[Gundam Wing] Halves of an Imperfect Whole
Title: Halves of an Imperfect Whole
Author: telepathicpixie
Rating: PG
Character: Lady Une
Word Count: 531
Notes: 100_women prompt #30 - lipstick.
Summary: Picking up the pieces.


The noise of heated debate slowly faded as Une went further from the conference hall. When she had made it to the washroom and closed the heavy door behind her, it was almost possible to pretend she could not hear it at all.

The concept of the Preventers had caused enough controversy by itself, but Une feared Darlian had simply put the nail in the coffin by suggesting Une herself lead the organization. There were enough people who were still wondering why Lady Colonel Une had not been charged with war crimes to think it was insane to give her such power. The supporters of Miss Darlian--and likely Miss Darlian herself--felt there was no better person to safeguard against another military coup then someone who had helped stage one in the first place.

Une was not sure if such logic made sense or not, just as she was not sure she even wanted the position.

She went to the sink and stared at the woman in the mirror. Her hair hung loose over the shoulders of her suit--one with a faintly military cut, in deference to her rank. She hardly could have appeared in her OZ uniform, even if it was how everyone saw her anyway. Someone had supplied her with contacts; she preferred glasses, but she suspected a pair would have made everyone equally as nervous as her OZ regalia. It was a jarring look, a strange mix of her military self and that pacifistic civilian--Saint Une, everyone had called her. It was an absurd name.

Even weeks after the pieces of her mind had settled themselves into something resembling a whole woman, it was unsettling. She felt as though she was constantly trying to reconcile two completely different people into one, grasping at parts of each as she tried to decide what to keep and what to throw away.

Some parts were easy; the Saint had never worn glasses, viewing the world through the muzzy haze of nearsightedness. Une preferred more clarity than that.

She absently reached into her bag and drew out a tube of lipstick, uncapping it and bringing the color halfway to her lips before she paused. Holding up the lipstick, she looked at it, feeling the now-familiar unease. There were so many little things she had to decide over, things most people never considered, and sometimes it felt like she wanted to scream. The makeup had always belonged to her military persona, ironically enough. One of her first actions after the launch of Operation Daybreak had been to apply lipstick, in stark defiance to Alliance military dress code. It had been a privilege reserved for her alone and, somehow, what should have been a feminine touch had only made her seem harder.

She looked at the color, blood red, and listened to the buzz of argument outside. Somewhere amongst the pieces of herself, there was a woman--imperfect, but whole--who was needed for this new stage of history. Each decision she faced to complete herself might be small, but it was necessary.

With a flick of her wrist, Une tossed the lipstick into the wastebasket before heading for the door.


Table here.