Quatre wondered this as he stared out of the window from what once was his father's office (his office now, he reminded himself) on the 24th floor of Winner Corporation. It was a thought that had been entering his mind more often as the days went by, even moreso as he'd often find himself staring beyond the stacks of paper before him and thinking that the office was much too large, that the pen in his hand was much too small. Nothing like being within Sandrock's cockpit, controls at hand.
He pressed his forehead against the window and sighed, watching the glass fog.
Never in a million years would he wish for anything other than peace. It was what they'd fought for, what countless others had died for, and what the Earth Sphere United Nation was desperately striving for. It was what he wanted. But a part of him--a selfish, desperate voice that he wished he could silence--craved the familiarity of the war, if only because he'd found his place within it. After two years of searching for his niche, searching for something he could be proud of, he'd finally found it among four other Gundam pilots, within a war where they'd learned to rely on each other, where he'd learned to be a leader. Now that the war was over, that familiarity, that confidence and self-assurance, was waffling a bit more each day.
He was starting from scratch, and it frightened him.
[DONE] I am so sorry for that history section, Suki.
Where is the soldier's place in a world of peace?
Quatre wondered this as he stared out of the window from what once was his father's office (his office now, he reminded himself) on the 24th floor of Winner Corporation. It was a thought that had been entering his mind more often as the days went by, even moreso as he'd often find himself staring beyond the stacks of paper before him and thinking that the office was much too large, that the pen in his hand was much too small. Nothing like being within Sandrock's cockpit, controls at hand.
He pressed his forehead against the window and sighed, watching the glass fog.
Never in a million years would he wish for anything other than peace. It was what they'd fought for, what countless others had died for, and what the Earth Sphere United Nation was desperately striving for. It was what he wanted. But a part of him--a selfish, desperate voice that he wished he could silence--craved the familiarity of the war, if only because he'd found his place within it. After two years of searching for his niche, searching for something he could be proud of, he'd finally found it among four other Gundam pilots, within a war where they'd learned to rely on each other, where he'd learned to be a leader. Now that the war was over, that familiarity, that confidence and self-assurance, was waffling a bit more each day.
He was starting from scratch, and it frightened him.