Author's Notes: I know, I know. Yet another 002 and 004 fangirl. I just like playing with them. Spoilers for 'Christmas Eve Mirage' and 'Tears of Steel'. Feedback is always appreciated.
Albert watched as the coastline began to disappear into the ocean. The sun was beginning to rise, turning the sky and the water a reddish-gold color. If he had been paying attention, he might've found it very pretty. He had come above deck in the hope of clearing his head, but after a while, was forced to settle on enjoying the solitude.
It was starting to become disturbingly routine. They were a step ahead of the Black Ghost, stopped to catch their breath, fought for their lives, and it started all over again. Albert felt a pang of sympathy for poor Francoise, who had stopped running long enough to visit her hometown, hoping to relive old memories, and had done so in spades.
She didn't seem to mind, though. She had glossed over the part about being terrorized by nightmares of her past, and went on about how they had put in a new road in the field where she used to play, and her old apartment was still there, and how nice it had been to eat at the same restaurant she used to frequent with her friends. Apparently, she had enjoyed herself.
As hard as he tried, he couldn't understand why.
He was brought back to reality when he heard the doors hiss open. Half-interested, Albert watched Jet as he stalked out silently, rummaging through his jacket, stopping when he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. It was already in his mouth when he muttered, "You mind?"
It wasn't a question. It was barely even a courtesy. But it was still a vast improvement. "Go ahead," he replied good-naturedly. "It's not as if I need all that extra air anymore, anyways."
For a while, the only signs that Jet was there at all were the sounds of metal clicking, and the satisfied sigh of an addict. Then he heard him say as he glared at the vanishing shoreline, "That's France over there?"
"That's what I've been told."
Jet turned around slowly, his face thoughtful. "So I guess the US would be that way?"
"I guess so. What's with the sudden interest in geography, 002?"
He kept his back turned as he took another drag. "It's ungodly uncharacteristic for me to admit this, but I think I'd like to go home one day." He faced Albert again, and there seemed to be something different in his voice. It was a little softer, somehow. "Don't you?"
Albert ran a hand through his hair, feeling the cold, hard metal against his scalp. The tightness in his chest made it hard to speak. "I have nothing to go to. Everything that was home to me is gone now."
"Everything would be Hilda, right?"
"How did you---"
"I was paralyzed, not deaf. Remember?" Jet tugged on an ear for emphasis. He stretched his limbs, and his face still had that unusual quiet look. "My gang's gone. I had the cliched unhappy childhood. If I had any common sense, I'd avoid it like the plague."
He ground the cigarette under his foot. "But it'd be... kind of nice, being able to remember that I wasn't always this weapon."
Albert gazed at Jet intently, trying to figure out where that bit of introspection had come from. "I never thought about it that way." He finally said, just in time for Jet to hear before he left.
Jet glanced at him over his shoulder for a brief instant, his face unreadable, and then grinned back at him wickedly. "I seriously doubt you've ever thought at all."