Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfics would I? Also, I am not making any money off of this fanfic. Just for entertainment purposes! ^_^

AN: I am not sure where I came up with story. Maybe its what I am really feeling right now? I hope Heero is not OOC...I tried my best to ensure he wasn't. Some inspiration for this story came from Elie Wiesel's book, Night. I highly recommend it to everyone. Send flames and comments to kanki5@aol.com

Liberation
by: Kanki

Most people spend their whole lives trying to find the its meaning. Humans have a necessity to know, to understand. Always logical, they feel that everything has an explanation. Although, maybe in the end, they all learn that everything can not be explained. My life, my pain, my torment--there is no rationalization. My being, meant to fight, to destroy, to kill. A worthless soldier meant to scour the Earth and Colonies, destroying everything that has any significance. Cursed by fate, cursed with ability to fight.

Fate, how can they even believe it? Are humans not blessed with the ability to change, to decide, to respond? Of course, I am not able to comprehend these concepts. I am not human. Humans have emotions, make their own decisions, live freely. Soldiers are a different species. True soldiers follow orders without hesitation, are chained to their superiors, devote their entire existence to war. What happens to a true soldier after war ceases? How can he survive? How can I survive?

I had accepted my role as a soldier, until they wandered into my life. They had changed me, attempted to wash away the blood and hate, to restore the humanity that had long ago been enshrouded in darkness. Maybe they did succeed, maybe I am human. I guess it depends on your definition of human.

But it doesn't matter anymore, they are all gone. They left, left me in complete solitude. Quatre went first. It made most sense to me, he was always the weakest, physically anyway. Died in a terrorist bombing. Wufei followed, rather nobly, in a brilliant battle, serving justice as always. Duo died next, the Great Shinagami met its administrator. Relena, was assassinated; the sniper had incredible aim. Trowa was the last. Possibly the pain was too unbearable, maybe his past finally caught up with him. He swallowed a bullet last year. Ironic isn't it? The most suicidal pilot of all is the sole survivor, though sometimes life hurts worse than death.

What am I to do? A soldier with no past, no future. What cruel, twisted trick is life playing on me? I have taken innumerable lives, why can't mine be next? I want to escape from this hell I live in. When your life becomes worthless, what point is there in living? Someone told me that when the war ended, my life would begin. Yet, my life had already begun. My life is war. I need it, I feed off it. Maybe if they were still here, they could teach me how to live. They could help to preserve the pieces of humanity that remained within me. Perhaps they could have helped me, helped me survive.

Life is hard, but compared to what? It angers me to see people complain about their alleged miserable lives. Do they not have a family? Friendship? A future? A past? I am alone, I lack all of these things. The only person I trust now is myself. Those who you begin to trust will only betray you, they taught me this lesson. The barriers which I surrounded myself with had just begun to come down, but then they showed weakness, they didn't prepare for all the possible outcomes. Maybe I'm angry with them, for being weak. After they died, the barriers were built again, never to fall again.

I think I am being dragged along by a blind destiny. No future, no past. Just a meaningless life of meaningless wars. Forced to live in damnation. Hell is my home. Hell is my pain. Hell is my life. It gets harder to rise every morning. How can one be optimistic when he is faced with Hell everyday? What does God want of me? What is He expecting? Why must He make me live this life, day after day? I, the soldier, have killed so many of His children. Why not kill the monster?

Perhaps...perhaps hell can't last forever. Maybe there will be someone, someone to liberate me. Someone to break these chains that bind me to a worthless existence. I can't help but assume that person has died...Relena...died with all my hopes of living a human life. She was my key, to unlock the chains, to finally free me and I allowed her to die. Maybe I am the weak one. Maybe I let them die...maybe I should have done more, maybe I could have saved them. Maybe I was their assassin. Maybe I am the reaper, the one who kills the few who have any importance to him. Maybe I had only been more aware, maybe if I had looked for clues, maybe if I been stronger, they would still be alive. Now, just six more people to add to my death list. Maybe I am the true Shinagami.

Perhaps I am destined to live in solitude. This may be my punishment for killing so many. Is this God's way of revenging His children? I deserve it, I deserve to suffer the fates of the innocents and the guilty. Fate...possibly it does exist. It seems to make sense in regards to my life. Am I fated to roam the Earth has a meaningless entity, looking for an escape? Usually I am the master of escape, I have cheated death many times during the war. If only I had not. Than I wouldn't have to live with the pain and burden of lives upon my shoulders. Their voices haunt me, ever persistent.

Damn them. Damn Dr. J, damn Odin Lowe! How could they create such a monster as I? Do they lack a conscience? What kind of men would steal the life of a boy? What kind of men would send a boy into a war, who had barely reached puberty? They are almost as sick and twisted as I.

Damn Relena, Damn Duo, Damn Quatre...damn them all. If they had not entered into my life, I could have gone on. I could continue to kill without hesitation. I would have no regrets, if it wasn't for them. They had successfully drawn some humanity from the dark void within me. They had uncovered the person I had tried to hide. Why couldn't they have just left me alone?

Yet now, I hold this gun in my hand. This gun, who has taken the lives of so many. This gun, my tool of destruction. This gun, the only present I ever received. I trace the familiar indentations along the side. I know this gun better than I know myself. It was the one I trusted, to come to my rescue. This gun, the cold steel from which a messenger of death would sail into the flesh of another. The calculating trigger, mocking those who were about to die. The weapon which took too many lives.

It seems most fitting that it shall liberate me. Liberate the soldier from the shackles which bind him to his missions. The chains which attach him to misery and suffering. The irons fasten him to death and hatred.

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On a chilling October night, from a small hotel on the L1 Colony, a single shot rang out. A shot which was ignored by all, just another death in a distressed colony. They found him the next morning, a calm, peaceful grazed on his features. One of the last survivors of the Eve Wars, ceased to exist in this world. A carpet was soiled, a room was unoccupied, a gun was empty, a life was over.