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"Unblemished"Written By: Mookie
Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made. Written for fun, not profit. Character: Wufei Chang Notes: Response to gw500 challenge #102 uniform Word count: 573
He recognized it long ago but it had been a nebulous need for order and an adherence to a strict mode of conduct. It had been an underlying part of his personality for so long he’d been married and widowed without recognizing it. He’d been fighting with and against pilots who were both like himself and so different it made him want to loosen his ponytail and rip his hair from his scalp, just for a focal point of pain that had nothing to do with the headaches he suffered. Headaches he would gladly have welcomed if they’d been a solution to and not a symptom of his inability to distinguish if he was doing the right thing. No one had been able to answer that question to his satisfaction, and it pained him that he sought outside validation of his actions. What kind of man did it make him that he did little other than stumble about in search of answers? Pathetic. He’d found, if not a calling in life, then at least a compromise he could live with. Nataku wouldn’t be proud of him; she was a typical woman in some respects and one of them was that pleasing her was an impossibility, but she wouldn’t be ashamed and that was more than he could say for himself. He was sure she would enjoy the fact that her husband found himself working with, among, and what she’d take the most perverse pleasure in, for women so much like herself. Overly optimistic women who were in situations over their heads but who stubbornly clung to the idea that they had a chance of victory. He hated that he envied them for it. He picked up his jacket and stood in front of the mirror as he buttoned it, smoothing the front and checking for wrinkles. There were none, but Wufei felt the compulsive need to check each day. Whatever might happen as the day wore on to muss his appearance, it meant something to him to leave the house and show up for duty looking the part of a professional. He had no one to impress but himself. Pants that were clean and neatly pressed, a jacket just as crisp, these were marks that said he was disciplined and desired order. If no one else knew that desire extended beyond his appearance and encompassed the universe itself, it was more than fine with him, it was preferable. On the occasion of his marriage he’d worn the traditional garb for the ceremony, attire chosen for what he was doing rather than who he was. It was fitting since he’d had no choice in his bride, nor had he particularly desired one. He dressed in white during the war, a color guaranteed to stain more than any other. Blood, oil, gunpowder, and even the grass beneath Nataku’s feet were going to leave a mark and the only one who could eliminate those stains was himself. Following that he’d had no home to return to and spent more time trying to find where he belonged and how best to make up to the world all the mistakes he’d made. Everyone thought he’d made the wrong choice but it had taught him more than he’d bargained for when he’d joined Mariemeia’s army. He adjusted his tie and took one final look in the mirror. At least his Preventers uniform had long pants.
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