Title: Artful Obsession
Author: Karen, The Huntress
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters
Category: faclet with shifting POV's
Pairing: 1x2
Warning: angst, language
Part: 1/1 complete
Feedback: Always appreciated.

Artful Obsession


It can be boring between missions. There nothing to do but sit and wait for the next call to arms. But I've discovered a way to fill that boring time.

One rainy afternoon I began drawing. It was just absentminded doodling, nothing worth more than a glance but Quatre commented that he thought I was good. Can you imagine me being good at anything except doing battle in my Gundam?

Now I draw all the time. Its a perfect way to relax and make the monotonous hours go by faster. I have turned my room into an impromptu art gallery. Impromptu...that is one of Quatre's fancy words but I like the way it sounds.

Anyway I tape up my artwork on the walls. I am running out of space. I guess I'll have to take some of my old stuff down to make room for my latest creations. Quatre says I have improved a lot and I think that Heero is impressed, too. Who knew that I was an artist but I guess stranger things have happened.

"Hey Heero. Do you like this one?"

Heero leans over the desk and takes a moment to study the picture. "Yes."

Typical Heero, a man of few words. But I can tell he thinks that I am doing a good job. You don't work side by side for as long as I have with Heero and not be able to read the subtle tones of his voice or his body language.

"Yeah it's good." I agree before focusing on another detail. The shading on this side isn't quite right.

Heero touches my shoulder to get my attention. "I am going out but I will be back in a few minutes."

Maybe he is going to check on our mission status. "Okay." Damn why is it to difficult to fill in the depth on the Beam Scythe.

The door closes with a soft click then I hear that odd snap that I have never been able to identify but no matter...back to the drawing.


I sit down with a weary sigh then clench my fists in frustration. At first I thought that Duo's drawing was a good idea but now that is all he does. Every time I see him he is hunched over that desk moving that damned pencil with frantic speed.

What used to take him at least an hour to complete now takes half the time. And what is ironic is that Duo is getting better. You would think that his hurried pace would be sloppy but he has mastered each stroke of pencil on paper until the drawing flows with effortless ease.

Then he stares at that wall deciding what has to come down to make room for his next sketch. There is a hefty stack of pictures in the corner that have been replaced and the pile is growing every day.

What is so surprising whenever I stand in front of that damn wall is the only word that comes to mind is brilliant. The contrasts in black and white, the details are breathtaking.

"Good morning Heero." I look up at a man with a salt and pepper beard.

"Mornin'" I reply then realize my rudeness. "I'm sorry." I apologize.

I am having trouble concentrating and that is not like me. But I suppose that I am allowed to relax my attention, after all, it has been over a year since the war ended. I suppose an occasional lapse in my training is acceptable considering that I no longer have the duty to pilot a Gundam.

"How is Duo?"

"The same." I see no point in prolonging the conversation and the pain that it causes.

But I endure the pain for Duo's sake because I know that if the grotesque scenes of destruction were not put to paper, if the macabre death was not played out across the page, that he would once again withdraw into his own private hell and then I might lose him forever.

Maintaining his professionalism the white-coated man gives me the same standard reply. "I will check in on him later." he promises before disappearing down the hall.


I stand outside of Duo's room and gulp in a deep breath to steel my nerve. I have always been in control of my emotions, hell, I am a trained soldier. I have gone into battle without flinching, been outnumbered and never given the overwhelming odds a second thought. I self-destructed without hesitation so why is it so hard to walk into Duo's room?

"Hey Heero." he calls from his desk. "Do you like this one?"

I sit down beside my life partner, take a moment to study his latest creation and steady my voices before answering. "Yes." is the only word that I can force passed the lump in my throat. The single syllable is all I can muster as I fight back the tears.

Duo pauses, allowing himself a brief respite from his manic fixation. "Where do you think I should put this one?"

I ease the pencil from his hand and entwine my fingers with his. For just a moment I want the drawing to stop. He squeezes my hand seeming to understand my need to touch him. Then he does something that he hasn't done in awhile; he pulls his hand free and wraps his arms around me.

I melt into his hug, mold to fit his slender body, desperate to glean every ounce of closeness that the rare embrace offers. I lean back to study his eyes and the pain returns as I see the emptiness in those once expressive violet orbs.

"Let's see where we can put this." I whisper as I pick up the sheet of paper that has become Duo's anchor in the swamping tide of guilt that each day threatens to suck him into the void of no return.

The drawing...the only way to cope for Duo and for me. So everyday I come and watch him pencil out his pain and gratefully share his artful obsession.

Artful Obsession--Karen Hickman--September 2003