. Heíd stolen my life.

And now, I knew no other way- and I was lost. I had to fight. I had always considered that the case if I wanted to stay alive. This skin on my knuckles had been chopped and grated off of my hands repeatedly, and now there were just permanently red scabs where I had once had flesh. If I hit someone too hard now, then I would probably rip my entire hand open.. that would have to be pretty damned hard, though.

J had taught me to run.. but I had never run from him once. He didnít treat me well- but I knew nowhere else to go, and he hadnít taught me to have enough imagination to work it out otherwise. That was what made me a soldier, I had no though other than the dogma that had been indoctrinated into me. I was about as much use as a mobile doll.. just with better reflexes. I had no compassion for anything else.. and yet there had been that whole thing with Relena. I donít know what that was; it certainly wasnít love.. or something like that. Every time I looked at her I was reminded of that little girl and her dog.. I guess that was what it was. I just didnít understand it.

But, recently Iíd changed. Iíd started opening up- I guess I was just becoming weak in the times of peace. Every morning when I woke up, and every night when I went to bed, and a good deal of time throughout the day.. I spent thinking about.. him. I really donít know what it was with me, but it had been getting worse- this weak feeling in my stomach. Something that affected the way I thought about everything. Something that stayed on my mind.. but it all seemed wrong. Even though it felt so right. It made me feel so lost I thought I was going to die from it. No one had ever explained this kind of feeling to me. They only ever explained the pain and the hatred and the horror. Iíd had to explain that for myself.

But now, even though nothing really was different, everything had changed. That feeling was always with me, and I couldnít stop thinking about him. When the sun rose, and I jumped out of bed, I walked past his room, and glanced in- pausing at the doorway and watching him sleeping peacefully for a moment. He didnít smile in his sleep, that much I noticed.. he seemed so sorrowful.. he was like a completely different being. Sometimes he talked in his sleep, I could hear it through the walls. Moaning about things with his eyes closed- every now and then the screams and the cries for help. I ran through there one night, and saw him sitting bolt upright looking scared for his life. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me to go back to sleep. The only harsh words heís said to me in his life. Sometimes I wondered what it was.. but I guess I knew it was his past coming back to haunt him. The ghosts of all the people whoíd died. Heíd mentioned the people he used to live with.. at an orphanage or something. Heíd mentioned no names, and I wasnít about to go looking for anything, or ask him.

Sometimes I wondered what it was that made him so scared, that put him through so much pain. And then I began to get angry, with my hands balling into fists. I looked up at myself in the mirror again, my face had dried. I was at that stage now; I could see the vein pulsing in my forehead, saw the way my jaw clenched. I didnít know how I could get so angry over something so small, I didnít understand it. I didnít care who did whatever they did to him! He was nothing to me! And yet, my mind kept jumping to the worst possible conclusions. Horrible images appearing in my head of his face as he knelt down for some mystery captor.. or something of the sort. I just couldnít believe someone would do that to someone so wonderful.. It was just wrong.

I watched myself in the mirror, eyes darting from one to the other as I looked. I noticed there was a single droplet of water running down my face, the aftermath of my waking.. but wait. That wasnít just water. That wasnít from when I splashed my face. That was.. that was a tear. And yet I didnít feel anything. I didnít know why it was there, right in the middle of my cheek, making a curving trail down to my lip. I just stared at it.


I looked up in the mirror, and saw him standing behind me. His mouth hung open in shock, eyes questioning as they met my reflection. I guess he didnít know what to think. That made two of us.



read the sequel: sleepless nights

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