Gaelio has always been a very proper person. early to bed, early to rise, always on time, never wastes food. sure, he may not be the most professional all the time (as being too stuck-up bothered him), but he took pride in doing his job well and efficiently.
despite this, he also knows how to have fun, within reason. he is not a perfect person, of course; he’s had his fair share of flings (carefully kept secret, as to not tarnish his reputation) and even bigger share of mistakes (also swiftly covered up). which is why he doesn’t feel bad letting his emotions control his actions tonight.
he usually prefers to drink socially, but tonight he’s nursing an entire bottle (already almost half empty by this time of night), nestled in a patch of grass by himself, staring up at the stars. the lights from the city make them almost impossible to see, but he can make out a few from this far into the green sector. they’re comforting, almost.
a rustle in the grass nearby snaps him from his thoughts. he props himself up on his elbow and the movement makes the world spin for a moment, but he soon makes out the form of another person.
“Can I help you?” unable to properly form a filter for his thoughts and words, they come out a bit more hostile than he intended them to.
“McGillis, Carta was in love with you. In her dying moment, she called your name. She died thinking of you!! I thought I could trust you with my sister too….McGillis!!”
He has been in the city for about two weeks now. In those two weeks, he has gotten quite skilled at keeping his emotions under lock and key. He considers this a feat; he will readily admit that he has never been good at being stoic, being overly collected. Indeed, the Specialist Major has been told that he wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s always been the more emotional one out of his group of friends and colleagues-- this is not always a bad thing, he’s learned, but sometimes it gets in the way.
He’s wanted nothing more than to simply investigate, to find out more about where he had been taken hostage, so to speak. He has learned his fair share of information, but being the curious type, he wants more. However, it’s very hard to remain calm and composed when there are a million different thoughts buzzing around in his mind. There’s a lot to think about (that may even be the understatement of the century) and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the thin wall he’s constructed begins to crumble.
Gaelio suspects he can deal with crumbling. After all, that’s fixable. He can keep it up a bit longer with some tape, some forced good memories.
However, there is no crumbling this time. The wall simply bursts, not unlike a dam, and his chest tightens as thoughts come rushing into his head. It did not break randomly. No, there was a catalyst, a trigger. All it took was catching sight of a pair of people on the street (a brother and younger sister or perhaps a father with his daughter) and all the progress he’d made vanished.
Everything comes so quickly and he remembers everything he’s tried to hard to forget, or at least push away. He prides himself in being strong, but it takes so much of his energy to get somewhere private. His hands curl into fists and he bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed. By this time of the night, he’s learned some of the green areas in Sector oo6 are nearly empty; there’s tears running down his cheeks before he even steps foot onto the grass, but as soon as he does, his legs buckle, knees hitting the soil.
His head finds his hands and he cries into them, sobs thoroughly wracking his frame.
His thoughts and memories are so vivid it is as if he’s reliving the last thing he remembers before being brought to the city-- the last thing he remembers being one of the worst sources of pain, both physically and mentally, he’s ever felt. A betrayal so unexpected that Gaelio thinks that might’ve been the part that hurt the most. Not the physical pain as he was struck down on the battlefield, not the crushing sense of failure that usually followed after defeat.
It was the betrayal. He’d dealt with them before-- people betrayed the military sometimes. In fact, it was in his job description to make sure everyone was well behaved, following the rules, and did not have any ulterior motives. So, if he was such a great inspector...how did this imminent betrayal, that was under his nose the entire time, go unnoticed?
He curses himself for not noticing, for being so blind. It’s because the person who betrayed him was a childhood friend, someone he had put all of his trust in, someone he had vowed to protect, someone he had entrusted his sister’s safety to...someone who had been the subject of his unrequited affections.
He feels sick to his stomach and leans forward, digging his fingers into the dirt. It’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to think. He just keeps hearing everything his so-called best friend said to him, keeps feeling the knife dig just a bit deeper into his back.
"When the Bauduin family loses you, their heir, I, the son-in-law, will succeed in your place."
It was all just a ploy to get him out of the picture. It had always been so… Gaelio wonders if McGillis succeeded in killing him. It would make sense that he did; McGillis Fareed never left a job unfinished. There was no way he would leave a job uncompleted or sloppily left behind. The words repeat over and over and over and Gaelio feels very much like a pawn on a grand chessboard.
"Rest assured about Almiria. I'll guarantee you her happiness."
He remembers now why he feels so sick. He wretches onto the grass as he hears McGillis’ voice speak the name of his sister. Of all people, he thought he could trust his brother to take care of his younger sister. They were to be married one day, after all. Just thinking about him being there for her when he couldn’t...it made his blood boil.
"Friendship, love, trust... Such soft-hearted emotions will unfortunately not reach me."
Had McGillis always been so cold? Of course, Gaelio remembers him being calculating and sometimes hard to reason with, but he also remembers warm smiles and touches and words. All of those...were they fake? How does one give up their emotions just for a cause, he wonders?
"Gaelio. There is no lie in what I told you. To lead Gjallarhorn in the right direction, I needed you and Ein."
Gaelio did not care about Gjallarhorn in that moment and he still does not. It was such a big part of both of their lives, but did McGillis truly care about reforming the military more than he cared about his own friends? It was apparent, as he aided in Carta’s death, turned Ein into a monster, and… He gags at the thought, but nothing else comes up.
He hears one more sentence in McGillis’ voice, but it is distant, like it is something he perhaps shouldn’t have had a chance to hear.
"And in my entire life...you were my only friend."
It’s so bizarre to Gaelio that one could so easily strike down someone they considered a friend. Only recently had Gaelio gotten close to Ein Dalton, but in that short time… a friendship had blossomed. And losing Ein to the Alaya Vijnana hurt so much. His last week before these wretched memories had been mostly full of pain--
So much so, Gaelio starts to hope McGillis has succeeded in killing him.
He wipes his face with the back of his hands, but makes no effort to move. He continues to stare down at the now loose soil in front of him and forces himself to take deep breaths. He wants nothing more than to scream into the night, but he fears that would attract attention to himself, and the last thing he wants is someone seeing him in such a state.
He has pride...and he’d rather keep something in tact, even if everything else crumbles down around him.
it takes him by surprise-- the sudden, searing pain on the back of his hand. it only lasts a moment, though, and Gaelio’s brows furrow at the new symbol on his hand, not unlike it had been branded there. he rubs his thumb over the mark like it might come off if he tries hard enough, but deep down he knows this isn’t the case. instead, he lightly traces the outline of the heart with his fingers, thoroughly stumped (and rather angry).
Specialist Major Bauduin is a very reliable man. Early to bed, early to rise, and never wastes food. You can see his innocent soul from his orderly lifestyle.
Ein Dalton, about Gaelio Bauduin in ep. 17 preview
Why do you think gaelio is so popular among japanese fans? (And others as well)? I personally don't see anything new about him that we haven't seen in every other gundam :/
PREPARE YOURSELF ANON
The short answer would be: bcs of Garma Zabi, Mikazuki, and Ein. As in, he got popular bcs of the comparison.
He’s right. Of course he’s right, and it’s even more annoying to hear it out-loud. Junkrat folds his arms, rubs thumbs thick with soot into his elbows. He purses his lips, frustrated over a something that was possibly nothing.
Or at least, he’d thought it was something. Now he couldn’t quite remember what that something was. All he knew is that the guy irked him – the way he talked, the way normal people were bothered so easily over things they usually took for granted. Useless stuff.
“Ah, right. Wouldn’t wanna to commit a crime or anythin’.” Junkrat’s trigger finger itches. He wishes he had something to toss, a clicker to wiggle – but ultimately, he’s done. “Don’t mind keepin’ me distance, either. But when you realize you were fretting over nothin’ and that life in here ain’t so bad in here, you best remember – I told you so.”
Gaelio hesitates to call himself a soldier. while he did indeed serve in the largest peacekeeping, military faction on Earth, there were plenty of others who fought much more than he did. even so, he'd seen his fair share of battle. his hands are not clean and he almost feels obligated to tell the other this fact.
the other man appears to be a fighter, too. of what, Gaelio is not sure, but perhaps they could reach common ground. however standoffish he can be at times, he feels bad.
“I didn’t mean for this conversation to end up so hostile. From one fighter to another,” he pauses, as if he’s still learning how to properly swallow his pride.
“I apologize.”
he tells himself this is to avoid unnecessary conflict.
“Pah! Look mate, I get what ya meant. Still don’t think this place is really as bad as all-get-out, though. There’s green over here, green over there. Houses in some places, even! Ones without beautiful ol’ blast holes in ‘em, which personally, I find to be a real shame. Y’know, those fancy shmancy villas where mucks like you probably get cute little cakes or whatever. A little grime and crime ain’t such a big deal.”
he tends to think of himself as a simple man, despite how he was raised. surely he’s looked down on those less fortunate than him in the past, but he’s been trying to make a change lately. however, Gaelio still does not take kindly to personal attacks, verbal or physical. brows furrow and lips press into a thin line.
“Are you always so quick to judge those who’ve done you no harm? To each their own, but stereotyping is a vice.” a bit hypocritical, as he’s most certainly stereotyped before. “If you dislike ‘fancy’ so much, then don’t associate yourself with it; more little cakes for mucks like me.”
i was writing in second person, but i always forget that i can never keep that up for long, so-- apologies for the sudden change back to third person. i’ll be doing replies soon!
