Warnings: angst, gun play
Word Count: 502
Challange: #78 Stained
The man had been picking at Wufei for several days, every time he got close to him he made some remark; wondering why he wasn't in prison, or exiled to some mining colony, or even executed.
This morning had been bad. He'd gotten up with a headache, dropped and egg and bumped his aching head on the counter when he'd bent over to wipe it up. To add insult to injury, he had found that his only clean shirt was missing a button; so he'd had to sew one on, which had made him late for work. Une had taken exception to that and had a few sharp words with him about being prepared. Then he'd been in the debriefing from hell with lawyers picking at him forever.
Now he was trying to eat lunch, but there were too many people in the cafeteria that hated him for his involvement in the Barton incident. So he was crowded and annoyed
"Damn little shit . . . should be dead instead of my son. He was a good boy, never any trouble."
Wufei slammed down his fork, kicked back his chair and snarled . "So was I a good boy. Until I lost my entire family in one blow. Wife, mother, father, all my aunts and uncles, my grand parents back three generations and every cousin as well. Of my entire clan I'm the only survivor. So here . . . "
Wufei unholstered his pistol, cocked it, and thrust it into the man's hand.
"Take it. Put me out of my misery. Relieve me of this life that has become a burden to me. Then go home to your wife and remaining children and tell them that Chang Wufei is with his family too."
"What but . . . wife?"
"Yes . . . my wife. Who I knew all my life. We were married at twelve and she was dead before I learned to value her as I should. What? . . . don't know how it works? Or are you afraid of missing even at this close range? Let me help you."
Wufei reached out and took the man's hand, he positioned the barrel of the pistol right between his eyes
"Shoot . . . go ahead. Pull the trigger. Let me leave this life of loneliness behind. Let my blood wash away the stains on my honor. You said I should have been executed. Yes, I wish they had. But instead they sentenced me to a life of torture; mourning my clan and the actions of a grief-stricken fifteen-year-old fool. There is no rest for me; no comfort, what . . . you can't shoot me from the front? Then let me turn my back for you."
Wufei knelt on the floor, locked his fingers behind his head and waited. Nothing happened.
Then the man slammed the pistol down on the table and walked away.
Wufei stood a moment then looked around at people who couldn't meet his eyes. He picked up his chair and carefully put it back where it belonged. Then he silently went back to his office.
Word count 502