With luck, I'll have two parts revised a day, which would bring this fic to a close in about *has to count on her fingers*  10 days or so.  Then I can work on Two Roads Diverged and will hopefully be able to bring out a chapter of that every week or so.
Many, many thanks to all of those who have sent me positive comments and feedback.  I work much faster with the positive knowledge that people are enjoying what I write.
Title: It's the Pilot  Part 4/18
Author:  Truth
Archive:  GW Addiction

AU - Wherein the Gundam pilots have known each other
for a little while, but the war is still stalled back
before the pilots return to space.  Meanwhile, the five
mad scientists have had sceond thoughts about some of
the pilots.  Probably OC as well, but I did my best.
First person stream of conciousness/POV.

Rated PG-13 at least.

Warning:  None this time, I think.  Possibly bad language. 

 Disclaimer:  Gundam Wing belongs to somebody else,

Feedback, comments and criticisms cheerfully accepted
at macros@skypoint.com


I've been keeping this journal for a while now, but having it lying around my room in black and white was just too dangerous.  I know that some of the upper classmen have been poking around in my room, and I can't let this sort of information fall into _their_ hands.  Not that they'd know what to do with it, but I'm enough of a target as it is, thanks.

Every so often I find myself wishing that I was six feet tall with muscles like the Incredible Hulk.  Life would be so much easier in so many ways.... 

Now I just sit down with my official school laptop and type and erase, type and erase.  Of course, I'm not really erasing it, just tucking it away for future reference.  If I ever get out of here, there are some names that I am going to want to remember....   This journal is one of the best ideas that I have ever had.  If I didn't have a way to blow off steam, I think I'd go mad. 

I have class for eight hours a day.  Four hours in the morning, an hour for lunch and four hours in the afternoon.  I'm in the advanced classes, thanks to whatever the Prof did.  It's a lot more homework than I'm used to, but that's all right.  I'm more than capable of the work, I've just never bothered to keep up with it before.   For the last year or so I've been bumped from school to school so often that there was really no point in trying to keep my grades up.  Oh well.  This is certainly more interesting than the normal run of classes.

I am currently holding my own in the top ten percent of the class.   Does that give you any idea of how bored and depressed that I am?   I could just scream!!!!!

I remember reading some comic book a long time ago about these kids who fought duels at this exclusive private school.  It was very surreal.  I'm beginning to think that they would have felt right at home here.

I'm surrounded by the rich, the powerful and the outright scary!  It's not that all the kids here are uber-military social climbers, but they do comprise the vast majority.  

Damn.  I'm starting to sound like Quatre, even in my thoughts!  Of course, I have been totally immersed in the highest strata of social society here.  I have a three hour class in deportment and etiquette once a week and there's a monitored 'tea' or 'social' every other week.  Oh the mad social whirl....  I hate it with a mad, screaming, pink and purple polka-dotted PASSION!!!!!

If the Prof wanted to drive me mad, he's succeeding.  I'm constantly having to be on my guard, day in and day out.  I can't afford for my teachers to notice me, in case they feel that they need to send a report to my 'uncle'.  I can't afford to stick out too much to the other students, in case they mention me to their parents.  
"That stuck up brat, you know, Zechs' nephew?"
Wouldn't that just put the cat among the canaries?

So that means no joking, no goofing off and no smart comments.  In short, no me.  While it's true that I've been hamming it up a bit for the guys, I usually can't go for more than a few weeks without doing something outrageous just to blow off some steam, and the need to remain anonymous is just about killing me.

I'm tempted to cause an explosion in my advanced chemistry class,  just to prove that I still know how.

But it's working.  The whole military school training thing, I mean.  I walk like the others, I talk like the others, I dress like the others.   Hell, I even _look_ like the others.  I'm just one more little automaton in a crowd of faceless children.

Hey!  That sounded pretty good!  I bet I could work that into one of my assignments!  That's what I've been doing mostly.  I stay quietly in my room and do homework.  I've finished most of the stuff for the semester already.  With nothing else to do, it's been easy.

I have new admiration for the OZ organization....  And if that's not scary, nothing is.  Their little indoctrination program for the younger generation is nothing if not thorough.  After this, I could walk into the center of any OZ recruiting center and be accepted without question.  Normally, I would rejoice in this little bit of information.  Now....  Let's just say that some of these kids are almost as good as we are.  
Luckily, MS operation is not a part of the itinerary.

I hate this.  There are no words for how much I hate this.  I should be out doing something about our war.  Making a difference.  What am I doing instead?  Cringing and hiding and writing papers on the principal exports of Argentina.

I loathe Argentina.  In fact, I'm coming to hate the entire blasted planet.  I really donot need to know just how many inches of rain fall in Manchuria each spring and I don't think that anyone _really_ needs to know the mechanics of bovine digestion.  How many people rely on their knowledge of the inner workings of a cow's various stomachs to get through the day?

I have a room to myself, which helps some.  There's room here for another guy, but as I am apparently bound for the officer's academy, I am allowed to bunk alone.  

And as for a roommate?  They'll only put someone else in here if I request it, or if they run out of space elsewhere.  By the unwritten social rules around here, I could really only room with another officer candidate.  

I'll kill myself first.  Not only is that _not_ the type of guy I could warm up to....  Hang on.  I don't _want_ to warm up to anyone.  It would be too easy to slip up.  God, I'm beginning to lose my paranoia.  That's bad.  That's really, really bad.
Slipping up at this point will only get me excecuted.  Although, in a certain light, that's beginning to look like the attractive option.

I'm trying not to think about the guys.  About Deathscythe.  I'm beginning to think that I'll never see any of them again.  Life is so fucking unfair.


I spoke too damn soon!  They've got a roommate for me.  I don't know whether to laugh or cry.  I need someone I can relax with, just a little bit.  An ally to watch my back.  I desperately need someone to talk to before I go insane!  But I can't risk it.  And having someone else living here with me is really gonna be pushing it.

The good news is, the kid won't be here for a few days.  And even better news, he's not an Ozzie of any type.  He's a scholarship kid from one of the colonies.  L4 or L5, I think.  Then again, that could be bad news.  He's gonna be even worse off than I am in the social department.  That means he's gonna be in our room all the time.  Or maybe I could convince him to study in the library....   
Actually, there's lots of room in here.  Maybe a roommate won't be so bad after 

Of course, being the nephew and heir of the mysterious Zechs Marquise 
means that I have one of the best rooms.  A suite!  Sharing won't be too much of a hardship.  There's just the one bedroom, but I've got a small study (for two) and a lounge to myself.  Best of all, it's got a private bathroom.  I guess it pays to be related to known psychopaths.

But back to the roommate.  Maybe I can bully him into moving out?  Maybe I can put the moves on him and convince him that he doesn't _want_ to room with me and get him to request a transfer?  Maybe I could just shoot myself now and 
get it over with?

To make matters worse, I have to hide from the girls.  They follow me _everywhere_.  This does not add to my standing with the other guys, particularly when the guys outnumber the girls by about ten to one.

I keep my door locked at all times.  I would anyway, but it drives me insane to know that I can't have it open even when I'm there.  It's amazing the things that you find yourself missing only when you can't have them anymore.

Life sucks.


Duo:  I hate my life.
Truth:  Yeah, I can see that.
Duo:  This is all YOUR fault!
Truth:  Eeeep! *flees*